Hendrick had faced danger many times in the past and knew the fear of death intimately, but this new danger was the most frustrating he had ever encountered. The sheer helplessness of his position was maddening. He could do nothing to get out of the situation they were in.
The sonar tech listened on his earphones then looked at his watch. After waiting twenty seconds, he quickly pulled off his earphones and gripped the table. Hendrick braced himself. The blast from the depth charge was louder than the last, causing his teeth to rattle. The Russian replaced his earphones and listened intently. He grew puzzled.
Hendrick picked up another set of earphones, and the sonar man obligingly set up the console to let Hendrick listen in. He heard a whirring noise amid a host of cracks, pops, and grinding noises that was the wreck of the Awa Maru reacting to the depth charges. Hendrick looked at his Russian companion and shrugged, asking him what it was. The man only shrugged back.
Hendrick heard a sudden gurgling sound and saw the sonar man look at his watch again. He took his earphones off at the same time as the Russian. The blast from the explosion was muted with increased distance. Hendrick hoped that the warship was moving off.
Hendrick replaced his headphones and heard the whirring sound once again. He looked at the direction indicator in front of the sonar man and saw that the sound was coming from almost directly east, the direction of Niushan Dao. The surface ship that was dropping depth charges had moved off in the opposite direction. So what was the whirring sound? Hendrick shook his head and commanded his mind to think.
The ROV! The sound was the remote sub’s screws as it came back to their vessel. An idea formed in Hendrick’s mind, and he jumped up to find Golubev.
CHAPTER 13
Return to the Truth
TOKYO
The Shibuya station of the Tokyo subway system was crowded with commuters making their way to work in the morning. Masaya Konaka ran across the station platform after depositing his one hundred and forty yen in the tollbooth. Clutching a package, he dodged in and out of crowds of people who formed massive knots of humanity as they flowed toward their trains.
Konaka was six feet, three inches tall and a bare one hundred twenty pounds, a tall thin man with an exceptionally hard face. Some looked at him and became unintentionally captivated by his granite features, looking away only to revisit his face periodically to come to some conclusion about the man behind the steel-like flesh.
Konaka ran through an open door just before the real crush of bodies occurred as it always did at this time of the day. He got situated in the spot he wanted and pressed himself against the side of one of the seats, all of which were already filled with people. Commuters packed in around him and rapidly filled every cubic inch of the bottom half of the subway car. Konaka resisted the crush to make room for the package wrapped in brown paper, which he placed between himself and the side of the car.
The sliding doors tried to close but couldn’t, due to several people hanging on outside the car trying to get in. Subway employees came along the station platform and leaned their shoulders into the backs of the riders to shove them completely inside the car. They grunted and groaned, a few people shifted and became more compressed than before; the doors began to close, opened again, then finally closed completely. There was a collective sigh from the riders in the car.
Did my father do this every day? Konaka asked himself in amazement. A midlevel government employee for many years, Konaka’s father worked many nights and weekends trying to satisfy overbearing superiors. He died in disgrace at forty years old of stress related illnesses, leaving his wife and sons to fend for themselves in a very tough world. Konaka tried but could not remember what his father looked like - he hadn’t been around much during Konaka’s youth.
Working in the financial end of government, Konaka’s father had borne the brunt of a scandal involving bribes to government officials by American defense industry companies interested in making further inroads into the Japanese economy. The government accused the elder Konaka of supplying information allowing Americans to manipulate the Nikkei, the stock market of Japan, thus providing a reason for the market slide of the late ‘90s. Konaka didn’t know whether his father was guilty or not, and didn’t care.
They killed my father to cover up their own incompetence, thought Konaka. Just as they killed my great-grandfather a hundred years ago.
The car slid into motion and picked up speed. Konaka studied the faces of the people near him and saw an almost universal apathy to the traveling conditions they endured each day. They rode the subways every day and were used to it, or resigned to it.
