Dragon

  The two engineers did not accompany the injured robot but made their way toward the workers' comfort room to indulge in a brief cup of tea.

  Left alone, Otokodate concentrated his vision system on the dials and blinking digital readings and routinely began to process the data in his computer. His highlevel sensing ability, incredibly advanced over a human's, caught an infinitesimal deviation of measurement.

  The laser pulse rate through an optic fiber is measured in millions of beats per second. Otokodate's sensors could read the instrument measurements far more accurately than a human, and he recognized a minuscule drop in the pulse rate from the standard 44.7 million beats per second to 44.68 million. He computed the refractive index profile and determined that the light transmitting its waves through two of the strands inside a ribbon containing thousands of optic fibers was temporarily zigzagging at some point.

  He signaled telepresence command that he was leaving the console for an inspection of the fiber bundles inside the passageways.

  >

  Suma was growing more angry and impatient by the moment. Diaz and Smith never seemed to tire of quarreling with him, giving vent to their hatred of his achievements, threatening him as if he was a common thief off the street. He came to welcome the chance to wash his hands of them.

  Abducting Senator Diaz, he felt, was a mistake. He took him only because Ichiro Tsuboi was confident that Diaz carried substantial influence in the Senate and held the President's ear. Suma saw the man as petty and narrow-minded. After a medical discharge from the Army, Diaz had worked his way through the University of New Mexico. He then used the traditional road to power by becoming a lawyer and championing causes that brought headlines and support from the majority state party. Suma despised him as an obsolete political hack who harped on the monotonous and tiresome harangue of taxing the rich for welfare programs to feed and house nonworking poor. Charity and compassion were traits Suma refused to accept.

  Congresswoman Smith, on the other hand, was a very astute woman. Suma had the uncomfortable feeling she could read his mind and counter any statement he tossed at her. She knew her facts and statistics and could quote them with ease. Loren came from good western stock, her family having ranched the western slope of Colorado since the 1870s. Educated at the University of Colorado, she ran for office and beat an incumbent who had served for thirty years. She could play hardball with any man.

  Suma suspected that her only soft spot was Dirk Pitt, and he was closer to the truth than he knew.

  Suma stared across the table from them, sipping saki and regrouping for another exchange of harsh words. He was about to make another point when Toshie came into the room and whispered softly into his ear. Suma set his saki cup on the table and stood.

  "It's time for you to leave."

  Loren elegantly came to her feet and locked eyes with Suma. "I'm not moving from here until I know Dirk and AI are alive and treated humanely."

  Suma smiled indulgently. "They covertly came onto foreign soil, my soil, as intelligence agents of a foreign country--"

  "Japanese law is the same as ours in regards to espionage," she interrupted. "They're entitled to a fair trial."

  Suma gloated with malicious satisfaction. "I see little reason to carry this discussion further. By now, Mr. Pitt and Mr. Giordino, along with the rest of their spy team, have been executed by my friend Moro Kamatori. Make of it what you will."

  Loren felt as if her heart had been crushed in ice. There was a stunned silence, made even more shocking at knowing it must be true. Her face went white and she swayed on her feet, her mind suddenly void.

  Toshie grabbed Loren's arm and pulled her toward the door. "Come, the aircraft that will take you to Edo City and Mr. Suma's private aircraft is waiting."

  "No ride through your amazing tunnel beneath the sea?" asked Diaz without a hint of disappointment.

  "There are some things I don't wish you to see," Suma said nastily.

  As if walking through a nightmare, Loren uncaringly allowed Toshie to drag her through a foyer that opened onto a stone path that crossed over a small pond. Suma bowed and motioned for Diaz to accompany the women.

  Diaz shrugged submissively and limped with his cane ahead of Suma while the two roboguards brought up the rear.

  Beyond the pond, a sleek tilt-turbine aircraft sat in the middle of a lawn surrounded by a high, neatly trimmed hedge. The jet engines were turning over with a soft whistling sound. Two crewmen in red nylon flight suits and brimmed caps stood at attention on each side of the steps leading inside the main cabin.

