Black Wind dp-18

by Clive Cussler

  “Max, I'd like to explore the Naval Ministry records for information on the mission of a particular Japanese submarine, the I-403. Can you determine whether these records might still exist?”

  “I'm sorry, Dirk, but I don't have access to that portion of the National Archives' data records.”

  Dirk turned to Yaeger with an arched brow and gave him a long, knowing look.

  “The National Archives, eh? Well, that should be a lot less dangerous than tapping into Langley,” Yaeger acceded with a shrug.

  “That's the old Silicon Valley hacker I know and love,” Dirk replied with a laugh.

  “Give me a couple of hours and I'll see what I can do.”

  “Max,” Dirk said, looking at the transparent woman in the eye, thank you for the information."

  “My pleasure, Dirk,” she replied seductively. “I'm happy to be at your service any time.”

  Then, in an instant, she vanished. Yaeger already had his nose against a computer monitor, fingers flying over a keyboard, completely engrossed in his subversive mission at hand.

  At promptly ten o'clock, Dirk entered a plush executive conference room, still carrying the large duffel bag over his shoulder. Thick azure carpet under his feet complemented the dark cherrywood conference table and matching wood paneling on the walls, which were dotted with ancient oil paintings of American Revolutionary warships. A thick pane of glass stretched the length of one wall, offering a bird's-eye view of the Potomac River and the Washington Mall across the water. Seated at the table, two stone-faced men in dark suits listened attentively as a diminutive man in horn-rimmed glasses discussed the Deep Endeavor's recent events in the Aleutian Islands. Rudi Gunn stopped in mid-sentence and popped to his feet as Dirk entered the room.

  “Dirk, good of you to return to Washington so quickly,” he greeted warmly, his bright blue eyes beaming through the thick pair of eyeglasses. “Glad to see your ferry landing injuries were minor,” he added, eyeing Dirk's swollen lip and bandaged cheek.

  “My companion broke her leg, but I managed to escape with just a fat lip. We fared a little better than the other guys,” he said with a smirk, “whoever they were. It's good to see you again, Rudi,” he added, shaking the hand of NUMA's longtime assistant director.

  Gunn escorted him over and introduced him to the other two men.

  “Dirk, this is Jim Webster, Department of Homeland Security special assistant, Information Analysis and Infrastructure Protection,” he said, waving a hand toward a pale-skinned man with cropped blond hair, "and Rob Jost, assistant director of Maritime and Land Security)

  Transportation Security Administration, under DHS.“ A rotund, bearish-looking man with a flush red nose nodded at Dirk without smiling ”We were discussing Captain Burch's report of your rescue of the CDC team on Yunaska Island," Gunn continued.

  “A fortunate thing we happened to be in the area. I'm just sorry we weren't able to reach the two Coast Guardsmen in time.”

  “Given the apparently high levels of toxins that were released near the station, they really didn't have much of a chance from the beginning,” Webster said.

  “You confirmed that they died from cyanide poisoning?” Dirk asked.

  “Yes. How did you know? That information hasn't been made public.”

  “We recovered a dead sea lion from the island, which a CDC team in Seattle examined after we returned. They found that it had been killed by cyanide inhalation.”

  “That is consistent with the autopsy reports for the two Coast Guardsmen.”

  “Have you uncovered any information on the boat that fired at us, and presumably released the cyanide?”

  After an uncomfortable pause, Webster replied, “No additional information has been obtained. Unfortunately, the description provided matches a thousand other fishing boats of its kind. It is not believed to have been a local vessel, and we are now working with the Japanese authorities to investigate leads in their country.”

  “So you believe there is a Japanese connection. Any ideas on why someone would launch a chemical attack on a remote weather station in the Aleutians?”

  “Mr. Pitt,” Jost interrupted, “did you know the men who tried to kill you in Seattle?”

  “Never saw them before. They appeared to be semiprofessionals, more than just a pair of hired street hoods.”

