Marauder (The Oregon Files)

by Clive Cussler

  “Yes, Commander,” the pilot said. He turned and headed back to the site of the explosion.

  When they arrived, the foliage was still aflame. Smoke drifted into the sky, marking the location for anyone who might see it.

  Tate wasn’t worried about that. As long as the U-boat was destroyed, all that curious locals would find was charred wreckage.

  They hovered out of the smoke, and Farouk inspected the screen.

  “Is there anything left?” Tate finally asked.

  “Not much that I can see,” Farouk answered. “There’s a huge crater where the bow used to be. Most of the rest is just twisted metal.”

  Since some of the trees had fallen over or had been blasted in half, Tate could now see some of the debris. It was now unrecognizable as a submarine. Large pieces of the hull were ripped to shreds, and anything flammable in the interior was burning.

  “Good work, people,” Tate said with a big grin. “I’m buying dinner tonight.”

  The pilot banked to the side and began the flight back to the heliport.

  “Commander?” Farouk said in a hesitant voice. “There’s something wrong with the recording.”

  “Like what?” Tate asked with a chuckle. “Did we get the wrong U-boat? There can’t be that many stuck out here in the Amazon jungle.”

  “It’s not the U-boat.”

  “Then what is it?” Tate demanded. Farouk was really starting to ruin his good mood.

  “I was looking more closely at the images from when we first found the U-boat, to compare them to what we’re seeing now.”

  “You’re testing my patience, Farouk.”

  “I zoomed in on the video,” the Egyptian engineer said, turning in his seat, an expression of dread on his face. “It’s pretty faint, but I think there were people coming out of the sub.”

  46

  Juan opened his eyes and wiped mud from his face as he coughed and gasped for breath. His chest reverberated from the explosion that had thrown him into a bog. He and the others had taken cover a hundred yards from the Bremen, and it had barely been enough distance between them and the now smoldering wreckage of the U-boat. Just how close Juan had come to dying was represented by the jagged piece of steel that was embedded in the tree next to his head.

  He pushed himself to his feet and called out, “Everyone all right?”

  He’d been the last one out of the U-boat when they’d heard the helicopter passing overhead. He’d made the mistake of thinking they were safe crouching behind trees surrounding the Bremen. It wasn’t until he saw the bricks of C-4 falling from the sky that he ordered the team to run for it.

  One by one, each person said they were okay, just scrapes and bruises, and Juan breathed easier.

  “Will you get off me!” Bradley yelled, and Juan saw Linc rising to his feet. Since the lieutenant was his responsibility, Linc had thrown himself on Bradley to protect him from the blast.

  “Just doing my job,” Linc said, pulling Bradley up.

  “I’d rather take my chances getting pummeled by an explosion.”

  “You’re the one who wanted to come along. My boss is right here, and it would look very bad on my next evaluation if you got killed on my watch.”

  “I hate to break up your sparkling repartee,” Juan said, “but that helicopter is coming back.”

  It had to be Tate tying up loose ends.

  “They want to blow up the U-boat again?” Murph asked. “It’s already a slag heap.”

  “Did they see us?” Raven asked.

  “With all those trees up there?” MacD said. “Doesn’t seem likely. Ah could barely see it when it was right above us.”

  “Then how did they find the Bremen?” Eddie wondered. “They could have flown over a hundred times without seeing it. We literally had to trip over it, and we had a map.”

  Juan realized that Eddie was right. Apparently, Tate had sensors in the chopper that could see into the jungle. Infrared wouldn’t work in this heat, so he guessed it was a LiDAR system like the one they had on the Oregon.

  “We may have been spotted!” Juan shouted. “Double-time back to the Zodiacs!”

  Murph led the way using his GPS locator. Because they hadn’t followed a trail, there was no other way to retrace their steps.

  The helicopter came to a standstill and hovered over the spot where they’d been standing just moments before. As they ran, Juan looked back over his shoulder and saw another brick of C-4 fall from the sky.

  “Get down!”

