Page 131 of Clive Cussler Ghost Soldier
Hashimoto’s hatred for Mendoza and the crew of theOregonwas deeply personal. But his hatred of all Americans was an epigenetic phenomenon in Hashimoto’s family, passed down the generations. Decades of simmering enmity merged with the genetic endowment and spiritual evolution of his bloodlines.
His maternal grandfather, Dr. Yoshio Mitomo, had developed the original neurotoxin formula while serving at Unit 731. His dutiful grandson had now perfected that formula and would soon unleash it. His grandfather’s hatred for the Americans was kindled during World War II, by all the Japanese lives sacrificed on the altar of so-called democracy. All those fires that burned hundreds of thousands of innocent Japanese civilians alive had their origins on the bomber bases on Guam.
Operation Black Chrysanthemum had been designed to neutralize Guam with an aerial attack with neurotoxins from an I-400–class submarine, which featured an onboard plane hangar. But the Americans sank the submarine before it could complete its mission, and the neurotoxins were lost to the sea.
Surrendering to the Americans, his grandfather Mitomo had been granted immunity from war crimes trials when he agreed to participate in Operation Paperclip, as had so many other high-value German and Japanese scientists after the war.
His paternal grandfather, Hiroshi Hashimoto, had served the Empire as an aeronautical engineer with Mitsubishi, helping to develop Japan’s first jet fighter, the J8MI Shusui—a near replica of the German Komet. He likewise received a pardon for his participation in Japan’s war industry. The Americans transferred his skills to the private sector in order to help build up Japan as a bulwark against communist aggression in the Far East.
The Vendor’s own father had also been an aeronautical engineer, and it was standing by his elbow as a child that young ShigeruHashimoto learned to love both the aesthetic beauty and mathematical purity of war machines.
Now, standing before the altar of hiskamiand on the brink of his greatest achievement, Hashimoto knew he would not fail his ancestors, nor would they fail him.
?
Hashimoto finished his prayers.
Seawater gently chucked against the hull of the submarine berthed behind him. Inspired by the I-400 series of the Imperial Japanese Navy, the AI-guided vessel could carry 120 high-speed drones all designed to disperse the neurotoxin. The vessel incorporated all of the latest stealth technologies that either absorbed or reflected sonar detection, including an ultra-low-profile sail and continuous curvature hull geometry that mimicked fifth-generation fighter aircraft design. Combined with its hydrogen-fuel, cell-powered electric motors, it was nearly impossible to detect by any electromagnetic means. Once launched, it would reach its target without fail. He named the vesselGhost Sword.
Hashimoto was supremely confident in the ability of his drones to reach their targets and disperse their fatal payloads. The drones themselves were AI-piloted, capable of making independent decisions. They also deployed the same advanced radar countermeasures that the Chinese drones possessed—countermeasures that he himself had pioneered.
Better still, one of his network colleagues embedded within the Chinese navy had secured the results of their latest drone incursion against Guam. He passed all of the points of vulnerability to Hashimoto, who loaded them directly into the drones. But those points of vulnerability would soon be wiped out when the island’s Enhanced Integrated Air and Missile Defense system came online in less than two days.
Hashimoto’s technicians had promised him that as soon as thebatch processing of the neurotoxin was complete, it would take only six hours to fill the dispersion tanks and set into the drones. After that, the drone launch pods could be loaded into theGhost Sword.
Right now, the giant countdown clock on the cave wall read 22:07:14. That was the absolute last moment theGhost Swordcould set sail and hope to reach its drone launch point.
The challenge now was finishing the batch processing of the neurotoxin. They were still on schedule, but any glitch in the complex procedure would throw everything into disarray and would require a complete restart. And such a restart meant total failure.
Hashimoto stood at the elevator that would take him directly to the lab. His temptation was to unleash a fresh torrent of threats against his people to insure they met their deadline. But the voices in his head told him to steady himself. He had recruited some of the best scientists in the world for the task. Besides, he had already promised them excruciating punishments for failure and the promise of untold wealth if they succeeded.
By the time the elevator door slid open, Hashimoto had becalmed himself. A delicate, fatherly hand was all that was needed. He would simply observe and compliment his people, and allow his own supreme confidence to motivate them to greater glory.
His plan was perfect. Black Chrysanthemum would not only disable all of the military facilities on the island but also kill the one hundred eighty thousand Americans stationed and living there. This would hardly be enough to balance the scales of justice. But those deaths would only be the beginning. A full-scale war between the United States and China, Japan’s other most hated nemesis, would lead to the death of millions.
Hashimoto had built the toxin-unleashing stealth drones to Chinese military specifications, which he knew well since he had been the one to design them. His mission drones were all built with Chinese parts, Chinese computers, and Chinese computer chips. He also did all of the programming in Chinese script. They would access China’s version of GPS, the BeiDou Navigation Satellite System (BDS), duringflight. Best of all, he had programmed one of the drones to crash on the island so that it would be discovered, and all of the false clues uncovered.
Coupled with the fact the overly aggressive Chinese navy had been running various sorties against Guam for the last several weeks, any reasonable intelligence analyst would conclude that China had been the source of the treacherous drone attack. War would ensue, and the Vendor would stand to profit handsomely from the resulting chaos.
Better still, he and hiskamiwould finally savor the sweet taste of ultimate and bloody revenge.
Hashimoto smiled to himself as he stepped into the elevator, feeling the flesh on the back of his neck tingling once again.
68
Aboard theOregon
The Timor Sea
Callie’s face soured as her nose crinkled with another sniff of the stale air. She stood with Juan on the false bridge atop theOregon’s aft superstructure. Though the op center belowdecks was the true command and control center of the ship, the topside bridge was fully functional and used when needed.
Cabrillo’s eyes were glued to a pair of infrared binoculars. Jaco Island, just off the far eastern coast of Timor-Leste, lay three miles due west of their position, but he was scanning the entire horizon. TheOregon’s radar was in perfect working order, but he wanted to get eyes on the area.
There was little commercial shipping traffic in this part of the Timor Sea except for the fishing trawlers, which had already put in to port. A massive storm was racing toward their position. In the distance he saw long, jagged fingers of lightning stabbing the night sky. He was grateful for the bad weather coming their way. It would prove a perfect cover for tonight’s operation.
“What is that horrible stench?” Callie asked.
“Clogged toilet. Blame Nixon.”
