Kang ignored the comment and stuck his nose back into a stack of financial documents. Taking the clue, the assassin turned and departed Kang's office without making a sound.
A half mile from the Inchon enclosed dock where Baekje was undergoing its cosmetic refit, two men in a dingy pickup truck slowly circled a nondescript shipyard building. Empty pallets and rusting flatbed carriers littered the grounds around the windowless structure, which was marked by a faded kang shipping company sign perched over the main entrance. Dressed in worn coveralls and grease-stained baseball caps, the two men were part of a heavily armed undercover security team numbering two dozen strong who patrolled the supersecret facility around the clock. The dilapidated exterior of the building hid a high-tech engineering development center filled with the latest super computing technology. The main and upper floors were dedicated to developing satellite payloads for Kang's satellite communications business. A small team of crack engineers worked to incorporate concealed eavesdropping and reconnaissance capabilities into conventional telecommunication satellites that were sold for export and launched by other regional governments or commercial companies. Hidden in the basement, and heavily guarded, was a small microbiology laboratory whose very existence was known by only a handful of Kang employees. The small cadre of scientists who worked in the lab had mostly been smuggled in from North Korea. With their families still living in the northern provinces, and forceful patriotic mandates placed upon them, the microbiologists and immunologists had little choice in accepting the nature of their work with hazardous biological agents.
The I-411's deadly bombs had been quietly transferred into the lab, where an ordnance expert had assisted the biologists in separating the powdery smallpox virus from the sixty-year-old compartmentalized aerial bombs. The viruses had been freeze-dried by the Japanese, allowing the pathogens to remain inert for storage and handling. The smallpox-laden bombs were designed to maintain their deadly efficacy for the duration of the submarine's voyage until hydrogenated upon deployment. Over sixty years later, their porcelain casings had repelled all destructive effects from decades of submersion. The aged bomb payloads were still every bit as potent as when they were loaded.
Placing samples of the cream-colored powder into a bio safe container, the biologists carefully initiated a controlled reconstitution of the viruses using a sterile water-based diluent. Under a microscopic eye, the dormant, block-shaped microorganisms could be seen waking from their long slumber and bouncing off each other like bumper cars as they resumed their lethal state. Despite the long period of dormancy, only a small percentage of the viruses failed to rejuvenate.
The research lab was run by a highly paid Ukrainian microbiologist named Sarghov. A former scientist with Biopreparat, the old Soviet Union civilian agency that fronted the republic's military biological weapons program, Sarghov had taken his knowledge of bio weapon genetic manipulation and sold his skills in the marketplace to the highest bidder. Though he never desired to leave his homeland, his stock as a budding scientific leader in the agency was tarnished when he was caught in bed with the wife of a politburo member. Fearing for his life,
he made his way through Ukraine to Romania, where he hopped a Kang freighter in the Black Sea. A hefty bribe to the ship's captain led him to higher contacts in the company, where his scientific skills were recognized and soon put to illicit use.
With ample resources, Sarghov quietly compiled a high-tech DNA research laboratory stocked with the equipment and tools necessary for a skilled bioengineer to splice, dice, isolate, or recombine the genetic material of one microorganism to another. In the confines of Sarghov's secret laboratory, a smorgasbord of dangerous bacterial and viral agents was littered about the facility, the seeds he cultivated to create a garden of death. But he still felt impotent. His stock was a commoner's cache of easily acquired agents, such as the hepatitis B virus and tuberculosis mycobacterium. Potentially lethal agents in their own right, they were nothing like the deadly Ebola, smallpox, and Marburg viruses he had worked with dur
ing his days at the Russian facility in Obolensk. Sarghov's feverish attempts at creating a knockout killer agent with the resources at hand had failed. He felt like a boxer with one hand tied behind his back. What he needed and desired was a truly lethal pathogen, one from the A-list.
His gift to evil science came from an unexpected source. A North Korean agent in Tokyo had infiltrated a government records disposal center and intercepted a cache of classified Japanese documents. Expecting to find a bonanza of current Japanese security secrets, the agent's handlers in Pyongyang were angered to find that the records were old World War II classified documents. Included in the heist were reports relating to Imperial Army experiments with biological weapons, records that were to be destroyed for fear of embarrassing the government. A sharp intelligence analyst stumbled upon the Imperial Army's involvement with the final missions of the I-403 and I-411, however, and Sarghov was soon on his way to his own supply of Variola major.
In the Frankenstein world of genetic engineering, biologists have found it a daunting task to create an entirely new organism from
scratch. But manipulating existing microorganisms through deliberate mutation, then prompting their reproduction to useful quantities, has been an ongoing art since the seventies. Laboratory-formulated agricultural crops that are resistant to pestilence and drought have been a major societal benefit of such bioengineering, along with the more controversial creation of super developed livestock. But the dark side of genetic surgery has always been the potential creation of a new strain of virus or bacteria with unknown, and possibly catastrophic, consequences.
