“Conn, Sonar. Fish is pingin’ on its target…. He hears it, he’s turnin’ right, makin’ a dash for it. Ain’t gonna make it.”
No, Scott told himself, he ain’t gonna make it, the son of a bitch. Neither will the nuclear warheads. He leaned against a periscope, exhausted, remembering the hours, the days spent on the run, trying to save himself, his crew, and a good part of the U.S. from oblivion. What happened after this was over wasn’t up to him but to the men who controlled that world from centers of power in the East and West. No one would ever know how close the world had come to nuclear war. Better, Scott thought, not to think about things he couldn’t control.
“Conn, Sonar. Skipper, I just heard something strange… a thud, an explosion, not a warhead.”
“In the water?”
“No, sir, aboard the Red Shark.”
Park heard and felt it too. And he saw something the chief couldn’t see: A solid wall of blue flame from exploding hydrogen bursting into the control room at the same instant an exploding Mark-48 torpedo warhead tore the Red Shark into a million white-hot fragments that erupted from the sea, trailing angry plumes of steam until, energy spent, they fell like rain into the thousand-fathom abyss.
Epilogue
Scott and Fumiko looked into each others’ eyes on the monitor.
“You can put my picture on the piano and mix the drinks,” Scott said. “We’re heading in.”
“Put your picture on the piano? I don’t understand.”
“It has a special meaning for submariners. I’ll tell you about it when I see you.”
“General Radford is on his way here from Washington. He’s met with the president, and now he’s anxious to meet with you.”
“I’ll bet he is.”
“Jake, it’s over. Colonel Jefferson and the special-ops team captured the terrorist base and killed over a hundred terrorists. The North Koreans are asking for a meeting with us at the UN. General Radford and the president are very impressed with what you and your crew have accomplished.”
“Are they? What about you? We couldn’t have done it without your help.”
“Jake, it was you who took all the risks.”
“What about your former employer? What have they said?”
“Nothing. They’re keeping very quiet.”
“And the Chinese?”
“The same.”
“How about dinner?”
“What?”
“In Tokyo. Something expensive.”
“Everything in Tokyo is expensive. We’ll see…”
“What does that mean?”
“It means we’ll see.”
“No it doesn’t, it means something else. What?”
Fumiko looked away, then back. “Your wife, she called General Radford.”
“Ah.”
“Jake, she didn’t hear from you. General Radford told her you were scheduled for arrival in Yokosuka. I think she plans to meet the Reno.”
Scott said nothing.
“Of course it is understandable that you would want to see her,” Fumiko said frostily.
“If you think that, Fumiko Kida, you don’t understand anything.”
Fumiko’s eyes glittered. She looked around, then quickly kissed her fingers and planted them on the camera lens.
The door’s security bolts slammed open and General Yi and a companion marched into the Dear Leader’s office.
Marshal Jin sprang to his feet and gaped from behind his desk. “What are you doing here? What is he doing here?”
Yi turned to a fashionably slim Kim Jong-il, who was dressed in a tailored olive-green jumpsuit and gleaming Italian loafers. “We are here to deliver the final report on the spy investigation you authorized. And to discuss other matters as well.”
Jin, his face stony, said, “I have no time to discuss the spy investigation. Certain events have occurred that require my attention in a meeting of the People’s Defense Ministry this morning, and I am already late for the meeting.”
“By certain events,” Yi said, “you mean the destruction of the terrorist base in Davao and the sinking of the Red Shark.”
Jin looked at Yi with deep suspicion. “What do you know about this?”
“Quite a bit, actually.” He motioned that Kim should take a seat in front of Jin’s massive desk. Jin frowned as Yi said, “I know that the Red Shark was destroyed by the Americans, that the base in Davao was attacked last night, that the Americans will attack Pyongyang and our nuclear facilities if we do not admit our intention to attack U.S. cities with smuggled nuclear weapons.”
Jin blanched. “You’re mad. None of what you say is true. We will never surrender to U.S. demands. I will admit nothing. In fact, after the U.S. cities are destroyed, I will order an attack on Seoul as well.”
“Marshal, please, your scheme is finished. Why do you insist on pretending otherwise? I know, too, that you have requested a meeting with the U.S. representative at the United Nations to find a way out of our dilemma.”
Jin was mute as he slowly sank to his chair.
Yi took time to light a cigarette for himself and one for Kim. He blew smoke toward the ceiling and said, “I have certain contacts with foreign governments — the Danes, for instance. It is a way for me, and for them, to discuss matters of importance that would be of interest to other governments. You understand, Marshal,” said Yi, “that change can often bring with it benefits. The right kind of change, of course, not the changes you recently initiated.”
“You traitor! Now you try to absolve yourself by assuming the role of a statesman.”
“I had to try to stop you from executing your mad scheme, which would have worked as long as you had the unwavering loyalty of the heads of the army and navy and of our nuclear forces. They’ve been arrested.”
“You were just as eager as I was, as they were,” Jin shouted, “to destroy our enemies and to kill him!” He pointed to Kim Jong-il.
“No, I never shared your hatred for the West, for the United States. All that your hatred would have accomplished is to turn the DPRK into an ash pit.”
Jin stared at Yi, the hatred Yi spoke of evident in his twisted features and searing gaze.
Yi loudly tap-tapped his cigarette lighter on Jin’s desk, then stepped aside as two uniformed security officers entered Jin’s office.
“Marshal Jin, in the name of the Democratic People’s Republic of Korea, I arrest you for treason against the State.”
Jin didn’t resist. The security officers frog-marched him out of his office and down the corridor, his boot heels echoing like gunshots on the polished marble. Yi gestured that Kim should take Jin’s place behind the desk. Kim rose, and, relishing the moment, swept everything off the desktop and then sat down.
Yi bowed to Kim and said, “Dear Leader, I await your orders.”
Acknowledgments
Red Shark could not have been written without the guidance and support of many people. Chief among them is my literary agent, Ethan Ellenberg, one of the best in the business. Also, the professionals at Simon & Schuster/Pocket Books, and especially my editor Kevin Smith and copyeditor Judith Gelman, whose editorial advice and attention to detail proved invaluable. And of course, without my wife Karen, none of this would have been possible in the first place.