  Webster opened a file on the table before him and slid over a crinkled photograph in the form of a small postcard. Dirk silently looked at the black-and-white image of a hardened Japanese woman of fifty glaring violently into the camera lens.

  “An homage card of Fusako Shigenobu, former revolutionary leader of the JRA,” Webster continued. “Found it in the wallet of one of your would-be assassins after we fished them out of the sound.”

  “What's the JRA?” Dirk asked.

  “The Japanese Red Army. An international terrorist cell that dates to the seventies. Believed to have been broken up with the arrest of Shigenobu in 2000, they appear to have staged a deadly resurgence in activity.”

  “I've read that the prolonged weakness in Japan's economy has spawned renewed interest in fringe cults by the Japanese youth,” Gunn added.

  “The JRA has attracted more than a few bored youths. They have claimed responsibility for the assassinations of our ambassador to Japan and deputy chief of mission, as well as the explosion at the SemCon plant in Chiba. These were all very professional hits. The public outrage, as you are no doubt aware, is straining our relations with Tokyo.”

  “We suspect the JRA may have been behind the cyanide attack on Yunaska, as a prelude to a more deadly strike in a major urban area,” Jost added.

  “And also behind the smallpox infection of the Yunaska scientist Irv Fowler,” Dirk stated.

  “We have not established that link,” Webster countered. “Our analysts suspect that the scientist may have contracted the disease in Un-alaska, from a local Aleut. Japanese authorities do not believe the JRA is sophisticated enough to obtain and disperse the smallpox virus.”

  “I might think otherwise,” Dirk cautioned.

  “Mr. Pitt, we are not here to gather your conspiracy theories,” Jost remarked in a belittling tone. “We are just interested in learning what ^ JRA agents were doing in the country and why they tried to kill a Iv[UMA diver.”

  “That's special projects director,” Dirk replied as he hoisted the duffel bag up onto the conference table. Then, giving it a strong shove, he pushed the bag across the table in the direction of Jost. The arrogant transportation security director scrambled to hoist a cup of coffee out of the way before the bag slid up against his chest.

  “Your answer is in there,” Dirk stated brusquely.

  Webster stood and unzipped the bag as Jost and Gunn looked on intently. Carefully wrapped in foam padding was a large section of the bomb canister that Dirk had recovered from the I-403. The silver-porcelain casing was split open, revealing a segmented interior, with several empty compartments positioned beneath a small nose tip component.

  “What is it?” Gunn asked.

  “A sixty-year-old dirty bomb,” Dirk replied. He then retold the story of the World War II attack on Fort Stevens, his discovery of the submarine, and the retrieval of the bomb canister.

  “An ingenious weapon,” Dirk continued. “I had the epidemiology lab in Washington test for trace elements, to see what was armed in the payload section.”

  “It's made of porcelain,” Webster noted.

  “Used to protect biological agents. The nose cone had a simple timed explosive, designed to detonate at a pre specified altitude to disperse the main payload armament. As you can see, it would have been a pretty small charge. Enough to shatter the porcelain casing but not damage the payload with undue heat or pressure.”

  Dirk pointed to the interior payload compartments, which were cigar-shaped and stretched nearly to the tail fins.

  “It's not clear whether the payload agents were mixed together during flight or upon detonation. But the bomb could obvious
ly carry multiple compounds. The contents might be one or more biological agents with a booster, or a combination of biological or chemical agents. The CDC lab was only able to find a trace chemical agent in one of the compartments on this particular bomb.” '

  “Cyanide?” Gunn asked. “None other,” Dirk replied.

  “But why utilize more than one payload?” Webster queried. “To ensure a specific kill zone, and perhaps divert attention. Let's say cyanide was combined with a biological agent. The cyanide gas would have a high lethality in a concentrated area only, whereas the biological agent would create gradual problems over a larger region. Cyanide gas also dissipates quickly, so attack survivors would reenter the drop zone unaware of a secondary danger. But that's just speculation. It's possible the canister design was for a different intent, to strike with a mixture of several chemical agents or biological agents that would produce a higher lethality in combination.”

