followed by three years of Japanese oppressive rule, until American
advances across the Pacific led to the invasion of the southern island
of Leyte in October 1944.
Just over a hundred miles from Panglao, the province of Leyte and its
adjoining gulf was the site of the largest air sea battle in history.
Days after MacArthur and his invasion force landed on "Leyte, the
Japanese Imperial Navy appeared and successfully divided the American
supporting naval force. The Japanese came within a hair of destroying
the Seventh Fleet, but were ultimately turned back in a devastating
defeat, losing four carriers and three battleships, including the
massive battlewagon Musashi. The crippling losses finished the
Imperial Navy's brief dominance in Pacific waters and led to the
country's military collapse within a year.
The sea channels surrounding the southern Philippine islands of Leyte,
Samar, Mindanao, and Bohol were littered with sunken cargo transport,
and warships from the conflict. It would be no surprise to Pitt if the
toxins were related to combat wreckage. Eyeing the gash in the cargo
ship's hull, it was easy to presume that the vessel was a victim of
war.
Pitt mentally envisioned the Japanese-flagged freighter under air
attack, the desperate captain electing to run the ship aground in a
perilous attempt to save the crew and cargo. Slicing into the coral
reef, the bow quickly filled with water as the ship ricocheted off the
sides of the crevasse. With a full head of steam, the ship literally
drove itself over onto its port side. Whatever cargo the captain had
tried to save lay hidden and dormant for decades to follow.
"I think we definitely hit the jackpot," Giordino said in a morose
tone.
Pitt turned to see Giordino's gloved hand pointing away from the hull
and toward the adjacent reef Gone was the vibrant red-, blue-, and
green-colored corals they had witnessed earlier. In a fan-shaped
pattern stretching around the ship's bow, the coral was uniformly
tinted a dull white. Pitt grimly noted that no fish were visible in
the area as well.
"Bleached dead from the arsenic," he noted.
Turning back to the wreck, he grabbed a small flashlight clipped to his
buoyancy compensator and ducked toward the gap in the hull. Edging his
way slowly into the ship's underside, he flicked on the light and
sprayed its beam across the black interior. The lower bow section was
empty but for a mass of thick anchor chain coiled in a huge pile like
an iron serpent. Creeping aft, Pitt moved toward the rear bulkhead as
Giordino slipped through the gash and followed behind him. Reaching
the bulkhead, Pitt panned his light across the steel wall that
separated them from the forward cargo hold. At its lower joint with
the starboard bulkhead, he found what he was looking for. The pressure
from the outer hull's collision with the reef had buckled one of the
plates on the cargo hold's bulkhead. The bent metal created a
horizontal window to the cargo hold several feet wide.
Pitt eased up to the hole, careful not to kick up silt around him, then
stuck his head in and pulled in the flashlight. A huge lifeless eye
stared back at him just inches away, nearly causing him to recoil until
he saw that it belonged to a grouper. The fifty-pound green fish
drifted back and forth across the compartment in a slow maze, its gray
belly pointing up toward the trail of Pitt's rising exhaust bubbles.
Peering past the dead fish into its black tomb, Pitt's blood went cold
as he surveyed the hold. Scattered in mounds like eggs in a henhouse
were hundreds of decaying artillery shells. The forty-pound
projectiles were ammunition for the 105mm artillery gun, a lethal field
weapon utilized by the Imperial Army during the war.
"A Welcome-to-the-Philippines present for General MacArthur?" Giordino
asked, peering in.
Pitt silently nodded, then pulled out a plastic-lined dive bag.
Giordino obliged by reaching over and grabbing a shell and inserting it
in the bag as Pitt sealed and wrapped it. Giordino then reached over
and picked up another highly corroded shell, holding it just a few
inches off the bottom. Both men looked on curiously as a brown oily
substance leaked out of the projectile.
"That doesn't resemble any high-explosives powder I've ever seen," 'is
said, gingerly setting the weapon down.
"I don't think they are ordinary artillery shells," Pitt replied as he
noted a pool of brown ooze beneath a nearby pile of ordnance. "Let's
get this one back to the shipboard lab and find out what we've got," he
said, carrying the wrapped ordnance under his arm like a football.
Gliding forward along the bow section, he slipped through the open hull
and back into the bright sunlit water.
Pitt had little doubt that the armament was a lost World War II cache.
Why the arsenic, he did not know. The Japanese were innovative in
their weapons of war and the arsenic-laced shells might have been
another device in their arsenal of death. The loss of the Philippines
would have effectively spelled the end of the war for the Japanese and
they may have prepared to use the weapons as part of a last-gasp
measure against a determined enemy.