  They all hit the dirt just as the explosive went off. Dirt rained down on them, but they were too far from the blast for anyone to be injured.

  “Move!”

  They jumped to their feet and made their way through the lush undergrowth as fast as they could. Juan was bringing up the rear, and Eddie was right in front of him.

  “I don’t think they can see us in real time,” Eddie said over his shoulder as he ran. “They keep hitting at us where we were.”

  “I thought the same thing,” Juan called back. “The software may need some processing. That’s why we need to keep going.”

  The helicopter came toward them again. Juan considered just having his team run until the copter’s fuel ran out, but it was beginning to get dark. If the chopper had infrared sensors, they’d be sitting ducks. They had to get back to the safety of the Oregon.

  This time, the helicopter flew ahead of them and dropped another brick in their path, anticipating that they were heading to the closest tributary. They all dove to the ground again, and the C-4 took out a swath of trees. Juan fired his submachine gun at the helicopter, and the others joined in, but the tree cover was nearly impenetrable, and he couldn’t tell if any bullets were hitting the mark.

  “Cease fire!” Juan yelled. “How far out are we, Murph?”

  “Two hundred yards.”

  “Let’s go. We’ll have a better shot at the chopper from the river.”

  “We’ll also be more exposed,” Eddie added.

  “It’s worth the risk,” Linc said.

  They avoided one more blast on the way there. As Juan shook the dirt from his hair, he could imagine Tate’s delight in tormenting them.

  When they reached the Zodiacs, they hustled the boats into the water and started the motors. Since Bradley didn’t have a weapon, Juan gave the controls to him while he, Linc, and Eddie aimed at the sky. MacD and Raven were doing the same thing in their boat while Murph drove.

  The river here wasn’t very broad, only a few dozen yards across. The Oregon was anchored at a fork two miles away. At max speed, it would take less than four minutes to reach it.

  “Stay close to the bank,” Juan said to Bradley. Then he called Max on his comm link. “Max, we’re taking fire out here.”

  “Gunfire in the jungle?”

  “No, a chopper. Tate is dropping bombs on us. No casualties, but they’re getting closer. Can you get a lock on it?”

  “It’s not on our radar. It must be hugging the trees.”

  “We’re bringing it to you.”

  “We’ll be ready,” Max said.

  Juan heard the chopper coming from the direction of the U-boat. The helicopter, the Agusta, flashed from one side to the other and disappeared again. For a split second, Juan saw Tate’s smug face smiling down at them from the open door.

  “They’ll be coming around now that they know where we are!” Juan shouted. “Get to the other side of the river!”

  Both Zodiacs veered across the water until they were next to the opposite bank. At the same time, the Agusta appeared out of the trees. Tate tossed a C-4 packet down where they would have been seconds before and it exploded almost the moment it touched the water. The resulting geyser drenched the boats but wasn’t close enough to damage them.

  Juan had them slow down to mess up Tate’s timing again, and
when the chopper came around for the next pass, Juan and the rest of them fired their weapons as it crossed the river. The submachine guns were designed for short range in tight quarters. It was unlikely the rounds hit anyone, but it would give Tate something to think about before the next bombing run.

  By now, Juan recognized where they were. If they could get around the next bend, the Oregon would have a clear shot at the helicopter.

  “Max, we’re about to lure Tate into the open. Prepare to fire.”

  “Aster ready,” Max replied. The anti-aircraft missile was radar guided, so as soon as the Agusta was in the Oregon’s sights, it would transfer the target lock to the weapon.

  The next time the helicopter flew over, Tate dumped the C-4 right behind Juan’s Zodiac. The explosion tossed the boat into the air, which luckily landed upright instead of capsizing. Juan’s teeth rattled from the impact, but he was able to stay in the Zodiac, as were Eddie and Bradley. Linc, however, was thrown overboard into the water.

  “Keep going!” Juan ordered the other boat while Bradley circled around. Linc grabbed the side of the Zodiac, and Juan and Eddie hauled him in.

