Wong’s breath caught in his throat as he felt something wrenching his head back from behind, covering his eyes, pulling back, back, exposing his neck –
Wong dropped the cigarette, ignoring the burning sensation in his leg as the glowing end landed on his squirming thigh, trying to wrench the hand from his face, forgetting all about the assault rifle slung uselessly from his shoulder, unable now to get it, and his fingers clawed at what must have been a person behind him, his nails dragging across skin, clothing –
And then he felt the cold steel of the blade against his throat, felt the sharp edge dig into the fragile skin there, dig and cut straight across, and finally he tried to scream, although it was too late for that, too late for anything except to watch his own blood spray from his severed throat into the black sea beyond.
Arief Suprapto looked down at the dead man at his feet, arterial spray covering the steel railings, regretful that he’d had to die.
He was regretful, yet not remorseful; it wasn’t a moral problem at all. It was just that he preferred to capture people alive, as the more crew members they were able to hold hostage, the more money they could make.
But this man had a gun, which made him a threat which needed to be eliminated; even if Suprapto had managed to subdue him without killing him, in his experience men with guns could be troublesome even after they’d been disarmed. And so Suprapto had a standing order among his men that anyone with a weapon should be killed instantly. It negated future threats, and sent a direct and very clear message to the rest of the crew.
Don’t fuck with us. We mean business.
Who needed words when you had actions?
He received the all-clear from his men over his radio earpiece; the amateurish guards were down all over the ship, and the first phase of the plan was complete.
Suprapto smiled; just because he was called a pirate didn’t mean that he wore an eye patch, carried a parrot on his shoulder and used a cutlass. On the contrary, his men were armed to the teeth with cutting edge weaponry, sourced by an agent who had access to vast stockpiles on the Southeast Asian mainland. Thailand, Cambodia, Vietnam, Laos — there was more military-grade equipment freely available there than almost anywhere else on the planet.
And it wasn’t just weapons either; his men had night-vision devices, secure communications gear, advanced surveillance equipment and — most importantly for sea-faring pirates — high-speed, near-silent attack boats, stealthy craft which could transport a crew of armed men quickly and without detection.
Suprapto had led his pirate gang since he was seventeen, nearly thirty years ago now; and he had taken command in the traditional way, by violently killing the previous captain and thus earning the respect of the battle-hardened men he now controlled. Respect that had lasted for three successful decades, an unusually long time for this sort of job.
But Suprapto was ruthless, a quality he prided himself on above all others; if he survived, it was only because he was prepared to do more — torture more, scheme more, plan more, kill more — than any of the pretenders to his crown.
And that was truly how he saw himself — with a crown, the King of Pirates like his hero Liang Dao Ming, who had run roughshod over the area seven hundred years ago with thousands of loyal followers.
But now wasn’t the time for grandstanding, Suprapto recognized as he checked the luminous dial of his diver’s watch.
Now was the time for phase two of the assault plan.
He almost felt sorry for the crew.
Almost.
4
‘Where is the ship now?’
The question was asked by a man whose small stature and feminine voice belied the enormous power he wielded, and his sociopathic ability to use that power without consideration for how it would affect others. To Lieutenant General U Chun-su, Director of North Korea’s Reconnaissance General Bureau, people were merely pawns to be used in the worldwide game of espionage and counter-espionage; a game he enjoyed enormously.
‘The ship is on course,’ came the reply from Major Ho Sang-ok, who — despite the power he wielded over his own domain — stood rigidly to attention in front of his superior. Ho was in charge of the RGB’s Third Bureau, known as Office No. 35 due to its location in a former office of the Korean Workers’ Party headquarters. Charged with the collection of foreign intelligence and the conduct of overseas operations, Ho was a feared and respected officer; and yet he still shrank from the man in front of him.
Both men accepted that this was how life was in their great nation — the system revolved around fear; fear of your superiors, fear of failure, and most importantly of all, fear of their great Communist Leader, President of the Democratic People’s Republic of Korea. As soon as the people below you stopped being afraid of you, you were finished. It was survival of the fittest in its purest human form, and both U and Ho reveled in such a system. If other counties didn’t agree with how they did things, it just meant that they were weak.
‘When is it due in Karachi?’ U asked next, his voice still lilting softly.
‘Seven days sir, it should dock on Monday at twelve noon.’
U nodded his head. ‘Good. Excellent. Are the correct assets in place in Pakistan to receive the goods?
‘Yes sir, our agents are ready and waiting.’
‘Excellent,’ U repeated, before concern furrowed his brow. ‘Is there any danger of our cargo being intercepted? I have heard that there is much danger from pirates in those waters, and I am fearful that the Fu Yu Shan is just a civilian ship.’
Ho had anticipated this question, and had his answer already prepared; he knew U would expect no less. ‘We have examined patterns of attacks in the area, and foresee no difficulties,’ Ho said confidently. ‘Pirates are becoming much less common, and tend not to attack ships of this size any more, especially with the increased naval activity and better on-board security measures and tracking devices. And,’ he continued with a glint in his eye, ‘there are armed guards in case of any trouble, as well as two of our own men who we managed to place aboard the ship as crewmembers at Dalian.’
‘Are they good?’
Ho nodded. ‘The best, sir. Both experienced Captains from our Sniper Brigades.’
U grunted in satisfaction. The Sniper Brigades were North Korea’s elite of the elite. He was confident that the men would guard the cargo with their lives.
U was due in a meeting with the Minister of State Security later that evening, and he knew that the minister would be briefing President Kim the very next morning. He was only grilling Major Ho because it was of such paramount importance that everything was in place, that the operation went perfectly.
As President Kim had made clear on more than one occasion, the inevitable and destined reunification of Korea depended on it.
The two men whose documents named them Xiao Tong and Yan Yanzhi looked at one another, one brief glance that carried with it an hour’s worth of conversation. There was no fear in their eyes, no panic; only clear, hard resolution.
It was time to fight.
Xiao Tong — born Jang Kuk-ryul, in a little village outside the North Korean capital of Pyongyang — had been asleep when the pirates first boarded the ship. His comrade-in-arms, Yan Yanzhi — who Jang knew by his original Korean name, O Sin-sul — had been keeping watch, and saw the pirates silently slipping aboard and assassinating the ship’s guards.