Marauder

by Clive Cussler

  But the hidden sections of the ship where the crew lived and worked were as elegant and luxurious as a five-star cruise ship. Since crew members spent most of the time on the Oregon, they were given allowances to decorate and furnish their cabins any way they liked. And the public areas were just as inviting. The dining service would have been Michelin rated if it were a restaurant, and the hallway Juan was walking through was appointed with plush carpeting, soft lighting, and original artwork rotated out from bank vaults where the Corporation’s assets were held.

  Juan reached the end of the corridor. To exit the ship’s hidden inner sanctum, Juan pulled on the handle, and the door swung open to reveal a janitor’s closet. When he closed it behind him, there was nothing to indicate that it was anything other than a wall with shelves of cleaning supplies. To open it back up, all Juan would have to do was press his hand against the white board next to the sink, and the palm print reader would automatically open it for him, as it would for any other authorized crew member.

  He checked a camera view to make sure no one was outside and exited the closet into a hallway that was like any other generic cargo ship interior, with fluorescent lighting, whitewashed walls, and linoleum floors. If they wanted to make the environment less appealing to get visiting officials off the ship quickly, they could change the color of the wall paint. To make the illusion more convincing, the lights could be made to flicker, and a putrid smell could be pumped through the ventilation system.

  Juan entered the public mess hall and saw MacD, dressed in a sweatshirt and shorts, talking to Emily Schmidt, who had her arms around her son Kyle and Elena Muñoz.

  Juan went up to them and said, “I’m David Irving, captain of the Norego. I’m sorry we had to meet under such terrible circumstances, but we intend to get you back to Denpasar soon.”

  Elena looked up at him, tears in her eyes. “How is my father? Is he going to live?”

  Juan nodded. “It looks like he will be all right. Our doctor is very experienced, and once he is stabilized, we will get him to a hospital for further treatment. Senators Schmidt and Muñoz have already been notified that the rest of you are uninjured.”

  Emily took his hand. “Thank you, Captain Irving. I don’t know how your people were able to save us, but I’m so glad they were there.”

  “We were happy to help.” Juan’s phone buzzed. “Excuse me. I’ll leave you in my crewman’s capable hands. We’ll let you know if there is any change in Oliver’s status.”

  As he left the mess hall, Juan saw that it was Mark Murphy calling from his satellite phone.

  “Murph, are you done with your experiment yet?” Juan said as he answered. “Max needs your help with some of the new gadgets on board.”

  “This isn’t Mark,” a woman replied in a shaky voice. “I’m Sylvia Chang, his sister. I didn’t know who else to call.”

  Juan stopped. No one should be using Murph’s satellite phone to call Juan except Murph.

  “Where is he?”

  “It’s a long story.”

  “Is he okay?” Juan asked.

  “No. That’s why I’m calling you. He can’t talk.”

  “Why? What happened?”

  “I don’t know exactly. He might have been poisoned.”

  “By whom?”

  “I don’t know. They were on a ship.”

  This call was getting more bizarre by the second. He worried that someone was spoofing the sat phone’s number.

  “How do I know this is really Sylvia?”

  Juan was familiar with every crew member’s bio. As he recalled, Sylvia was Murph’s half sister on his mother’s side. Her father had immigrated to America on a student visa before becoming a citizen. Sylvia was two years younger than Murph, and with Ph.D.s in physics and mathematics, she was his intellectual equal.

  “I’m the lead investigator on the Rhino project,” Sylvia said. “You’re the Chairman, and you lent my brother to us in the hope that you’d be able to equip your ship with my plasma shield someday. He’s the smartest, most infuriating, and goofiest person I know, and I love him. Mark told me that you saved his life one time in Albania.”

  That was actually one of many times, but Murph had kept his work aboard the Oregon confidential. Mostly.

  “He also says you have only one leg, like Long John Silver.”

  That was also true. Juan lost his right leg below the knee during a mission long ago. He’d gotten so accustomed to wearing a prosthesis that no one knew it was there unless Juan showed it to them.

  “Okay, Sylvia,” Juan said. “You’ve got me convinced. Tell me what’s going on.”

  For the next ten minutes, Sylvia explained the nightmare she’d been through. Juan interrupted only to ask for clarifications, getting angrier the more he heard, especially when he found out what had been done to Murph. When she was finished, Juan said, “You mentioned that you’re in the Timor Sea. What are your coordinates?”

  She told him, and Juan plugged them into the mapping function on his phone.

  “We can be there in nine hours to take you and Murph aboard the Oregon,” he said.

  “Nine hours?” she replied, incredulous. “How?”

  “We’re near Bali. It’s only a few hundred miles from your position.” This would be their opportunity to stress test the Oregon’s newly installed engines. “In the meantime, you need help with so many disabled crew on board. I’ll call the Australian Navy and Coast Guard to rendezvous with you. You’re going to have to trust them. If there’s a U.S. Navy ship in the area, we’ll get it there, too, since the Namaka and her crew were American.”

  “Thank you, Chairman,” Sylvia said.

