“What’s the name of the cargo ship?” Juan asked Jin.
“The—”
Her voice was cut off as the plasma cannon power generator went critical. A massive fireball tore the trimaran in half, causing the screen to go white with the heat bloom. A second later, the shock wave rattled the Oregon.
Eric switched the view back to the color camera. The burning bow and stern were the only surviving parts of the Marauder. They went under mere seconds later.
Juan checked his watch. They had just over twenty-four hours before the midnight fireworks show the next day.
He threw the headset back to Hali. “Tell Max to pick up the shore party and get back here on the double. Eric, as soon as the doors of the moon pool are closed, set course for Sydney, maximum speed.”
SIXTY-FOUR
SYDNEY
Polk’s plane landed at Kingsford Smith International Airport at sunset, and when it was taxiing on the tarmac, he noticed a voicemail from his wife, which was unusual because she preferred to text him. He listened to the message, perplexed and concerned by the odd tone in her voice and by some of the things she said. He was upset she wouldn’t make it for the New Year’s Eve rocket launch, but he’d be sure to record it for her.
When the plane reached his waiting car, they unloaded four large aluminum boxes containing the Enervum antidote. Each held a thousand vials of the serum in packs of twelve. Given the sales estimates, every pack represented a value of six hundred thousand dollars, which meant he had to keep the cache in a safe place aboard the Centaurus where sticky hands couldn’t get to it.
He was driven to a dock at Walsh Bay, where a speedboat was waiting for him. His crew transferred the cargo and cast off, almost immediately passing under the world-famous Sydney Harbour Bridge. Polk could make out tourists wearing blue and gray jumpsuits walking along the girders below the bridge, on their way to climbing up the arched truss that spanned the structure. Tomorrow on New Year’s Eve, the Bridge Climb would be closed down in anticipation of the colossal fireworks show that would be launched from the arch at the stroke of midnight.
Even at night, boats filled the harbor. Ferries, yachts, and sailboats of all sizes took advantage of the warm summer evening. On New Year’s Eve, the harbor near the bridge would be crowded with pleasure craft hoping to get the best view in the city.
Next they passed the sails of the iconic opera house, which were lit in a dazzling white. The promenade in front was crammed with people taking pictures of the scenery and enjoying the ocean breeze. There would be even more viewers packing the area to watch the fireworks tomorrow night.
Lu’s reasoning for launching the rockets at exactly midnight, besides his desire for theatrics, was to maximize the number of people outdoors when the gas was dispersed. Polk imagined the optics of hundreds of thousands of paralyzed residents lying out in the streets on New Year’s Day.
Five minutes later, they approached the far end of the harbor where it turned to exit to the Pacific. The anchored Centaurus came into view behind Shark Island, home to a small park for picnics and parties. Around them overlooking the harbor were some of the most expensive estates in all of Australia. It was very likely that some of the customers for the Enervum antidote would be people living in those villas and mansions.
As they rounded the island, Polk saw a boat lashed alongside the Centaurus. It had MARITIME painted on the side. He was alarmed to realize that it was a boat from the Port Authority of New South Wales.
When he reached the Centaurus, he climbed on board, letting his men haul up the boxes of antidote. He asked where he could find Captain Rathman and was told that he was on the bridge.
Polk looked at the men transferring the boxes. “I’ll come back to secure these. If I return to find any of the contents missing or broken, I will hold every one of you responsible.”
He took the external stairs to the bridge. When he got there, Captain Rathman was speaking to a man in a shirt with the Port Authority logo on it. It was clear the captain was nervous, despite the fake smile that was plastered on his face.
“I’m Alfred Johnson,” Polk said. “I’m with the importer receiving this ship’s cargo. What’s this about?” His hand rested on the Glock pistol tucked in his waistband.
“It’s nothing,” Rathman said. “Just some confusion about our crew.”
“I’m Paul Smythe,” the visitor said. “We’ve had a report that a man was found floating in the open ocean north of Brisbane.”
Rathman shifted uncomfortably.
“What does that have to do with the Centaurus, Mr. Smythe?” Polk asked.
“When this man was rescued, he was speaking in Chinese. He said only one sentence over and over.”
“What did he say?”
“The people who plucked him out of the sea thought he was saying, ‘The centaur left me.’ But the Border Force district office in Cairns had his words professionally translated. He was actually saying, ‘The Centaurus left me.’ We thought he might have fallen overboard from this ship.”
“And I’ve just shown Mr. Smythe our manifest,” Rathman said, pointing to the logbook Smythe was holding. “As you can see, we arrived in Sydney with our full complement of crewmen.”
