Black Wind - Cussler Clive - Страница 60
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As Summer dried her wet hair, she briefly became lost in the luxury and allowed herself to enjoy the surroundings. She sniffed at an array of exotic lotions and perfumes aligned on the marble counter, settling on an aloe vera body lotion and a lilac-scented fragrance. A rack of silk clothing stood in the corner, a conspicuous offering for female guests. Running her fingers through the brightly colored collection of petite-sized robes and dresses, she spotted a flaming red pullover dress with matching short jacket that looked like it might fit. Squirming into the silk dress, she eyed herself in the mirror and admired the results. A little tight in the bust, but a fair representation of a china doll, albeit tall and red-haired, she thought, smiling at the reflected image. Finding an assortment of shoes at the foot of the rack, she rummaged through a dozen pairs before finding a black set of low-heeled flats that fit. Wedging the shoes on, she cursed as a thumbnail cracked while tugging at a heel. Instinctively, she rummaged through the bathroom counter, bypassing combs and brushes before discovering one of a woman's essentials: an emery board. Not a cheap cardboard version, the metal file sported a small flat porcelain handle. Admiring the tiny tool, she absently stuck it in a side pocket after smoothing her thumbnail. An instant later, a pounding at the room door indicated her interval of private luxury was over.
Exiting the room into the corridor at gunpoint, Summer found Dirk standing casually with two rifle muzzles pointed at his back. He looked at his sister in the stunning silk dress and let fly a wolf whistle.
“I'm afraid we've only got a few rats to guide your chariot tonight, Cinderella,” he joked, jerking his thumb in the direction of the two guards behind him.
“I see you've decided to stick with the Mr. Goodwrench look,” she countered, observing that he wore the same grease-and-sweat-stained NUMA jumpsuit he'd worn since they were abducted.
“Afraid my available wardrobe was a little on the short side,” he said, pulling the cuffs of his jumpsuit up to midcalf range for emphasis. “Never did care much for the Alfalfa sartorial look.”
The four guards grew annoyed with their chattering and forcefully guided them to the elevator, where they rode silently up one floor. The doors opened on Kang's impressive dining room, with the broad vista shimmering through the picture windows. Kang sat at the head of the dining table, quietly reviewing the contents of a leather-bound folder, while Tongju stood erect off his left shoulder. The Korean magnate looked the part of an industrial captain, attired in a custom-fitted navy blue suit from an expensive Hong Kong tailor, with complementary maroon silk tie. His steely slate eyes darted toward the elevator briefly, then returned to the documents before him, his face a mask of cold austerity.
Dirk and Summer were escorted to the table, where their eyes briefly drank in the scenic river scape view through the window before settling on their captor host. They both mentally noted how the cove below was fed by a narrow winding inlet that led to the wide river in the distance. Standing before the table, Summer felt a chill run up her spine as Tongju shot her a lascivious look, while Kang peered up coldly. Her minor gaiety at being clean and finely dressed withered away in the palpable presence of evil. She suddenly felt foolish in the silken outfit and subconsciously clasped her hands in front of her waist in nervous fear. But her anxiety diminished after she glanced over at Dirk.
If her brother felt any fear, he didn't show it. Dirk stood tall with his chin thrust out defiantly, yet carried a bored-with-it-all look on his face. He seemed to enjoy peering down with derision at Tongju, who stood nearly ten inches shorter. The assassin paid no heed and instead spoke directly to his boss.
“The submersible operators from the NUMA vessel,” he said with a touch of disdain.
“Dae-jong Kang,” Dirk retorted, ignoring Tongju, “CEO of Kang Enterprises.”
Kang nodded slightly, then motioned for Dirk and Summer to sit down. The guards eased back to a side wall, where they kept a vigilant watch over the two captives, while Tongju slid into a chair opposite Dirk.
“Mr. Pitt here was responsible for the death of our two men in America,” Tongju said, his eyes narrowing on Dirk.
Dirk nodded in mute satisfaction. It was as he suspected, the clear connection between the salvage efforts on both Japanese submarines, as well as the murder attempt on Vashon Island.
“A small world,” Kang replied.
“Too small for mass murderers like you,” Summer hissed in a low voice, her anger taking rise.
Kang ignored the comment. “A pity. The men in Seattle were among Tongju's top agents.”
“A tragic accident, really,” Dirk replied. “You must learn to recruit employees with better driving skills,” he added, his cold glance at Tongju met by an equally frigid stare back.
“Fortuitous indeed, as we otherwise may have lost your generous assistance in salvaging the I-411,” Kang said. “I am most curious as to what led you to the submarines.”
“Luck, mostly. I discovered that an earlier Japanese submarine had launched a few cyanide shells at the Oregon coast and wondered if someone had recovered some similar shells and used them in the Aleutians. It wasn't until I dove on the I-403 and discovered the remains of the aerial biological bombs that it became evident that there was something more afoot.”
“A shame that the bombs were damaged during the vessel's sinking,” Kang said. “They would have been much easier to recover than those from the I-411.”
“But you did recover one bomb canister intact, which you discharged in the Aleutian Islands.”
Kang showed a hint of surprise at Dirk's remark. “Of course,” he replied. “Rather interesting how the Japanese combined a chemical and biological agent in one weapon. Our test release revealed that the efficacy of the biological agent was hampered by the dual release, although the chemical component was more potent than we anticipated.”
“Potent enough to kill two U.S. Coast Guardsmen,” Summer commented.
Kang shrugged. “How did you come to have such a focus with the death of two sailors in the Aleutians? Were you there?”
Summer shook her head in silence. Then Dirk spoke up.
“I was piloting the helicopter that your 'fishing trawler' shot down.”
Kang and Tongju looked at each other with suspicious eyes. “You are rather a resilient man, Mr. Pitt,” Kang finally stated.
Before he could respond, a side door swayed open and two men in white waiter's jackets glided over to the table hoisting large silver trays above their shoulders. A colorful array of seafood dishes was spread before each place setting, followed by a glass of Veuve Clicquot champagne. Dirk and Summer, having not eaten a full meal in days, calmly attacked the food as the probing conversation continued.
“Your government... is rather displeased with the Japanese, I suspect,” Kang prodded.
“Your shady activities under the guise of the Japanese Red Army was a clever ruse but uncovered for what it was by my government. Your two flunky hit men were easily traced to Korea,” Dirk lied, grinning at Tongju. “I suspect the authorities will be banging on your door any minute now, Kang.”
A brief look of agitation on Kang's brow suddenly softened. “A commendable effort. But the truth is that the two men had no idea themselves who their employer was. No, I think it is apparent that you know nothing of our intent.”
“The long-standing animosity of Korea toward Japan for their many years of brutal colonization is well known,” Dirk said, continuing the pretext. “It would be no surprise to expect the warped minds possessing these type of weapons to use them on a historical adversary, which in your case is the Japanese.”
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