Ghost Ship - Clive Cussler by Clive Cussler

Author:Clive Cussler [Cussler, Clive]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780399170508
Google: 93HJBgAAQBAJ
Publisher: Penguin LCC US
Published: 2014-06-03T20:51:58+00:00

Incheon Airport, South Korea

The passengers of Air France Flight 264 from Paris to Seoul gathered their things in the orderly but eager fashion of those who’d been cooped up in a metal tube for too long, as if the eleven hours on the aircraft were more easily endured than the five minutes it took to unload and escape into the terminal.

An announcement that the Jetway had malfunctioned was met with a universal groan. But the opening of the rear doors allowed fresh air into the cabin, and soon the passengers were streaming down the stairs at the rear of the aircraft.

This odd method of emptying the aircraft meant that the passengers in the rear went first while those in first class had to endure the interminable delay.

In the very first row, in seat 1A, Arturo Solano did little to hide his displeasure. The only solace was a few more minutes staring at the shapely American woman who sat next to him. They’d spoken all too briefly during the flight, but as the other first-class passengers filed out she turned his way.

He knew the look. A few words about art and parties and most women went weak in the knees. She was going to ask him if she might attend the party or perhaps even meet privately for dinner.

With a mischievous eye, she watched the last of the first-class passengers disappear through the curtain and then smiled.

“I know what you want,” he said in his best English.

“Do you?” she replied.

“Of course,” he said. “I’d be delighted to put you on the guest list.”

“I’m flattered,” she said, glancing forward as the front cabin door opened. “But since you won’t be going, there’s no need for me to attend.”

Solano felt a moment of confusion. It grew deeper as three Korean men in dark suits appeared, entering through the supposedly broken Jetway. He stood up, indignant and suspicious, but the woman jabbed him with something. He felt a shock go through his body and then became rapidly drowsy. He fell into her waiting arms and began to doze even as she laid him down on the cabin floor.

Shortly before he passed out, another man entered. This man wore a white linen suit, identical to Solano’s own. His hair was coiffed in the same nouveau pompadour style and his face sported a goatee. In fact, as this new arrival stared down at him, Solano felt as if he might be looking in a mirror.

“Who . . . are . . . you?” Solano managed to whisper.

“I’m you,” the man replied.

Baffled and too drowsy to form another thought, Solano closed his eyes and fell asleep.

Two of the Korean men dropped down beside him and pulled him upright. As they folded his unconscious body into a cart disguised as a catering trolley, the woman in the business suit took Joe by the arm.

“Time for us to exit,” she said. “Acosta sent a driver to pick Solano up. Say as little to him as possible. We’ll get Solano talking and get you some audio to listen to so you can mimic his voice.

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