Pulse Point

by Don Pendleton

  One of Brognola’s multiple desk phones rang. He picked up. It was Kurtzman.

  “We have our feed from Zero,” the cyberboss said. “We’ll keep monitoring. How is it at your end?”

  “On hold until I hear from the President,” Brognola explained. “He’ll be burning the wire right now trying to find a ride for David and company.”

  “Sounds just like a Phoenix request.”

  “Call you back, Aaron,” Brognola said, as he cut Kurtzman off and picked up the ringing phone.

  “Your people have their ride, Hal.”

  “Thank you, Mr. President.”

  “You need to make a call to Navy HQ in South Korea. A Commander Halbrecht is waiting for your call. He’ll be your Navy liaison, deal with the logistics, and arrange for Phoenix Force to be picked up and taken to rendezvous with a submarine patrolling the area. Wish your team good luck from me, Hal.” There was a brief pause. “Call if you need anything more.”

  “Thanks again, Mr. President.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  The Virginia Class sub was 377 feet in length and had a displacement of 7,800 tons. The sub’s power came from a nuclear reactor that converted seawater into superheated steam. The steam drove the turbines that powered the boat and also provided electrical power to the whole of the sub. The reactor had a conservative lifespan of around thirty years. The Virginia Class subs were the U.S. Navy’s near-impregnable weapons capable of staying at sea for months at a time.

  Apart from the tremendous power and speed, Virginia Class subs boasted impressive firepower. They carried Tomahawk missiles that were fired via twelve VLS tubes, as well as Mk48 ADCAP torpedoes launched from four more tubes.

  The advanced navigation allowed automatic control and the sub could patrol in shallow water, unseen and unheard. The ultrasophisticated antidetection capability enabled the sub to operate in hostile waters without being compromised and, coupled with the sensor arrays, gave it the ability to see and hear enemy mines and ships. It could hover motionless even in shallow water.

  There was no conventional periscope. Instead, a state-of-the-art photonics system was installed, which enabled real-time imaging that more than one person could see at a time. In the control room, monitors mounted around the bulkhead walls were viewed by the on-duty crew, so they could see exactly what was taking place outside the sub. There were wall-mounted monitors in certain of the personnel quarters, as well.

  Once on board, Phoenix Force was invited to the wardroom, where they were met by the sub’s commander, Captain Deveraux, his XO and a third crew member.

  McCarter was the first to step forward, holding out a hand to the sub’s captain, a man in his early forties, tall, lean, fit looking. “You must think we’re a pain in the butt, Captain Deveraux. Waltzing in like a bunch of VIPs.”

  Deveraux returned the Briton’s hard grip while his steady gaze settled on McCarter’s tanned features. The captain saw something in the other’s eyes that told him he was dealing with someone not to be passed over lightly. He saw honesty, as well as the measure of a man who had been through all kinds of combat hell and had lived to tell the tale.

  Over McCarter’s shoulder, Deveraux saw the same qualities in his team: a group of men who went about their business without show, or any kind of macho posturing. These, he saw, were real warriors who did not proclaim their skills, because they had no need to.

  “You obviously have strong connections,” Deveraux said. “I had a call from the Secretary of the Navy himself, who it seems had a similar call from the Commander in Chief.” He caught McCarter’s eye and grinned. “What the hell. I can’t argue with credentials like that.”

  McCarter thought it was sometimes a good thing to have connections. In the case of the upcoming, highly illegal mission Phoenix Force was about to embark on, having those high-end connections was a real boost.

  Deveraux got the team seated at the wardroom table, making swift introductions to the two members of his crew already waiting.

  “My XO, Phil Jacobi. And this is Chief Rossi, who will be organizing your underwater gear. Tell him what you want, and he’ll set it up for you.” Deveraux made for the door. “I’ll leave you in good hands. Time to get this operation underway,” he said as he left the wardroom.

  Rossi was a powerful-looking man with broad shoulders and an amiable expression on his face. “I heard from the Captain you’re going to swim in along with your equipment.”