As they surfaced with the mysterious shell, Pitt felt a strange sense of
relief. The deadly cargo that the ship carried so many years ago had
never reached port. He was somehow glad that it had ended up sunk on
the reef, never to be fielded in the face of battle.
Japanese Imperial submarine I-413 and Numa submersible Starfish
June 4, 2007 Kyodongdo Island, South Korea
At fifty-five meters in length, the steel-hulled Benetti yacht was
impressive even by Monte Carlo affluent standards. The custom-built
Italian yacht's lush interior featured an array of marble flooring,
Persian carpets, and rare Chinese antiques, which filled the cabins and
salons with warm elegance. A collection of fifteenth-century oil
paintings by the Flemish master Hans Memling dotted the walls, adding
to the eclectic feel. The glistening maroon-and-white exterior, which
featured a wide band of wraparound dark-tinted windows, was given a
more traditional appearance, with inlaid teak decking and brass
fittings on the outside verandas. The entire effect was a tasteful mix
of old-world charm combined with the speed and function of modern
design and technology. Always turning heads as it roared by, the
vessel was an admired fixture on the Han River in and about Seoul. To
the local society crowd, an invitation aboard was a highly desired mark
of prominence, providing the rare opportunity to sil with the boat's
enigmatic owner.
Dae-jong Kang was a leading icon of South Korean industry and he seemed
to have his hands in everything. Little was known of the mercurial
leader's early background, aside from his sudden appearance during
the economic boom of the nineties as the head of a regional
construction company. But upon his taking over the reins, the low-tech
firm became a
corporate Pac-Man, gobbling up companies in the shipping, electronics, semiconductor, and telecommunications industries in
a series of leveraged buy outs and hostile takeovers. The businesses
were all rolled under the umbrella of Kang Enterprises, a privately
held empire entirely controlled and directed by Kang himself. Unafraid
of the public spotlight, Kang mixed freely with politicians and
business leaders alike, wielding additional influence on the board of
directors of South Korea's largest companies.
The fifty-year-old bachelor held a veil of mystery over his private
life, however. Much of his time was spent sequestered at his large
estate on a secluded section of Kyodongdo Island, a lush mountainous
outpost near the mouth of the Han River on the western Korean coast.
There he dabbled with a stable of Austrian show horses or worked on his
golf game, according to the few who had been invited inside the private
enclave. More carefully hidden was a dark secret about the
iconoclastic businessman that would have completely shocked his
corporate cronies and political patrons. Unknown to even his closest
associates, Kang had operated for over twenty-five years as a sleeper
agent for the Democratic People's Republic of Korea, or North Korea, as
it was known by the rest of the world.
Kang was born in the Hwanghae Province of North Korea shortly after the
Korean War. At the age of three, his parents were killed in a railroad
derailment, blamed on South Korean insurgents, and the infant boy was
adopted by his maternal uncle. The uncle, a founding member of the
Korean Workers' Party in 1945, had fought with Kim Il Sung and his
anti-Japanese guerrilla forces based in the Soviet Union during World
War II. When Kim Il Sung later rose to power in North Korea, the uncle
was richly rewarded with a series of provincial government
appointments, brokering himself into ever more important spheres of
influence until, ultimately, gaining a seat as an elite ruling member
of the Central People's Committee, the top executive decision-making
organization in North Korea.
During his uncle's ascension, Kang received a thorough indoctrination
in the Korean Workers' Party dogma while obtaining the best
state-sponsored education the fledgling country could offer. Recognized
early as a fast learner who excelled at his studies, Kang was groomed
as a foreign operative, with sponsorship from his uncle.
Blessed with a keen financial mind, command like leadership skills, and
a ruthless heart, Kang was smuggled into South Korea at the age of
twenty-two and set up as a laborer at a small construction company.
With brutal efficiency, he quickly worked his way up to foreman, then
arranged a series of "accidental" work site deaths that killed the
firm's president and top managers. Forging a series of ownership
transfer documents, Kang quickly took control of the business within
two years of his arrival. With secret direction and capital infusion
from Pyongyang, the young communist entrepreneur slowly expanded his
network of commercial enterprises over the years, focusing on products
and services most beneficial to the North. Kang's forays into
telecommunications provided access to Western network communications
hardware valuable to the military's command and control systems. His
semiconductor plants secretly built chips for use in short-range
missiles. And his fleet of cargo ships provided the means for covertly
transferring defense technology to the government of his homeland. The
profits from his corporate empire that were not smuggled north in the
form of Western goods and technology were spent bribing key politicians
for government contracts or utilized for the hostile acquisition of
other companies. Yet Kang's zealous appropriation of power and
technology was almost peripheral to his primary objective, set forth by
his handlers so many years before. Kang's mission, in the simplest of
provisions, was to promote the reunification of the two Korean
countries, but on North Korea's terms.
