by Don Keith
He swallowed hard and sucked in a deep breath of the cold, damp air.
Where were the other two SEALs? They had surely been gone for over an hour now. It couldn’t take this long to work their way around the small enclosed area.
Walker glanced at his watch and smiled crookedly. It had only been five minutes.
Then he thought he caught a glimpse of something moving off to the right. He tightened his grip on his M-4 and aimed it in that direction.
But nothing moved. Then he jerked to the left at what sounded like the slightest footfall somewhere out there in the darkness.
Sweat ran off his forehead, down into his eyes. He took his finger off the trigger long enough to wipe the perspiration away with his sleeve.
A hand touched his shoulder from behind.
Walker jerked free and rolled away. He jumped to his feet, his finger searching once again for the M-4's trigger.
Dumkowski was squatting there behind him. The SEAL had slipped up on him without a sound.
“Easy, Cowboy,” he whispered. “Easy. Just me. Didn't mean to scare you."
Walker calmed. He lowered the M-4 and squatted back down next to his teammate.
"It’s okay. I’m just a little jumpy, I guess. Thought I saw movement over there."
He pointed toward the buildings.
Dumkowski looked where he was pointing and answered, his voice still calm and reassuring.
"I doubt it. This place looks to be deserted. But I remember my first op. I could have sworn that there were shooters in every shadow. Anyway, no sign of anyone here. Martinelli went ahead and found a sniper shoot up the slope a bit. He'll cover us while we go in. Damn gate ain't even locked. Either there’s nothing here, they didn’t expect us at all, or this is one big old bear trap just waitin’ on us to step on the trigger."
Walker didn't reply. He didn't trust his voice to keep from croaking. He simply stood and walked boldly for the gate.
The pair searched the first two buildings quickly. Nothing more than barracks with the bare skeletons of bunk beds and a couple of seemingly abandoned offices. They were empty, not even a scrap of waste paper.
The third building looked like a warehouse of some sort. It was empty, too. Walker pulled a small yellow box out of his pack. He glanced at Dumkowski and answered his unasked question.
"Time to check if our friends have been here. This gizmo will tell us if any Pu239 has been stored here anytime in the last couple of years. Neat little gadget. The guys in Japan told me it detects real low levels of neutron and alpha radiation. It was developed to catch Saddam with his pants down. Maybe now we'll use it to catch Kim Jung il instead."
"Don't really give a crap what it detects, long as it tells us where those nukes are," Dumkowski growled.
Walker snapped on the switch as he talked and then walked around the room, holding the shiny silver probe just off the deck. He carefully watched the digital display. Within seconds, numbers started dancing across the screen.
"Something hot’s been here all right,” he said. “Not a lot, probably, but definitely a positive response. Better call it in."
Dumkowski was already whipping out the satcom radio and plunking the miniature antenna onto the dusty concrete floor. He handed Walker the mike with one hand while he fiddled with the frequency setting with the other. Walker pushed the tiny hands-free headset into his ear and spoke.
"Home Base, team three. Report negative. Have positive indication on box."
The voice crackled and chirped slightly in his ear as the reply came almost instantly.
"Roger, team three. Understand negative report, positive on box. Return to rendezvous."
Walker pressed the little earpiece harder into his ear. Maybe he hadn't heard right. There had to be more. He needed to know which of the other two teams had found the nukes so he could get his boys in position to cover them.
"Say again, Home Base. Which team do we cover?"
Even through the encryption and digital satellite link, Walker could plainly hear the disappointment in the voice at the other end of the communications circuit.
"Team three, all teams report negative. Targets have flown. Report to rendezvous for extraction. Mission is complete."
Walker tore the headset off in frustration and tossed it in Dumkowski’s general direction. Those nukes were still out there somewhere. And whoever had them would certainly use them. It had been his charge to find and stop them but now they were about to be pulled out. Pulled out with nothing to show for having been here.