  “Go! Go!”

  Raven, MacD, and Murph were now two hundred yards ahead and past the bend in the river and in full view of the Oregon. Bradley raced toward it, and the helicopter emerged from the trees and hovered over the water behind them.

  Tate stared at them. The Agusta didn’t move.

  The Zodiac reached the bend, and Juan saw the Oregon, its missile battery ready to launch.

  The helicopter stayed where it was.

  Juan told Bradley to slow down, then turned back to Tate. Juan waved his arm, trying to goad his nemesis into following them.

  Tate cocked his head, which was followed by a huge grin. He wagged his finger at Juan and spoke into his headset. The Agusta turned and flew away along the path of the river.

  “He knew the Oregon was waiting,” Eddie said.

  Juan thought about that wagging, scolding finger. He should have known taking Tate down wouldn’t be all that easy.

  “Don’t worry,” he said as he watched the Agusta vanish behind the trees. “We’ll get another chance.”

  47

  THE SOUTH PACIFIC

  A sailor opened the hatch in the deck of the Chinese Wuzong, and, for the first time in two weeks, Admiral Yu Jiang smelled that salty tang of the ocean. He climbed the ladder until he was standing on the observation platform and took a deep breath, happy to be free of the body odor and diesel fumes that permeated the sub despite its air filters. He raised his binoculars and scanned the horizon. The only vessel visible in any direction was a Panamanian-flagged fuel tanker called the Diamond Wave that was idling five hundred yards dead ahead.

  The seas were calm, and it took Yu’s eyes a few moments to adjust to the dawn’s sun. He would have preferred to surface at night, but it would have made this operation much more difficult.

  Yu didn’t think there was much risk of being spotted. He’d selected this point specifically because it was so isolated. They were far from any shipping lanes, and U.S. satellites wouldn’t be looking in this region of the ocean a thousand miles from the nearest land.

  The executive officer joined him on the deck, and Yu said, “What does the traffic look like?”

  “According to the marine tracking system, the closest vessel is the containership Lookout Bay one hundred twenty miles north of us. It won’t pass within fifty miles of this place.”

  “Good,” Yu replied, pleased with his choice of location. “Maneuver us alongside the tanker.”

  The Wuzong eased up to the oiler on the last of its battery charge. The sub was a Type 039A Yuan-class diesel-electric boat with air-independent propulsion, meaning it could operate for long periods underwater without snorkeling to provide air to the engines. Its design made it much quieter than a nuclear sub. Its batteries were virtually silent, while a nuclear power plant’s coolant pumps had to always be running to prevent meltdowns.

  The disadvantage was its range. A nuclear sub could circumnavigate the earth multiple times before the reactor fuel had to be replaced, but diesel fuel eventually ran out.

  The Wuzong had been running on fumes for two days before the tanks finally emptied the morning of the day before, and the batteries were draining at a rapid rate. It was a huge risk, crossing the entire Pacific in a sub intended for guarding the Chinese coastline, but it was one Yu had been willing to take for this mission.

  This operation was well outside the People’s Liberation Army Navy chain of command. It was a covert mission, and he’d handpicked the crew himself, all volunteers. They knew what they were signing up for, that if they were discovered or captured, they’d all be sent to reeducation camps as mutineers and traitors. Yu was protecting his superiors, and his own beloved service record, giving them all plausible deniability if things went badly.

  He didn’t have the authority to redirect a nuclear attack sub for this operation, but he did have enough clout to take command of a diesel-electric boat. He’d been a sub commander for decades before transferring to headquarters in Beijing, but he’d arranged this mission after he was contacted by Zachariah Tate and given evidence that could finally let him exact revenge for his brother’s death.

  Years ago, Yu Tien was the commander of the destroyer Chengdo, which was sunk under mysterious circumstances. Jiang and Tien had been close, enlisting in the Navy together and competing to see who could rise fastest through the ranks, Tien in surface warfare, Jiang in the submarine force.

