Dirk Pitt18-Black Wind

by Cussler, Clive

  took a quick glance over his shoulder and saw that the Deep Endeavor

  had completed her freighter inspection. The turquoise vessel was

  moving away from the freighter and appeared to be following his path in

  the distance.

  "Sir, would you like to approach the platform or the ship?" the

  helmsman asked as they drew nearer.

  "Bring us alongside the platform for starters, then we'll go take a

  look at the ship," Smith replied.

  The small patrol boat slowed as it eased near the platform, which now

  rode fourteen meters lower in the water under its ballasted state.

  Smith looked in awe at the huge Zenit rocket standing at its launch

  tower near the stern edge of the platform. Peering through binoculars,

  he studied the platform deck but saw no signs of life. Surveying the

  forward section of the platform, he caught sight of the launch

  countdown clock, which now read 01:32:00, one hour and thirty-two

  minutes.

  "What the hell?" Smith muttered as he watched the digital numbers tick

  lower. Grabbing the marine radio transmitter, he called to Odyssey.

  "Sea Launch platform, this is Coast Guard cutter Narwhal. Over." After

  a pause, he tried again. But he was met only with silence.

  "Sea Launch director of information, how may I help you?" a soft,

  feminine voice answered over the phone line.

  "This is the Eleventh District U.S. Coast Guard, Marine Safety Group,

  Los Angeles, central dispatch. We're requesting mission and location

  status of Sea Launch vessels Odyssey and Sea Launch Commander,

  please."

  "One moment," the information director hesitated, shuffling through

  some papers on her desk.

  "Here we are," she continued. "The launch platform Odyssey is en route

  to her designated launch site in the western Pacific, near the equator.

  Her last reported position, as of eight a.m. this morning, was at

  approximately 18 degrees North Latitude, 132 degrees West Longitude, or

  roughly seventeen hundred miles east-southeast of Honolulu Hawaii. The

  assembly and command ship Sea Launch Commander is presently at port in

  Long Beach undergoing minor repairs. She is expected to depart port

  tomorrow morning to rendezvous with the Odyssey at the equator, where

  the Koreasat 2 launch is scheduled in eight days."

  "Neither vessel is currently located at sea off the coast of Southern

  California?"

  "Why no, of course not."

  "Thank you for the information, ma'am."

  "You're welcome," the director replied before hanging up, wondering why

  the Coast Guard would think the platform was anywhere near the coast of

  California.

  Smith was too anxious to dally for a response from the Los Angeles

  Coast Guard Group and brought his vessel closer to the platform. The

  Coast Guard lieutenant was annoyed at the lack of response from the

  Odyssey, which had ignored his repetitive radio calls. He finally

  turned his attention toward the support ship, which had now crept a

  quarter mile away from the platform. Repeated radio calls to the ship

  went unanswered as well.

  "Sir, she's flying a Japanese flag," the helmsman noted as the Narwhal

  moved toward the vessel.

  "No excuse for ignoring a marine radio call. Let's move alongside the

  vessel and I'll try to talk to them over the PA system," Smith

  ordered.

  As Narwhal moved out of the shadow of the platform, pandemonium struck

  at once. Coast Guard dispatch broke over the Narwhal's radio with word

  that the Odyssey was reported a thousand miles away from California and

  that her support ship was sitting docked in Long Beach. Aboard the

  Koguryo, a handful of crewmen pushed aside a lower deck siding,

  revealing a row of large cylindrical tubes pointing

  seaward. Though in disbelief, Smith's instincts took over, correctly

  assessing the situation and barking orders before he even realized the

  words were flowing from his lips.

  "Hard to port! Apply full power! Prepare for evasive maneuvers!" But

  it was too late. The helmsman was just able to swing the Narwhal

  broadside to the Koguryo when a plume of white smoke suddenly billowed

  from the larger ship's lower deck. The smoke seemed to build at its

  source before a bright flash burst forth. Then, out of the smoke, a

  Chinese CSS-N-4 Sardine surface-to-surface missile erupted from its

  launch tube, bursting horizontally away from the ship. Watching

  mesmerized from the bridge, Smith had the distinct sensation of being

  shot between the eyes with an arrow as he observed the missile charge

  directly toward him across the water. The nose tip of the missile

  seemed to smile at him in the fractional second before it smashed into

  the bridge just a few feet away.

  Carrying 365 pounds of high explosives, the Chinese missile had enough

  demolition power to sink a cruiser. Striking at short range, the

  cutter had no chance. The nineteen-foot missile ripped-into the

  Narwhal and exploded in a massive fireball, blasting the Coast Guard

  ship and its crew into fiery bits that scattered across the water. A

  small black mushroom cloud rose like a macabre tombstone above the

  devastation as the flames died quietly on the water's surface. The

  incinerated white hull, the only material remains of the ship left

  intact, clung to the sea's surface in a futile battle to stay afloat.