  McCarter nodded. “We had to make a quick choice, Chief. Going in by water seemed to be the best one.”

  “That’s fine,” Rossi said. “You all checked out with scuba equipment?”

  “We are,” McCarter said. “We’ll appreciate any advice you have to offer.”

  Rossi nodded. “I’ll run you through the procedures. We’ve got the best equipment the Navy has on its books, so you guys will be okay.”

  “I’d feel a lot better if you told me it was bulletproof,” Hawkins said.

  “We’re not that advanced,” Rossi said. “But working on it.”

  “I’ll have to stand behind Gary again,” Hawkins said.

  “Why me?” Manning asked.

  “You’re big and brawny,” Hawkins said. “You’ll stop a bullet.”

  Jacobi, pouring coffee from an insulated jug, shook his head at the banter. “I take it you people have been working together a while?”

  James took the offered coffee. “Thanks. And, yes, we have.”

  The XO handed around the rest of the filled mugs.

  They spent a half hour discussing equipment needs and what they might expect when they reach the North Korean shore. Jacobi laid out a Navy chart and highlighted the section they were dealing with.

  “From intel on the area,” Jacobi advised, “we understand it’s not all that heavily defended. Pretty remote area. Not much in the way of civilian population there. Couple small villages along the coast. Fishermen. We can check the area before we surface and drop you.”

  “But they do patrol the water?” Manning said.

  Jacobi nodded. “Our people have logged in patrols, so we can pick our time. The NK keep to a rigid schedule out there. These guys are not very flexible. They have a course, and they stick to it like glue.”

  “Handy to know,” Encizo said. “How close in can you get us?”

  “That’s where we score,” Jacobi said. “Water’s pretty deep along that stretch of coast. There’s a natural trench that runs all along here.” He traced a finger across the chart. “We’ll stay submerged as long as we can and get you close into shore, so you only have a short swim.”

  “What about defensive measures?” McCarter asked. “No problem with mines? Detection equipment?”

  “Unless they’ve planted them since a week ago, we haven’t come across anything. Our equipment on board will tell us if anything nasty has been placed.”

  “Almost too good to be true,” Manning said.

  “How long do you figure to be ashore?” Jacobi asked.

  “For as little time as possible,” McCarter said. “In-and-out scenario. Depends on how it plays. No way we can pin it down to absolutes, but if we can hit hard and fast, catch the North Koreans off guard, we might be able to keep it short and sweet.”

  * * *

  CHIEF ROSSI HAD all the equipment laid out for them: wet suits, bodyform thermal underwear and the scuba gear.

  “This should keep out the chill,” he said. “Worn it myself and it’s pretty good.”

  “Not exactly going to make a fashion statement,” James said.

  “The ladies might go for the Jed Clampett look,” Hawkins suggested.

  “In case the NKs pick up this equipment, they won’t find any manufacturing ID. This isn’t the first time we’ve had to operate covertly. So it’s all generic gear. No way it
can be traced back.”

  “Handy to know,” McCarter said. “Chief, this is bloody marvelous. So all we have to do now is slip into NK, blow up Major Choi’s fun palace, and escape with the girl and her buddy.”

  “Sounds just like a James Bond movie,” James said.

  “Good luck there,” Chief Rossi said.

  He moved to the far end of the equipment displayed. “Rebreather units,” he said. “You familiar with these?”

  “They recycle the used air, clean it and let the diver use it again,” Manning said.

  “No telltale bubbles,” Encizo said. “Means we don’t have to wear heavy air tanks.”

  Rossi shook his head. “Anything you guys don’t know?”

  Hawkins held up a hand. “Yeah, how do we transfer out to a noncombat unit?”

  “The question every swab jockey asks when a general alert sounds,” Rossi said, a wide grin on his face.

  Manning checked over the closest unit.

