Dirk Pitt18-Black Wind

by Cussler, Clive

  designed to drive the payload section into final orbit."

  The unfueled section appeared to have broken cleanly from the lower

  Stage 2 component during the explosion. But the payload section that

  rode above it had separated also and was no longer attached.

  A few yards away, a large white object stretched into the murky range

  of the camera lens.

  "Enough with the preliminaries. Let's go take a look at that big boy,"

  Giordino said, pointing to the edge of one of the video monitors.

  Pitt guided the ROV toward the object, which quickly filled the video

  screens with white. It was clearly another section of the Zenit

  rocket, even more intact than the Stage 3 section. Pitt estimated it

  was about twenty feet long, and noticed that it appeared to have a

  slightly larger diameter. The nearest end was a mangled mass of

  carnage. Twisted and jagged edges of the white metal skin jutted

  inward as if mashed by a giant sledgehammer. Pitt maneuvered the ROV

  to peer inside but there was little to be seen besides mashed metal.

  "This has to be the payload. It must have struck the water on its

  end," Pitt remarked.

  "Maybe there's something exposed on the other side," Giordino said.

  Pitt quickly guided the ROV along the length of the horizontal rocket

  section until reaching the opposite end, then glided the submersible

  around in a wide U-turn. Shining the ROV's illuminating lights into

  the exposed end, Pitt and Giordino craned at the monitor to get a

  closer look. The first thing that Pitt noticed was an inward-flared

  ring around the interior edge. It was apparent that the

  smaller-diameter Stage 3 rocket section had been mated to the section

  at this end. Inching the ROV closer, they could see that a vertical

  piece of fairing had been stripped off the rocket along the exposed top

  side. Raising the ROV until it hovered just above the prone rocket,

  Pitt guided the submersible along its upper side, following the open

  seam with the cameras pointed inside. After viewing a maze of tubes

  and wiring, Pitt stopped the ROV as the video image suddenly displayed

  a flat board that glistened under the submersible's high-power lights.

  A wide grin quickly spread across Pitt's face.

  "I do believe that there's a solar panel shining back at us," he

  said.

  "Well done, Dr. von Braun," Giordino replied, nodding.

  As the ROV inched forward, they could clearly see the folded wings of

  the solar panels and the cylindrical body of the mock satellite through

  the open seam. Though the nose cone had been mashed at impact, the

  satellite payload inside had survived intact, and, with it, the deadly

  cargo of virus.

  After carefully studying the integrity of the entire payload section

  with the remote video, Pitt returned the ROV to the Deep Endeavor and

  directed the vessel into salvage mode. Though Deep Endeavor was

  primarily an exploration vessel, she was equipped to handle light

  salvage with the help of her onboard submersibles. Despite the loss of

  the Badger, Pitt and Giordino employed a backup submersible to affix a

  sling support around the payload and slowly bring the rocket section to

  the surface with the aid of large lift bags. Under cover of darkness

  and away from the prying eyes of the occasional media boat, the

  pay-load was hoisted out of the water and onto the deck of the Deep

  Endeavor. Pitt and Giordino looked on as the rocket piece was secured

  and covered under a shroud of canvas.

  "That'll give the intelligence boys something to chew on for a while,"

  Giordino said.

  "It will certainly prove that the attack was not attempted by an

  amateur group of terrorists. Once the lethality of the payload is

  revealed to the public, the ignoble Mr. Kang will wish he was never

  born."

  Giordino waved an arm toward a fuzzy glow of light on the eastern

  horizon. "All things considered, I'd say the good people of Los

  Angeles owe us a beer for protecting their fair city ... and maybe the

  keys to the Playboy Mansion."

  "They have Dirk and Summer to thank."

  "Too bad they weren't here to see this baby come up."

  "I still haven't heard from the kids since we dropped them at the

  dock."

  "They're probably doing the same thing their old man would have done,"

  Giordino grinned. "Slipped the intelligence interview and headed down

  to Manhattan Beach for some surfing."

  Pitt laughed briefly then looked out at the dark sea as his thoughts

  wandered. No, he knew, now wasn't the time for that.

  Forty-two thousand feet above the Pacific, Dirk sat in the cramped seat

  of a government jet trying to get some sleep. But the adrenaline still

  surged through his body, keeping him awake as the plane nosed closer to

  South Korea. It was just hours before that he and Summer had been

  summoned off the Deep Endeavor to brief FBI and Defense Department

  intelligence officials on their meeting with Kang and to provide

  details about the industrialist's fortified residence.

  They learned that Sandecker had finally persuaded the president, and

  the White House had issued orders to get Kang, swiftly and silently and

  without informing the South Korean government. An assault plan had

  been formulated, targeting several of Kang's facilities, including the

  shipyard at Inchon. The mysterious leader had not been seen in public

  for days so his private residence was moved to the top of the list of

  incursion targets. Because few Westerners had ever been invited to the

  residence, Dirk and Summer's insights were critical.

