Another shock was sent forth. Joe winced and twisted as the energy passed through him, causing his muscles to tighten and lock. He bit through part of his tongue in the process and felt a wave of relief when the pulsing stopped.
“Stand up and state your name,” Gao said.
Slowly, Joe got to his feet. He remained stooped over on purpose. Record this, he thought. Looking up, he gave them a twisted countenance. His face as screwed up as he could make it. To enhance the effect, he did his best I, Claudius imitation, faking a stutter and a facial tic.
He turned from camera to camera, giving them a good look. Gao must not have been watching directly because he simply asked his question one more time.
“State your name.”
“‘What’s in a name?’” Joe said, sounding as British as he possibly could. “‘A rose by any other name would smell as sweet . . .’”
There was a pause and for a second Joe thought he might have gotten away with it, but the surging pain of the electric shock hit him again. This time, it was stronger and lasted longer.
Some part of his mind knew they couldn’t kill him if they hoped to use his replacement. But that meant little as he flopped around on the ground like a fish out of water.
It was a full twenty seconds of agony before the current was shut off. Joe’s body shook, his teeth hurt and one particular metal filling felt as if it had melted. His mind was an absolute blank.
“We have calibrated the current to cause maximum pain but no lasting damage,” Gao said. “We can do this all night. Now stand up, state your name and read the following paragraph.”
The projected image of a statement came on and Joe tried to focus. Pretending to surrender, he got to his hands and knees, thought up a new prank and wearily began to straighten. He wasn’t sure how long his body would hold out, but he would die before he would give them anything they could use.
* * *
• • •
WITH HIS HANDS on the rusted pipe and his feet on the wall, Kurt climbed down into the pit. He was ten feet below the rim when he encountered his first obstacle: one of the anchors that held the old pipe in place.
It was still attached to the wall, but loosely. Sixty years of erosion had seen to that. Working it back and forth with a controlled force, he soon broke it loose from the rock.
He slipped the chains around it and slid down farther. The next anchor was completely corroded and Kurt didn’t even have to strain to break it in half.
He continued down. The farther down he went, the more rusted the pipe became. With each move, flakes and dust fell like red snow. Every few feet, the chain caught in a crevice on the pipe.
Kurt was looking for a connector where two sections of the pipe had been joined. During his years salvaging wrecks (and sinking other ships on purpose), he’d learned that corrosion always set in first at the joints. Those were the weak points in any system. Microscopic gaps allowed water to pool and rust to bloom. Mechanical stress of movement caused metal fatigue and damage. Even on the oldest ships, hull plates rarely gave way, but rivets and hatches failed with regularity.
With the rainwater dripping down from above and the seawater rising and falling with the tide, Kurt would soon find a spot where corrosion had worked enough of its magic. The connection might even look healthy from the outside, but the metal itself would be eaten away internally like a rotten tree.
He was still searching for the weak spot when his feet hit the water. He dropped in, fought against the natural buoyancy of his wetsuit and descended into utter darkness.
The chain scraped along the pipe as he descended. When his thumb pushed through a rusted section, he knew he’d struck gold. Holding his breath and positioning the chain where he felt the corrosion had done the most damage, he pulled with a sudden jerk.
The back half of the pipe crumpled and he pulled again. More progress, but not enough. He began sliding the chain back and forth, using it like a saw. He could feel the jagged metal giving way: a chunk here, a section there.
Suddenly, the chain burst through and he was free and swimming.
He kicked upward, bobbed calmly to the surface and took a deep breath.
A circle of light could be seen up above. He’d come down forty feet. The climb would be a joy.
* * *
• • •
HAN WATCHED the farce in the recording booth without a hint of glee. Zavala was on the floor again, having endured several additional rounds of shock treatment. He’d used three additional accents and recited an Irish limerick before collapsing once more.
He now lay in a heap, breathing heavily but otherwise unmoving. Steam rose from his scalp.
“Enough,” Han said.
“But we don’t have a voiceprint yet,” Gao replied. “In fact, we don’t have anything, unless you want the robot to act out Romeo and Juliet or spout lines from American TV commercials.”
“He’s beaten you,” Han said. “Can’t you see that?”
Gao stared at his boss.
“He knows what you want,” Han explained, “and he’s willing to die rather than give it to you. He might even be goading you into killing him on purpose.”
“Okay,” Gao said. “So what do you want me to do?”
“Remove him from the equation,” Han said. “Finish the body panels and program Zavala’s robot to be mute unless addressed directly. Austin’s facsimile will do all the talking. It will be enough that Zavala is seen with him and caught on camera driving the getaway car.”
Gao looked frustrated, but he didn’t protest. “I can also upload a generic American voice just in case he has to say something.”
“Be quick about it,” Han said. “And tell my pilot we’re ready to leave.”
* * *
• • •
JOE LAY on the floor, exhausted, drenched in sweat and waiting for the next round of torture to begin. Each session of electrical shock had been longer and more painful than the last, each wave of muscle spasms worse than the one before. He felt as if he’d done a triathlon and wrestled a bear afterward for good measure, all without moving from the spot.