  “Clean as you can get,” Rossi said. “No manufacturers’ markings. No serial numbers. These babies are as pure as the air we put in the tanks. You leave these behind, they could have come from anywhere.”

  “Really?” James said.

  “Short of inscribing them with ET’s home address, we try not to advertise.”

  “Chief, you could make a fortune working in a Chinese knock-off factory,” Manning said.

  “I’ve thought about that, sir, but my conscience wouldn’t let me.”

  “Yeah, right,” Hawkins drawled.

  Rossi walked them through the rest of the prepared gear, watching quietly as Phoenix Force responded. He was quickly made aware the team knew exactly what they were dealing with. Once he had familiarized them with the equipment, they changed from their outer clothing and got into the scuba gear.

  “Man, I’m glad none of my lady friends can see me in these LJs,” James said. “It would really put a cramp in my style.”

  “Calvin,” Hawkins said, “you do not have style. And pull that wet suit on, brother, before I go blind.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  The sub had been rigged for silent running, coming in at just under a half mile from the North Korean coast. The word had come from the captain that they were as close as they could risk. The sub was resting on the bottom, all nonessential operations suspended to maintain absolute silence.

  “You ready?” Deveraux asked.

  McCarter nodded. “As we’ll ever be,” he said cheerfully.

  “He likes to look on the bright side,” Manning said.

  “What bright side?” Encizo asked.

  Phoenix Force was now clad in the wet suits Rossi had laid out for them, with the rebreather units strapped in place. Hawkins and Encizo carried the bulky pack-cloth waterproof bag holding their clothing, backpacks and ordnance. When they reached dry land, they would change into the combat gear and the bag, containing the underwater equipment, would be buried for later retrieval. The bag was equipped with buoyancy inserts to prevent it from sinking to the bottom of the sea once they were in the water.

  “We’ll stay on the bottom, within range of your transponder,” Deveraux said. “Minute we receive your signal, we’ll move in to pick you up.”

  “Sounds so simple when you say it like that,” James said.

  Deveraux smiled encouragingly. “We try our best.”

  They reached the aft section of the sub and the access hatch leading into the lockout trunk. The solid door opened with a hiss of hydraulics, exposing the interior. Phoenix Force donned their swim fins before they eased into the chamber. With the addition of the equipment bag, it was a close fit.

  Chief Rossi said, “I wouldn’t like to try and slip a hundred-dollar bill between you guys. Good thing you know each other well.”

  “I’m okay,” McCarter quipped. “Not so sure about these bums, though.”

  The chamber door swung shut behind them, a dull red light casting a baleful glow over the team. They heard the seals lock into place, and moments later, water began to flood across the base of the chamber. Masks were slipped on and mouthpieces adjusted. The chill water began to rise swiftly, as the pressure was increased.

  It was handy that not one of Phoenix Force suffered from claustrophobia. If they had, the chamber would surely have triggered panic. The actual escape tube could only take two at a time, so the Force paired up to rise to the upper hatch. Encizo manhandled the bulky equipment bag up through the tube.

  Phoenix Force finally eased out through the chamber and cleared the sub. McCarter, last out, swung the hatch shut with a solid thump and locked it, letting the sub know they were out. As he pushed away from the gray underwater craft, McCarter was able to view it in its entirety, realizing at that moment just how large the Virginia Class sub was. The huge bulk began to move aside slowly, not gaining any kind of speed until it was well clear of the area. As the distance grew, the sub became an indistinct shape before vanishing completely.

  Phoenix Force formed into a loose group, James in front, guiding them through the murky water as they swam for the shore. He wore an illuminated compass on a wristband, using it to guide them in. The water was cold. They could feel the chill, despite the wet suits and the thermal underwear, but at least their gear protected them from the low temperature of the Sea of Japan. The movement of the restless surge churned up swirling banks of sand that formed clouds across their path. James kept them on course, checking time and distance as they slid through the water.

