Dragon (40 page)

“Moslem terrorists have been taking American hostages for years and you do nothing.” Kamatori’s eyes showed amusement. “Your President was informed within an hour of your disappearance, and was told who was responsible. Trust what I say. He has ordered that no rescue attempt be made and no word be leaked to the news media. Your aides, relatives, and fellow congressmen—none are aware that you were flown secretly to Japan.”

“You’re lying. My friends wouldn’t keep quiet.”

“By friends, do you mean Dirk Pitt and Alfred Giordino?”

Loren’s mind was in a ferment. She was teetering off balance. “You know of them?”

“Yes, they meddled in affairs that were not their concern and had an accident.”

“Were they injured?” she stammered.

“I don’t know, but it’s safe to say they did not escape unscathed.”

Loren’s lips trembled. She searched for something to say. “Why me? Why Senator Diaz?”

“You and the senator are mere pawns in a strategic game of economic power,” Kamatori continued. “So do not expect deliverance until Mr. Suma permits it. An assault by your Special Forces would be a wasted effort, because your intelligence agencies haven’t the slightest clue to your whereabouts. And if they did, there is no way for an army to penetrate our defenses. In any case, you and the Senator will be free and on a flight to Washington the day after tomorrow.”

The bewilderment in Loren’s eyes was what Kamatori hoped for. He removed his hands from the wide sleeves of his yukata, reached out suddenly, and pulled Loren’s kimono down around her waist, pinning her arms to her sides.

Kamatori smiled sadistically. “I’ll do everything at my command to make your short stay enjoyable. Perhaps I might even give you a lesson on how women should defer to men.”

Then he turned and gave two heavy raps on the door. It opened from the outside by an unseen guard, and Kamatori was gone, leaving little doubt in Loren’s mind of what was in store for her before she would be released.

43

“
T
HERE SHE IS,”
said Mel Penner as he yanked the cover off a large table with the flourish of a magician, revealing a three-dimensional model of an island surrounded by a blue plaster-of-paris sea and inlaid with tiny trees and buildings. “Soseki Island, known in the past as Ajima,

“You did a marvelous job,” Stacy complimented Penner. “It looks so real.”

“I’m an old model railroad buff,” said the Director of Field Operations proudly. “My hobby is building dioramas.”

Weatherhill leaned over the table examining the steep realistic cliffs rising from the sea. “What’s its size?”

“Fourteen kilometers long by five at its widest point. About the same configuration as San Miguel, one of the channel islands off the coast of California.”

Penner pulled a blue bandanna from a hip pocket and dabbed at the sweat rolling down his temples. The air conditioner kept a comfortable temperature inside the small building, not much larger than a hut actually, that stood in the sand of a beach on Koror Island in Palau, but the 98 percent humidity could not be overcome.

Stacy, dressed in snug shorts and a halter top, walked around the table staring at Penner’s exacting model. The rocky crags spanned by miniature Oriental bridges and the twisted pine trees gave the island a mystical quality. “It must be… ” She hesitated, groping for the right description. “Heavenly,” she said finally.

“Hardly the word that leaps to mind,” Pitt muttered while swilling a glass half filled with tequila, lime, and ice from a bottle he’d carried from Washington. He wore swimming trunks and a NUMA T-shirt. His long tan legs were propped on the back of the chair in front of him, his feet in leather sandals. “A garden spot on the outside, maybe, but with a monster lurking inside.”

“You think Suma’s nuclear arsenal and detonation control center is under the island?” asked Frank Mancuso, who was the last of the five team members to arrive at the South Pacific Information Gathering and Collection Point.

Penner nodded. “We’re sure of it.”

Stacy reached out and touched the sheer palisades climbing almost vertically from the sea. “There’s no place to dock ships. They must have brought in construction equipment by air.”

“How was it possible they built it without our spy satellites detecting the activity?” Weatherhill wondered aloud.

With a smug expression of pride on his face, Penner lifted off a section of the sea that ran from the island to the thick edge of the table. He pointed at a tiny tube running through the gray plaster. “A tunnel,” he explained. “Suma’s engineers constructed a tunnel that begins under the deepest subterranean level of Edo City and travels ten kilometers to the coast, and then another fifty beneath the seafloor to Soseki.”

