Deep Six

Too systematic to place his faith in hired hands, he preferred to direct the highly profitable illicit operations from the front rank. His act often ran on blood. Lee Tong was not above murder to achieve a profit. He was equally at home during a business luncheon at the “21” Club or at a waterfront throat cutting.

He sat a respectful distance from Min Koryo’s bedside, a long silver cigarette holder planted between his uneven teeth. She disliked his smoking habit, but he clung to it, not so much as a pleasure but as a small measure of independence.

“By tomorrow the FBI will know how the President disappeared,” said Min Koryo.

“I doubt it,” Lee Tong said confidently. “The chemical analysis people are good, but not that good. I say closer to three days. And then a week to find the ship.”

“Enough time so no loose threads can be traced to us?”

“Enough time, aunumi,” said Lee Tong, addressing her in the Korean term for mother. “Rest assured, all threads lead to the grave.”

Min Koryo nodded. The inference was crystal clear: The handpicked team of seven men who had aided Lee Tong in the abduction had been murdered by his own hand.

“Still no news from Washington?” she asked.

“Not a word. The White House is acting as though nothing happened. In fact, they’re using a double for the President.”

She looked at him. “How did you learn that?”

“The six o’clock news. The TV cameras showed the President boarding Air Force One for a flight to his farm in New Mexico.”

“And the others?”

“They appear to have stand-ins too.”

Min Koryo sipped at a cup of tea. “Seems odd that we must depend on Secretary of State Oates and the President’s Cabinet to provide a successful masquerade until Lugovoy is ready.”

“The only road open to them,” said Lee Tong. “They won’t dare make any kind of an a

Min Koryo stared at the tea leaves in the bottom of her cup. “Still, I must believe we may have taken too large a bite.”

Lee Tong nodded at her meaning. “I understand, aunumi. The congressmen just happened to be fish in the same net.”

“But not Margolin. It was your scheme to misguide him onto the yacht.”

“True, but Aleksei Lugovoy has stated his experiments have proven successful eleven out of fifteen times. Not exactly a perfect ratio. If he fails with the President, he has an extra guinea pig to produce the required result.”

“You mean three guinea pigs.”

“If you include Larimer and Moran in the rank of succession, yes.”

“And if Lugovoy succeeds in each case?” asked Min Koryo.

“So much the better,” answered Lee Tong. “Our influence would reach further than we originally dared hope. But I sometimes wonder, aunumi, if the financial rewards are worth risking imprisonment and the loss of our business.”

“Do not forget, Grandson, the Americans killed my husband, your father and his two brothers during the war.”

“Revenge makes for a poor gambling game.”

“All the more reason to protect our interests and guard against double-dealing by the Russians. President Antonov will do everything in his power to keep from paying our fee.”

“Should they be stupid enough to betray us at this crucial stage, they’d lose the whole project.”

“They don’t think that way,” said Min Koryo gravely. “The Communist mind thrives on mistrust. Integrity is beyond their comprehension. They’re driven to take the devious path. And that, my grandson, is their Achilles’ heel.”

“What are you thinking?”

“We continue to play the role of their honest but gullible partner.” She paused, thinking.

“And when Lugovoy’s project is finished?” Lee Tong prompted her.

She looked up and a crafty smile cut across her aging face. Her eyes gleamed with a cu

20

All identification and wristwatches were taken from the Russians when the Bougainvilles’ men transferred them from the Staten Island ferry in mid-cha

The flight seemed long and wearisome, terminating, at last on what Lugovoy judged by the smooth landing was a lake. After a drive of twenty minutes, the disoriented Russians were led across a metal walkway and into an elevator. Only when they stepped out of the elevator and were led across a carpeted corridor to their bedrooms were the blindfolds and the earphones removed.

Lugovoy was profoundly impressed by the facilities provided by the Bougainvilles. The electronics and laboratory equipment went far beyond any he’d seen in the Soviet Union. Every piece of the several hundred items he had requested was present and installed. Nor had any creature comforts for his staff been overlooked. They were assigned individual sleeping quarters with private bathrooms, while at the end of the central corridor stretched an elegant dining room that was serviced by an excellent Korean chef and two waiters.

Furnishings, including kitchen freezers and ovens, office fixtures and the data control room were tastefully color-coordinated, with walls and carpeting in cool blues and greens. The design and execution of every detail was as exotic as it was complex.

And yet the self-contained habitat also served as a luxurious prison. Lugovoy’s staff was not permitted to come and go. The elevator doors were closed at all times and there were no outer controls. He made a compartment-to-compartment search but detected no windows or visible crack of an exterior exit. No sounds filtered in from the outside.

Further investigation was cut short by the arrival of his subjects. They were semi-conscious from the effects of sedation and oblivious to their surroundings. All four had been prepared and laid inside separate cubicles called cocoons. The padded insides were seamless, with rounded corners, giving no reference point for the eye to dwell on. Dim illumination came by reflection from an indirect light, tinting the cocoon monochrome gray. Specially constructed walls shielded all sound and electrical current that could interfere with or enhance brain activity.

Lugovoy sat at a console with two of his assistants and studied the row of color video monitors that revealed the subjects lying in their cocoons. Most remained in a trancelike state of limbo. One, however, was raised to a near level of consciousness, vulnerable to suggestion and mentally disoriented. Drugs were injected that numbed his muscle control, effectively paralyzing any body movement. His head was covered by a plastic skull cap.

Lugovoy still found it difficult to grasp the power he held. He trembled inwardly at knowing he was embarking on one of the great experiments of the century. What he did in the next days could affect the world as radically as the development of atomic energy.

“Dr. Lugovoy?”

Lugovoy’s concentration was interrupted by the strange voice, and he turned, surprised, to see a stocky man with rugged Slavic features and shaggy black hair who seemingly stepped out of a wall.

“Who are you?” he blurted.

The stranger spoke very softly as though he didn’t wish to be overheard. “Suvorov, Paul Suvorov, foreign security.”

Lugovoy paled. “My God, you’re KGB? How did you get here?”

“Pure luck,” Suvorov muttered sarcastically. “You were assigned to my security section for observation from the day you set foot in New York. After your suspicious visit to the Bougainville Maritime offices, I took over your surveillance myself. I was present on the ferryboat when you were contacted by the men who brought you here. Because of the darkness I had no difficulty mingling with your staff and being included for the trip to wherever it is we are. Since our arrival I’ve kept to my room.”