They’re all brain dead, thought Konaka. Another symptom of the problem facing Japan today. Everyone’s exhausted; they just accept things, believing that they cannot change them. They will all see how things can be changed. They will see today how things can change.
Konaka released his grip on the package and allowed it to slide down between his leg and the wall of the car until it rested on the floor. He took a quick look around and saw that no one had seen the movement of the package. Konaka pushed against the package with his foot, knocking it flat to the floor then sliding it under the seat he was leaning against.
The subway stopped at the Omotesando station on the Ginza Line. Konaka pushed and shoved his way through the pressed bodies until he escaped the crush and walked free on the station platform. He quickly walked to one of the numerous exits. After a few minutes to crush more commuters into its interior, the subway went on its way.
Konaka reached into his pocket and nervously fingered the silk scarf he always had with him. He wanted to put it over his face, but to do so now would make him conspicuous. He reached the street and headed for a waiting car, which then wound its way through city streets until reaching Expressway Number Three. The car headed southwest in the opposite direction of Konaka’s journey on the Ginza Line.
Konaka gave in and put the scarf over his face beneath the eyes, tying the scarf behind his head. He thought briefly about the scarf and his obsession with hiding his face from the world. He supposed that it revealed something deep within him, but there was also a practical purpose. Konaka didn’t want his men to get used to his face. A little mystery will help to keep my organization together, he thought. Michael Jackson had his black surgical mask. Why not a Japanese citizen with a scarf over his face? He told one of the men in the front seat to turn on the car radio.
Any minute now, he thought, the anticipation rising in him like a flash flood.
The subway car passed Gaienmae and Aoyamaitchome Stations, hurtling headlong toward Akasakamitsuke Station. The train stopped at the extremely busy station, exchanging enormous numbers of people with the crowds on the station platform. At the height of the transfer, the twenty pounds of C4 explosive placed underneath the subway car seat detonated. The mass of humanity pressed into the car was parted by the concussion, sending bodies flying out of the car into the dense crowds on the platform. The stainless steel body of the subway car was ripped apart by the explosion, forming efficient shrapnel and itself was responsible for the deaths of a dozen people.
Minutes later Konaka heard the first words of the explosion over the radio.
“I wish it could have been the Kokkai-Guidomae station in the Diet Building,” said Ken-Ichi Murata, one of Konaka’s followers in the front seat of the large sedan. Although he wanted to quit the government to follow Konaka full time, Murata was still a government employee and would remain so at Konaka’s urging. The terrorists needed spies in the government to do as much damage as possible.
In the back seat Konaka nodded imperceptibly. The Diet building station was gone over thoroughly by security forces ever since Shoko Asahara’s followers in the Aum Shinrikyo cult, meaning Supreme Truth, set off a sarin gas attack in the Tokyo subway system that killed twelve and sickened thousands.
Konaka thought of Asahara and nearly smiled at the incompetence of the cult in letting the government catch them at the bu
siness of poison gas production. These lunatics will give all of us a bad name, he thought with amusement.
The excited voice of the radio announcer told of other explosions in the subway system, at Toranomon near the Ministries of Education, and International Trade and Industry. There’s a real message, Konaka mused. It shows the disdain we have for the educational system in Japan today and the utter contempt we have for international trade. More explosions would be recorded at the Kanda and Sudobashi stations and especially the Ichigaya station across the moat from the Ichigaya Post garrison of the Ground Self Defense Force. More messages, thought Konaka. It will not take them long to see that the affected stations surround the Imperial Palace grounds and the seat of the Japanese government.
Late in the day, Konaka sat in his office on the fortified island of Tung-yin Tao in the East China Sea. The terrorist attacks had made news around the world. Konaka watched the satellite television for a while then turned off the set. The news media had said that three hundred twenty-six people had been killed and six hundred twelve had been injured.
