Black Wind
By: Clive Cussler & Dirk Cussler
Clive Cussler's dazzling new Dirk Pitt adventure
"Clive the Mighty!" hailed Kirkus Reviews about Cussler's last Dirk
Pitt novel, Trojan Odyssey. "Hurricane Clive at his most tumultuous."
Nobody has been able to match Cussler yet for the intricate plotting
and sheer audacity of his work, and Black Wind sets the bar even
higher.
In the waning days of World War II, unbeknownst to all but a handful of
people, the Japanese tried a last, desperate measure. Two submarines
were sent to the West Coast of the United States, their cargo a
revolutionary new strain of biological virus, their mission to unleash
hell.
Neither sub made it to the designated target. But that does not mean
they were lost.
Someone knows about the subs and what they carried, knows too where
they might be, and has an extraordinary plan in mind for the prize
inside-a plan that could reshape America, and the world, as we know it.
All that stands in the way are three people: a marine biologist named
Summer, a marine engineer named Dirk ... and their father, Dirk Pitt,
the new head of NUMA.
Pitt has faced devastating enemies before, has even teamed up with his
children to track them down. But never has he encountered such pure
evil-until now.
Filled with breathtaking suspense and extraordinary imagination, Black
Wind is yet further proof that when it comes to adventure writing,
nobody beats Clive Cussler.
Clive Cussler is the author or coauthor of twenty-seven other books,
including the Dirk Pitt'* adventure Trojan Odyssey, the Kurt Austin
novel Lost City, and the new Oregon series novels Golden Buddha and
Sacred Stone. He is also the author of the nonfiction Sea Hunters and
Sea Hunters II; these describe the true adventures of the real NUMA,
which, led by Cussler, searches for lost ships of historic
significance. With his crew of volunteers, Cussler has discovered more
than sixty ships, including the long-lost Confederate submarine Hunley.
He lives in Arizona.
Dirk Cussler, an MBA from Berkeley, worked for many years in the
financial arena, and now devotes himself full-time to writing. For the
last several years, he has been an active participant and partner in
his father's NUMA expeditions and served as president of the NUMA
advisory board of trustees. He lives in Arizona.
Jacket design 2004 Laurence Ratzkin Jacket illustration a. 2004 Craig
White
Photograph of the authors Paul Peregrine/ Peregrine Studios
Visit our website at: www. penguin. com
Visit the NUMA website at: www.numa.net a member of Penguin Group (USA)
G. P. PUTNAM
Penguin Group (USA) Inc
DIRK PITT ADVENTURES BY CLIVE CUSSLER
Trojan Odyssey
Valhalla Rising
Atlantis Found
Flood Tide
Shock Wave
Inca Gold
Sahara
Dragon
Treasure
Cyclops
Deep Six
Pacific Vortex
Night Probe
Vixen 03
Raise the Titanic
Iceberg
The Mediterranean Caper
KURT AUSTIN ADVENTURES BY CLIVE CUSSLER WITH PAUL KEMPRECOS
Lost City
White Death
Fire Ice
Blue Gold Serpent
OREGON FILES ADVENTURES BY CLIVE CUSSLER WITH CRAIG DIRGO
Sacred Stone
Golden Buddha
NONFICTION BY CLIVE CUSSLER AND CRAIG DIR GO
The Sea Hunters II
Clive Cussler and Dirk Pitt Revealed
The Sea Hunters
G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS NEW YORK.
Clive Cussler and DIRK CUSSLER
G. p. Putnam's sons
Publishers Since 1838
Published by the Penguin Group
Penguin Group (USA) Inc." 375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014,
USA Penguin Group (Canada), 10 Alcorn Avenue, Toronto, Ontario, Canada
M4V 3B2 (a division of Pearson Penguin Canada Inc.) Penguin Books Ltd, 80 Strand, London
we2R
Offices:
80 Strand, London we2R ORL, England
Copyright 2004 by Sandecker, RLLLP
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned,
or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission.
Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted
materials in violation of the author's rights. Purchase only
authorized editions.
Published simultaneously in Canada
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Cussler, Clive. Black wind / Clive Cussler and Dirk Cussler.
p. cm.
ISBN 0-399-15259-8
1. Pitt, Dirk (Fictitious character)-Fiction. I. Cussler, Dirk. II.
Title.
