Black Wind

“I do believe that there's a solar panel shining back at us,” he said.

“Well done, Dr. von Braun,” Giordino replied, nodding.

As the ROV inched forward, they could clearly see the folded wings of the solar panels and the cylindrical body of the mock satellite through the open seam. Though the nose cone had been mashed at impact, the satellite payload inside had survived intact, and, with it, the deadly cargo of virus.

After carefully studying the integrity of the entire payload section with the remote video, Pitt returned the ROV to the Deep Endeavor and directed the vessel into salvage mode. Though Deep Endeavor was primarily an exploration vessel, she was equipped to handle light salvage with the help of her onboard submersibles. Despite the loss of the Badger, Pitt and Giordino employed a backup submersible to affix a sling support around the payload and slowly bring the rocket section to the surface with the aid of large lift bags. Under cover of darkness and away from the prying eyes of the occasional media boat, the pay-load was hoisted out of the water and onto the deck of the Deep Endeavor. Pitt and Giordino looked on as the rocket piece was secured and covered under a shroud of canvas.

“That'll give the intelligence boys something to chew on for a while,” Giordino said.

“It will certainly prove that the attack was not attempted by an amateur group of terrorists. Once the lethality of the payload is revealed to the public, the ignoble Mr. Kang will wish he was never born.”

Giordino waved an arm toward a fuzzy glow of light on the eastern horizon. “All things considered, I'd say the good people of Los Angeles owe us a beer for protecting their fair city ... and maybe the keys to the Playboy Mansion.”

“They have Dirk and Summer to thank.”

“Too bad they weren't here to see this baby come up.”

“I still haven't heard from the kids since we dropped them at the dock.”

“They're probably doing the same thing their old man would have done,” Giordino gri

Pitt laughed briefly then looked out at the dark sea as his thoughts wandered. No, he knew, now wasn't the time for that.

Forty-two thousand feet above the Pacific, Dirk sat in the cramped seat of a government jet trying to get some sleep. But the adrenaline still surged through his body, keeping him awake as the plane nosed closer to South Korea. It was just hours before that he and Summer had been summoned off the Deep Endeavor to brief FBI and Defense Department intelligence officials on their meeting with Kang and to provide details about the industrialist's fortified residence.

They learned that Sandecker had finally persuaded the president, and the White House had issued orders to get Kang, swiftly and silently and without informing the South Korean government. An assault plan had been formulated, targeting several of Kang's facilities, including the shipyard at Inchon. The mysterious leader had not been seen in public for days so his private residence was moved to the top of the list of incursion targets. Because few Westerners had ever been invited to the residence, Dirk and Summer's insights were critical.

“We'll be happy to provide you with a full layout of the site, identify entry points and passageways, even give you the security force positions and monitoring technology,” Dirk offered to the delight of the intelligence agents. “But I expect one thing in return,” he added, “and that's a ticket to the show.”

Dirk smiled to himself as he watched the color drain from their faces. After some grumbling counter arguments and a few calls to Washington, he won out. There would be value, they knew, in having him on the ground with the assault force. For her part, Summer thought he was crazy.

“You actually want to go back to that chamber of horrors?” she asked incredulously when the agents had left the room.

“You bet,” he replied. “I want a front-row seat when they slip the noose around Kang's neck.”

“Once was enough for me. Please be careful, Dirk. Leave the assault work to the professionals. I nearly lost both you and Dad today,” she said with sisterly concern.

“Not to worry. I'll keep quietly to the rear with my head down,” he promised.

Two hours of intense briefings later, he was whisked to LAX and bound again for Korea. Shortly after the jet's wheels touched down at Osan Air Base after the long flight across the Pacific, he was at it again, this time briefing the Special Operations Forces that would be carrying out the assault. Dirk was particularly thorough, providing every detail and scrap of information about Kang's residence that he could remember. He then sat back and listened intently as the tactical assault plans were presented in precise detail. Two Army Special Ops teams were tasked with infiltrating Kang's marine dock and nearby telecommunications center in Inchon while a Navy SEAL team would broach his residence. The operations would be conducted simultaneously, with backup teams standing by to strike additional Kang properties, should the enigmatic leader not be found at the initial targets.

After the briefing, a no-nonsense Navy captain responsible for coordinating the SEAL assault approached Dirk.

“You've got five hours to relax before we assemble. You'll go in as part of Commander Gutierrez's team. I'll see that Paul has you outfitted ahead of time. Sorry, but we can't issue you a firearm. Orders.”

“I understand. I'm just grateful to join the ride.”

Grabbing a quick meal and nap at a temporary officers' quarters, Dirk assembled with the SEAL team, where he was issued a set of black camouflage fatigues, an armored vest, and a pair of night vision goggles. After a final briefing, the men boarded a pair of enclosed trucks and were driven to a small dock south of Inchon. Under cover of darkness, the twenty-four-man SEAL team boarded a nondescript support boat and quickly shoved off, proceeding north into the Yellow Sea toward Kyodongdo Island. The team of highly trained commandos anxiously rechecked their weapons under the enclosed main cabin's dim lights as the boat sped across the open sea. Commander Paul Gutierrez, a short but husky man who wore a thin mustache, approached Dirk when they neared the mouth of the Hun River.

“You'll be going in with my squad in boat number two,” he said. “Just stick close by when we hit the ground and follow my lead. With any luck, we'll be in and out without firing a shot. But, just in case,” he paused and handed Dirk a small satchel.

Dirk unzipped the bag and pulled out a SIG Sauer P226 9mm automatic pistol with spare ammunition clips.

“Much obliged. I was hoping I wouldn't have to walk into a potential firefight unarmed,” Dirk replied.

“The Kevlar vest will keep you safe, but this will add some insurance. Just don't tell anyone where you found it,” he nodded with a wink, then turned and ambled off to the wheelhouse to check their progress.

A half hour later, the support boat sped past the cove entrance that led to Kang's residence and continued upriver another two miles before suddenly cutting the engines. As the boat slowed to a stop against the current and began drifting back downriver, three Zodiac black rubber boats were quickly lowered over the side. With quiet efficiency, eight SEALs quietly climbed into each boat and paddled away from the support craft, Dirk joining the men in the second rubber boat. Nearly invisible against the darkened night, the three boats moved easily downriver with the current before silently turning into the inlet to Kang's property.

A cloudy sky softly reflected the lights of Kang's compound as the three rubber boats turned the last corner of the winding inlet and entered the expansive cove beneath the residence. Dirk gripped a paddle tightly and rowed in silent unison with the heavily armed SEAL team members beside him in the boat. The lingering effects of jet lag and exhaustion from the aborted Sea Launch strike were quickly shaken off at the sight of Kang's stone fortress.