Cowboy Walker had failed his first mission. And that failure could easily cost more lives than the young SEAL could ever imagine.
Bill Beaman slammed down the microphone in frustration.
"Damn it! We took too long getting there! Those sons-of-bitches have the nukes secured now and there ain't nothing we can do about it!"
He stared at the glowing flat screen displays mounted on the wall in front of him. One screen was a real-time picture from the Global Hawk UAV orbiting high above the North Korean coast. It was sending a steady stream of data back to the underground command center where Beaman stood, pounding the desk in disappointment. Next to that screen was a Joint Tactical Information Display, usually called JTIDS by the command center staff. Its graphics showed the entire composite intelligence picture that was being gathered by all the U. S. sources…Aegis cruiser radars, KH-11 satellites, Air Force J-STARS. It was all being constantly digested and displayed on this screen.
It didn't matter. None of the high tech gimmicks amounted to anything. Not one of them showed Beaman where to look for the rogue nuclear weapons. Somehow the North Koreans had spirited the nukes out from under his nose and not one of these flashing screens showed him where to go next to find and demolish them.
Jon Ward stood and put an arm around his old friend's shoulder.
"We gave it our best shot. Bill. Get your boys out and let's regroup. Those nukes didn't just vanish. They'll show up again and we'll find them this time."
Beaman slowly nodded but he was still grinding his teeth as he spoke.
"You're right, much as I hate to admit it. Please tell me you got a plan B."
Ward shook his head sorrowfully.
"Not really. But we'd better come up with something quick. It's time we let Admiral Donnegan in on our little problem. At this point, the only thing I can think of is searching every damn ship coming out of the DPRK. They have to be trying to sneak those nukes out. There’s no other way they can use them."
Beaman stared at Ward.
"Washington’s not gonna like your plan worth a damn. Stopping ships in international waters isn't a real popular idea and damn hard to keep secret."
Ward looked Beaman in the eye.
"You got a better idea?"
The SEAL commander could only shake his head and pound the desk one more time.
General Kim Dai-jang stared at the flickering grey screen and tried to suppress his glee. The monitor centered on the image of two American SEALs, crouched together on a concrete floor. They appeared to be talking with someone on a radio circuit.
Kim wished now that he had invested in the extra cost of a voice circuit. Then he could actually hear what the American SEAL spies were saying. It would be delicious to hear their frustration as they told their masters of their failure to find what they were seeking. He could not help but smile.
Despite all of America's money and technology resources, he had beaten them with only a few coolies and a couple of fishing boats.
He turned away from the screen and faced the group of grim-faced men who were seated around the big conference table. Kim forced his face to go red, apparently with anger. When he spoke, his words came slowly and there was a deep passion in his voice.
"You see for yourselves the bold treachery and the war-like attitude of the Americans. You who have continually maintained that they were too timid to back up their threats of war and retaliation against the people of our country. Now you see! They
have no respect for our sovereignty. Even as we speak they brazenly send their spy-soldiers to invade our homeland. This is war! It is intolerable!"
The great oak conference table was the centerpiece in the war room, located deep inside Pyongyang's innermost command center. The room was used only for the most important meetings of the DPRK's High Command. Having a seat at this table meant that the owner was a member of the elite few guiding North Korea's future.
"What would you have us do?" the High General in command of the Army asked. "We have almost a million troops on alert at the southern border. Are you suggesting we move them to the northern coast to find a few American SEALs?"
Kim smiled. The old general was so predictable. He always thought in terms of artillery, troop strength, and a swift rush across the southern portion of the divided peninsula. The man refused to leave the past and embrace the future. No matter. The old fool would be one of the first victims of the new methods.
"No, General," Kim answered smoothly. "Your mission is too important for that. There are other, more subtle, ways to counter the American fascists."
"Then what?" The general was not easily shoved aside.
