After two hours of hard running, the catamaran turned inland and slowed its speed as it threaded its way through the sprinkling of small islands that dotted the mouth of the Han River. The pilot maneuvered the boat upriver another hour until spotting the semi hidden channel that curled into Kang's Kyodongdo Island lair. Passing through the inlet that he knew was monitored by hidden video cameras, the pilot guided the catamaran across the cove to the floating dock at the base of the sheer-walled compound. Inching to a stop, the blue catamaran was tied up astern of Kang's gleaming white Benetti yacht.
Dirk and Summer remained locked in their cabin as Tongju strode off the craft and rode the elevator up the cliff to Kang's private enclave. Kang sat in his cherrywood-paneled executive office with Kwan, studying the financial statements of a radio component manufacturer that he intended to acquire via hostile takeover. He looked up slowly when Tongju entered and bowed.
“Captain Lee of the Baekje has sent word that your mission was a success,” Kang stated through tight lips, offering no hint of satisfaction.
Tongju nodded slightly. “We acquired the ordnance after it was salvaged by the American vessel. Ten of the devices were still intact and have been determined to be usable,” he continued, neglecting to mention that Dirk had sabotaged the other two canisters.
“More than a sufficient quantity to proceed with the operation,” Kang replied.
“The weapon scientists aboard the Baekje were most pleased. The devices were immediately transferred to the biological research laboratory upon our arrival at Inchon. The lab chief assured me that the necessary refinement and containment will be complete within forty-eight hours.”
“At which time I trust the Baekje's reconfiguration will be complete?”
Tongju nodded in reply. “She will be ready to set sail on time.”
“Schedule is critical,” Kang continued. “The mission must be achieved ahead of the National Assembly referendum vote.”
“As long as there is no delay with the ordnance, we will be ready,” Tongju assured him. “The shipyard workers had already made impressive progress by the time we departed the dock facility.”
“We cannot tolerate another miscalculation,” Kang said coldly.
Tongju squinted slightly, unsure of his boss's meaning. Ignoring the comment, he continued speaking.
“I have brought two of the captives from the American vessel with me. The pilots who operated their submersible. One of them is the man responsible for the death of our two agents in America. I thought perhaps you might wish to entertain him personally,” he said, placing a sinister emphasis on the word entertain.
“Ah, yes, the two missing crew members from the NUMA ship.”
“Missing crew members?”
Kwan stepped forward and thrust a news story gleaned from the Internet into Tongju's hands.
“It is all over the news,” Kwan said. “Research vessel sunk in East China Sea; all but two saved,” he quoted from a headline in Chosun I/bo, Korea's largest newspaper.
Tongju's face went pale but he didn't move a muscle. “That is impossible. We sank the vessel with the crew sealed in a storage hold. They could not have all escaped.”
“Escape they did,” Kang said. “A passing freighter picked up the crew and took them to Japan. Did you not watch the ship go under?”
Tongju shook his head. “We were anxious to return with the salvaged material at the earliest possible moment,” he said quietly.
“It is being reported that the ship suffered an accidental fire on board. Apparently, the Americans are afraid of publicizing yet another terrorist incident,” Kwan said.
“As well as revealing the true nature of their presence in the East China Sea,” Kang added. “Perhaps the lack of media reporting will temper their investigation into the incident.”
“I am confident that we maintained our false identity. My assault team was of mixed ethnicity and only English or Japanese was spoken while on the American ship,” Tongju replied.
“Perhaps your failure to dispose of the crew was not a bad thing,” Kang stated with a slight glare. “It will further embarrass the Japanese and keep the American intelligence effort focused on Japan. They will, of course, be searching for the Baekje. The sooner she can be put back to sea, the better.”
“I will provide a continuous update from the shipyard,” Tongju replied. “And the two Americans?”
Kang perused a leather-bound schedule book. “I am traveling to Seoul for an engagement with the minister of unification this evening and shall return tomorrow. Keep them alive until then.”
“I shall give them a last supper,” Tongju replied without humor.
Kang ignored the comment and stuck his nose back into a stack of financial documents. Taking the clue, the assassin turned and departed Kang's office without making a sound.
A half mile from the Inchon enclosed dock where Baekje was undergoing its cosmetic refit, two men in a dingy pickup truck slowly circled a nondescript shipyard building. Empty pallets and rusting flatbed carriers littered the grounds around the windowless structure, which was marked by a faded kang shipping company sign perched over the main entrance. Dressed in worn coveralls and grease-stained baseball caps, the two men were part of a heavily armed undercover security team numbering two dozen strong who patrolled the supersecret facility around the clock. The dilapidated exterior of the building hid a high-tech engineering development center filled with the latest super computing technology. The main and upper floors were dedicated to developing satellite payloads for Kang's satellite communications business. A small team of crack engineers worked to incorporate concealed eavesdropping and reconnaissance capabilities into conventional telecommunication satellites that were sold for export and launched by other regional governments or commercial companies. Hidden in the basement, and heavily guarded, was a small microbiology laboratory whose very existence was known by only a handful of Kang employees. The small cadre of scientists who worked in the lab had mostly been smuggled in from North Korea. With their families still living in the northern provinces, and forceful patriotic mandates placed upon them, the microbiologists and immunologists had little choice in accepting the nature of their work with hazardous biological agents.
The I-411's deadly bombs had been quietly transferred into the lab, where an ordnance expert had assisted the biologists in separating the powdery smallpox virus from the sixty-year-old compartmentalized aerial bombs. The viruses had been freeze-dried by the Japanese, allowing the pathogens to remain inert for storage and handling. The smallpox-laden bombs were designed to maintain their deadly efficacy for the duration of the submarine's voyage until hydrogenated upon deployment. Over sixty years later, their porcelain casings had repelled all destructive effects from decades of submersion. The aged bomb payloads were still every bit as potent as when they were loaded.
Placing samples of the cream-colored powder into a bio safe container, the biologists carefully initiated a controlled reconstitution of the viruses using a sterile water-based diluent. Under a microscopic eye, the dormant, block-shaped microorganisms could be seen waking from their long slumber and bouncing off each other like bumper cars as they resumed their lethal state. Despite the long period of dormancy, only a small percentage of the viruses failed to rejuvenate.
The research lab was run by a highly paid Ukrainian microbiologist named Sarghov. A former scientist with Biopreparat, the old Soviet Union civilian agency that fronted the republic's military biological weapons program, Sarghov had taken his knowledge of bio weapon genetic manipulation and sold his skills in the marketplace to the highest bidder. Though he never desired to leave his homeland, his stock as a budding scientific leader in the agency was tarnished when he was caught in bed with the wife of a politburo member. Fearing for his life,