  Both were short, one slim, the other fairly bursting the stitched seams over his shoulders. They respectfully bowed their heads as Suma's party approached.

  Diaz stopped suddenly. "When I return to Washington, I'm going to hold a news conference and expose you and your monstrous plans. Then I'll fight you with every means at my command in both houses of Congress, until every asset you have in the United States is confiscated and nationalized. I won't rest until you pay for your crimes."

  Suma made an infuriating grin. "Our Washington lobbyists are more than strong enough to dilute your pathetic efforts. We own too many of your fellow legislators, who have a weakness for hidden wealth, for you to influence. Your voice will ring hollow, Senator Diaz. Your government, whether you like it or not, corrupt and mired in emotional programs instead of technology and science, has become a wholly owned Japanese subsidiary."

  Loren leaned toward Suma, her eyes narrowing in scorn. "You underestimated American guts fifty years ago, and once again you've awakened a sleeping giant and filled him with terrible resolve."

  "Admiral Yamamoto's words after December the seventh do not apply now," Suma said contemptuously. "Your people have lost the fortitude to make sacrifices for the good of the nation. You must face reality, Congresswoman Smith. America's greatness is gone. I have nothing more to say except to urge you to warn your President of Japan's intentions."

  "Don't you mean your intentions," said Loren bravely, the color coming back into her face. "You don't represent the Japanese people."

  "A safe journey home, Congresswoman Smith. Your visit has ended."

  Suma turned and began to walk away, but he'd only taken one step when the two crewmen grabbed his arms from each side, lifted him off his feet and hurled him backwards through the open door into the aircraft's cabin, where he seemingly vanished. It all happened so fast that Loren and Diaz stood in blank-minded shock. Only Toshie reacted, lashing out with her foot at the heavier-built crewman.

  "Is this any way to begin an intimate relationship?" laughed Giordino, grabbing Toshie's foot, sweeping her up in his arms, and hoisting her through the door to Weatherhill and Mancuso's waiting hands as easily as if she was filled with air.

  Loren gasped and started to mutter something to Giordino, but Stacy brusquely pushed her up the short stairs. "No time to waste, Ms. Smith. Please step lively." With Loren on her way, she pulled at Diaz. "Get a move on, Senator. We've worn out our welcome."

  "Where. . . where did you all come from?" he stammered as Mancuso and Weatherhill hauled him through the hatch.

  "Just your friendly neighborhood hijackers," Weatherhill answered conversationally. "Actually, it was Pitt and Giordino who got the drop on the crew and tied them up in the cargo compartment."

  Giordino lifted Stacy into the cabin and scrambled up the stairs after her. He threw a smart salute at the two roboguards that aimed their weapons at him but stood in stationary bewilderment.

  "Sayonara roboturkeys!"

  He yanked the door shut and locked it. Then he turned and shouted one brief word in the direction of the cockpit.

  "Go!"

  The soft whistle of the two turbine engines increased to an earsplitting shriek, and their thrust flattened the grass under the stubby wings. The wheels lifted from the damp ground and the aircraft rose straight into the air, hung there for a few moments as the engines slowly twisted to a horizontal position, and then it sho
t off in a wide bank that took it over the sea toward the east.

  Loren hugged Giordino. "Thank God you're all right. Is Dirk with you?"

  "Who do you think is driving the bus?" Giordino smiled broadly as he nodded toward the cockpit.

  Without another word, Loren ran up the aisle and threw open the cockpit door. Pitt sat in the pilot's seat, heavily concentrating on flying an aircraft that was new to him. He didn't blink or turn his head as she slipped her hands around his neck and down inside his borrowed Suma Corporation flight suit and kissed him at least a dozen times.

  "You're alive," she said joyfully. "Suma said you were dead."

  "It hasn't exactly been a fun-filled day," Pitt managed between her kisses. "Does this mean you're glad to see me?"

  She lightly dragged her nails over his chest. "Can't you ever get serious?"

  "Lady, right now I'm about as serious as I can get. I've got eight people depending on me to fly an aircraft I've never touched before. And I better get the hang of it real quick or we're all going body surfing."