"If you will allow me, I will continue my briefing for a few more moments. I think you will see how we can use this blatant invasion of territory to our advantage."
All eyes turned to the short, round-faced man sitting at the head of the table. He was nodding. When he spoke, it was with a pronounced stammer that everyone in the room pretended not to notice.
"Yes, G..gen…general Sui, allow General Kim to con…con…continue. I am interested in his p…p…plan."
"Thank you, Great Leader," General Kim said with a slight bow in the diminutive man’s direction. Kim moved on as if the interruption had not happened. "My President, the weapons are safely outside the area that American surveillance is able to cover. We have them hidden and no effort by their spies will uncover where they are. They are ready to use at your command."
Kim Jae-uk nodded. He spoke slowly and carefully, trying to hide his stutter with a hand over his mouth as he replied to Kim's unspoken challenge.
"You have ex…ex…exceeded your authority in a…a…acquiring these weapons. Our treasury cannot a…a…afford such efforts." General Kim remained silent, waiting while the leader of the most secretive country continued his thought. “Still, as usual, you have d…d…done well. Even as you make f…f…fools of the United Nations inspectors, you have b…b…bought us a new bargaining chip. One of g…g…great value."
General Kim breathed deeply before he spoke. This was the nexus, the final decision point. If Kim Jae-uk agreed with his plan, the despotic fool would be elevated to a level the world had not seen since Genghis Khan burned a trail across Asia. If he turned his back on the plan, General Kim would be forced to go it on his own and, in the process, toss Kim Jae-uk on the refuse pile of history.
"My leader," General Kim began. "Might I suggest that this is not a bargaining chip to be wasted for a few bushels of wheat or some meaningless resolution before the United Nations. Let us use the weapons for a greater good. Let us use them to burn all Asia free of the American infestation once and for all."
For a moment, General Kim was not sure his president had even heard him. The man seemed to be staring at some spot on the ceiling above the conference table. Finally, though, Kim Jae-uk spoke, his voice betraying the strain of his decision.
"No, General. The nu…nu…nuclear weapons will buy us much more if we d…d…do not use them. The Americans and their l…l…lackeys in Tokyo and Seoul are too s…s…strong for such a direct approach."
General Kim bowed his head and muttered, "It is as you wish, my leader."
As he eased back down into his chair, General Kim tried to keep his thoughts from showing on his face. Too bad the old man was so misguided. He was far too slow to stop what was already in motion, gaining inertia already. And he was too dumb to know it. The presence of the American SEALs was only the latest indication that the fire had been lighted. By the time Kim Jae-uk realized what was happening, the world would be afire. The mushroom clouds would already be swirling and when they cleared, the Democratic People’s Republic of Korea would rise to its rightful place among the leading nations of the world.
And there wasn’t a thing the Americans, the United Nations, or the stammering president of his country could do to stop it.
19
Jim Ward slammed the book shut in utter frustration. The metal steps had long since dug painfully into his backside and the whine from the big main engine reduction gears filled the cramped little space with distracting noise. In the crowded submarine, this was the one place that young Ward had found where he could be alone enough to study and think. The only time he was disturbed by anyone else in this isolated part of engine room middle level aft was when the watch stander came around to take his hourly readings on the R-114 air conditioning plants. And the sailor had stopped speaking to Ward, or even giving him a casual glance, long before. It was clear the officer-in-the-making craved his solitude.
Ward had read and re-read a hundred times the procedures for driving this big sub. The words were firmly imprinted on his cerebral cortex. He could see every letter from the manual, every comma, in his sleep.
That flaming asshole of a martinet wasn’t going to catch him with his pants down again! If Commander Devlin was determined to slam him simply because he was Jon Ward’s kid, then, by damned, he was going to show the SOB that “tough” ran in the Ward family. He sure as hell wasn’t going to make it easy for Devlin.