  “Call me Juan. My name is Juan Cabrillo.”

  “Thanks, Juan. I’m glad Mark works for you.”

  “Call me if you need anything in the meantime. See you soon.”

  He hung up and headed back toward the op center to plot a new course south once they’d gotten the Senators’ families to safety on Bali. He knew every crew member on board wouldn’t hesitate to go to Murph’s aid, but it still wasn’t going to be fun telling them that their Christmas vacations were canceled.

  TWENTY

  THE TIMOR SEA

  While she waited for help to arrive, Sylvia cared for the stricken crew members by treating wounds, bringing water to those who could drink, and making them as comfortable as possible. In addition to Roberta’s burned arm, there were two men with head injuries, one with a broken arm, and a woman who had somehow sliced her leg with a knife.

  As she tended to them, Sylvia kept the uncomfortable mask on, just in case, but she hadn’t noticed any symptoms herself. The illness seemed to have affected people at different intensities. Some, like Mark, were almost totally paralyzed. Others had less severe debilitation but were still unable to speak clearly or move on their own. All of them would require round-the-clock care.

  Ninety minutes after her call to Juan Cabrillo, she was startled to hear a ship’s horn in the distance, far sooner than she expected anyone to reach the Empiric. She left the mess hall and went out onto the exterior deck to see who it was.

  An unusual red vessel was about a mile away and approaching fast. It had its superstructure at the front of the ship and a helicopter pad mounted on a latticework of girders above the tall bow.

  To come so quickly, they must have been fairly close by when Juan’s call for assistance went out. Sylvia wrestled with what to do. If the people on this ship were in league with those on the trimaran, they would eliminate her as a potential witness. But she had nowhere to go. All she could do was follow Juan’s advice and trust that they were here to help.

  Sylvia took off her mask and watched apprehensively as the ship approached. When it was less than a quarter mile away, a voice spoke over a loudspeaker.

  “Empiric, this is the Australian Defence vessel Ocean Protector
. Prepare to be boarded.”

  The ship came to a stop and lowered a tender into the water. It motored over to the Empiric’s stern, and Sylvia went to meet them.

  The boarders were already stepping onto the rear platform when she got there. She was surprised to see that all six of them were wearing hazmat suits.

  “I’m Lieutenant Commander Womack,” a woman said. “Executive officer of the Ocean Protector. Who are you?”

  “I’m Sylvia Chang. I was a passenger on an American ship called the Namaka.”

  “Is that the one that sank?”

  “Yes.”

  “Any survivors of the explosion besides yourself?”

  Sylvia thought that was an odd way to refer to the attack.

  “No,” she said. “I was the only one lucky enough to make it off the ship.”

  “And how many casualties on board the Empiric?”

  “All forty-three.”

  “Dead?”

  “None. They are alive, but something is wrong with them.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “They were all stricken with a sudden paralysis.”

  “How is that possible?”

  “I don’t know. Apparently, they all passed out for a while, and when they came to, they couldn’t move properly, if at all.”

  “We’ll take care of them,” Womack said, nodding to her men. They fanned out across the ship. Sylvia moved to join them, but Womack stopped her.

  “Just a minute,” Womack said. “I want to know more about this accident.”

  “Accident?” Sylvia replied. “What are you talking about?”

  “The distress call we received three hours ago said that there was an incident aboard the Namaka that caused a gas explosion, and before it sank, it released a chemical vapor that engulfed the Empiric. When we responded to the hail, we received no reply and came here at top speed.”

  “Distress call? That’s not possible.” Sylvia pointed at the melted communications array and then realized that the supposed distress call must have been sent by the people on the trimaran.

  “Did that happen as a result of the explosion?” Womack asked.

  “No, it happened when we were attacked.”

  “Attacked? By whom?”

  “I don’t know. It was a trimaran ship.”

  “In what way did they attack you?”

  Sylvia couldn’t say that she thought it was a futuristic weapon like a plasma cannon. Womack would think she was crazy.

  “I’m not sure,” Sylvia said. At least that was the truth.

  “Why would someone attack you?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “What were you doing out here?”

  “I can’t tell you. It’s classified.”

  “Which ship were you on when this attack happened?” Womack didn’t mime air quotes around the word, but Sylvia heard them.

  “On the Namaka.”

  “And you happened to be the only one who survived?”

  “I fell overboard when the trimaran started blowing us apart. The trimaran stopped alongside the Empiric before it left, then I swam over here.”

  “And you wore that mask the whole time you were on board the Empiric?” Womack asked, pointing to the gas mask Sylvia was still holding in her hand.

  “Well, no. I didn’t know what had happened on this ship until I found some of the crew.”

  Sylvia went through the story once more, and Lieutenant Commander Womack looked as if she were restraining herself from rolling her eyes at Sylvia’s story. It didn’t help when one of the Ocean Protector crew members came up to them.

  “We’re treating some injuries,” he said, “but everyone is paralyzed, just like she said. It’s difficult to communicate with them, although many of them can respond to yes or no questions. Their condition must have been caused by the chemical release during the accident.”

