35

FIRST MATE JENKINS STOOD AS CHO AND MR. LEE ENTERED CAPTAIN Wither’s stateroom. “So that’s what you were after.” He whistled and shook his head. “What’s down there is worth more than ten Nazi subs full of gold.”

Mr. Lee took a seat across from the captain. Cho stood behind him, hands in the pockets of his jacket. Neither hand was empty. One gripped a pistol and the other a Taser.

Mr. Lee inclined his head. “Yes, it is quite valuable. I apologize for misleading you. If the wrong people had learned that we were looking for a Soviet submarine, there would have been serious problems.”

Jenkins folded his arms. “Not just any Soviet submarine. That’s a Soviet missile submarine.”

“It is indeed.” He and Jenkins regarded each other silently for several seconds. “What do you think of that, Mr. Jenkins? Captain Wither?”

Jenkins scratched his beard. “It was a surprise. Big surprise.”

“Yes. Yes, it was,” echoed the captain.

Mr. Lee leaned forward and rested his elbows on the small table. “Does it bother you?”

Jenkins shrugged. “That depends.”

“On what?”

“Let’s start with your plans. What are you going to do next? Salvage the missiles?”

Mr. Lee nodded. “Two of them should be sufficient.”

“For what?”

Mr. Lee’s face hardened. “That’s not your concern.”

“Really? Then why are you here talking to us?”

Mr. Lee said nothing. Cho tightened his grip on his weapons and visualized what he would do. Sidestep and draw in one motion. Take down Jenkins first, then turn to the captain. If he was a threat, take him down too.

Jenkins suddenly grinned and chortled. “See, I’m thinking that you’re planning to take these things back to Oakland. Go anywhere else and you’ll get searched by customs and port security. But not in Oakland. We won’t get searched there because the Grasp II didn’t make port in another country and because they know the ship, the captain, and me. But if the captain and me aren’t on board or we don’t cooperate, then all bets are off. So you need us.”

Mr. Lee nodded slightly. “You are a perceptive man, Mr. Jenkins. Please go on.”

Jenkins’s grin broadened. “Maybe you’re terrorists and you’re going to try to set off a couple of nuclear bombs in San Francisco.”

Cho looked at Mr. Lee, but his face remained impassive.

“But I’m guessing you’re not,” Jenkins continued. “You don’t seem like the terrorist types. And anyway, those warheads have been underwater for years, so they’d need a lot of work before they’d go off.”

Mr. Lee smiled, and Cho could tell he was enjoying this. “So what do we plan to do with them?”

Jenkins knit his brows together for a moment. Then he snapped thick fingers. “You’re going to use them to make blueprints and sell those, like that Indian guy—what’s his name?”

“I believe you are referring to the Pakistani scientist A. Q. Khan.”

“That’s the one. You’ll also probably sell the plutonium from the warheads, but the real money will be in the blueprints.” He paused and spread his hands. “Am I right?”

“Bravo, Mr. Jenkins! Excellent thinking. You’ve solved the puzzle.”

Jenkins’s face took on a sly look. “There’s just one problem left.”

“What is that?”

“You’re the ones making all the money.”

“Ah, that is a problem that can be solved. You will receive a one-million-dollar bonus for your services.”

“Ten million.”

“Three.”

“Five.” He nodded to Captain Wither. “And five for the cap’n, of course.”

Mr. Lee turned to the captain. “Is that acceptable to you?”

Wither looked up at his first mate. “I… I suppose I can trust Randy’s judgment on this.”

“Excellent. Half of those amounts will be sent to you tomorrow, and the remaining half will come after our, ah, business is at an end. Please give wire instructions to Mr. Cho.”

“Of course,” replied Jenkins, who was now grinning from ear to ear.

Mr. Lee frowned. “We have not discussed Granger and Daniels. What about them?”

Jenkins made a dismissive gesture with his right hand. “Don’t worry about those two. I’ll take care of them.”