The Crucible. Joaquin De Torres

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ style="font-size:15px;">      “Time is critical, Doo-hwan.”

      “For what?”

      “We will engage the carrier.”

      “But, sir--”

      “We will attack the carrier, then surrender to the Americans. We will make our plea then in front of the world once we enter Pearl Harbor.”

      “Admiral, how can we--” Park held up his hand upon which Kim ended his attempts to object.

      “Think about it first, Doo-hwan! By doing this we will have done two things--both positive. First, we would plead for the end of the blockade making them believe that desperation forced our hand. Public opinion by the Americans and the world is overwhelming. They want the blockade to stop. We must take advantage of this. And second, according to your news, we will have stopped an attack on South Korea. We will have saved both nations from going to war!”

      “How can that happen?” Kim asked, already knowing the answer.

      “If we get the Americans to end the blockade, and international agencies like the UN or Red Cross begin bringing in aid, our government would have no reason for the attack. None, whatsoever.” Kim nodded to Park’s delight. “I don’t care what happens to me as a consequence. I plan to turn myself over to American authorities. I will take the blame for it all, so that the crew may return home as heroes.” Park’s eyes were riveted with resolution. He raised his finger into the air. “The most important thing we must do--you and I--is to get the American’s to end the Iron Clad blockade. That’s it! How it’s done, is as you said, inconsequential.”

      “I’m with you, Admiral! To the end!”

      “Good! We will slip out of the harbor tomorrow.”

      “Tomorrow? sir, we can’t do that,” Kim cut in. “Our weapons bays are not yet loaded and we can’t load them until the day after tomorrow when the storm front is anticipated.”

      “Storm front? Load them now!”

      “sir, the storm front will blanket the coast with so much cloud cover that the American imagery satellites won’t be able to photograph the dock. We’ll be shielded during the loading. If we intend to travel across the Pacific undetected, we need to use the storm fronts.” Kim’s expression was clear and firm. “It's typhoon season and we must use this natural and powerful advantage.” Park took a deep breath, held by Kim’s unshakable eyes which now glimmered with the possibility that this plan may just work. He acknowledged his protégé by nodding his head and silently thanked the gods for him.

      “Of course, Doo-hwan. Of course, you’re right. I got carried away.”

      “Who is to know among us?” Kim asked. “I’ve told no one.”

      “Set a meeting for tonight; here in my quarters.” Park took a slip of paper and wrote the names of those he wanted to attend and handed it to Kim. “Make sure they are present.” Kim nodded and stood. “Just text me to let me know when, Doo-hwan. Oh, and I will need Lieutenant Commander Cho from navigation to help me plot the courses. Send him here immediately.”

      “Yes, Admiral.” Kim turned and headed for the door.

      “Doo-hwan,” Park called out. When Kim turned the admiral was unrolling a huge Pacific Rim chart over a plotting desk. “Bring some brandy when you come back. After the meeting I want to have a toast.”

      “A toast, Admiral?” Park looked at him, his eyes glazed over with vigor and passion.

      “We’re going to change history, Doo-hwan. We’re going to change the future of our country forever!”

      Chapter 3

      Brothers and Sisters

      Pentagon

      Chief of Naval Operations

      When Antonio Espinoza saw his brother coming through the door, he was riddled with emotion. He needed comfort, encouragement, but not a lecture. When his brother extended his hand, Antonio ignored it, moved in and embraced the man fiercely. It had been many long months since they had been together. It was then that he wanted the dam that walled in his tears to break. He simply closed his eyes and held on tighter. Antonio was not permitted to cry, however; not today. He bit his lip as they released, and quickly turned around to hide the wanting and the suffering that was painted on his face.

      “Please, please sit down,” he said under a stifled whimper. “We have much to talk about.” Antonio told his secretary to hold all incoming calls and appointments before he closed the door-—the door of the Chief of Naval Operations (CNO)--the highest-ranking naval officer in the Navy.

      The atmosphere was thick with clouds of an impending storm. Admirals Antonio Espinoza--CNO, and Ramon Torres, Commander-in-Chief of the Pacific Fleet (COMPACFLT) faced each other with caution. They’d been best friends since childhood; their inseparable bond had been intact from junior high school through the Naval Academy, to the present time. There were no secrets kept between them; they were brothers in all respects. Seventy-two years of combined military experience, five wars, and countless ship and shore commands later, the two most powerful naval commanders stood on the brink of becoming mortal enemies.

      Over the last three years, Ramon had discovered and tracked something very disturbing about Antonio since his prestigious appointment to the president’s cabinet--the position he himself had refused. An explosive temper, episodes of indecisiveness, irritability, and an indifference to more private matters such as family and health began to exude from within Antonio. It was just a matter of time, Ramon believed, when the Beltway political bureaucracy would suffocate a man’s vision, his principles and his true sense of mission.

      Ramon regarded Antonio’s haggard face. This was the man he was most proud of all his life. This once hero of social adversity had now devolved into an inflexible, rank-appeasing puppet for an administration determined to use the Navy as a global hammer.

      But alas Ramon had an agenda, and it was one of epic proportions. They had furiously battled over this subject one time before, but this time Ramon was prepared to have his end accomplished even if it meant damaging, or even ending, a bond that had lasted over half a century. This meeting wasn’t business; it was personal.

      The two sat in the suite’s large reading room that also doubled as a mini library. This was a special room to Ramon; a small museum where Antonio displayed his collection of original wall tapestries, paintings, antiques and relics from ancient South and Central America. This was Antonio’s sanctuary; the room where he could escape into the past and hide from the miseries of the present. They sat on leather couches opposite each other. Between them was a green marble coffee table, and resting in the center of it was a 1,300-year-old Inca dagger encased in glass. Antonio’s love for Latin American artifacts were displayed on mantels, walls and shelves throughout the room. These were the only things left of his personality that remained unaltered by modern times, Ramon surmised sympathetically.

      Antonio carefully removed the centerpiece so that they could litter the table with documents, pc tablets and cell phones. Ramon couldn’t help but compare this office with his own in Pearl Harbor. It was only a third of the size of Antonio’s, and did not contain a fraction of its lush opulence. But then, Ramon wasn’t required to entertain many dignitaries as part of his administrative duties. Ramon’s command and control center, three СКАЧАТЬ