“Score one for Suma,” said Pitt. “Our satellites didn’t spot any unusual movement because the earth dug from the tunnel was removed along with that excavated during the building of the city.”

“A perfect cover,” said Giordino, bordering on a pun. He straddled a chair and stared pensively at the scaled model. He sat cool in cutoff jeans and nothing else.

“The longest bore in the world,” said Penner, “exceeding the one the Japs built beneath the ocean from Honshu to Hokkaido.”

Weatherhill shook his head from side to side in amazement. “An incredible undertaking. A pity the effort wasn’t put to a more peaceful purpose.”

As a mining engineer, Mancuso could appreciate the enormous problems involved in such a massive project. “Working only from one end, it must have taken a good seven years,” he said, highly impressed.

Penner shook his head negatively. “Working around the clock with newly designed boring equipment, Suma’s engineers finished the job in four.”

“All the more fantastic knowing it was accomplished in total secrecy.” Stacy’s eyes had never left the model since its unveiling.

Penner now lifted off a section of the island, revealing a miniature labyrinth of passageways and rooms, all spreading like spokes from one large spherical chamber.

“Here we have the interior layout of the facility. The scale may be slightly off, but I did what I could from the rough sketches Jim Hanamura got through to us.”

“I think you did a sensational job,” said Stacy, admiring Penner’s handiwork. “The detail is so precise.”

“A lot is pure guesswork, but Kern put a design and engineering team to work and they drafted the dimensions pretty close to what we expect from the original.” He paused to pass out a stack of folders to the four MAIT team members in the hut. “Here are the plans of the Edo City end of the tunnel and the control center as expanded and detailed by Kern’s people.”

Everyone unfolded the drawings and studied the layout of the facility that represented the worst threat the free world had faced since the Cuban missile crisis. No one spoke as they traced the passageways, memorized the labels describing the rooms, and examined the dimensions.

“The center must be a good three hundred meters below the island’s surface,” observed Mancuso.

“There’s no airstrip or dock on the island,” Stacy murmured in concentration. “The only entry is by helicopter or from Edo City through the tunnel.”

Pitt drank the last of his tequila. “No way in by sea unless the assaulting force were professional mountain climbers. And at that, they’d be picked off by Suma’s defense systems like ants crawling up a white wall.”

“What are those buildings on the surface?” asked Weatherhill.

“A luxury retreat for Suma’s top management. They meet there for business conferences. It also makes an ideal location for secret meetings with politicians, government bureaucrats, and underworld leaders.”

“Shimzu’s painting showed an island barren of plant life,” said Pitt. “Half the island appears covered by trees.”

“Planted by Suma’s landscape people over the past twenty years,” explained Penner.

Mancuso scratched his nose thoughtfully. “What about an elevator between the retreat and the control center?”

Penner shook his head. “Nothing showed on the plans. We can’t risk penetration down the shaft if we don’t have a location.”

“An underground facility of this scope requires outside ventilation.”

“Our engineering team believes several of the houses within the resort area are dummy covers for air vents and exhaust ducts.”

“We might give that a try.” Weatherhill laughed. “I’m good at ducts.”

Penner shrugged. “Again, not enough information. It’s possible air is pumped in from Edo, and the foul returned and vented along with the city’s outflow.”

Pitt looked at Penner. “What are the chances Loren and Diaz are held prisoners on the island?”

Penner gave an unknowing shrug. “Fair to good. We haven’t tracked them down yet. But resortlike accommodations on an impregnable island would certainly make an ideal safe house to hide hostages.”

“Hostages, yes,” said Stacy, “but under what terms? No word of Congresswoman Smith and Senator Diaz has been heard since they were abducted.”

“No demands have been received,” explained Penner, “forcing the President into a wait-and-see game. And until we can provide him with enough intelligence to make a judgment call on a rescue operation, he won’t give the order.”

Giordino gazed at Penner with a small air of contemplation. “There must be a plan to trash the joint, there’s always a plan.”

“We have one,” replied Penner, committing himself. “Don Kern has created an intricate but viable operation to penetrate and disable the center’s electronic systems.”