PS3553.U75B56 2004 2004053536
813'.54-dc22
Printed in the United States of America 13579 10 8642
This book is printed on acid-free paper. @ Book design by Lovedog
Studio
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents
either are the product of the author's imagination or are used
fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead,
businesses, companies,
events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
In memory of my mother, Barbara, whose love,
compassion, kindness, and encouragement are deeply missed by all who
knew her.
DEC.
Acknowledgments
With appreciation and gratitude to Scott Danneker, Mikejntzpatrick,
Mike Hance, and George Spyrou of Airship Management Services, for
sharing the wondrous world of airship flight.
Thanks also to Sheldon Harris, whose book Factories of Death has helped
open the door to the horrors of biological and chemical warfare
practiced during World War II and its thousands of forgotten victims.
PROLOGUE
Japanese Imperial submarine I-403 and Seiran float plane
December 12, 1944 Kure Naval Base, Japan
Lieutenant Commander Takeo Ogawa glanced at his wristwatch and shook
his head in irritation.
"Half past midnight already," he muttered anxiously. "Three hours late
and still we wait."
A young ensign staring through the glazed eyes of a sleep-deprived
insomniac nodded slightly at his superior's grieving but said nothing.
Waiting atop the conning tower of the Japanese Imperial Navy submarine
i-403, the two men gazed across the naval yard searching for signs of a
pending arrival. Beyond the expansive naval base, a haphazard
twinkling of nighttime lights glistened about the scenic Japanese city
of Kure. A light drizzle fell, lending an eerie tranquility to the
late hour, which was broken by the distant sounds of hammers, cranes,
and welding torches. Repairs to enemy-damaged ships and new vessel
construction persisted around t
he clock in other parts of the shipyard,
in a futile rush to aid the increasingly bleak war effort.
The distant whine of a diesel truck soon echoed across the water.
the sound rising in intensity as the vehicle approached the submarine
docks. Rounding the corner of a brick warehouse, a slate-colored Isuzu
cargo truck rumbled into view and turned along the wharf. The driver
inched his way cautiously toward the submarine's pen as he struggled to
make out the edges of the darkened pier, barely visible under the
truck's wartime-blackened headlights. Pulling alongside a large
gangplank, the truck ground to a halt as its worn brakes squealed
loudly in protest.
A moment of silence ensued, then six heavily armed soldiers sprang from
the truck bed and enveloped the vehicle in a perimeter guard. As Ogawa
made his way down from the conning tower to the dock, he sensed one of
the guards pointing a weapon in his direction. The soldiers were no
Imperial Army regulars, he noted, but elite members of the feared
Kempei Tai military police.
Two uniformed men exited the cab of the truck and approached Ogawa.
Recognizing a superior officer, Ogawa stood at attention and saluted
smartly.
"I've awaited your arrival, Captain," Ogawa stated with a tinge of
annoyance.
Captain Miyoshi Horinouchi ignored the innuendo. As staff operations
officer for the Sixth Fleet, his mind was occupied with graver matters.
The Japanese submarine fleet was slowly being decimated in the Pacific
and the Imperial Navy had no answer for the antisubmarine warfare
technologies being deployed by the American forces. Desperate battles
by the fleet's submarines against overwhelming odds inevitably resulted
in the loss of crew and vessels, which weighted heavily on Horinouchi.
His short-cropped hair had turned prematurely white, and stress lines
creased his face like dry riverbeds.
"Commander, this is Dr. Hisaichi Tanaka of the Army Medical College.
He will be accompanying you on your mission."
"Sir, I am not accustomed to carrying passengers while on patrol,"
Ogawa replied, ignoring the small bespectacled man at Horinouchi's
side.
"Your patrol orders to the Philippines have been rescinded," Horinouchi
replied, handing Ogawa a brown folder. "You have new orders. You are
to take Dr. Tanaka and his cargo aboard and proceed immediately per
fleet directives to strike at the enemy's doorstep."
Glancing at one of the guards holding a German Bergman MP34 submachine
gun pointed in his direction, Ogawa asserted, "This is most unusual,
Captain."
Horinouchi tilted his head to the side, then took a few steps to his
right. Ogawa followed, leaving Tanaka out of earshot. Speaking
softly, Horinouchi continued.
"Ogawa, our surface fleet was annihilated at Leyte Gulf. We counted on
a decisive battle to stop the Americans, but it was our own forces that
were defeated instead. It is just a matter of time before all of our
remaining resources will be assigned in defense of the homeland."