  “So what additional agents were on this bomb?” Gunn asked. Dirk shook his head slowly. “That, we don't know. The lab technicians were unable to detect any remaining trace elements from the other compartments. We know that the reason for using porcelain was to house biological agents, but the Japanese experimented with all kinds of organisms, so it could be anything from bubonic plague to yellow fever.”

  “Or smallpox?” Gunn asked. “Or smallpox,” Dirk confirmed.

  Jost's face glowed beet red. “This is a preposterous fantasy,” he grumbled. “The history lesson is interesting but irrelevant. A modern terrorist group salvaging weapons off a World War Two submarine? A nice story, but how are your biological viruses going to survive under the sea for sixty years, Mr. Pitt? We know the Japanese Red Army. It's a small, tight-knit organization with limited sophistication. Political assassination and planted explosives are within their means. Deep-sea salvage and microbiology are not.”

  “I have to agree with Rob,” Webster added in a muted tone. “Although the cyanide canister is an interesting coincidence with the Yunaska attack, the fact is that cyanide is a compound readily obtainable from many sources. You've admitted that there is no traceable evidence supporting the smallpox source. And we don't know for sure if the missing bomb canister on the sub was lost somewhere else on the vessel or was even loaded on board in the first place.”

  Dirk reached over to the duffel bag and unzipped a side pocket, pulling out the still-blinking digital timer he'd found in the torpedo room. “Maybe you can at least find out where this came from,” he said, handing it to Webster.

  “Could have been left behind by a sport diver,” Jost noted.

  “A sport diver with a possessive disposition, apparently,” Dirk remarked drily. “I've been shot at twice now. I don't know who these characters are, but they take their game seriously.”

  “I assure you, we have a full investigation under way,” Webster stated. “I'll have our lab in Quantico reanalyze the bomb casing and take a look at the timer. We will find the perpetrators who caused the death of the two Coast Guardsmen.” The words were firm, but the hollow tone in his voice revealed his lack of confidence in the outcome.

  “We can offer a safe house for you, Mr. Pitt, until we have made an apprehension,” he added.

  “No, thanks. If these people are who you say they are, then I should have nothing more to fear. After all, how many JRA operatives can they have in the country?” Dirk asked with a penetrating glare.

  Webster and Jost looked at each other in unknowing silence. Gunn jumped in diplomatically.

  “We appreciate your investigation into the loss of our helicopter,” he said, gently ushering the men to the door. “Please keep us advised as to any new developments, and, of course, NUMA will be happy to assist in any way we can.”

  After they left the room, Dirk sat silently shaking his head.

  “They've hushed up the Yunaska incident because they are getting so much flak for the unsolved assassinations in Japan,” Gunn said.

  Homeland Security and the FBI are stymied and are relying on the Japanese authorities to make a break in the case. The last thing they want to admit, on top of that, is that the smallpox case was part of the attack, with just one victim and no terrorists."

  “The evidence may be weak, but there is no reason to foolishly ignore an attack on our own soil,” Dirk stated.

  “I'll speak to the admiral about it. The director of the FBI is an old tennis partner of his. He'll make sure it doesn't get brushed under the carpet.”

  They were interrupted by a knock on the door, followed by the lean face of Yaeger poking in.

  “Sorry to intrude. Dirk, I have something for you.”

  “Come in, Hiram. Rudi and I were just plotting the overthrow of the government. Was Max able to access the National Archives' secure records?”

  “Does McDonald's have golden arches?” Yaeger replied, feigning insult.

  Gunn gave Dirk a sideways glance, then shook his head in amusement. “If you guys get caught on a security breach, do me a favor and blame it on your father, will you?”

  Dirk laughed. “Sure, Rudi. What did you find, Hiram?”

  “The Naval Ministry records were somewhat limited. It's a shame that most all of the original documents were returned to the Japanese government in the fifties. The available records in the archives are, of course, written in Japanese, using a variety of dialects, so I had to set up several translation programs before I could initiate a scan.”

