The report included a set of grainy pictures taken from a Chinese GUK satellite of a World War II German U-boat-style submarine pen that had been blasted out of the granite bluffs surrounding the port of Nam’po. The pen was said to house a building way where a submersible of some unknown type had been under construction for at least five years.
Chinese naval intelligence asserted that the submarine was a conventional diesel-electric, likely a midget. But that assertion had proven wrong when GUK imagery had discovered that the North Koreans had instead launched a full-sized submarine, one that looked exactly like an old Russian Tango-class diesel-electric, a design at least 35 years old. The report stated that while the launching of the Tango demonstrated the DPRK’s capacity to build a submarine on its own, it didn’t have the capability to build a modern nuclear or AIP submarine.
Zemin studied the picture of the submarine built inside the pen. For a Tango, its shape seemed all wrong: bulges where there shouldn’t be any; hull too short and stubby; sail plating askew here and there, as if it had been hastily applied to cover something up. A poor job of camouflage, he thought.
Zemin tossed the report aside and concluded that Admiral Shi’s vaunted intelligence service’s assessment was dead wrong. The North Koreans had in fact built a German Type 213 right under Shi’s nose. That in itself was amazing enough. More amazing was his discovery of this submarine so far from its base in Nam’po at a time when the DPRK and the U.S. were on the brink of war.
Zemin’s mind flooded with possibilities: Find and destroy it — no, capture it in Chinese territorial waters. To attain such a prize would be worth risking his and his crew’s lives. Not only would it tamp down North Korea’s ambition to be a regional power but it would also show the U.S. Navy once and for all that it was China, not the U.S., that controlled East Asian waters.
A portable phone warbled in Marshal Jin’s quarters, where he was soaking in a steaming tub of bathwater. A halting aide brought the phone, and when Jin heard General Yi’s voice, he ordered the aide to leave the room. After a brief exchange, Jin ended the call. Ten minutes later, wrapped in a thick kimono and drinking soju, he waved General Yi into a private study.
Yi saw a shaken and deeply worried Jin. “With apologies, Dear Leader, for intruding at such a late hour.”
“You said there was a news report that Iseda Tokugawa had been killed, shot to death. How?”
“Yes, it was reported on China’s CCTV and in Tokyo on NHK, that he was shot dead by an associate named Ojima, a reputed member of the yakuza involved in the Tokyo powder trade. Another man was also shot and killed.”
“Where did this happen?”
“At Tokugawa’s home in Noda.”
Jin, ashen, lowered himself into a chair. “What else have they reported?”
“Nothing, Dear Leader, nothing that concerns us.”
“Are you mad? Everything about this concerns us; his murder is a disaster. It will change the complexion of Japan’s domestic politics and alter its business dealings with the rest of the world. But more than anything else, it will doom our operation in the Philippines.”
“With respect, his death has changed nothing. At this juncture Tokugawa was merely a bystander waiting to step in and help the Americans recover from the attack. We control the entire operation, not Tokugawa.”
Yi seated himself without waiting to be asked. He lit a cigarette and waited while Jin, lost in thought, sipped his drink, though not with pleasure. “His murder is not a coincidence,” Jin said at length. “First there was the attack on Matsu Shan by an unidentified military force, then the killing of Fat, now this. The Americans must have had a hand in all three. I am sure of it.”
“Dear Leader, Tokugawa had enemies. It was his bad fortune to be shot and killed by one of them.”
“Do you discount coincidences?”
“No, but I always keep them in perspective, especially in regards to the Japanese and their penchant for secrecy and intrigue. Tokugawa was a master of intrigue.”
“That’s why nothing in Japan is what it appears to be. Nothing. Somehow the Americans penetrated our operation. It’s clear that they knew of our meeting and sent a force ashore to get information about it.” He bowed his head. “Our element of surprise has been lost.”
Yi studied Jin through a scrim of cigarette smoke curling from his own cigarette. “If you believe that, Dear Leader, do you then propose to call off the operation?”
“Not yet. News reports are often wrong and given to exaggeration. Obviously there is more to his death than we know. Can you put our agents in Tokyo to work on this?”
Yi, not surprised by Jin’s stubborn reluctance to abandon what he had worked so hard to set in motion, stood and crushed out his cigarette in a heavy glass ashtray on Jin’s desk. “I will do as you ask.” Yi worked the butt down until it was nothing but flattened paper and ash. Then, looking up at Jin, he said, “Kim has information that bears looking into.”
Jin quickly shifted gears. “About the spy?”
“Yes. He’s no fool, you know. Working with the material we provided, he connected a series of meetings held at the People’s Ministry of Science on the subject of radioactive isotopes to several informal discussions conducted at the Danish Embassy’s science section with a group of our scientists. He seems to think the discussions held at the embassy may have been for the purpose of passing secret information to the outside by one of our people.”
Yi’s news electrified Jin even more than had the news of Tokugawa’s death, and it brought Jin to his feet. “Which of our scientists were involved?” he asked. “I want to know and I want them arrested immediately.”
“In due time. Kim has not identified them yet but soon will. There may be others involved, others outside the science ministry.”
“If so, I want them all rounded up, not just the few who had contact with the Danes.”
“As you say, Dear Leader.”
“When will this be done?”
“Perhaps the end of the week.”
“Excellent.” Jin, relieved, smiled. “But I am a terrible host. Please forgive me and have a drink. You bring good news and bad. At least let us toast the good.”
43
Scott was ready to drop from fatigue. The hum of the Reno’s machinery and flow of warmed conditioned air through the control room had a lulling effect. Departure had been a blur of frenzied activity by the crew, linehandlers, and tugs nudging the Reno gently out of her berth. Soon thereafter, she was submerged, sprinting for the East China Sea.
On the status board Scott had posted that he wanted flank speed maintained all the way to their op-area except during passage through Osumi Strait at the southern tip of Kyushu. He had no search plan in mind yet, but both instinct and the reports he’d received told him they’d likely find the Red Shark somewhere east of longitude 124 and north of the Shanghai-to-Taipei trade routes. Now, after standing out from a ship-congested Osumi Strait, the Reno had resumed her headlong sprint to her op area.
“Captain, care for some coffee?”
Scott accepted a cup from his exec, Rus Kramer. Scott liked the way Kramer had handled himself during the Matsu Shan insertion and was glad to have such an experienced officer aboard to back him up. “Thanks, Rus. Appreciate you getting us squared away and to sea in record time.”