When The Devil Whistles by Rick Acker Page A

one day. He stuck hands in pockets and looked away “Okay, I’ll send you a couple of names.”

22
T HE RAIN HAD STOPPED BY THE TIME M R . L EE SUMMONED THE TEAM TO the Grasp II’s lounge, but the ship still rolled in heavy seas. It was late and the Americans had all gone to bed. Nonetheless, Mr. Lee put a guard outside the door.
The men were tired, but fully awake as Mr. Lee rose to speak. This was the first full meeting he had called since they had boarded the ship in Oakland, over five thousand kilometers to the east. There could be only one reason: they were only hours from their goal, and he was finally going to tell them what it was.
He surveyed the dozen men crowded around the two tables and smiled, exuding real affection. He was the perfect picture of a leader—wise and warm eyes, lines of experience and endurance etched into his strong face, an iron jaw, thick shoulders that would have been the envy of a man half his age. Cho could not help admiring the man right now.
Mr. Lee extended his right hand to the team. “What a glorious group of men! What a noble, chosen few! You are finest sons of the finest people on this planet. You have done everything I have asked and more. At great peril, you have followed me faithfully over air and land and sea, even though you did not know where I was leading you. You have trusted me with your lives and your honor.”
He walked as he spoke, riding the shifting deck with the unconscious grace of a man who has spent his life at sea. “Now your trust will be repaid. I will tell you a great secret—a secret so great that I have spoken it to no one.” He pointed to the rolling floor. “Down there lies the treasure that will destroy our great enemy. A gift from heaven buried in the depths of the sea. It is the key that will unlock the cage of fear that has held our nation for generations and kept the two halves of our country apart.”
He paused and looked every man in the eye. His gaze was like a jolt when he met Cho’s eyes.
Then he told them.
When he finished, the room was silent except for the whistle of the wind outside and the rhythmic creaking as the ship rode up and down the swells. The men continued to stare at him, as if frozen by the enormity of the news they had just received. Cho had difficulty comprehending what he had just heard. Could this be true? Could Mr. Lee really mean to do what he had just said? Horror and disbelief swirled inside his head, shrouding his mind in a thought-choking miasma.
The silence stretched for nearly a minute. Mr. Lee gave a low chuckle. “Have you nothing to say? Not even any questions?”
The engineer’s mate—a burly, profane man who was called Park on this mission—stood and bowed. “Sir, I am honored to be here with you, doing this thing that men will talk about a thousand years from now. Thank you.” He bowed again and sat, surrounded by murmurs of approval and agreement.
Mr. Lee caught Cho’s eye. “How about you? What do you think?”
Cho stood and bowed. As he did, the cloud in his mind lifted and he knew what he must do. A wave of regret swept over him, but the path before his feet was clear. “Sir, your plan astounds me. It is brilliant. It is subtle. And if it succeeds, it will change everything we have ever known forever.”
“With all of us standing together, it cannot fail.”
“No, sir.” Which was why one of them would have to fall.

23
C ONNOR HIT THE “S AVE ” BUTTON AND GLANCED AT THE CLOCK ON HIS computer’s task bar. 1:46 a.m. He yawned, leaned back in his desk chair, and stretched until he heard cracks from his neck and both elbows. He picked up one of the open Red Bull cans on his desk and shook it to make sure it wasn’t an empty.
He drained the can in one long swig and steeled himself for one more read through the two documents on the screen. The first was a qui tam complaint consisting of numbered paragraphs that recited a bare bones description of Allie’s story about Deep Seven’s fraud.