The sleek Benetti yacht slowed its engines as it entered a narrow
inlet off the Han River that wound snakelike into a protected cove. As
the boat eased through the inlet, the pilot increased the throttle
again, racing the boat smoothly across the calm waters of the interior
lagoon. A yellow floating dock bobbed gently on the opposite side of
the | cove, which quickly grew larger in size as the yacht drew near.
The big; vessel stormed toward the dock, swinging parallel at just the
last, minute as its engines were cut. A pair of black-uniformed men
grabbed the bow and stern lines and tied off the vessel as the pilot
finessed her the last few feet to the dock. The shore crew quickly
rolled a stepped platform against the yacht's side, the upper step
matching the foot level of the first deck.
A cabin door popped open and three gray-looking men in dark blue suits
stepped down onto the dock and instinctively peered up at the large
stone structure perched above them. Jutting from a cliff that rose
nearly vertically above the dock nestled an immense stone house that
was half-carved into the crown of the bluff. Thick walls surrounded
the house, lending a medieval look to the compound, although the house
itself was clearly of Asian design, with a deep angular tiled roof
capping the brownstone walls. The entire structure sat two hundred
feet above the water, accessible by a steep set of stairs carved into
the rock on one side. The three men noted that twelve-foot-high stone
walls ran all the way down to the water's edge, ensuring a high degree
of privacy. A tight-lipped guard standing at the dock's footing with
an automatic rifle slung over his shoulder ensured even more.
As the men in suits made their way along the dock, a door opened from a
small structure near the landing and out walked their host to greet
them. There was no question that Dae-jong Kang had an imposing air
about him. At an even six feet tall and weighing two hundred pounds,
his physical mass was large by Korean standards. But it was his stern
face and penetrating eyes that indicated a willful presence. Under the
right circumstances, his piercing glare could almost cut a
man in two. A practiced but insincere smile helped break down barriers
when he needed to, but an icy-cold aloofness always lingered over him
like a cloud. He was a man who reeked of power and was not afraid to
use it.
"Welcome, gentlemen," Kang said in a smooth voice. "I trust your
voyage from Seoul was enjoyable?"
The three men, all leading party members in the South Korean National
Assembly, nodded in unison. The senior member of the political trio, a
balding man named Youngnok Rhee, replied for the group: "A trip down
the Han River is a delight in such a beautiful boat."
"It is my preferred means of commuting to Seoul," Kang replied,
implying the boredom he found flying in his private helicopter. "Right
this way," he motioned toward the small building at the base of the
cliff.
The po
liticians followed him obediently past a small security station
and down a narrow passageway to a waiting elevator, the shaft of which
had been carved directly into the cliff. The visitors admired an
ancient painting of a tiger hung on the elevator's back wall as it rose
rapidly to the main house. When the doors opened, the men stepped out
into an expansive, ornately decorated dining room. Beyond an elegant
mahogany dining table, floor-to-ceiling glass walls offered a
breathtaking view of the Han River delta, where the grand river's
waters emptied into the Yellow Sea. A sprinkling of worn sampans and
small cargo boats dotted the horizon, fighting their way upriver toward
Seoul with a supply of trade goods. Most of the boats clung to the
south bank of the river, well away from the imaginary demarcation line
with North Korea that ran down the river's center.
"An incredible view, Mr. Kang," offered the tallest of the three
politicians, a man named Won Ho.
"I enjoy it, for the vista encompasses both our countries," Kang
replied with intent. "Please be seated." He waved a hand as he spoke,
then took a seat at the head of the table. A cadre of uniformed
servants began shuttling in an array of fine wines and gourmet
dishes,
while the conversation among the seated men drifted toward politics..;
A medley of spicy fragrances filled the air as they dined on
daiji-bulgog^l or pork marinated in a spicy garlic sauce, accompanied
by jachae guij, an assortment of marinated vegetables. Kang played the
gregarious host to his guests until they had comfortably imbibed,
then he applied the knife.
"Gentlemen, it's high time we take seriously the effort to unify our
two countries," he spoke slowly, for effect. "As a Korean, I know that
we are one country in language, in culture, and in heart. As a
businessman, I know how much stronger we could be economically in the
Dirk Pitt18-Black Wind Page 14