For a man of his propensity, Sarghov was not content simply to regenerate the supply of smallpox. He had much more up his sleeve. With help from a Finnish research assistant, Sarghov acquired a sample of the HIV-1 virus, the most common source of acquired immune deficiency syndrome. Delving into the HIV-1 viral makeup, Sarghov synthesized a key genetic element of the horrifying AIDS virus. Taking his freshly reconstituted batch of smallpox virus, the scientist attempted to grow a new mutated bug, integrating the highly unstable HIV-1 virus. Boosted by the synthetic element that acted to stimulate recombination, mutant viruses were soon cultivated and then reproduced in mass. The result was a new microorganism that contained the attributes of both individual pathogens. Microbiologists sometimes refer to the process as a "chimera." Sarghov's chimera combined the highly contagious lethality of smallpox with the immunitive destroying abilities of HIV-1 into one deadly super virus
Reproducing the mutant pathogen in large quantities from scratch was a time-consuming process despite the ferocity of the virus. Limited by Kang's schedule, Sarghov maximized the quantities as best he could, then freeze-dried the resulting mutant viruses much as the Japanese had years before. The crystallized super virus was then mixed into the larger stores of freeze-dried smallpox virus from the aerial bombs, creating a diversified toxic compound. The entire batch was processed and refined a second time with boosters that would accelerate the rejuvenation process.
The now easily disseminated mixture was delicately packed into a series of lightweight tubular containers resembling the insert to a roll of paper towels, which were then stacked on a gurney and transported out of the lab. The packaged viral amalgamate was rolled upstairs to the satellite payload assembly bay, where a team of mechanical engineers took over, inserting the tubes into larger stainless steel cylinders that encapsulated a hydrogenation tank and fittings. The process was repeated under bright floodlights several times over until five of the large cylinders were assembled and placed into large shipping crates. A forklift arrived and loaded the crates onto the same white Kang panel truck that had delivered the ordnance, now making a return trip to the covered dock with a highly revitalized form of the weapon.
Sarghov grinned in delight, knowing a large payday was coming his way. His exhausted team of scientists had met the mark, verifying that the ancient smallpox virus still packed a lethal punch, then boosting its strength to murderous proportions. In less than forty-eight hours, Sarghov's biologists had processed the sixty-year-old virus into an entirely new killer, the likes of which the world had never seen before.
What DO you mean the ship has yet to materialize?" Gunn rasped in dismay.
The section chief of the FBI's International Terrorism Operations, a compact man named Tyler, opened a file on his desk and perused the contents as he spoke.
"We've had no information on the whereabouts of the cable ship Baekje. The Japanese National Police Agency has been monitoring shipping traffic in every port in the country, physically checking every ship that remotely resembles the description offered by your NUMA crew. They've come up empty so far."
"Have you checked ports outside of Japan?"
"An international notice has been posted with Interpol, and it is my understanding that the CIA has been asked to provide inputs at the request of the vice president. At this time, no confirming information has been received. There's a million places she could be hiding, Rudi, or she could have been scuttled herself."
"What about satellite imagery of the site where Sea Rover was sunk?" "Bad timing there, unfortunately. With the recent flare-up of political tensions in Iran, the National Reconnaissance Office has repositioned several of its high-resolution imaging resources to the Middle East. The East China Sea is one of many dead spots right now that is only covered by periodic scans from non-geosynchronous satellites. Which all means that the Baekje could move five hundred miles between covering passes. I'm waiting for the historical images from the last few days but have been told not to be too hopeful."
Gunn's anger softened as he realized that the slightly balding G-man in the starched white shirt was a competent professional doing the best with the resources he had available. "Any headway on the ship's history?" he asked.
"Your man Hiram Yaeger gave us a good head start on that one. Yaeger was the one who tentatively identified the ship as the Baekje, based on a worldwide review of ship registries through his NUMA computer bank. Apparently, there are less than forty known cable-laying ships of the size and configuration reported by your NUMA rescued crew. We narrowed the list down to twelve that were owned or leased in the Asia Pacific region and the Baekje came up missing in action." The FBI man paused as he leafed through the folder before extracting a white sheet that carried the blurred markings of a fax copy across its header.
"Here we are, details of the vessel. Cable-laying ship Baekje, 445 feet long, gross tonnage of 9,500. Built by the Hyundai Mipo Dockyard Company, Ltd." Ulsan, South Korea, in 1998. Owned and operated by Kang Shipping Enterprises, Inchon, South Korea, from 1998 to 2000. Since 2000, ship has been under lease to the Nippon Telegraph and Telephone Corporation, Tokyo, Japan, for cable-laying services in and around the Sea of Japan."
Setting the folder down, he stared straight into the eyes of Gunn. "NTT's operating lease expired six months ago, at which time the Baekje sat unutilized in a Yokohama dock. Two months ago, representatives from NTT renegotiated a one-year lease of the ship and took possession of the vessel with their own crew. Port records show she was unaccounted for during a five-week period, then appeared briefly back in Yokohama approximately three weeks ago. She was believed sighted in Osaka, where she apparently tailed the Sea Rover to the East China Sea."
"Was the ship seized from NTT?"
"No. NTT officials were shocked to learn that their name was on a revised lease agreement for the vessel since their fiber-optic cable route had been completed. The NTT corporate representatives that leased the ship were, in fact, impostors who buffaloed the Kang Shipping agents. The Kang people produced the paperwork, everything looked legitimate to them, though one representative thought it odd at the time that the NTT people were providing their own crew, which they had not done in the past. The Kang Shipping people are apparently scrambling to file an insurance claim on the vessel now."
"Sounds like there must have been some inside information somewhere. Any known links between the Japanese Red Army and Nippon Telegraph and Telephone?"
"None that we've established yet, but we're looking into it. NTT's executives are cooperating fully and seem eager to clear their name from a possible connection. Official corporate sponsorship looks unlikely, so the Japanese authorities are focusing on a possible employee faction somewhere within the company."
Gunn shook his head discouragingly. "So we've got a four-hundred-foot ship that has vanished into thin air, a U.S. government vessel that has been sunk, and an empty list of suspects. Two of my people have been kidnapped, possibly murdered, and we have no idea where to even look for them."