60

CHO STOOD ON THE FORWARD DECK, WATCHING AND WAITING. IT WAS a starless and peaceful night. The only sounds were the soft rhythmic splash of the waves and indistinct murmur of conversation on shore. But he doubted the quiet would last. His turn on guard duty was scheduled to last until midnight, though he suspected there would be no need for a watchman by that time.

His eyes swept back and forth over the dock, the warehouses, the bright white trailers for the American security guards. While he helped unload trash and restock provisions, he had heard the Americans complain about their quarters, comparing them to prison cells. Curious, he had looked inside one of the trailers. It was warm, well lit, had six soft-looking beds with blankets and pillows, a bathroom, and even a small kitchen with a coffeemaker and a basket of plastic-wrapped snacks. If American prisons were really like that, they were more comfortable than most apartments he had been in. No wonder so many poor Americans chose to go to jail.

Then he heard it—the high ululating sound he had listened for ever since he freed Granger and Daniels. The American police car siren sounded exactly like the ones in the grainy black-market movies he watched to practice his English.

He stared at a dark stretch of pavement about a kilometer away: the spot where the entrance road appeared between two low buildings and turned toward the dock. The siren grew louder. The dark pavement suddenly glowed. Then a car with flashing blue and red lights burst into view and turned toward the dock.

Only one police car. No military. Odd. The information on the drive he had given to Daniels should have called for a much stronger response.

He turned and ran for the bridge. He yanked open the door and jumped down a narrow flight of stairs. He raced down the corridor to Mr. Lee’s quarters and jerked open the door without knocking. The room was dark, so he pulled to a halt and stood at attention in the doorway. “Apologies, sir! A police car approaches!”

He saw a stir by Mr. Lee’s bed, but kept his eyes straight ahead. A few heartbeats later, Mr. Lee appeared in the light. He was still pulling on an undershirt and jeans. Red lines from pillow creases marked the left side of his face, but his eyes were bright and fully alert. “Have you spoken to the Americans?”

“No, sir. I came directly to you.”

Mr. Lee nodded crisply and walked out.

They met Captain Wither in the hallway. He was still fully dressed, but his shirt was half unbuttoned. His face was flushed and his eyes were wide and bloodshot. “The cops are coming!” A pungent scent of alcohol wafted over them as he spoke.

Mr. Lee drew his brows together in a disapproving frown. “Yes, we know. Mr. Park will talk to them, yes? We paid extra for him for just this reason.”

The captain looked away. “Yeah, I’m sure he will.” He returned his gaze to them and pulled the corners of his mouth up in a smile. “Nothing to worry about.”

Mr. Lee regarded him silently for several seconds, then nodded. “Very good.”

They left the captain and continued down the corridor toward the bridge. Without turning his head, the general spoke softly in Korean. “Assemble the men around the MIRV housing. Kill anyone who enters. I will stay with the captain to make sure he does not betray us.”

Cho nodded and turned to the men’s quarters.

Three minutes later, they were all awake and in the large storage room with the MIRV housing. Two men aimed pistols at the door while the others took positions around the door and waited and listened.

Unidentified creakings and grumblings from the depths of the ship. Footsteps on the deck above grew louder, then fainter, and then disappeared. More footsteps—clanging on the metal stairs this time.

The men tensed and readied themselves. The electricity of imminent violence charged the air.

Footsteps outside and faint conversation. The voices were indistinct but sounded jovial and relaxed.

The footsteps stopped at the door. It opened. The captain and First Mate Jenkins began to step in but jerked back at the sight of the men ready in ambush.

The captain put a hand to his chest.

The first mate swore, then guffawed. “I almost peed my pants!”

No one else laughed.

Jenkins’s smile faded. “Anyway, you’ll be happy to hear that the cops are gone. So you can all relax and go back to bed.”

The captain looked at Cho. “Except you. Mr. Lee would like to talk to you in his stateroom.”

Cho nodded and followed the captain upstairs.

Mr. Lee sat facing the door. He did not look happy. “The police said someone rang them and said there were nuclear weapons on this ship—nuclear weapons from a sunken Soviet submarine. Fortunately, Mr. Park was able to persuade them that this was a misunderstanding.”

Cho gasped and widened his eyes in what he hoped looked like shock. “Who rang the police?”

The captain cleared his throat and clasped his hands behind his back. “First Mate Jenkins discovered that Granger and Daniels managed to escape.”

Cho stared at the man. “Escaped? How?”

The captain shifted his weight from foot to foot. “We’re not sure. Jenkins found the door unlocked.”

Cho continued to hold the captain with his gaze. “Jenkins and Granger were friends, yes?”

The captain looked down. “They did drink together sometimes.”

Cho turned back to Mr. Lee. “Sir, may I suggest that Mr. Jenkins stay in a locked room until we are done. May I also suggest that,” he glanced at the captain for a split-second, “that he be guarded by one of our men.”

The alcohol-fueled flush on the captain’s face deepened, but he did not speak.

Mr. Lee nodded. “Yes, I thought the same. It is being done.”

“Sir, do you wish for me to arrange a search for Granger and Daniels? Perhaps they are still nearby.”

“They will have difficulty escaping now. There is a fence around the docks, and it was lit and electrified as soon as the escape was discovered. Mr. Kang is already leading a search squad. If Granger and Daniels are still there, he will find them. I need you to supervise removing the warheads from the MIRV housing and loading them onto the truck on shore. We need to move them as quickly as possible. This place is not safe.”

“Yes, sir. Anything else?”

Mr. Lee pursed his lips and folded his arms, as he often did when he was about to speak of something he found distasteful. “I am told there is a well-equipped interrogation room on shore. Go inspect it.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And please do supervise Kang,” Mr. Lee continued in Korean. “He is a good interrogator, but he enjoys it a bit too much. It impairs his results.”