  "We'll be happy to provide you with a full layout of the site, identify

  entry points and passageways, even give you the security force

  positions and monitoring technology," Dirk offered to the delight of

  the intelligence agents. "But I expect one thing in return," he added,

  "and that's a ticket to the show."

  Dirk smiled to himself as he watched the color drain from their faces.

  After some grumbling counter arguments and a few calls to Washington,

  he won out. There would be value, they knew, in having him on the

  ground with the assault force. For her part, Summer thought he was

  crazy.

  "You actually want to go back to that chamber of horrors?" she asked

  incredulously when the agents had left the room.

  "You bet," he replied. "I want a front-row seat when they slip the

  noose around Kang's neck."

  "Once was enough for me. Please be careful, Dirk. Leave the assault

  work to the professionals. I nearly lost both you and Dad today," she

  said with sisterly concern.

  "Not to worry. I'll keep quietly to the rear with my head down," he

  promised.

  Two hours of intense briefings later, he was whisked to LAX and bound

  again for Korea. Shortly after the jet's wheels touched down at Osan

  Air Base after the long flight across the Pacific, he was at it again,

  this time briefing the Special Operations Forces that would be carrying

  out the assault. Dirk was particularly thorough, providing every

  detail and scrap of information about Kang's residence that he could<
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  remember. He then sat back and listened intently as the tactical

  assault plans were presented in precise detail. Two Army Special Ops

  teams were tasked with infiltrating Kang's marine dock and nearby

  telecommunications center in Inchon while a Navy SEAL team would broach

  his residence. The operations would be conducted simultaneously, with

  backup teams standing by to strike additional Kang properties, should

  the enigmatic leader not be found at the initial targets.

  After the briefing, a no-nonsense Navy captain responsible for

  coordinating the SEAL assault approached Dirk.

  "You've got five hours to relax before we assemble. You'll go in as

  part of Commander Gutierrez's team. I'll see that Paul has you

  outfitted ahead of time. Sorry, but we can't issue you a firearm.

  Orders."

  "I understand. I'm just grateful to join the ride."

  Grabbing a quick meal and nap at a temporary officers' quarters, Dirk

  assembled with the SEAL team, where he was issued a set of black

  camouflage fatigues, an armored vest, and a pair of night vision

  goggles. After a final briefing, the men boarded a pair of enclosed

  trucks and were driven to a small dock south of Inchon. Under cover of

  darkness, the twenty-four-man SEAL team boarded a nondescript support

  boat and quickly shoved off, proceeding north into the Yellow Sea

  toward Kyodongdo Island. The team of highly trained commandos

  anxiously rechecked their weapons under the enclosed main cabin's dim

  lights as the boat sped across the open sea. Commander Paul Gutierrez,

  a short but husky man who wore a thin mustache, approached Dirk when

  they neared the mouth of the Hun River.

  "You'll be going in with my squad in boat number two," he said. "Just

  stick close by when we hit the ground and follow my lead. With any

  luck, we'll be in and out without firing a shot. But, just in case,"

  he paused and handed Dirk a small satchel.

  Dirk unzipped the bag and pulled out a SIG Sauer P226 9mm automatic

  pistol with spare ammunition clips.

  "Much obliged. I was hoping I wouldn't have to walk into a potential

  firefight unarmed," Dirk replied.

  "The Kevlar vest will keep you safe, but this will add some insurance.

  Just don't tell anyone where you found it," he nodded with a wink, then

  turned and ambled off to the wheelhouse to check their progress.

  A half hour later, the support boat sped past the cove entrance that

  led to Kang's residence and continued upriver another two miles

  before suddenly cutting the engines. As the boat slowed to a stop

  against the current and began drifting back downriver, three Zodiac

  black rubber boats were quickly lowered over the side. With quiet

  efficiency, eight SEALs quietly climbed into each boat and paddled away

  from the support craft, Dirk joining the men in the second rubber boat.

  Nearly invisible against the darkened night, the three boats moved

  easily downriver with the current before silently turning into the

  inlet to Kang's property.

  A cloudy sky softly reflected the lights of Kang's compound as the

  three rubber boats turned the last corner of the winding inlet and

  entered the expansive cove beneath the residence. Dirk gripped a

  paddle tightly and rowed in silent unison with the heavily armed SEAL

  team members beside him in the boat. The lingering effects of jet lag

  and exhaustion from the aborted Sea Launch strike were quickly shaken

  off at the sight of Kang's stone fortress.

