“The only concern is that this is Catalan Spanish,” Hale said. “But we’re going to take Solano out of circulation before he makes it to his hotel, get him to talk, and allow Joe to practice his voice.”
Kurt didn’t like his friend taking the risk, but he knew they weren’t likely to get another chance at this.
“Should be a piece of cake,” Joe said.
“I’m going in with him,” Kurt insisted.
“Of course you are,” Hale said. “Because your job is to place a transmitter on one of the hackers while Joe keeps Acosta and the others busy.”
Kurt nodded. That sounded fair, but then what? “I think we can all picture the outcome if we fail. But what happens if we succeed? You can’t get them out of the North any more than we can.”
“The thing is,” Hale said, “we’re not sure where they are. Any of them. North Korea has a cyberforce known as Unit 121. We’ve confirmed that some of them operate in China, others have been tracked to sites in Russia, and some to sites right here in Seoul. You don’t have to be at home to attack a country these days. You can launch your strike from anywhere you find a computer terminal and an Internet connection. If they like, these people can wage war in their pajamas.”
Kurt understood, but something was missing. He studied Hale. Both he and Col. Lee were rather inscrutable. Maybe it was the nature of their occupations or the hangdog expressions that told him they’d been working the angles long and hard on this one. Either way, something didn’t quite fit. Kurt couldn’t begin to guess what it was, but he had a feeling he’d find out at the worst possible time.
NUMA Vessel Condor, Southwestern Indian Ocean
The Condor drifted with the current all afternoon, and Paul Trout began to feel like a sailor on an old galleon, caught in the horse latitudes and going nowhere.
As dusk approached, the ship was enveloped in darkness. The chief and his men rigged up an auxiliary unit that brought power back to the desalinization and ventilation systems, but because the unit was relatively small compared to the need of the ship, most of the lights were kept off and the HVAC processors were run at the lowest settings. As a result, the interior of the ship was a sweatbox and those who didn’t have to be inside congregated on various parts of the deck.
Paul considered himself fortunate to be on the bridge wing with Gamay.
“What a beautiful night,” she said.
“It really is,” he replied. There was a soft southerly breeze, just enough to keep the humidity from being oppressive.
“Maybe there’s something to be said for the old ways,” she added. “No hum of machinery. No annoying computers telling us a new message has arrived.”
She put an arm around his waist and pulled closer. “I wouldn’t mind a candlelight dinner, if you’ve got nothing else planned.”
Paul cocked his head at her. “Are you getting romantic on me?”
She huffed and pushed him away. “If you have to ask, I must be doing it wrong.”
He pulled her back to his side. “No, you’re doing fine,” he said. “Now, where were we?”
“Too late,” she said. “The moment has passed.”
If it wasn’t already gone, the appearance of a crewman sweating through his T-shirt sent it packing for good. “Sorry to interrupt but we’re picking up something on radar.”
“I thought the radar was out?” Gamay replied.
Paul shook his head. “Considering our predicament, I thought it would be wise to know what’s going on around us. I had the chief power up the short-range unit.”
“Do you want to take a look?” the crewman asked.
Paul nodded, and both he and Gamay entered the semidarkened bridge.
“Any chance it’s the tug?” Gamay asked.
“No, ma’am,” the crewman replied. “Target is to the east. Tug will be coming in from the west. By our estimates, she’s a good four hours away.”
Paul stepped over to the radarscope. “What’s the range?”
“Forty-six miles. That’s pretty much the maximum range of the system on this power setting.”
“What’s her course and speed? Maybe we can hail her?”