” “It is Nishin.” He knew that the Society’s phones were secure. The chances of this pay phone being tapped were not significant enough to be considered a threat.
“Yes?”
“The target has been destroyed.”
“With the papers?” Nakanga asked.
“Yes.”
“Any problems?”
“There was a radio transmission just prior to the target being destroyed.”
There was a sharp intake of breath on the other end. “We will check on that.”
Nishin related the frequencies and radio data that he had memorized. “I also have the content of the message,” Nishin said.
“Go ahead.”
Nishin read both messages. When he was done, there was a long silence, then finally Nakanga spoke. “I will have to speak to the Genoysha about this. Remain there. Await further orders.”
“There is something further.”
“Yes?”
Nishin told Nakanga about the American arms dealer and how he had been on board the ship.
“Was he there to collect his payment?”
“He was in the room with the box of documents,” Nishin said. “I do not believe he would have been there simply to collect a few thousand dollars.”
“Then he was not simply an arms dealer?” Nakanga asked.
“I do not believe so.”
“You are sure he died with the ship?”
“Yes. There were no survivors.”
“You must try to find out who this American worked for. How much he knew and how much he told those he worked for.” The phone went dead and Nishin slowly put the receiver down.
The man who Nishin was concerned about in death was actually very much alive at the moment. Lake’s legs had settled into a smooth rhythm that he knew from experience was propelling him at three knots through the water. The only problem was that he estimated the current he was swimming against was about six to eight knots which meant he was going farther out into the Pacific at three to five knots an hour.
The option of turning and swimming with the current, while it would certainly go with the flow, was unacceptable because no matter how fast he swam, Lake didn’t think he’d be able to make it to Hawaii; alive at least.
If Araki had chartered a boat, which Lake assumed he had done, the CPI agent would be heading out here and the less distance he had to go, the quicker he’d pick Lake up. That is if Araki was looking for him.
There was always the possibility that he’d get picked up by a passing ship, Lake consoled himself with as he swam. He was in the shipping lane for San Francisco Harbor. There was a chance something would pass by, in which case he could use the flare strapped to his left calf.
Lake became aware of a strange hissing noise that he’d never heard before. He twisted about, treading water, but in the darkness could see nothing. But he felt that something was different in the waves around him. He focused on his hearing because it was the sense that had alerted him. There was still the faint hissing noise, but now there was also the sound of waves splashing against something solid. As another swell lifted him, Lake looked about.
He blinked. A large black form in the shape of an inverted V, with the points in the water, was silhouetted against the night horizon about fifty feet away. Lake watched the ship as it got closer. He’d never seen anything like it. With its sharp angles and flat surfaces, the thing it reminded him of most was the F-l 17 stealth bomber. Lake couldn’t hear the throb of conventional engines, just that hissing noise.
A brief burst of red light showed on the right front. A man’s figure was briefly outlined, then the light was out.
“Lake?” Araki’s voice called out.
“Here!” Lake yelled.
A rope ladder was thrown down the slick skin of the ship. Lake turned on his stomach and swam over, grabbing hold of one of the rungs. As he pulled himself up, he was surprised to feel that the hull surface wasn’t metal, but rather some form of hard rubber. He climbed up the side to where Araki was waiting on a small indentation. The hatch opened once more, bathing them in red light, and Araki led him inside, quickly shutting the hatch behind.
Lake looked around. He was in a large room, obviously the bridge of the ship based on the equipment and amount of activity. Several men in uniform, all Japanese, were watching various screens that showed the sea outside and monitoring computers that gave them readouts. There were no windows and all was lit in the red glow that had come out the hatch.
“Impressive, isn’t it?” Araki said.
“What is it?” Lake asked.
“The pride of the Japanese Maritime Self-Defense Force. A stealth surface ship. You saw the outside. It has an inverted triangular hull with a propulsion unit in each leg. This is the bridge. Weapons systems, crew quarters, and supply areas are behind us. All sides of the ship are inclined at angles designed to defeat radar, including missile lock on systems such as that used by the Expcet.”
Lake had heard that the U.S. Navy had experimented with a design such as this and then discarded it in favor of the more traditional ships they were used to. “How does the propulsion system work?” he asked. No one in the crew had come over; they all seemed to defer to Araki, which Lake found interesting.
“Seawater is taken in, put under pressure, and pushed out the rear. Very quiet and efficient and undetectable by sonar outside of five hundred meters away.”
“Weaponry?” Lake asked as he unbuckled his belt.
“Surface-to-air and surface-to-surface missiles fired from closed hatches along the top rear deck. Two subsurface torpedo tubes, one on each propulsion pylon.”
Lake untied the garbage bags from his belt. “How did you get this here?”
“This way,” Araki said, gesturing toward a hatch. “I have some dry clothing for you.”
Lake picked up the garbage bag and allowed himself to be led to a small stateroom. Araki handed him a dark blue jumpsuit.
“I don’t suppose you have any cigarettes?”
Araki shook his head. “There is no smoking on board. The captain is very particular.”
Lake peeled off the top of his wet suit. “So, how did you get this here?”
“I told you that my government considers this mission very important. I was assigned the appropriate assets to get the job done.”
Lake pulled on the jumpsuit. He noted that Araki was looking at the garbage bag.
“How long have you been in the area?” Lake asked. The relief of being rescued had not yet registered on his emotions; he didn’t have time for that. It would have to wait for later when he was alone.
“I just arrived here. I picked up your signal and homed in on it.” Araki took the homing device from Lake and put it in his pocket. “I assume you got the documents,” he added, pointing at the garbage bags.
“I got them,” Lake said.
“And Nishin?”
“Nishin got away.”
Araki nodded. “I have his signal heading back to San Francisco. I was hoping it was a signal from a dead body.” “No, last I heard, he’s very much alive,” Lake said.
“You heard?”
“I heard his voice through a hatch just before he left the trawler.”
“The North Koreans?”
“The trawler went down. I assume all the North Koreans are dead.” Lake related the story of what had happened on board the Am Nok Sung, from his jumping out of the helicopter to being picked up by Araki.
Araki picked up with his end of things. “I had the helicopter take me to the Farallon Islands, which are about twenty-one miles outside of the Golden Gate. I was dropped off on a small islet where I had arranged for this ship to be nearby on station. I contacted the captain on my satellite phone and he picked me up with a rubber dinghy. We headed toward your beacon as quickly as possible.”
“What now?” Nishin asked.
“Let’s find out what all the fuss is about,” Lake said. “Do you have a knife?”