Dragon - Cussler Clive (книги хорошем качестве бесплатно без регистрации .TXT) 📗

“We had our ups and downs over the years, but we never strayed very far from each other.”

“Was marriage ever considered?” asked Stacy.

Loren gave a brief shake of her head. “The subject never came up. Dirk wasn’t the kind of man who could be possessed. His mistress was the sea, and I had my career in Congress.”

“You were lucky. His smile was devastating, and those green eyes—God, they’d make any woman melt.”

Suddenly Loren was nervous. “You’ll have to forgive me. I don’t know what’s come over me, but I have to know.” She hesitated as if afraid to continue and fidgeted with a spoon.

Stacy met Loren’s eyes evenly. “The answer is no,” she lied. “I came to his place late one night, but it was on orders from Ray Jordan to give Dirk instructions. Nothing happened. I left twenty minutes later. From that moment until we parted on Wake Island it was strictly business.”

“I know this must sound silly. Dirk and I often went our own ways when it came to seeing other men and women, but I wanted to be sure I was the only one near the end.”

“You were more deeply in love with him than you thought, weren’t you?”

Loren gave a little nod. “Yes, I realized it too late.”

“There will be others,” Stacy said in an attempt to be cheerful.

“But none to take his place.”

The waiter returned with their drinks. Stacy held up her glass. “To Dirk Pitt, a damned good man.”

They touched glasses.

“A damned good man,” Loren repeated, as the tears fell. “Yes… he was that.”

75

IN THE DINING ROOM of a safe house somewhere in the Maryland countryside, Jordan sat at a table having lunch with Hideki Suma. “Is there anything I can do to make your stay more comfortable?” asked Jordan.

Suma paused, savoring the delicate flavor of a noodle soup with duck and scallions accented by radish and gold caviar. He spoke without looking up. “There is one favor.”

“Yes?”

Suma nodded at the security agent standing guard by the door and at his partner who served the meal. “Your friends will not allow me to meet the chef. He is very good. I wish to offer him my compliments.”

“She apprenticed at one of New York’s finest Japanese restaurants. Her name is Natalie, and she now works with the government on special assignments. And no, I’m sorry but you cannot be introduced.”

Jordan examined Suma’s face. There was no hostility in it, no frustration at being isolated in heavily guarded confinement—nothing but a supreme complacency. For a man who had been subtly drugged and then forced to endure long hours of interrogation over four weeks, he showed almost no sign of it. The eyes were still as hard as onyx under the shock of graying hair. But that was as it should have been. Through post-hypnotic suggestion from Jordan’s expert interrogators, Suma did not recall, nor did he realize he had provided a team of curious engineers and scientists a wealth of technical data. His mind was probed and scrutinized as neatly as by professional thieves, who after searching a house left everything as they found it.

It had to be, Jordan mused, one of the few times American intelligence actually obtained foreign industrial secrets that could prove profitable.

“A sadness.” Suma shrugged. “I would have liked to hire her when I leave.”

“That won’t be possible,” Jordan said frankly.

Suma finished the soup and pushed the bowl aside. “You cannot continue holding me like a common criminal. I am not some peasant you arrested out of the gutter. I think you would be wise to release me without further delay.”

No hard demand, merely a veiled threat from a man who was not informed that his incredible power had vanished with his announced death throughout Japan. Ceremonies had been performed, and already his spirit was enshrined at Yasukuni. Suma had no idea that as far as the outside world was concerned, he no longer existed. Nor was he told of the deaths of Tsuboi and Yoshishu, and the destruction of the Dragon Center. For all he knew, the Kaiten Project’s bomb cars were still safely hidden.

“After what you attempted,” said Jordan coldly, “you’re lucky you’re not up before an international tribunal for crimes against humanity.”

“I have a divine right to protect Japan.” The quiet, authoritative voice came to Jordan as if it was coming from a pulpit.

Irritation flushed Jordan’s temples. “Besides being the most insular society on earth, Japan’s problem with the rest of the world is that your business leaders have no ethics, no principles of fair play in the Western sense. You and your fellow corporate executive officers believe in doing unto other nations as you would not allow others to do unto you.”

Suma picked up a teacup and drained it. “Japan is a highly honorable society. Our loyalties run very deep.”

“Sure, to yourselves, at the expense of outsiders, such as foreign nationals.”

“We see no difference between an economic war and a military war,” Suma replied pleasantly. “We look upon the industrial nations merely as competitors on a vast battlefield where there are no rules of conduct, no trade treaties that can be trusted.”

The lunacy, combined with the cold reality of the situation, suddenly seemed ridiculous to Jordan. He saw it was useless trying to make a dent in Suma. Perhaps the madman was right. America ultimately would become divided into separate nations governed by race. He brushed the uncomfortable thought from his mind and rose from the table.

“I must go,” he announced curtly.

Suma stared at him. “When can I return to Edo City?”

Jordan regarded him thoughtfully for a moment. “Tomorrow.”

“I would like that,” said Suma. “Please see that one of my private planes will be waiting at Dulles Field.”

The guy had gall, Jordan thought. “I’ll make arrangements through your embassy.”

“Good day, Mr. Jordan.”

“Good day, Mr. Suma. I trust you will forgive me for any inconvenience you’ve suffered.”

Suma’s lips compressed in a thin menacing line and he squinted at Jordan through half-closed eyes. “No, Mr. Jordan, I do not forgive you. Please rest assured you will pay a stiff price for my captivity.” Then Suma seemingly dismissed Jordan and poured another cup of tea.

Kern was waiting as Jordan stepped past the armored doors separating the entry hall from the living room. “Have a nice lunch?”

“The food was good but the company was lousy. And you?”

“I listened in while eating in the kitchen. Natalie made me a hamburger.”

“Lucky you.”

“What about our friend?”

“I told him he would be released tomorrow.”

“I heard. Will he remember to pack?”

Jordan smiled. “The thought will be erased during tonight’s interrogation session.”

Kern nodded slowly. “How long do you think we can keep him going?”

“Until we know everything he knows, unlock every secret, every memory in his gray matter.”

“That could take a year or two.” So.

“And after we’ve sucked him dry?”

“What do you mean?”

“We can’t keep him hidden from the world forever. And we’d be cutting our own throats if we set him free and allowed him to return to Japan.”

Jordan stared at Kern without a flicker of change in his expression. “When Suma has no more left to give, Natalie will slip a little something extra into his noodle soup.”

“I’m sorry, Mr. President, but in your Western idiom, my hands are tied.”

The President looked across the cabinet room conference table at the smiling little man with the short-trimmed white hair and defiant brown eyes. He seemed more a military commander of a tough infantry battalion than the political leader of Japan.

Prime Minister Junshiro, who had come to Washington on an official state visit, sat flanked by two of his ministers and five staff aides. The President sat opposite with only his interpreter by his side.