“Did this man say anything else?” Polk asked.
“Sadly, he died before he could say any more or reveal his identity,” Smythe said.
“What an odd situation.”
Smythe looked at Rathman with an unconvinced expression. “Why do you think he was saying ‘The Centaurus left me,’ if he wasn’t from your ship? It seems like a strange thing for a dying man to utter.”
Rathman shrugged. “We were traveling in that area a few nights ago. Perhaps he saw us pass by and was upset that we didn’t see him.”
“I suppose that’s a possibility. But he must have fallen off some ship to be that far out in the ocean.”
“I hope you’re able to solve the mystery someday,” Polk said.
Smythe handed back the logbook. “Everything seems to be in order.” He began to walk out, then turned and said, “How long will you be in Sydney?”
“Just another day,” Rathman said. “We set sail on January first.”
“Then you’ll be able to enjoy the fireworks while you’re here. This year I understand it will be even more spectacular than ever, something truly to remember. Good evening, gentlemen. And Happy New Year.”
Polk glared at Rathman as Smythe left. When the official was out of earshot, Polk said, “Tell me what happened.”
Rathman cleared his throat. “We did have a man fall overboard. It was during that storm. I thought he was a dead man for sure, so I didn’t turn around to search for him. It would have delayed our arrival in Sydney.”
“And you just admitted the ship was in the area where the man was found.”
“He probably would have found out anyway.”
“Do you realize how dangerous it is to have the authorities snooping around on this ship?”
“I doctored the manifest, just in case,” Rathman said. “He seemed satisfied that we never had that man aboard.”
“Are there any other surprises I should know about?” Polk demanded.
“We rechecked the cargo when we lowered the anchor,” Rathman said. “All of the pallets weathered the storm intact and without damage.”
“And you have no other missing crewmen? No errant radio calls that might be investigated?”
Rathman shook his head vigorously. “Nothing like that. There shouldn’t be any more interruptions.”
“You should be glad that crewman died before he could divulge anything else,” Polk said. “Otherwise, I’d make this more painful.”
He drew the Glock and put a bullet in Rathman’s chest. He keeled over, and Polk bent down to make sure he was dead.
When Rathman’s pulse ceased, Polk stood and told
two of the men to take his body to cold storage.
As it was, he didn’t need the irresponsible captain anymore. The Centaurus was never leaving Sydney Harbour.
SIXTY-FIVE
THE GOLD COAST, AUSTRALIA
While the Oregon raced south toward Sydney, Juan briefed Langston Overholt on the events of the last few days. The aristocratic CIA official nodded silently from the wall screen of Juan’s cabin until the end.
“Unfortunately, I don’t think we have enough hard evidence to convince the Australian Defence Force to mount a raid,” Overholt said. “The best we could hope for would be a thorough search of the ship’s cargo.”
“We can’t take that risk,” Juan said. “An inspection might prompt Polk to launch his rockets early. Besides, we don’t even know the name of the ship.”
“I believe I can help on that front. As you requested, I had the NSA monitor networks for the key words you suggested. They got a hit on Nhulunbuy. It seems a private yacht picked up a stranded man in the middle of the Coral Sea. He died from a shark attack, but before he succumbed to his injuries, he repeated the following phrase. ‘The Centaurus left me.’ His possessions included a matchbook from a tavern called the Lazy Goanna in Nhulunbuy.”
For the first time, Juan felt a ray of hope. “That’s where we met Bob Parsons. Was the man from the town?”
“The authorities circulated his picture there, but no one knew him. However, we ran him through the CIA’s database. Facial recognition identified him as a former soldier in the Chinese Army who subsequently worked for a private military contractor known for its brutal operatives and their willingness to do exceedingly dirty work if the money was right. The firm was owned by Lu Yang.”
“That can’t be a coincidence.”
“I agree.”
“‘The Centaurus left me,’” Juan repeated. “Did he fall overboard from a ship called the Centaurus?”
“That was a theory of the Australian authorities, but the ship’s manifest listed no missing crewmen.”
“Where is the ship now?”
“Its location is the reason I brought this incident to your attention,” Overholt said. “The Centaurus is currently anchored in Sydney Harbour.”
“The Coral Sea is on the shipping lane between Nhulunbuy and Sydney, and falsifying the manifest to cover up a crewman’s disappearance is not difficult. The Centaurus could be what Polk had been calling the Shepparton, but it’s a thin connection.”