This will probably be the next wave in fitness training. Get the body of an Adonis without doing any work. Joe laughed at the thought, but the laughter hurt his chest and he stopped as quickly as he could.
Taking deep breaths to slow his heart rate and trying to still the trembling in his legs, it was a while before he realized the next session was overdue. A minute of silence stretched to several and Joe remained where he was. No demands came over the speakers, no new threats and not so much as a static shock from the metal plates.
A sense of satisfaction crept in. They’d given up. He’d worn them down and survived. He’d won.
The door opened and a pair of Han’s men came in to get him. They lifted him by the arms and hauled him up to his feet.
“No fight left in this one,” the first of the men said.
Not at the moment, Joe thought. It was an effort even to stand.
They marched him out of the room and into the tunnel. A strange sound was echoing off the walls. Joe realized it was the helicopter lifting off outside. Han was leaving, putting his plan in motion, while Kurt and Nagano were still chained up and Joe himself could hardly walk. His thoughts of victory felt suddenly premature.
They marched him down the tunnel, rounded a slight curve and closed in on the air shaft. Only now did Joe realize how dimly lit the tunnel really was, especially after the brightness of the room he’d been tortured in. He could barely make out Kurt and Nagano, sitting by the wall. And then he realized there was only one figure present. Kurt was gone.
52
JOE WAS THROWN to the ground as the guard realized he was missing a prisoner. He rushed forward, grabbed Nagano. “Where’s Austin?”
“What can I tell you?” Nagano said. “He escaped.
”
“How? Where did he go?”
“He slipped the chains,” Nagano said. “You must have given him too much slack.”
“And then he left you here?”
“Yes,” Nagano said, “the ingrate. After all my help and guidance.”
Kurt heard every word; he was only ten feet away, just below the lip of the air shaft. He knew what would come next. With his feet wedged against one of the wall anchors and his left arm wrapped around the pipe, he worked a stone loose from the wall and held it in his right hand.
“Not possible,” the guard insisted.
Nagano was tossed aside and the guard pointed his flashlight deeper into the passageway. Then he looked down into the shaft.
Kurt threw the stone the instant he saw the man’s face, hitting him in the jaw and snapping his head back.
Nagano helped the guard to the ground by chopping his legs out from under him with a sweeping kick.
The guard landed at the edge of the pit and Kurt reached up, grabbed him by the shoulder and pulled him over. The man tumbled face-first, hitting the wall on the way down and crashing into the water below.
At the same instant, Joe charged the second guard, tackling him and slamming him headfirst into the wall. They fell to the ground together, where Joe landed a kidney punch and then followed up with a head-butt to the jaw.
Kurt pulled himself out of the pit and rushed to help Joe, who was struggling with his opponent. It took only seconds for the two of them to finish the fight.
“You’re slipping,” Kurt said. “You should have had this guy in three moves.”
“I’m not exactly at the top of my game,” Joe said. “While you were going for a leisurely swim, I was giving the performance of a lifetime.”
Kurt found the keys and unlocked Joe’s chains, then his own and then Nagano’s. They gagged the guard, took his weapon and chained him up.
“What about the guy who went for a swim?” Joe asked.
Nagano shook his head. “He didn’t resurface.”
With Kurt holding the guard’s pistol, they moved quietly down the tunnel, pausing when they heard someone approaching.
Pressing into the shadows, they watched as another of Han’s men approached with a pair of long wooden cases in the crook of his arm. The man was dressed in a lab coat. He wore thick glasses. And had his hair long in the front.
He reached one of the plastic doors, brushed the hair out of his eyes and pressed a button. A green light blinked and a soft push opened the door. He went inside and shut the door behind him.
“Let’s go before he comes back out,” Joe said.
“Not so fast,” Kurt replied. “I want to stop by the gift shop before we leave.”
Kurt crossed the tunnel and made his way to the plastic-coated door. Placing his hand on the same button he’d seen the technician press, he, too, was given a green light. He eased the door open and found the technician on the far side of the room, removing a polished sword from its case.
Kurt coughed lightly and cocked the hammer on the pistol. The technician straightened and then turned, putting his hands up instinctively.
“You speak English?”
The man nodded.
“Good,” Kurt said. “That will make this easier. On your knees.”
The technician got down awkwardly but kept his hands up. The hair fell in his eyes again and he attempted unsuccessfully to blow it away with a puff of air.
“You might want to consider a haircut,” Kurt said.
The technician nodded and Kurt reached over and snatched the nearest sword from its case. The weapon was beautiful. It shimmered in the fluorescent lighting of the laboratory.
The door opened again and this time Joe and Nagano slipped in.
“Did you find your souvenir?”
Kurt held up the samurai sword.
Nagano took one look and spoke its name. “Be careful with that. You hold a national treasure in your hands. The Honjo Masamune. Hidden by Shinto monks for seventy years.”
