Red Shark

“Karl, unless you can find the goddamn things right now, I’m putting all my stock in his claim. I certainly can’t put any stock in the SRO’s ability to find them, can I?” The president kneaded his forehead. “If in fact we’ve missed them, by now they could be anywhere. And if we don’t find them, then like Scott said, they could end up in New York City, Chicago, or here in Washington.”

Radford and Freidman said nothing while the president consulted a handwritten aide-memoir. “All right,” he said, “so far we’ve heard nothing from our conduit in Pyongyang. Karl, any idea why?”

Radford tugged an earlobe. “I think it’s understandable — given the situation, he’d not want to risk it. Perhaps in time—”

“Karl, we don’t have time.”

“Is there any way we can initiate contact with him?” Freidman asked. “I mean, could we give him a nudge, open a secure channel, say, one of our satellites, that he could upload a signal to?”

Radford frowned. “Paul, for his safety, we didn’t supply him with any specialized comms gear. If they were to find it, he’d be dead meat.”

“How do we normally communicate with him?” the president asked.

“He passes information to the Danish chargé d’affaires. But that method is dependent on cultural and scientific exchanges hosted at their embassy in Pyongyang. Since the coup, there haven’t been any exchanges, so I have to assume our man has had no way to get information to them.”

“Have you considered the possibility that he’s been exposed?” the president asked.

“Sir, if he had, I think the NKs would have announced it to the world to bolster their contention that we’re about to attack them.”

“Then ask the Danes for some help. I don’t know what, maybe they can set up a conference, throw a cocktail party for NK bigwigs.”

“Yes, sir, I’ll ask them,” Radford said.

“Now, what is Scott’s status? He’s done a good job for us, but I want him out of Japan before he gets himself arrested or… worse. If they go after him again, he may not be so lucky. I don’t want to stir up any more trouble with the Japanese.”

“Sir, he has his orders, but he also believes he has an obligation to find Ms. Kida.”

“I knew it,” Friedman moaned, “I just knew it.”

The president said, “You tell him, Karl, that if he doesn’t get out of Japan immediately, I’ll have him court-martialed.”

“Sir, I’ll do better than that: I’ll dispatch Colonel Jefferson to bring him in.”

“You do that,” the president snorted.

Commander Deng Zemin eyed the decrypted message:

PLAN ˜ NORTHSEA ˜ LUSHUN ˜ NAVAL AIR ARM ˜

SH-5 FLT 007 [STOP]

TO PLAN UNIT 002 ADMIRALTY [STOP]

SURFACE RADAR CONTACT 0643 ˜ EAST POSITION GRID

21X ˜ 80 NM EAST SHIDAO [STOP] BEARING 190

DEGREES ˜ SPEED ESTIMATE 8 KTS ˜ POSSIBLE DPRK

SUBMARINE [STOP] CONTACT SH-5 FLT 007 FOR LAST

REPORTED COORDINATES [STOP] CALL SIGN EAGLE

[STOP] LOCATE ˜ IDENTIFY ˜ REPORT SPEED-POSITION-

HEADING-TASKING IF POSSIBLE [EOM]

Zemin tapped the chart with a stylus. “Comrade First Officer, this unidentified diesel-electric is not too far from our present position. Perhaps thirty nautical miles.”

The first officer bent to the chart and did some quick math on his electronic data pad. “I make it thirty-two, Captain. We can reach his area in less than two hours surfaced.”

Zemin considered. “If he maintains his current speed, yes.” Zemin continued to tap the chart. “Is he Japanese or Korean? What do your bones tell you?”

“Korean. North Korean.”

“Do you think Marshal Jin is flexing his muscles?”

“The new leader wants to show that he, like Kim, is not afraid to patrol in our Yellow Sea.”

“I wonder…”

“My bones tell me so, Captain.”

“Very well. Come to periscope depth. Communications Officer.”

“Captain?…”

“Stand by to contact that SH-5 amphibian and download the contact coordinates. Use her call sign ‘Eagle.’ ”

“Aye, Comrade Captain.”

“Comrade First Officer,” said Zemin, “you are right, we are looking for a North Korean boat. I, too, feel it in my bones.”

* * *