  Tien had been a brilliant commander, so Jiang was shocked and devastated to learn that the Chengdo had gone down. It had been last reported overtaking a cargo ship to launch a boarding party for inspection, and then it simply disappeared. It took six months to find the remains of the ship, which was riddled with holes from missiles, torpedoes, and gunfire.

  It was long rumored that the cargo ship had inflicted the damage, which seemed absurd to Yu, but he investigated it all the same and came up with nothing. The tramp steamer had seemingly vanished into myth.

  Then Tate had come along and shown him documentation that a spy ship called the Oregon was responsible. It was under the command of a former CIA officer named Juan Cabrillo, Tate’s ex-partner.

  Yu confirmed that a man and ship of the same description had departed Hong Kong just before the Chengdo was sunk in the South China Sea. He believed Tate’s allegation. His subsequent proposal was too tempting for Yu to pass up. He would finally get revenge for his brother and at the same time acquire a new sonic weapon for the Chinese military.

  All he had to do was help Tate sink the Oregon.

  The Wuzong stopped next to the tanker, which loomed like a skyscraper over the low-slung sub. Its crew members swung a fuel line over on a boom, and the sub’s sailors quickly attached it to begin pumping diesel into its empty tanks.

  “Admiral,” the XO, the executive officer, said with a smile as he lowered a radio, “the captain of the tanker says they have fresh fruit and fish to transfer over.”

  “Excellent,” Yu said. “Give my thanks to the captain.” He thought that would definitely help morale after two weeks of rice and canned vegetables.

  A small crane lowered crates onto the deck, where they were greedily unpacked and passed down the hatch by his happy crew.

  Everything seemed to be going smoothly until his XO turned to him with alarm.

  “Admiral, the tanker has spotted a sailboat two miles out. Apparently, it’s so small that their radar didn’t pick it up until a minute ago.”

  Yu cursed his luck. If the sailboat reported seeing a Chinese sub this far south in the Pacific, it would surely draw notice from the U.S. Navy, which would alert its allies in South America.

  “What direction is it heading?” Yu asked.

  “North. It passed Cape Horn on a round-the-world trip, and it’s now h
eading for Easter Island. At its current speed, we’ll see it in less than ten minutes.”

  The huge tanker was currently shielding them from view, but the sailboat’s course would allow its crew to spot the Wuzong as soon as it went by the tanker’s stern.

  Yu had a decision to make. If he had to sink the sailboat, it would be missed, but it wouldn’t guarantee that the captain hadn’t called in a report on the sub.

  Better not to take any chances, not when he’d traveled eight thousand miles for his vengeance.

  “How much fuel have we loaded?”

  “We’re three-quarters full,” the XO answered.

  “That’s enough,” Yu said. “Inform the tanker captain to wait to refuel us for the return trip. If we aren’t here in one week, we won’t be coming back.”

  The XO shot him a grave look and then nodded. “Understood, Admiral.”

  “Detach the fuel lines. Make ready to dive the boat.”

  The sailors scrambled to finish their work and get inside the sub. When Yu saw that he was the last on deck, he climbed down the ladder to the control room.

  “Emergency dive!” he ordered.

  The Klaxon sounded, and the ballast tanks filled with water. He watched through the periscope as the Wuzong slipped beneath the surface. The tip of the sailboat came into view just before the scope was swallowed by the waves. They’d made it without being seen.

  The next stop was the rendezvous with Tate and the long-deserved destruction of the Oregon.

  “Set course for Tierra del Fuego,” Yu said. “Maximum speed.”

  48

  NEAR THE MOUTH OF THE AMAZON RIVER

  It took a day to get the Oregon off the Amazon and back into the Atlantic. The only stop the ship made was to drop Michael Bradley in Macapá, where he could contact the American military attaché and arrange a flight back to the U.S. Juan didn’t want to risk a bystander’s life any longer, no matter how brave or qualified he might be. He imagined that the Navy would have a lot of questions for Bradley when he returned, and Juan left it to the SEAL to reveal whatever he deemed necessary.