Kurt looked to the technician. “Why does Walter Han want these swords?”
The technician answered. “That one is a symbol of Japan.”
“And the others?”
The technician hesitated. Kurt pointed the sword toward him. “I could give you that haircut now if you’d like.”
The hesitation ended. “We’re studying them.”
“Obviously.” The labful of equipment around them was quite impressive. “Why? What’s Han looking for?”
“An alloy,” the technician said. “It’s called Golden Adamant. It has . . . unique properties. So far, it’s only been found deep within volcanic fissures. It’s believed Japan has a source. Possibly, under Mount Fuji. One of these swords may have been made with such an alloy. We were told to learn where the swords came from, how they were forged, what their metal contents are and in what manner the alloys were blended. Most importantly, to determine where the ore was mined.”
Joe’s eyebrows went up. “Now we know what Han’s people were looking for at the bottom of the East China Sea.”
“It was a first effort,” the technician said. “But the mine played itself out.”
“How was it done?” Kurt asked.
“Ultrasonic waves and high-intensity vibrations combined with a carbon-silicon fracking liquid,” the technician told them. “A unique system allows us to mine deeply without drilling.”
“Sounds logical,” Kurt said. “Did you intend to bring up vast amounts of subterranean water along with it?”
“Water was always released in the process,” the technician said. “It’s marginal.”
Kurt’s eyebrows now went up. “Marginal? Maybe you’re not aware of just how much water you’re releasing. Your fractures are bringing up millions of gallons every second of every day. Enough to flood the coastal plains around the world in a year if we don’t stop it.”
“Impossible,” the man said.
“You’ll see how possible it is very shortly,” Kurt said.
“Not if we don’t get out of here,” Joe mentioned. “Every minute we delay makes it more likely that someone notices we’ve gone missing.”
That was true. Kurt looked back at the technician. “We had an equipment bag when we came in here. I’ve lost the claim check, but if you could point out where it’s been stored . . .”
The man glanced toward a locker. Joe pried it open and found their bag, complete with swim fins, masks and the small oxygen bottles. The infrared goggles lay beside the pack. “It’s all here. Including our radio transceiver.”
“Any guns?”
Joe looked through a couple other lockers. “No.”
“Take this one,” Kurt said, handing it to Joe. “I’m going to carry the sword. After all this time, it should be returned to its rightful owners.”
Joe took the pistol and Kurt waved the technician to his feet. “You’re coming with us. You’ve got some explaining to do.”
Nagano gagged the technician and took a radio from his belt, while Kurt opened the door and checked the tunnel both ways. The tunnel was clear. “Let’s go.”
They started for the exit and were soon approaching the assembly room. As they moved past, the door swung open without warning and two of the workers came out, speaking to each other in Chinese.
They stopped in their tracks as they noticed Kurt and Joe and their gagged colleague.
Kurt pushed the technician aside and lunged toward the new arrivals, but they dove back through the doorway and slammed it. Seconds later, an alert was called out over the intercom. “The prisoners have escaped. They’re in the main tunnel. Repeat. Prisoners have escaped.”
Kurt tossed their hostage aside. The man would only slow them down. There was nothing to do now but run for it. “Go, go, go!” he shouted and the three of them rushe
d toward the exit of the mine.
53
GAO WAS still in the recording room when the warning came out over the intercom. He responded instantly. “Where are they?”
“Main tunnel. Outside the assembly room. They’re armed.”
Ushi-Oni was standing next to him. “Sound the alarm.”
“This isn’t a military base,” Gao snapped. “We don’t have alarms.”
The rage in Oni’s eyes scared Gao enough to stop talking. He pressed a different button on the intercom panel. This put him in touch with the control room. “Control, this is Gao. The Americans are on the loose. They just attacked a technician outside the main assembly room. I suggest you send some men to hunt them down.”
There was a brief moment of silence before control reported in again. “Our men are out checking the perimeter.”
“Call them back.”
“There’s no point in that. If the Americans were in the central tunnel, we have to assume they’ve left the complex by now.”
“I warned Han of this,” Oni said. “They will be the end of us.”
“I think you are overreacting,” Gao said. “Even if they left the mine, there’s no way off the island. The helicopter is gone. There are no boats. What do you think they’re going to do, swim?”
Oni glared down at him. “That’s exactly what they’ll do. Why do you think they came here in wetsuits, carrying fins and masks?”
“Impossible, it’s nearly three miles to the mainland,” Gao said. “The current will sweep them out to sea before they ever get close to the beach.”
“These men work in the ocean,” Oni pointed out. “They’re trained divers. If you think they won’t make it, you’re a bigger fool than I thought. An hour in the water with fins and they’ll be on dry land. It will take no longer. And that’s if they don’t get picked up by a boat.”
Gao began to sweat. He suddenly realized the danger. There were, in fact, no boats on the island, as per Han’s orders. But that meant Austin, Zavala and Nagano would be home free once they reached the surf. He pressed the intercom button. “Control, how many men do you have?”
The Rising Sea Page 30