The first officer bent to the chart and did some quick math on his electronic data pad. “I make it thirty-two, Captain. We can reach his area in less than two hours surfaced.”
Zemin considered. “If he maintains his current speed, yes.” Zemin continued to tap the chart. “Is he Japanese or Korean? What do your bones tell you?”
“Korean. North Korean.”
“Do you think Marshal Jin is flexing his muscles?”
“The new leader wants to show that he, like Kim, is not afraid to patrol in our Yellow Sea.”
“I wonder…”
“My bones tell me so, Captain.”
“Very well. Come to periscope depth. Communications Officer.”
“Captain?…”
“Stand by to contact that SH-5 amphibian and download the contact coordinates. Use her call sign ‘Eagle.’ ”
“Aye, Comrade Captain.”
“Comrade First Officer,” said Zemin, “you are right, we are looking for a North Korean boat. I, too, feel it in my bones.”
Tongsun Park looked up as two of his newest officers, both engineers, entered the Red Shark’s wardroom. They hesitated when they saw the captain seated at the long green baize-covered table.
“Greetings, Comrades,” said Park.
The officers came to attention and cocked their arms in the prescribed manner to display open palms. “All praise our Dear Leader,” said the officers in unison.
“Take your places,” Park said.
The officers bowed politely and sat down. One of them, a bald lieutenant named Kang, eyed the bottle of soju next to Park’s open log book and folder of communiqués. The other officer, a lieutenant named Suk, squinted to read the label.
Park moved the bottle of fiery Korean liquor to the center of the table. “Help yourselves,” he said.
“Thank you, Captain.”
Park watched them pour small amounts into cups he placed in front of them. “You will find, Comrades, that life in the Korean People’s Navy aboard a submarine is different from anything you may have experienced in the surface fleet. You will see that we submariners demand high standards of conduct from ourselves and from each other. And that unlike in the surface force, a submarine’s commanding officer”—he pointed to the soju—“has certain prerogatives.” He quaffed his own drink, which seared his throat and brought tears. “Now, to business.”
Park produced documents from a case and said, “We are scheduled to arrive in Davao on Mindanao, in exactly nineteen days, a voyage of approximately two thousand eight hundred nautical miles. Our schedule allows no margin of error.” Park lit a cigarette of rough-cut tobacco and waved out a match.” We must be on our guard at all times.”
Park unfolded a small chart of the Yellow Sea and China-Korea-Japan area. “You are familiar with your duties. Now I will familiarize you with our operation in southern waters.
“The Chinese patrol the northern Yellow Sea area with aircraft. From Dalian south, the Chinese have planted a cordon of sonobuoys and other devices to prevent intrusions into Bohai Bay and Huludao, where they have submarine construction yards. Currently we are steaming south on a course that will keep us as far away from the China coast as possible. The patrolling Chinese anti-submarine aircraft we encountered earlier did not take any action, so it is safe to assume we were not detected. Even so, we must be exceptionally vigilant. If we encounter hostile forces, we must evade them or risk delay of our arrival in Davao by hours or even days.”
Park watched the two officers’ reactions: They were green but eager to learn and also to be part of an important mission which, they sensed, might represent a turning point in the fortunes of the DPRK.
“Also, if we were to have a problem with our propulsion plant, it, too, could delay our arrival. In reality, the Red Shark is a floating bomb.” Suk’s and Kang’s eyebrows shot up. “You know, of course, that the liquid oxygen and hydrogen-matrix we carry on board are extremely explosive when combined. And then there is our diesel fuel and weapons propellant and also our battery, which, when its sulfuric acid and seawater mix, emits chlorine gas.”
Park blew cigarette smoke into the overhead, tapped ash into a hand-hammered copper receptacle. “You, Lieutenant Kang, have important responsibilities: maintenance and upkeep of our engineering plant and propulsion system, and you, Lieutenant Suk, maintenance of our weapons. There is much to learn and to master, and it will not be easy…”
Park was distracted by the flashing red Captain’s Light located over the cradled phone screwed to the wardroom sideboard; beneath it an LED panel screamed ENGINE ROOM.
Park grabbed the phone and listened, blood draining from his face. He said, “Confirmed” and hung up the phone. He stood and jammed his billed cap on his head. He looked at Lieutenant Kang and, while crushing out his cigarette, twisting it until it broke apart, said, “Yes, there is much to learn and to master, and it will not be easy. But you will start now. The watch in the engine room has just reported a leak in the fuel cell.”
36
Scott heard high heels clattering up the stairs at the end of the balcony, someone taking long strides, clip-clopping to a halt outside his room. He opened the door and discovered a breathless Tracy. And Sammy Shin berating her in his singsong pidgin English.
“Amerika-jin giru no work here, leave now,” Sammy said, wagging a finger at her. “You no leave I call boss.”
“Jake, he thinks I’m a yujo — a whore,” Tracy said. “He thinks some Jap wants to fuck my brains out. Tell him who I am, that I’m not a whore.”
“It’s all right, Sammy, she’s a friend.”
“No Amerika-jin yujo allowed here.”
Scott stuffed yen in Sammy’s fist. “She’s a friend.” Scott pulled Tracy inside and shut the door.
She looked around first, and then at Scott. “Nice place. You always pick the best.”
Scott lit the lantern. It caught, and they regarded each other for a long moment in the cast orange light. She had on a black silk shirt and tight black leggings. Diamonds of rain sparkled in her hair, which was longer than it had been the last time he’d seen her. Less of a helmet, it swept over both ears and down the nape of her neck. She was heavily made up in the hard-edged way Scott had always liked.
“Thanks for coming,” he said.
She moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue and said, “Sorry it took so long, but I was—”
“You don’t have to explain.”
“You didn’t think I’d come, did you?”
“I hoped you would. I told you it was important, that I needed your help.”
“You never needed my help for anything,” she said in a mocking tone. “So why start now?”
“This is different.”
“What happened to your hand; what the hell are you involved in now?”
“I can’t tell you.”
“Then maybe I can’t help you.”
Tracy sat down on one of the battered chairs, crossed her long legs, opened a small purse, and gave her makeup a detailed once-over, appraising herself in a mirror sewn into the purse flap.
“I’m trying to avoid some people,” Scott said, watching her fuss with her hair. “I need to find someone.”
Tracy put the purse away. “Who, a woman? It is, isn’t it?”
“Look, Trace, this isn’t a game I’m playing. I wouldn’t have asked for your help if it weren’t damned important, more important than you can imagine.”
“Then you might need this.” She rummaged in her purse and pulled out a black Glock-26 9mm pistol. “It’s Rick’s. It was issued to him by the Embassy’s Marine guard. He doesn’t know I took it.”