  The rebreather units worked well, scrubbing out the possible effects of used air and recycling it. It might not have been the freshest they had ever breathed, but at least they were not leaving behind a trail of bubbles to rise to the surface and possibly give them away.

  The distance might have been under half a mile, but the restless movement of the chill water made the going hard. Not wanting to exhaust themselves, Phoenix Force took it slowly. They maintained a steady pace. After a time, McCarter and Manning took over from Encizo and Hawkins, grasping the loops fixed to the sides of the equipment bag. Despite the buoyancy inserts, the bag was still a solid weight, and they had to maintain a firm grip as the moving sea tugged at the bag as they swam.

  James led them up toward the surface as they neared the shoreline. The murky water was not as deep now, and light penetrated it the closer they got to land. They were also experiencing the push and pull of the water. As it rolled in against the shore, the waves strengthened.

  Within twenty feet of the beach, the water became even shallower. Pressure from the surge of waves threatened to overpower them, and they had to physically resist, feeling the sand under their feet moving in time to the breakers.

  James was the first to put his head above water, bracing himself against the slam of the waves. He saw the beach ahead and made a quick scan.

  A ragged stretch of sand and rocks gave way to tangled bushes and trees. It was already starting to get light, the sky overhead streaked with clouds, and he could feel a cool breeze on his face. The area had a bleakness that was a long way from welcoming.

  “What the hell,” James muttered to himself. “We didn’t expect a beach party.”

  The rest of Phoenix Force emerged, cautiously at first, until they got the all clear from James. Then they moved quickly from the water to the beach, and into the comparative protection of nearby rocks.

  “We have a half hour before first light,” McCarter said. “Time to get into our clothes and arm up. No time to waste. Get this stuff off and into the bag. We bury it, wait for Kayo Pak, then do the marching bit. Let’s go, fellers. Cal, you stand watch for us.”

  James nodded, as he pulled one of the FN P90s from the weapon bag. He ran a quick check, set the selector to semiauto and moved a few yards up the beach to stand guard, while the others disposed of masks and swim fins. They slippe
d out of the rebreather units. The wet suits were last. The camou BDUs were pulled on over the one-piece underwear, socks and boots next, then each man harnessed up. SMGs and handguns were checked, Tanto knives slipped into sheaths on their belts. As soon as the main group was ready, Hawkins took James’s place while the tall black commando did his own quick change.

  The scuba gear, including the rebreather units, went into the large pack-cloth bag. The watertight zip was secured, and the bulky bag was dropped into a hastily excavated hole well above the tide mark, dug using the folding spades they had brought along in the bag. The removed coarse sand was used to cover the bag and the location marked by its proximity to a low rock formation.

  Hiko had been correct about the chilly sea conditions. The water had lowered their body temperature, and each man was forced the move around, flexing taut muscles until they increased their body heat.

  They all donned their comm sets and ran checks on them.

  “About ten minutes before we get full light,” McCarter said. “Let’s stay sharp, ladies. We don’t know what kind of reception we might get, so let’s go in ready. And remember we do not hesitate if a situation crops up. My rule is, take the shot before the other guy does. Understood? Five of us go in. I want to see seven come out.”

  He was referring to Kayo Pak and Li Kam not being abandoned in North Korea when the mission was over.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  The daylight spread as they waited, pushing away shadows that might have helped conceal them. Phoenix Force waited in silence. It was not the first time they had been forced to wait for the arrival of a local contact, and even though they might have been concerned, none of it showed.

  Aware of Kayo Pak’s situation as a covert agent, they understood the man’s position. Pak could not simply stroll around and behave in a casual manner. He existed in a knife-edge world of deception, in one of the most restrictive regimes on Earth. There was not a man in Phoenix Force who envied the South Korean’s undercover mission. North Korea, under the control of its fearsome leader, lived in fear of betrayal and harsh recrimination. Even in this remote region, the shadow of Pyongyang hung over it. Kayo Pak was in that shadow, day by day, and the men of Phoenix Force could do nothing less than admire the bravery of the man.