37

MITCH PEERED DOWN THE HALL. NO ONE THERE. HE WALKED UP TO MR. Lee’s cabin and took a deep breath. This had seemed like a much better idea when Ed suggested it two days ago. He’d give Mitch a skeleton key he “happened to have” and distract the Koreans while Mitch did a little sleuthing. Sure, it was a little risky, but life was full of risks, right? Besides, they really needed to know more before they could decide what to do.

Another quick glance down the hall. Still clear. He pulled a pair of canvas work gloves from his pocket and slipped them on. “Okay, Mitch,” he said under his breath. “Here we go.”

He pulled out the key and walked to the door of Mr. Lee’s cabin. The key fit into the lock on the doorknob but didn’t turn. Mitch’s heart stopped and he silently raged at Ed, who had promised this would work.

He jiggled the knob and tried again. No dice. The key bent, but didn’t turn. He could feel himself sweating.

In desperation, he tried turning the knob hard. Maybe he could pop the lock. The knob turned smoothly.

So it hadn’t been locked after all. He pushed inside and shut the door behind him.

Gray half-light leaked into the cabin through two shaded windows, casting thick black shadows that seemed to reach for him. The room would be a small and Spartan hotel room on land, but it was luxurious by the standards of a working ship. The cabin had a bed, a small chest of drawers and a desk. All were bolted to the floor to prevent damage or injuries during rough seas. A half-open door led to a tiny private bathroom.

Everything was as neat as if Mr. Lee expected an inspection. Bed made, no drawers hanging open, no dirty laundry scattered on the bathroom floor or shoved in a corner. Mitch pulled open the top drawer and found crisply folded undershirts and socks.

He felt around in the drawer, careful not to disturb its contents. Nothing. He shut it and tried the next drawer. It contained only pants and a coiled belt. The third drawer held shirts. Extra bed linens filled the bottom drawer.

He turned to the rest of the room. Quick glances around the bathroom and under the bed revealed nothing unusual. Same thing for the closet.

He turned to the desk. Nothing on the desktop except a leather blotter. It had one drawer—which had a lock. He winced. Nuts! Why didn’t we think of that? He tried it—and to his surprise it opened.

Inside lay a stack of documents written in something that looked vaguely like Chinese or Japanese. They had an official looking letterhead that included a blue and red striped flag emblazoned with a wreathed red star in the center and “4.25” near the upper left corner.

He took the papers out and flipped through them, looking for pictures or anything that might give him a hint what he was looking at. He reached for his cell phone to take pictures for later review—and then remembered that he’d had to give it up when he boarded the ship.

He heard a noise in the hall and froze. Footsteps. He dropped the papers back into the drawer and shut it. He looked around for someplace to hide and his eyes lit on the half-open bathroom door. He tiptoed over and stood inside, holding the door almost shut and watching the hall door through a crack.

The footsteps grew louder. Shadows moved in the sliver of light under the door leading to the corridor. They paused. Mitch held his breath.

The shadows vanished. The footsteps passed and faded into silence. Mitch exhaled and opened the bathroom door. Time to get out of here.

He took one last look around the room. He put his ear to the door and listened. He heard nothing except the faint sound of the printer humming and clicking at the end of the hall.

He opened the door a crack and peered out. The hall was empty. He jerked the door the rest of the way open, stepped into the corridor, and yanked the door shut behind him. He looked both ways. Still clear.

Giddy laughter welled up inside him as he walked down the hall. He’d done it! He had penetrated the inner sanctum of the boss of the Korean commandos!

He took off the work gloves and shoved them in his pocket as he skipped down the steps to the lounge, where Ed was playing Super Mario Bros. with some of the Koreans as a distraction. Ed was teaching Cho how to play the game when Mitch walked in and poured himself a cup of coffee.

A moment later, Ed clapped Cho on the back. “Okay, I think you’ve got it now.” He walked over to Mitch. “Hey, could you give me a hand? Let’s see if we can fix that forward thruster.”

Mitch followed him to the ROV. The two of them crouched down in front of the damaged thruster. One of the propeller blades was bent and the shaft was slightly out of true. “All right, let’s get that thing out of its housing and see what we can do,” Ed announced loudly. He looked around, then said more softly, “So, did you get in?”

“Yep. No thanks to you—that key didn’t work.”

Ed stopped working. “The door was unlocked?”

Mitch nodded.

Ed went back to taking apart the damaged motor. “Huh. Not sure what to make of that. So, what did you find?”

Mitch described the documents in the desk. “They had this red and blue flag on them. I hadn’t seen it before. It had some numbers too.”

Ed picked up a socket wrench and started removing bolts. “Numbers? What kind of numbers?”

“Like a price—four point something.”

Ed put down the wrench. “Four point two five?”

“Yeah, that was it.”

Ed looked up at Mitch, his face pale beneath the grime. “Mitch, that’s the flag of the North Korean Army!”