  “It wasn’t an accident,” Sylvia insisted. “We were attacked.”

  Womack and her crew member shared a knowing look.

  “I know what you’re thinking,” Sylvia said, “but I’m not hallucinating or making this up.” Sylvia suddenly remembered the external cameras that the Empiric was using to record the results of the experiment. “I can prove it to you. There’s video that will show the ship that attacked us.”

  “All right,” Womack said before turning to her crewman. “Begin transporting the survivors back to the Protector. We’ll evaluate them further over there. The first helicopter should be arriving any minute.”

  The man nodded and left.

  “Helicopter?”

  Womack nodded. “We’ll be evacuating all of you back to Australia. The Royal Darwin Hospital is ready to treat you.” She obviously meant Sylvia as well.

  “Come on,” Sylvia said. “I’ll show you the recording.”

  She put on her mask and led Womack to the control room, where one of the Ocean Protector’s crew was checking on the paralyzed occupants. Sylvia smiled at her brother, who was still seated in his chair, and gave his shoulder a squeeze.

  “Help has arrived, Mark,” she told him. “This is Lieutenant Womack of the Australian Defence Force. I’m going to show her what happened here, and then we’ll get you to their ship.”

  He grunted in response. Sylvia sat down at a terminal to pull up the video files that had the time codes of the experiment.

  She skipped past the part showing the plasma shield and played from the point just before the attack. She could see the drone dead in the water, and two people were standing at the railing of the Namaka, although the ship was too distant to identify that it was her and Kelly. She swallowed a sob at seeing her assistant.

  “The person on the right is me,” Sylvia said, pointing to herself on the screen.

  A moment later, the bridge of the Namaka exploded. The light was so bright that you couldn’t see the figures anymore, but she remembered her warning as Kelly ran into the ship. Another blast ripped apart the superstructure. That’s when she went into the water. Seeing it from this perspective sent a chill down her spine.

  Explosions continued to rip apart the Namaka until it was a burning hulk, with a dense cloud of smoke drifting toward the Empiric’s camera. It sank into the water and disappeared.

  “That was the attack?” Womack asked.

  Sylvia heard the disbelief in her question and understood why. Only now as she watched the video did Sylvia see that the plasma projectiles were so fast that they weren’t caught by the Empiric’s camera. To the untrained eye, it could look as if the Namaka was blown apart from the inside.

  “Where’s the attacking ship?”

  “It’s coming soon,” Sylvia said. She advanced the video to the point where the trimaran came to search for survivors, but the screen went black before she got there. There was nothing more. She had reached the end of the recording.

  Sylvia’s stomach went cold when she understood the reason there was no video evidence. That’s why the killers from the trimaran had boarded the Empiric. They were erasing any proof they’d ever been there. Then they sent out a fake distress call to make it look like the whole episode was a freak accident. The Ocean Protector had been on its way long before Sylvia had called Juan Cabrillo because the attackers had wanted them found.

  The question was why?

  “Is that all?” Womack asked her.

  Sylvia simply nodded. If she told the lieutenant commander that the video had been erased, it would just add to the idea that she was either hysterical or lying.

  Womack took her by the arm and eased her out of the chair.

  “We’ll get you to safety,” Womack said, her voice changing to that of a parent reassuring a child.

  “I want to stay with my brother,” Sylvia said, standing next to Mark.

  “This is your brother?” Wom
ack asked skeptically.

  “Yes.”

  “Can he corroborate your story?”

  “No, he was unconscious like the rest of them.”

  Womack nodded as if she finally realized what was going on. “Do you think that’s what happened to you as well?”

  Sylvia sighed. “Possibly.”

  Maybe it was better that Womack didn’t believe her, Sylvia thought. At least when she got to Darwin, she would be considered just one more victim of the accidental gassing. Otherwise, the man and woman aboard the trimaran might come after her to eliminate her as a witness.

  Womack began helping her crewman tend to the other paralyzed occupants of the control room, leaving Sylvia by Mark’s side.

  He tapped on the armrest, and she translated the Morse code with his phone.

  I BELIEVE YOU. CHAIRMAN WILL, TOO.

  She appreciated his faith in her, but it was heartbreaking to see her brilliant older brother like this, robbed of his voice and mobility. Seeing that she could not convince Womack about what really had occurred that day, for now Sylvia would play along with her theory. She agreed that Juan Cabrillo might be the only person who would believe her besides Mark. But somehow, some way, she vowed to herself that she would find whoever was responsible for killing and injuring her friends and colleagues.

  And when she did, she would make sure they never hurt anyone again.

  TWENTY-ONE

  NHULUNBUY, AUSTRALIA

  Late December was smack in the middle of monsoon season in the Northern Territory. An afternoon downpour pounded April Jin as she disembarked from the trimaran Marauder, named for the experimental plasma weapon stolen from the Americans that served as its main armament. It was docked next to the cargo ship Shepparton, which was awaiting its final load before sailing. She hurried toward the temporary office set up beside the concrete apron abutting the shore.