Ward knew he had a problem. Reading the procedures from the printed page and committing them to memory was one thing. Actually doing them was quite another. There was a lot of seat-of-the-pants art in making The City of Corpus Christi do exactly what one wanted her to do. The books could never teach Ward that art, no matter how much he studied them. Real life practice was the only way for him to develop the experience to strap on the sub and handle her like she was an extension of his own body. But he had to be an expert before he even walked into control again, before he had the opportunity to prove to the skipper that he could do it. If he made even a minor mistake the next time, Devlin would use it as an excuse to boot him off the boat. And, in the process, out of submarines.
There had to be a way around the problem.
“Something told me I’d find you back here.”
The voice startled Ward. He looked up to see Master Chief Charlie DiAnaggio standing there. Ward hadn’t seen the Chief of the Boat since that abortive trip to periscope depth a couple of nights before. He had wondered if the short, Italian-American Master Chief had been purposely avoiding him for some reason. Ward didn’t know, but it seemed odd that their paths hadn’t crossed in such a small space.
“See you’re hittin’ the books,” DiAnaggio said, the Baltimore accent heavy in his voice. The COB squatted down beside the young midshipman and pulled out a pack of gum. “Want a stick? I’ve been chewing this stuff ever since they put out the smokin’-lamp on these boats.” Ward shook his head. DiAnaggio continued without even a hesitation. “Yep, there have been some big changes in the way we do business from the old days. I remember when I was a young second class back on Woodrow Wilson. Your dad was an ensign then, you know. Workin’ on gettin’ his dolphins. Matter of fact, he and I qualified the same day.”
Ward stared at the COB
“I didn’t know that you knew Dad.”
DiAnaggio nodded.
“Yep. Your old man was a good shipmate. He always stuck up for his men instead of trying to keep his nose up the skipper’s ass all the damn time. He pulled me out of a jam with the local caribinerari in Lisbo once. Something to do with too much vino and a girl who wanted to get paid for her services. Anyway, I figure I owe him. Besides that, what the skipper is doing to you is plain wrong.”
Ward looked hard at the COB. The man was offering something. Ward wasn’t quite sure what it was but it seemed to be some kind of lifeline.
“Nope. Thanks anyway, COB, but I don’t want anyone saying that I got any special treatment. That I made it ‘cause of who my dad is. I’m gonna make my own way in this man’s Navy.”
DiAnaggio chuckled.
“You’re just like your dad. He’s one stubborn cuss, too. Anyway, I ain’t offerin’ no special treatment. Here’s the deal. Chief Suarez and a couple of other chiefs are working on their diving officer qualification. We’re having some practical seminars in the goat locker to get them up to speed. They’re all seat-of-the-pants guys. We need somebody who’s spent time learning the theory. From the looks of them bloodshot peepers, you’ve soaked up about all that kind of shit you can take. Twenty-one hundred tonight. Be there.”
Ward watched the COB scramble up the ladder and out of sight. The guy didn’t fool him. He was offering Ward a way out. The “seminar” was a thinly veiled disguise to teach the midshipman what he needed to know while not appearing to give him special treatment. Chief Suarez was a “nuke.” He didn’t need to qualify on the dive. He was doing it solely to help his division officer.
Ward smiled. It was the first time in days he had felt like grinning. Since the misstep in front of Devlin. Maybe what his father had told him about submarine shipmates was true after all.
If allowing the men to teach him a thing or two helped him prove something to Devlin, it would be worth swallowing a little of that Ward pride. He checked his watch then opened the manual to the spot he had marked with his finger and began studying again.
Sui Kia Shun sat peacefully in his favorite spot, where the late morning sun would warm his old bones. He loved this terrace. From up here, he could gaze out over the misty green mountains. On a clear day such as this one he could see China off in the distance. It gave him peace and a consoling feeling of strength when he imagined generations of his ancestors sitting here in this same spot, enjoying the same view. This place had changed very little in the nine centuries since his family had first built this fortress to guard the Emperor’s dominions.