Disappointing, thought Konaka. I was hoping for twice that many. At these levels it will take twenty years to get the government’s attention. He contemplated his next move. One phone call and he could have all the publicity he wanted, his name and the name of his group a household word around the world. But no, he thought, that is where all these other groups go wrong. Asahara, leader of the Aum Shinrikyo and once a friend, had gone over into madness. Imagine selling your followers your bathwater or, even more outrageously, your blood. There were reports that Asahara even sold his semen to his followers. Konaka let disgust ripple through him.
He would not make that mistake. The descent into madness would not claim him. His followers, the Shinri no Kiro, meaning Return to the Truth, were not madmen. They were dedicated to the ideal of returning the government of Japan to the people of Japan, not the American industrialists who bought anything and anyone who stood in their way.
Konaka reaffirmed his plan to keep the existence of his group away from the government. Best that they don’t know what will strike them down. The attacks today were a start on a long journey to the renewal of Japan, the reinstitution of the samurai as the means for justice in Japan’s society. But how to shorten the journey? He puzzled over that for several moments. He knew he needed more, larger spectacles than what he had achieved today. He needed to be more persuasive.
The thought was on him in a rush and would not leave him alone. The former Soviet Union had many things no longer needed by them, and there were always someone willing and able to sell even the hardest-to-get items. He thought of Hendrick and his quest for the treasure of the Awa Maru. Ever since he had boarded Hendrick’s salvage ship months ago, the courageous American had not been far from his thoughts. He was expecting to hear soon of Hendrick’s success or failure from his two mercenaries, Loshak and Drukarev.
Konaka’s initial interest in Hendrick’s treasure hunting was to get enough money to keep his followers with him and his dream alive, but now the money would be used elsewhere - for one final stroke at the corrupt Japanese government and their seedy allies, the United States chief among them.
A thought struck him, reminding him of a line in the creed of the samurai.
I have no eyes; I make the Flash of Lightning my eyes.
CHAPTER 14
Chase
KURCHATOV
TAIWAN STRAIT
Steve Hendrick ran down the narrow, dimly lit corridor toward the conn where Golubev was planning how to get away from the Chinese Navy. A depth charge detonated unexpectedly causing the whole vessel to shudder and Hendrick to lose his balance. A second blast occurred only seconds later, sending Hendrick bouncing painfully between the bulkheads on either side of the passageway.
He leaned against the wall of the corridor for a moment to regain his bearings then sprinted down the passageway. He entered the conn and saw Golubev leaning against the bulkhead, gripping an overhead handhold. Another depth charge was imminent. Hendrick imitated Golubev’s actions only seconds before another double detonation from the Chinese depth charges.
Golubev immediately went to the intercom and shouted something which Hendrick didn’t understand, then he quickly went back to the chart table.
“Captain, the ROV is still outside,” began Hendrick. Golubev completely ignored him.
“Captain!” shouted Hendrick.
Golubev turned around and leveled a venomous stare at the American. “I am busy!” he shouted back.
“We can use the ROV to distract the Chinese,” said Hendrick quickly.
Golubev’s face changed from confrontation to wariness. “How?”
“I can crank up the speed of the ROV and send it straight at the sub,” said Hendrick. “They might think it’s a torpedo.”
Golubev let out a burst of air and some small drops of spittle as well to convey what he thought of the idea. “It will never work.”
“Why not?” asked Hendrick vaguely aware of the crew in the conn bracing themselves for the next explosion.
“Because torpedoes make a totally different sound than one of your little toy submarines,” replied Golubev.
Hendrick’s face fell with disappointment as the next depth charge’s shock wave pounded the sub’s hull.
“Wait a minute,” said Hendrick. “Didn’t you tell me that you had some noise makers on board?”
“Yes,” replied Golubev suspiciously.
“They imitate the sound of a sub. Right?” asked Hendrick as excitement built up in him at the onset of another idea.
“We will eject one of them when we move from this spot in the hope that the enemy will think we are still here,” said Golubev.
“Why not put one on the ROV and send it at high speed away from here?” asked Hendrick. Golubev’s bushy eyebrows went up until Hendrick thought they would become a permanent part of the old Russian’s hairline.