  Around her, flaming chunks of debris blazed in the water before slowly

  sinking to the seabed. The smoldering hull clung to the surface for

  nearly fifteen minutes before the fight left her and the last remains

  of the Narwhal slipped under the surface with a gasping sizzle and a

  wisp of steam.

  My God, they've fired a missile at the Narwhall" Captain Burch cried

  out as he watched the Coast Guard ship disappear in a cloud of smoke

  and fire two miles ahead of the Deep Endeavor. Del-gado immediately

  attempted to raise the Narwhalon the marine radio as the others peered

  out the bridge window. Summer grabbed a pair of high-power binoculars

  but there was little to be seen of the Narwhal, its shattered remains

  obscured by a thick veil of smoke. Looking past the smoke, she scanned

  the platform and the adjacent support ship, which she studied for a

  long while.

  "There's no response," Delgado said quietly after repeated attempts to

  contact the Coast Guard vessel were met with silence.

  "There may be survivors in the water," Aimes stuttered, stunned at the

  sudden demise of a boat and crew he knew well.

  "I can't dare move any closer," Captain Burch replied with angst.

  "We're completely unarmed, and they may well be aiming their next

  missile at us as we speak." Burch then turned and ordered his helmsman

  to stop engines and hold their present position.

  Delgado spoke to Aimes. "The captain is right. We'll call for help

  but we can't endanger our crew. We don't even know who or what we are

  up against."

  "It's Kang's men," Summer said, handing the binoculars to her

  brother.

  "You're sure?" Aimes asked.

  She nodded silently with a shiver as Dirk surveyed the vessels. :
>
  "She's right," he said slowly. "The support ship. It's the same

  vessel that sank the Sea Rover. She's even flying a Japanese flag.

  They've painted and reconfigured her, but I'll bet my next paycheck

  it's the same ship."

  "But why are they standing off here with the platform?" Aimes added, a

  mask of confusion crossing his face.

  "There can only be one reason. They are preparing to launch a strike

  with the Sea Launch rocket."

  A subdued silence fell across the bridge as the gravity of the

  situation sunk in. A disbelieving Aimes finally broke the hushed

  confines.

  "But the Narwhal. We've got to see if anyone's alive."

  "Aimes, you need to get some help out here, and now," Dirk replied

  brusquely. "I'll go see if there are any survivors."

  Delgado looked at Dirk with a furrowed brow. "But we don't dare bring

  the Deep Endeavor any closer," he cautioned.

  "I don't intend to," Dirk replied without explanation as he quickly

  exited the bridge.

  Tongju gazed down from the Odyssey's bridge at the smoldering debris of

  the Narwhal and stared quietly. There was no choice but for the

  Koguryo to act against the Coast Guard vessel. It was what he had

  ordered Kim to do. But they were positioned far enough off shore that

  they should never have been detected in the first place. He knew now

  that it was the encounter with the blimp that had raised suspicions.

  Silently, he cursed the Ukrainian engineers for moving the launch site

  closer to shore, neglecting to consider that the final decision had

  been his.

  Pacing the Odyssey's bridge anxiously, he noted the launch countdown

  clock read 01:10:00, one hour and ten minutes to go. A radio call from

  the Koguryo crackled through the air, breaking his thoughts.

  "This is Lee. We destroyed the enemy vessel, as you directed. There

  is another vessel standing off two thousand meters. Do you wish us to

  destroy her also?"

  "Is she another military vessel? Over," Tongju asked, peering out the

  bridge toward the distant ship.

  "Negative. Believed to be a research vessel."

  "No. Save your armament, we may need it later."

  "As you wish. Ling reports that his launch team is securely aboard the

  Koguryo. Are you ready to evacuate the platform?"

  "Yes. Send the tender back to the platform, my remaining team will be

  ready to evacuate shortly. Out."

  Tongju hung up the radio transmitter, then turned to a commando

  standing at the rear of the bridge.

  "Transfer the Sea Launch prisoners in small groups to the launch

  vehicle hangar and lock them in the storage bay located inside. Then

  assemble the assault team for transport back to the Koguryo!"

  "You do not fear that the platform crew may survive the launch inside

  the hangar?" the commando asked.

  "The exhaust gases will likely kill them. I do not care whether they

  live or die just as long as they are unable to interfere with the

  launch.