“What kind of defenses are we talking about?” inquired Pitt. “Suma wouldn’t sink heavy effort and money into the eighth wonder of the modern world without protecting the hell out of it.

“We can’t say with any accuracy.” Penner’s eyes swept over the island model with a look of concern. “We do know what security and military technology is available to Suma, and must assume he’s installed the best sensory gear his money can buy. Exotic radar equipment for land and sea detection, sonar sensors for underwater approach, laser and heat detection ringing the perimeter of the shore. Not the least of which is an army of armed robots.”

“And lest we forget, an arsenal of hidden surface-to-sea-and-air missiles.” This from Pitt.

“It won’t be an easy nut to crack,” Weatherhill said in a classic understatement.

Giordino looked at Penner, amused, curious. “Looks to me like an assault by at least five Special Forces assault teams, preceded by an attack of naval carrier aircraft and a bombardment by a strike fleet to soften up the defenses, is the only way anybody’s going to get inside that rock.”

“Either that,” Pitt tagged, “or a damn big nuclear bomb.”

Penner smiled dryly. “Since neither of your suggestions fits into the practical scheme of things, we’ll have to use other means to do the job.”

“Let me guess.” Mancuso was acid. As he spoke he gestured to Stacy, Weatherhill, and himself. “The three of us go in through the tunnel.”

“All five of you are going in,” Penner murmured quietly. “Though not all by way of the tunnel.”

Stacy gasped in surprise. “Frank, Timothy and I are highly trained professionals at forced entry. Dirk and Al are marine engineers. They have neither the skill nor the experience for a tricky penetration operation. Surely you don’t intend to send them in too?”

“Yes I do,” Penner insisted quietly. “They are not as helpless as you imply.”

“Do we get to wear black ninja suits and flit through the tunnel like bats?” There was no mistaking the cynicism in Pitt’s voice.

“Not at all,” Penner said calmly. “You and Al are going to drop in on the island and create a diversion to coincide with the entry of the others from Edo City.”

“Not by parachute,” Giordino groaned. “God, I hate parachutes.”

“So!” Pitt said thoughtfully. “The great Pitt and Giordino the magnificent fly into Hideki Suma’s private resort fortress with bugles sounding, bells ringing, and drums beating. Then get executed samurai style as trespassing spies. Kind of taking us for granted, aren’t you, Penner?”

“There is some risk, I admit,” Penner said defensively. “But I have no intention of sending you to your deaths.”

Giordino looked at Pitt. “Do you get the feeling we’re being used?”

“How about screwed?”

With his partisan eye Pitt knew the Director of Field Operations wasn’t acting purely on his own authority. The plan had come from Kern with Jordan’s approval and the President’s blessing on top of that. He turned and stared at Stacy. She had “Don’t go” written all over her face.

“Once we get on the island, what then?” he queried.

“You avoid capture as long as possible to distract Suma’s security forces, hiding out until we can mount a rescue mission to evacuate the entire team.”

“Against state-of-the-art security, we won’t last ten minutes.”

“No one expects miracles.”

Pitt said, “Well?”

“Well what?”

“We fall from the sky and play hide-and-seek with Suma’s robots while the three pros sneak in through a sixty-kilometer tunnel?” Any hint of irritation, incredulity, and despair was contained with great force of will by Pitt. “That’s the plan? That’s all there is?”

“Yes,” Penner said, self-consciously avoiding Pitt’s blazing stare.

“Your pals in Washington must have drawn that brilliant piece of creativity out of a fortune cookie.”

In his mind, Pitt never doubted his decision. If there was the slightest chance Loren was held prisoner on the island, he would go.

“Why can’t you simply cut off their power source on the mainland?” asked Giordino.

“Because the control center is entirely self-sustaining,” replied Penner. “It has its own generating station.”

Pitt looked at Giordino. “What do you say, big Al?”

“That resort have geishas?”

“Suma has a reputation for hiring only beautiful women,” Penner answered with a faint smile.

Pitt asked, “How do we fly in without being blown out of the sky?”

Penner smiled a smile that seemed to portend something good for a change. “Now that part of the plan has an A-number-one gilt-edge rating for success.”