“Votkak!” said Golubev. He ran toward the door leading aft and grabbed Hendrick’s arm. “Quickly, my friend. We do not have much time.”
The two of them ran down the passageway, cringing at each blast from the rain of depth charges. Hendrick stopped at the divers’ station just below the airlock, and Golubev continued on aft toward the noisemaker launchers. Hendrick began to put on a wet suit and grabbed Joe Malik to help him put on his tanks. He filled Joe in on his plan to deceive the Chinese ships while he got suited up and ready to go. As soon as the tanks were on, he began breathing the helium-oxygen mixture.
“You’re not really going out there, are you?” asked Malik who was clearly troubled.
Hendrick took the mouthpiece out of his mouth. “Got to,” was Hendrick’s short reply in the cartoon chipmunk voice caused by the helium. Neither man laughed. He replaced the mouthpiece and continued breathing the heliox mixture.
“If you think those depth charges are loud in here, you are not going to believe it when you’re outside,” said Malik. “You could get a concussion, or internal injuries from the overpressure.”
“The depth charges have been going off on the port side, so steer the ROV to the starboard side,” said Hendrick as he held the mouthpiece a half inch away from his lips. “That way I’ll at least be in the shadow of the blast.”
Malik nodded solemnly. “You can’t stay out long. The damn Chinese don’t give much of a break between depth charge runs.”
Hendrick gave Malik a look that said ‘I have no choice.’ A depth charge went off nearby to make Hendrick’s point. The blast shook the sub and everyone in it with new violence. Hendrick could feel his internal organs rattle with each detonation. Malik stepped inside the compartment that contained the ROV control station, and sat down in front of the controls. He guided the small vehicle to the starboard side of the submarine.
Golubev showed up with a long thin device in his hand. He immediately went up to Hendrick and began to show him how to activate the noisemaker. Hendrick listened to the instructions, nodding sev
eral times to show that he understood. Hendrick took the device and some rope to tie it to the ROV and turned to go up the ladder, but Golubev grabbed his arm.
“There is a pattern to their attack. Wait until there is a gap,” he said. “I will knock twice on the hatch when you should go outside.”
Hendrick nodded as excitement and adrenaline filled him. He looked at Malik through the open door to the ROV control room. His partner gave him a thumbs up. Hendrick climbed the ladder with one hand, his swim fins in the other hand, the noisemaker hanging from his belt. He got through the hatch into the airlock, closed the lid, and Golubev spun the wheel sealing the hatch.
Hendrick sat on the hatch and put on his fins as the Chinese continued their assault on the submarine. Blasts in close succession slammed into the sub’s hull, and Hendrick could now feel the overpressure increase as the detonations grew louder. The Chinese ship made a pass nearly overhead by Hendrick’s reckoning. Each pulse pounding second between explosions produced the mixed feelings of relief at still being alive, and fear that the next blast would rupture the hull and flood the ship.
Golubev hit the switches that flooded the airlock, and Hendrick put on his facemask just before the rising water covered his head. The depth charges kept going off unabated, causing Hendrick to wince in pain from the incredibly loud noise that was conducted into his body through the hull and the water surrounding him. Hendrick thought the explosions decreased in intensity and hope flared in him that the ship was moving away. Soon the detonations ceased completely.
Hendrick heard two metal-to-metal raps seemingly far below him, and he knew it was Golubev’s signal to exit the airlock. He grabbed the wheel and spun it with a fury. The dogs on the outside hatch retracted, and Hendrick pushed upward with all his strength. The lid flew back, and he began a powerful scissors kick to take him clear of the submarine. He swam frantically for the starboard side and searched the area for the ROV. Malik hit the lights on the ROV, and Hendrick caught a gleam of light through the murky water. Visibility had decreased from a normal thirty feet to three feet or less by the pounding action of the depth charges, which kicked up silt from the bottom.
Hidden Sun Page 17