Black wind

he considered the element of surprise. It could indeed mean the difference between life and death.
    “Let us just hope that our deception endures,” he finally replied thoughtfully.
    Belowdecks, Dirk and Summer were roughly roused from their cabin cell, a thick-necked guard first handcuffing their wrists behind their backs before shoving them out of the room. They were marched at gunpoint to a gangway leading off the ship, where Tongju stood watching with a sneer on his face.
    “It was a lovely cruise. You never did show us where the shuffle-board court was located, however,” Dirk said to the assassin.
    “Now, be honest,” Summer piped in. “The food didn’t exactly warrant a five-star rating.”
    “The American sense of humor is hardly amusing,” Tongju grunted, his cold eyes showing that he was not the least bit entertained.
    “By the way, what exactly is the Japanese Red Army doing in Inchon, Korea?” Dirk asked bluntly.
    A barely perceptible arch crossed Tongju’s brow.
    “Most observant, Mr. Pitt.” Then, ignoring his captives further, he turned to Thick Neck, who cradled an AK-74 leveled at the pair.
    “Take them to the high-speed launch and lock them in the forward berth under guard,” he barked, then turned on his heels and marched to the bridge.
    Dirk and Summer were marshaled down the gangplank and across the dock to a smaller side slip, where a sleek-looking motor yacht was tied up. It was a thirty-one-meter South Pacific marine high-speed catamaran, painted a teal blue. Designed and built for passenger ferry service, it had been refitted as a fast oceangoing personal luxury yacht. Equipped with four-thousand-horsepower diesel engines, the luxury cat could cruise along at speeds over 35 knots.
    “Now, this is more my style,” Summer commented as they were prodded aboard and locked in a small but plushly appointed center berth.
    “No windows this time. Guess Mr. Hospitality didn’t like your Inchon crack,” Summer added as she curled her way into a small salon chair, her hands still cuffed behind her back.
    “Me and my big mouth,” Dirk replied. “At least we now have a rough idea of where we are.”
    “Yes … right in the middle of deep kimchi. Well, if we got to go, at least we get to go first class,” she said, admiring the walnut paneling and expensive artwork adorning the walls. “These guys certainly have some deep pockets for a second-rate terrorist organization.”
    “Apparently, they have some friends at Kang Enterprises.”
    “The shipping company?”
    “A large conglomerate. We’ve seen their commercial freighters around for years. They’re also involved in some other high-tech businesses as well, though I’m only familiar with their shipping division. I met a guy in a bar once who worked as an oiler on one of their ships. He told me about their enclosed repair and storage facility in Inchon. Never seen anything like it. There’s supposedly a dry dock at one end,
    and the place is chock-full of state-of-the-art equipment. The cable ship had the Kang trademark blue lightning bolt on the funnel. This has to be the place.”
    “Glad to see all that time you spent as a barfly is finally paying off,” Summer quipped.
    “Research. Strictly research,” he smiled.
    Summer suddenly turned serious. “Why would a South Korean business be mixed up with the JRA? And what do they want with us?”
    Her words were interrupted by the throaty roar of the catamaran’s diesel engines as they were fired up astern of their cabin.
    “I guess we’ll soon find out.”
    Tongju crossed over and boarded the catamaran as the ropes were cast off, the fast boat burbling along the dockage at a crawl. The huge hangar door slid to the side again, allowing the catamaran to exit the enclosed building. As they slipped through the doorway, Tongju glanced back at the big cable ship towering over them.
    An army of workmen was already crawling about the Baekje like a swarm of bees. A heavy-duty crane was removing the giant cable-laying wheel from the stern deck, while teams of painters re sprayed the topside decks. Elsewhere, construction crews were cutting the superstructure in some areas while adding compartments and bulkheads in other places. A work detail hung over the fantail, re beading and painting the ship’s name, while another team painted the funnel a golden yellow. In just a matter of hours, the entire ship would be transformed to another vessel that even the trained eye would