  Yaeger paused and poured himself a cup of coffee from a large silver urn before continuing.

  “As it is, you are in luck. I found a log of operations orders from the Japanese Sixth Fleet covering the last six months of 1944.”

  “Including the I-403?” Dirk asked.

  “Yep. Its mission of December 1944 evidently had high importance. It was approved by the fleet admiral himself. The actual sailing order was short and sweet.”

  Yaeger pulled a sheet of paper from a thin folder and read aloud. “”Proceed northerly route to Pacific West Coast, refueling Amchitka (Moriokd). Initiate aerial strike with Maka^e ordnance earliest practicable. Primary Target: Tacoma, Seattle, Vancouver, Victoria. Alternate Target: Alameda, Oakland, San Francisco. With the emperor's blessing.“ ”

  “That's a pretty ambitious target list for just two planes,” Gunn remarked.

  “Think about it, though,” Dirk said. “The cities are concentrated enough all to be reached on a single flyover. Two or three biological bombs per city would wreak deadly havoc, if that's in fact what they were. Hiram, you said the ordnance was referred to as Maka^e. St. Julien Perlmutter found mention of the same term. Any information on what they were?”

  “I was curious about that myself,” Yaeger replied. “I found that the 'iferal translation was 'evil wind' or 'black wind.” But there was no additional information in the official naval records."

  Yaeger paused and sat back in his chair with a knowing, look.

  “Well, did you find anything else?” Gunn finally goaded.

  “It was Max, actually,” Yaeger replied proudly. “After exhausting the National Archives data, I had her search the public databases in the U.S. and Japan. In a Japanese genealogy database, she hit pay dirt, locating an obscure diary from a sailor who served aboard the I-403 during the war.” Holding a printout up to his face, he continued. “Mechanic First Class Hiroshi Sakora, Imperial Navy Air Corps, was a lucky devil. He came down with appendicitis while the sub was crossing the Pacific on its fateful voyage in December of 1944 and was transferred off the boat and onto the refueling ship in the Aleutian Islands. All his shipmates, of course, went on to perish when the sub was sunk off Washington State.”

  “And he made mention of the I-403's mission?” Dirk asked.

  “In vivid detail. It turns out that the young Mr. Sakora, in addition to his aircraft mechanic duties, was also in charge of aerial ordnance for the submarine's airplanes. He wrote that before they left port on their final voyage, an Army officer named Tanaka brought aboard an unusual type of
aerial bomb that was to be used on the mission. The shipboard morale became very high, he added, when the crew learned they were to make an attack on the United States. But there was much mystery and speculation about the unknown weapon.”

  “Did he identify what it was?” Gunn pressed.

  “He tried to, but working with the fellow Tanaka was difficult. ”A gloomy, overbearing, obstinate taskmaster," he wrote about the officer.

  Typical Army-Navy rivalry, I suppose, plus the submariners didn't like his being a last-minute addition to the sailing crew. At any rate, he pressed Tanaka for information, but to no avail. Finally, just before he fell ill and was transferred off the sub in the Aleutians, he wriggled the information out of one of the pilots. The pilot, so the story goes,

  shared some sake with Tanaka and was able to pry the secret payload out of him. It was smallpox."

  “Good God, so it's true!” Gunn exclaimed.

  “Apparently so. He wrote that the payload was a freeze-dried virus, which was to be detonated and dispersed at altitude above the most concentrated population points of each city. Within two weeks, an outbreak of smallpox was expected all along the West Coast. With a thirty percent mortality rate, the deaths would have been staggering. The Japanese figured the resulting panic would allow them to negotiate a peace settlement on their terms.”

  "The threat of more smallpox bombs on our home soil might very well have changed the resolve of many people to finish the war, Gunn speculated.

  An uneasiness crept over the room as the three considered how history may have played out differently had the I-403 successfully completed its mission. Their thoughts then turned to the possibility of a more current threat.

  “You mentioned that the virus was freeze-dried. So they must have had the ability to store the virus for long periods and then rejuvenate it,” Dirk commented.