Red Shark

The first officer relayed Zemin’s orders: The main propulsion plant’s quiet hum changed pitch to a lower register, and the Kilo lurched forward and gained speed.

Zemin saw the officer’s questioning look and said, “We will close with the near zone, then stop and secure all motors and coast in the rest of the way to see what we can find.”

“He’s moving again,” Park said as the Red Shark’s sonar monitors and data displays lit up like exploding fireworks. “He can’t possibly know where we are,” he added, aware that he didn’t sound convinced.

“Hold position, Captain?” asked the first officer.

“What? Of course. Until we see what game he is up to. We’re in his territory, where we shouldn’t be. He doesn’t know who we are and won’t attack unless he feels threatened, and then not without approval from his headquarters. If he can’t find us, he might give up and move on to a new search box.”

Park settled down to wait him out. He doffed his cap and ran a hand over his sweaty, cropped head. We’ve coexisted with the Chinese in the Yellow Sea and East China Sea for centuries, Park thought, and have never had an armed conflict. The Chinese are a cautious people and do not like to engage in direct confrontation with their adversaries. Taiwan, for instance. Park put on his cap and frowned. He hoped that the Chinese skipper wouldn’t prove him wrong—

“Captain!” The startled sonarman pointed to the twin video monitors on which data captured from the Kilo was being displayed. As Park watched, both monitors rescrolled their data maps to zero. The sonarman, eyes locked on the monitors, furiously punched the system’s function keys, but nothing changed. “Sir, the target stopped his engines… we are losing contact…”

A chime tone warning sounded as the monitors went black, then to solid flashing red.

Karl Radford watched rush-hour traffic outside his Crystal City office inch past the Pentagon on Shirley Highway. He turned away when a slightly out of breath Navy captain entered the office.

“Sorry I’m late, General. Our translator had problems with the file.”

Radford’s gaze went to the mini-disc the captain held in his hand, and he saw that it was labeled Purple — Eyes Only. The officer, whose ID tag hanging around his neck identified him as Roth, Allan J., went directly to Radford’s desktop computer terminal and inserted the disc, then tapped the proper keys.

A page scrolled up; Roth stepped back. Radford took his seat and skimmed the monitor while Roth eyed the hard copy he’d brought along. Radford looked up. His disappointment, if not bewilderment, wasn’t lost on Roth.

“This is it? This is what the Danes flew in for us from Copenhagen overnight?”

“Yes, sir. Ambassador Schlüter confirmed that it went out in the diplomatic bag immediately after they received it at the embassy in Pyongyang.”

Radford went back to the page on the monitor. “Okay, well, our man’s alive and functioning, but this…” He shrugged. “This makes no sense, does it to you?”

Roth said, “No, sir. I don’t get the meaning at all. The translation section thinks its an allusion to some Korean mythological being or cultural artifact. G-Section’s running it down now while they’re working on the second part of the message.”

Radford stared at the words on the computer monitor. They were beyond comprehension, perhaps a flight of fantasy concocted by a frightened man trapped in one of the most dangerous cities in the world: Red Shark, Red Shark, Red Shark.

Scott got out of the Lexus parked in front of the Prince Kota Hotel in Noda and leaned into the open window. “I’ll call you at the Embassy when this is over. Now get out of here.”

“Jake, don’t go.” Tracy reached for him, but he walked away quickly. Fearing she wouldn’t leave if he looked back, he didn’t. He waited to be sure she had departed, then entered the hotel’s dingy lobby and roused the sleepy manager.

“I need a karuma.”

The man glanced at the clock, saw it was past midnight. “Impossible. No one on duty.”