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this.”
    â€œEven though most of the plan was your crazy idea?”
    â€œIt was
your
crazy idea. I just came up with how to make it work.”
    The CIA suspected the Venezuelans of supplying arms to North Korea, defying a United Nations embargo of the pariah state. The U.S. didn’t know how the weapons were being smuggled, but the shipments did correlate with known deliveries of diesel from Puerto La Cruz to Wonsan. Electronic eavesdropping pinpointed a warehouse along the dock of the oil terminal, which was less than a half mile across a mountainous peninsula from La Guanta Harbor, as a probable coordination point for the shipments. The Corporation’s mission was to obtain evidence of the arms shipments while simultaneously dealing a blow to the fuel delivery that was critical to running the tanks and armored personnel carriers of the North Korean Army. Juan and Linc would be getting the evidence—documents, computer files, photos, anything they could find.
    â€œAnd your plan is brilliant,” Juan said. “So let’s go put it in motion.” He led Max out of the cabin and walked side by side toward the center of the ship, passing artwork that would have befit any of the world’s great museums. Juan walked without a limp, the result of years of practice perfecting his gait with the artificial limb.
    â€œAre we on schedule?” Juan asked.
    â€œEveryone has checked in and is ready to go.”
    â€œSee?” Juan said. “Nothing to worry about.”
    â€œI get the heebie-jeebies when you say that.”
    â€œIt’s good luck, like saying ‘break a leg’ to an actor.” Juan looked down at his own metal replacement. “Well, maybe the wrong choice of words.”
    â€œAt least I know you won’t break my ship, since I’ll be in command while you’re gone.”
    â€œSince she’ll be tied to the dock, you shouldn’t have any problems, either.”
    â€œJust be back on time,” Max said like a worried mother hen.
    â€œJohnny-on-the-spot as always.”
    â€œUnless you put one of your infamous Plan C’s into effect.” Max turned and headed back to the op center, where he could coordinate all of the mission activities.
    Juan called after him, “You should only worry when I get to Plan D.” A dismissive wave of Max’s hand was the only response.
    After a ride on an elevator down three decks, Juan reached a cavernous space amidships. A submersible was suspended by a gantry crane over a swimming-pool-sized depression that was filled with water at a level even with the waterline outside the ship. The sixty-five-foot Nomad 1000 could dive to a thousand feet with six people aboard, including the pilot and copilot. Its smaller sister, the Discovery 1000, was missing from its cradle, away on another part of the mission.
    The moon pool allowed either sub to be launched undetected through huge doors below the pool that swung downward. The port was too shallow to allow the doors to be fully opened, so the Discovery 1000 had been launched before they entered La Guanta Harbor. Juan wouldn’t need the Nomad for this mission, so it would stay in its cradle.
    Linc was already donning his black neoprene wetsuit. Their scuba equipment lay next to him. Juan put his pistol inside Linc’s waterproof weapons bag and slipped into his wetsuit. The water in the tropical harbor didn’t require the suits, but the black color would render them invisible to any casual observers on the dock.
    They both checked over their Draeger rebreathing units. Regular scuba rigs released the exhalations as bubbles that would rise to the surface, leaving a trail that would be easily followed. The Draeger consisted of carbon dioxide scrubbers in a closed-loop system that eliminated bubbles. Although the unit was dangerous to use below thirty feet, the restriction wouldn’t be a problem in this case because Juan and Linc were using the