  "You can do it," she said confidently. "Dirk Pitt can do anything."

  "I wish people wouldn't say that," Pitt groaned. He gave a quick tic of his head to his right. "Take the co-pilot's seat and play with the radio. We've got to call in the cavalry before the samurai air force takes up the chase. No way we can outrun jet fighters."

  "Suma doesn't own the Japanese military."

  "He owns everything else around here. I'm not taking any chances. Switch on the radio, I'll give you the frequency."

  "Where are we going?"

  "The Ralph R. Bennett."

  "A boat?"

  "A ship," Pitt corrected her. "A U.S. Navy detection and tracking ship. If we get to her before we're intercepted, we're home free."

  "They wouldn't dare shoot us down with Hideki Suma on board."

  Pitt's eyes flickered from the instrument panel to the water rushing by below. "Oh, how I hope you're right."

  Behind them, Giordino was trying but failing to soothe Toshie, who was hissing and striking out like a hysterical rat. She spat at him but narrowly missed his cheek, catching him on the ear. Finally he grabbed her from the rear and held her in a tight vise grip.

  "I realize I don't make a good first impression," he said happily, "but to know me is to love me."

  "You Yankee pig!" she cried.

  "Not so, my Italian ancestors would never admit to being Yankees."

  Stacy ignored Giordino and the struggling Toshie and tightly bound Suma to one of several plush leather chairs in the luxurious executive main cabin. Disbelief was written all over his face.

  "Well, well, well," said a happy Mancuso. "Surprise, surprise, the big man himself came along for the ride."

  "You're dead. You're all supposed to be dead," he muttered incredulously.

  "Your buddy Kamatori is the one who's dead," Mancuso sadistically informed him.

  "How?"

  "Pitt stuck him on the wall."

  Pitt's name seemed to act as a stimulant. Suma came back on keel and he said, "You have made a disastrous mistake. You will unleash terrible forces by taking me hostage."

  "Fair is fair. Now it's our turn to act mean and nasty."

  The human voice can't exactly imitate the hiss of a viper, but Suma came pretty close to it. "You are too stupid to understand. My people will launch the Kaiten Project when they have learned what you've done."

  "Let them try," Weatherhill fairly purred. "In about another three minutes your Dragon Center is going to have its lights put out."

  The robotic electrical inspector Otokodate soon found the explosive charge taped to the ribbon of fiber optics. He deftly removed it and rolled back to his console. He studied the package for several moments, recognizing the timer for what it was, but his memory had not been programmed to analyze plastic explosives, and he had no concept of its purpose. He transmitted a signal to his superior in robotic control.

  "This is Otokodate at power center five."

  "Yes, what is it?" answered a robot monitor.

  "I wish to communicate with my supervisor, Mr. Okuma."

  "He is not back from tea yet. Why are you transmitting?"

  "I have found a strange object attached to the primary fiberoptic bundle."

  "What sort of object?"

  "A pliable substance with a digital timing device."

  "Could be an instrument left behind by a cable engineer during installation."

  "My memory does not contain the necessary data for a positive identification. Do you wish me to bring it to control for examination?"

  "No, remain at your station. I'll send a courier down to collect

  "I will comply."

  A few minutes later a courier robot named Nakajima that was programmed to navigate every passageway and corridor and pass through the doors to all office and work areas in the complex entered the power center. As ordered, Otokodate unwittingly turned over the explosive to Nakajima.

  Nakajima was a sixth-generation mechanical rover that could receive voice commands but not give them. It silently extended its articulated gripper, took the package, deposited it in a container, and then began the trip to robotic control for inspection.

  Fifty meters from the power center door, at a point well removed from humans and critical equipment, the C-8 plastic detonated with a thundering roar that rumbled throughout the concrete passageways of level five.

  The Dragon Center was designed and built to withstand the most severe earthquakes, and any structural damage was minimal. The Kaiten Project remained intact and operational. The only result of Weatherhill's explosive charge was the almost total disintegration of courier rover Nakajima.