  The commando nodded, then slipped out the rear of the bridge. Tongju

  slowly walked across the pilothouse, carefully examining the array of

  marine electronics built into the lower forward bulkhead. Finding a

  panel that contained the manual override switches to the automated

  controls, he pulled out a combat knife and jammed the blade

  into a side seam and pried open the cover. Grasping the mass of wires

  inside, he yanked the serrated edge of his knife across and through the

  bundle, rendering the switches useless. Continuing his trek through

  the bridge, he gathered up a half-dozen keyboards attached to various

  navigational and positioning computers and tossed them through an open

  window, watching patiently as they splashed into the ocean below. A

  trio of laptop computers quickly followed the long plunge to a watery

  demise. For good measure, he pulled out his Glock and fired several

  rounds into an assortment of computer and navigation monitors

  positioned about the bridge. As Ling had been ordered to do with the

  launch control computers in the hangar, Tongju disabled the navigation

  computers in the pilothouse, destroying any possibility of last-minute

  intervention. With less than an hour till liftoff, all control of the

  platform and the rocket was in the hands of the Koguryo, and there it

  would remain.

  "Let me go with you," Summer said. "You know that I can pilot anything

  under the sea."

  "It's just a two-seater, and Jack is the only one with experience in

  this thing. It's better that he and I go," Dirk replied, nodding

  toward Dahlgren as he prepared the deep-probe submersible for

  launching. Grabbing his sister's hand, he looked deeply into her pearl

  gray eyes.

  "Get ahold of Dad and tell him what happened. Tell him we need help

  right away."

  Giving his sister a quick embrace, he added quietly, "Make sure Burch

  keeps the Endeavor in a safe position even if something happens to

  us."

  "Be careful," she said as he quickly climbed up and into the

  submersible, sealing the hatch behind him. Squirming into the pilot's

  seat beside Dahlgren, he saw that the submersible was fully powered up

  and ready to go.

  "Thirty knots?" Dirk asked with skepticism.

  "That's what the owner's manual states," Jack Dahlgren replied, then

  turned and gave a thumbs-up signal through the view port window. On

  the stern of the Deep Endeavor, a crane operator nodded in reply and

  lifted the bright red submersible off the ship's deck and over the

  side, dropping it hurriedly into the ocean. The two men caught a quick

  glimpse of Summer waving to them on the deck before they were engulfed

  in the green water. With the NUMA ship's bow pointed toward the

  platform, the submersible was effectively blocked from view by the Deep

  Endeavor's superstructure and they were deployed without being seen.

  A diver in the water released the cable hook, then gave a rap on the

  side to signal they were free.

  "Let's see what she'll deliver," Dirk said, activating the six

  thrusters and pushing the throttles to their stops.

  The cigar-shaped submarine surged rather than leaped forward, amid a

  whine of electric motors and rushing water. Dirk adjusted a pair of

  diving planes slightly until they were at a submerged depth of twenty

  feet, then followed a compass-directed path toward the wreck of the

  Narwhal.

  Through his hands, the ride felt like driving a vacuum cleaner. The

  submersible bobbed and weaved through the current and maneuvered like

  they were in a bowl of molasses. But with the buzzing of the thrusters

  in his ears, there was no denying she was a speed demon. Even without

  a relative speed gauge inside the submersible, Dirk could tell from the

  water rushing past the view port that they were moving at a rapid

  clip.

  "I told you she was a thoroughbred," Dahlgren grinned as he monitored

  an elapsed time clock on the console. Turning serious, he added, "We

  should be approaching Narwhal's position in about sixty seconds." Dirk

  gradually eased off the throttles a minu
te later, throwing the motors

  into idle as the Badger's forward momentum waned. Floating to the

  surface, Dahlgren adjusted the ballast tanks to keep them low in the

  water in order to remain as covert as possible. With his expert touch,

  the submersible just barely broke the surface, showing less than a foot

  of its topside surfaces above the water.

  A few yards in front of them, they could see the demolished hull of the

  smoldering Narwhal, her stern raised high in the air at an awkward

  angle. Dirk and Dahlgren barely had a chance to gaze at the hulk

  before her stern tipped upward even higher, then the entire remnant

  slipped quietly under the waves. Scattered about was a handful of

  floating debris, some smoldering but none larger than a doormat. Dirk

  guided the Badger in a small circle around the wreckage, but there was

  no sign of life in the water. Dahlgren solemnly radioed Aimes on the

  Deep Endeavor and reported that all appeared lost in the explosion.

  "Captain Burch asks that we return to the Deep Endeavor at once,"

  Dahlgren added.

  Dirk acted as if he didn't hear the comment and guided the submersible

  closer to the platform. From their vantage point low in the water,

  there was little on the platform deck they could see beyond the top

  half of the Zenit and the upper portion of the hangar. But suddenly he

  halted the Badger and pointed a finger past the rocket.

  "Look, up there."

  Dahlgren peered past the rocket but just saw the roof of the hangar and