  Halfway across the cove, the boats split up, two heading left to land

  on the sandy beach near the boat dock while the third moved toward the

  right. The third boat's wet suit-clad occupants would swim ashore

  first, creeping in along the rocky landing on the opposite side of the

  dock. Dirk rowed in one of the boats that headed to the beach,

  wondering if the advance SEAL team had missed neutralizing any of the

  surveillance video cameras Kang had mounted around the inlet.

  As they paddled closer to shore, Dirk noticed the same configuration of

  boats tied up at the dock as when he escaped with Summer. Kang's big

  Benetti yacht and the blue high-speed catamaran were tied up in a row,

  while the small speedboat was centered in between. The yacht and

  catamaran quickly became the focus of all the men in Dirk's rubber

  boat. Their mission was to secure Kang's docked vessels while the

  other SEAL teams rushed the compound. Surveying the dock and

  surrounding area, Dirk smiled to himself at the sight of the missing

  skiff.

  The two rubber boats hung offshore for several minutes as the submerged

  SEALs crept ashore on the far side. From his vantage point in the

  cove, Dirk watched as a handful of black shapes moved silently out of

  the water and along the rocky shoreline. A pair of dark shapes crept

  up to the security booth and quickly subdued the on-duty guard, whose

  nose was buried in a newspaper.

  At the bow of Dirk's boat, Commander Paul Gutierrez quietly raised his

  hand and the ops team dipped their paddles in the water, rapidly

  driving the rubber boat ashore after a few dozen hard strokes. The

  boat's hull barely scraped the sand when its occupants burst out and

  sprinted down the shoreline toward the dock. All remained quiet about

  the compound as the following boat's team simultaneously raced up to

  the cliff entrance under cover of the advance squad.

  Dirk followed his team of eight men as they hustled onto the dock ramp,

  then split in two. Four men peeled off and leaped aboard the catamaran

  while Commander Gutierrez and three men continued down the dock toward

  the Benetti. Dirk kept running past the catamaran, opting to join the

  men headed for the larger yacht. But twenty yards from the yacht, he

  suddenly froze in his tracks as a yellow flash of light burst from the

  stern deck. The clatter from an AK-74 shattered the night air a

  microsecond later, followed by a sickening series of dull thumps as the

  bullets slammed into the bodies of the two men in front of him. Ducking

  behind a barrel, Dirk yanked the SIG Sauer 9mm pistol from a side

  holster and quickly squeezed ten shots toward the source of the

  gunfire. A few yards ahead of him, Gutierrez had also returned fire,

  sweeping the yacht's rear deck with a Heckler & Koch MP5K submachine

  gun. Their combined bursts silenced the unseen gunman amid a spray of

  flying splinters and shattered glass.

  The sudden bursts of gunfire seemed to awaken the whole island as small

  arms fire erupted throughout the compound. A pair of pistol-wielding

  gunmen popped out of a cabin door on the catamaran with guns blazing

  but were quickly mowed down by the SEAL team already positioned aboard.

  A guard in the main security house noticed the

  murdered beach guard over a video camera and quickly alerted the

  residence security forces. The approaching SEALs found themselves

  walking into the fire from a half-dozen armed guards.

  Back on the dock, Dirk leaned over the two men sprawled on the ground

  in front of him. To his shock, he found the first man was dead, a

  series of bullet punctures not
iceable across his neck and clavicle. The

  second man was wriggling about, gasping in pain. He had been saved by

  his Kevlar combat vest, the burst having caught him across the stomach,

  his unprotected hips and thighs catching the worst of the fire.

  "I'm okay," the tough SEAL grunted as Dirk tried to assess his wounds.

  "Finish the mission."

  As he spoke, the powerful motors of the Benetti yacht gurgled to life.

  Dirk looked up to see more gunfire erupt from the boat's dock-side

  gunwale as a pair of crewmen worked down the length of the vessel, one

  cutting the mooring lines while the other sprayed covering fire across

  the deck.

  "We'll get them," Dirk said to the prone man, patting his shoulder.

  Reluctantly leaving the injured soldier, he stood up and sprinted

  toward the yacht. The yacht's motors began to rumble loudly as the

  throttles were shoved to full. A foaming torrent boiled off the

  transom as the boat's propellers cut into the water.

  A few feet ahead of Pitt, Gutierrez let off a quick burst of fire aimed

  at the starboard passageway, then stood and barked, "Let's get

  aboard!"

  Dirk bolted past Gutierrez and the other SEAL at a dead run as the two

  commandos scrambled to chase after the departing yacht. The crack of

  an automatic pistol belched somewhere above Dirk three times and he

  could hear the whine as the bullets flew just over his head. A loud

  thud resonated from the dock behind him and a voice shouted out "I'm

  hit" just as Dirk leaped off the dock.

  The fleeing yacht was only a few feet removed from the dock when Dirk

  jumped and he easily grasped the side railing midair and pulled