  >

  The roboguards alerted their security command to the stray drama in the garden before Pitt had lifted the tilt-turbine cleat the hedged confine. At first the robots' warning was discounted as a malfunction of visual perception, but when an immediate search failed to turn up Suma, the security command offices became a scene of frenzied confusion.

  Because of his monumental ego and fetish for secrecy, Hideki Suma had failed to groom a top-level executive team to act in an emergency if he was beyond reach. In panic, his security directors turned to Kamatori but quickly discovered all private phones and pages went unanswered, nor were signals to his personal roboguards acknowledged.

  A special defense team, backed by four armed robots, rushed to Kamatori's quarters. The officer in charge knocked loudly, but receiving no reply, he stepped aside and ordered one of the robots to break in the locked door. The thick etched glass partition was quickly smashed into fragments.

  The officer cautiously stepped through the empty video viewing room and advanced slowly into the trophy room, his jaw dropping in stunned disbelief. Moro Kamatori hung, shoulders hunched over, in an upright position, his eyes wide open and blood streaming from his mouth. His face was contorted in pain and rage. The officer stared vacuously at the hilt of a saber protruding from Kamatori's groin, the blade running through his body and pinning him to the wall.

  Like a man in a daze, the officer could not believe he was dead and gently shook Kamatori and talked to him. After a minute it finally broke through that the born-too-late samurai warrior wasn't going to speak again, ever. And then, for the first time, the officer realized the prisoners were gone and Kamatori's roboguards were frozen where they stood.

  The confusion was magnified by the news of Kamatori's killing and the almost simultaneous explosion on level five. The ground-to-air missiles installed around the island rose from their hidden bunkers, poised and ready for launch but put on hold due to the uncertainty of Suma's presence on the plane.

  But soon the action became purposeful and controlled. The remote video recordings of the roboguards were replayed, and it was clearly seen that Suma was forced aboard the aircraft.

  The aging leader of the Gold Dragons, Korori Yoshishu, and his financial power force, Ichiro Tsuboi, were in Tsuboi's offices in Tokyo when
the call came from Suma's security director. The two partners of Suma immediately assumed full command of the situation.

  Within eight minutes after the explosion, Tsuboi used his considerable influence with the Japanese military to scramble a flight of jet fighters to chase the fleeing tilt-turbine. His orders were to intercept and attempt to force the plane back to Soseki Island. Failing in this, they were to destroy the craft and everyone on board. Tsuboi and Yoshishu agreed that, despite their long friendship with Suma, it was better for the Kaiten Project and their new empire that he should die than become a tool for foreign policy blackmail. Or worse, scandalized as a criminal under the American justice system. And then there was the frightening certainty that Suma would be forced to reveal details of Japan's secret technology and plans for economic and military supremacy to U.S. intelligence interrogation experts.

  Pitt took a compass heading on the position where the ship was cruising when he'd taken off for Soseki Island. He pushed the engines dangerously past their limit as Loren tried desperately to make contact with the Bennett.

  "I can't seem to raise them," she said in frustration.

  "You on the right frequency?"

  "Sixteen VF?"

  "Wrong band. Switch to sixteen OF and use my name as our call sign."

  Loren selected the ultra high frequency band and dialed the frequency. Then she spoke into the microphone attached to her headset.

  "Pitt calling USS Bennett," she said. "Pitt calling the Bennett. Do you hear me? Do you hear me?

  Please answer."

  "This is the Bennett." The voice replied so loud and clear it nearly blasted out Loren's eardrums through the headset. "Is that really you, Mr. Pitt? You sound as if you had a sex change since we last saw you."

  The aircraft had been scanned by the Bennett's supersensitive detection systems from the moment it left the ground. Once it was perceived as heading over the sea to the east, it was tracked by a tactical electronic warfare and surveillance receiver system. Within minutes of being alerted, Commander Harper was pacing the deck in the situation room. He stopped every few seconds and peered over the shoulders of the console operators who stared into the radar screens and the computer monitor that analyzed and measured the signals and enhanced the approaching target into a recognizable classification.