"We will make the Americans pay heavily in blood," Ogawa said
harshly.
"True, but there is no question that they have the will to conquer,
regardless of the losses. The slaughter of our own people will be
appalling." Horinouchi contemplated the sacrifice of his own family
and fell silent for a moment.
"The Army has approached us for assistance in a valiant operation," he
continued. "Dr. Tanaka is affiliated with Unit 731. You will take
him and his cargo across the Pacific and launch an attack on the
American mainland. You are to avoid detection and protect your boat at
all costs en route. Succeed, Ogawa, and the Americans will bow to a
truce and our homeland will be preserved."
Ogawa was stunned by the words. His fellow submarine commanders were
waging a mostly defensive battle to protect the remnants of the surface
attack that would end the war. He might have ridiculed the idea, had
it not been a fleet staff officer dictating the order to him out of
desperation in the middle of the night.
"I am most honored by your confidence, Captain Horinouchi. Rest
assured my crew and officers will uphold the honor to the emperor. If
I may ask, sir, what exactly is Dr. Tanaka's cargo?" Ogawa
inquired.
Horinouchi gazed forlornly across the bay for several seconds.
"Maka^e," he finally muttered quietly. "An evil wind."
Under the watchful eye of Dr. Tanaka, a half-dozen oblong wooden
crates were carefully loaded by the Kempei Tai guards into the forward
torpedo room of the I-403 and tightly secured. Ogawa ordered the
submarine's four diesel engines turned over and the deck lines
released. At half past two in the morning, the iron sub nosed slowly
into the inky harbor and inched its way past several other fleet
I-boats docked in the yard. Ogawa noted with curiosity that Horinouchi
sat silently in the darkened truck on the pier, refusing to leave until
after the I-403 was well out of sight.
Creeping past the docks and warehouses of the sprawling navy yard, the
sub soon approached a massive shadow looming against the darkness
ahead. Lying quietly in a repair dock, the massive battleship Yamato
towered above the submarine like a behemoth. With its massive
eighteen-inch guns and sixteen-inch-thick armor plating, the Yamato was
the most feared vessel afloat. Ogawa admired the lines and armament of
the world's largest battleship as he sailed past, then felt a touch of
pity toward her. Like her sister ship, the Musashi, recently sunk in
the Philippines, the Yamato, he feared, was destined to find her way to
the bottom of the sea before the war was over.
Gradually the lights of Kure fell away as the submarine snaked around
several large islands, then entered the Seto Inland Sea. Ogawa ordered
increased speed as the mountainous island outcroppings fell away and
the first gray patches of predawn light tinted the eastern sky. As he
marked their route in the conning tower with the I-403 navigator,
Ogawa was approached by the executive officer climbing up from below.
"Hot tea, sir," Lieutenant Yoshi Motoshita said, thrusting a small cup
toward the commander. A thin man with a warm demeanor, Motoshita
mustered a grin even at five in the morning.
"Yes, thanks," Ogawa replied crisply before gulping at the tea. The
hot liquid was a welcome tonic against the chilled December air and
Ogawa quickly drained the cup.
"The sea is unusually calm this morning," Motoshita noted.
"Fine conditions for fishing," Ogawa said reflectively. The son of a
fisherman, Ogawa had grown up in a small village on the southern island
of Kyushu. Accustomed to a hard life on the water, Ogawa had overcome
a modest background by passing the formidable entrance exams to
Etajima, the Japanese naval academy. After gaining his commission, he
was drawn to the growing prewar submarine force and served on two boats
before attaining c
ommand of the I-403 in late 1943. Under his
leadership, the I-403 had sunk a half-dozen merchant ships, along with
an Australian destroyer in the Philippines. Ogawa was considered one
of the top submarine captains remaining in the rapidly shrinking
underwater fleet.
"Yoshi, we'll initiate a zigzag running pattern when we reach the
strait, then submerge before we leave the mainland. We can take no
chances with enemy submarines patrolling off our coast."
"I will alert the crew, sir."
"And Dr. Tanaka. See that he is situated comfortably."
"I have offered him my cabin," Motoshita said with a pained look.
"Judging by the stack of books he brought with him, I think he will
keep himself occupied and out of our way."
"Very well," Ogawa replied, wondering silently about his unwanted
passenger.
As a crimson sun crept up over the eastern horizon, the I-403 veered
south from the Inland Sea into the Bungo Strait, a pathway above Japan's southern island of Kyushu that poured into the Pacific