“Hence my reluctance to involve the Australian authorities. Broadcasting our concerns to the general public would be even worse. Panic would ensue, and any effort to evacuate the city would be futile. As you said, it might also cause Polk to act prematurely. If he is determined to attack Sydney, I’m afraid it’s up to you and your crew to stop him.”
“Not just stop him,” Juan said. “Jin said he has thousands of doses of the antidote on board with him. We need to retrieve them, or Murph and the others who’ve been paralyzed by the Enervum gas will stay in that condition forever.”
“When do you arrive in Sydney?”
“Not until tomorrow evening. It’ll be barely enough time to mount an operation before midnight.”
“I’ll leave it to you how to proceed,” Overholt said. “But the first priority is stopping the launch of those rockets, even if it means destroying the antidote along with the ship. Five million paralyzed Australians would not only be a horrific tragedy, it could also irrevocably alter the balance of power in that region of the world.”
“Understood,” Juan said. “I’ll keep you posted.”
Overholt hung up, and Juan called Eric.
“There’s a ship anchored in Sydney Harbour. It’s called the Centaurus. Is there a way to see it?”
“It shouldn’t be too hard to tap into the cameras used by the harbor’s vessel tracking system. Give me a few minutes and I’ll get back to you.”
Two minutes later, Eric called.
“Got it. I’ll put it up on your screen.”
Although it was nighttime, there was enough ambient light to make out the ship’s silhouette easily. It was a break bulk freighter with four cranes mounted along one side of the ship.
“The Centaurus looks a lot like the Shepparton, doesn’t it?” Eric said.
“Yes, it does,” replied Juan. “That has to be Polk’s ship. I’ll tell Maurice to put more coffee on. We’ve got a long night ahead.”
* * *
—
Planning each component of the operation didn’t allow for much sleep, so there were a few bleary eyes when Juan called everyone to the boardroom for the group’s mission briefing the next evening.
“We all know what’s at stake in this operation,” Juan said, glancing at Murph. “Because of our late arrival in the Sydney area, we’re not going to be able to begin the assault until 2330 tonight. That gives us only a half hour before the scheduled midnight launch of the rockets. Our objective is to get on board the Centaurus, secure the antidote, and disable the rockets if possible. We’ll use a similar boarding tactic to the ones we used with the Dahar and Shepparton.”
“But with no tranquilizer darts,” Linc said. “I used the last one on April Jin.”
“What are the rules of engagement then?” Raven asked.
“We’ll have to go in fast and hard,” Eddie said. “Based on the man who fell overboard, we believe that the crew is made up of mercenaries who are military veterans. According to the manifest filed with the Sydney Port Authority, there are eleven crew on board. Polk might bring some people with him, so we’re hoping to encounter fifteen or fewer hostiles. We can’t afford an alarm to sound, so we’ll be taking out each of them as quietly as we can. We’ll be armed with suppressed weapons, but don’t use them unless you have to.”
MacD, whose arm was in a sling, turned to Raven. “Ah will let you use my crossbow one more time if you promise to bring it back in one piece.”
“I will treat it like it’s my own,” Raven said.
“But to be clear, it’s not.”
Raven simply shrugged, her lip curled in amusement at his possessiveness.
“I will be leading the mission,” Juan said. “Raven, Eddie, and Linc will be joined by Eric and Sylvia.”
That raised some eyebrows.
To head off their questions, Juan continued, “We don’t know what kind of weapons system Polk is using to activate the missiles, so we need technical experts on site to give us the best chance of disarming them. Normally, that would mean Eric and Murph.”
“Unfortunately, my hover chair isn’t ready yet,” Murph said.
“Sylvia has similar expertise as her brother, so she volunteered her services for this operation. Instead of our custom earpieces, she’ll be wearing a comm headset. She will also be unarmed, so I’m assigning Linc to stay by her side.”
Sylvia looked sheepish. “I may do research for the Defense Department, but I don’t work with small arms. I never actually fired a gun until Eric took me to your shooting range this morning.”
“She was a pretty good shot,” Eric said.
“But I’m not trained in handling them like you all are,” Sylvia said. “I wouldn’t want to shoot one of you by accident.”
“Max will take command of the Oregon,” Juan said. “Polk might recognize the ship, so we’ll plan to stop seven miles outside of Sydney Harbour and come in on the Gator.”
Linda raised her hand. “I’ll be piloting this time.”
“I want to point out something,” Eric said. “As good as we are, Sylvia and I may not be able to disarm the rockets for a multitude of reasons. What happens if we can’t?”
Juan looked at Max, who said, “Then I sink the Centaurus before the clock strikes midnight.”
“Sylvia and Eric have modified the rail gun controls to be operated by Murph,” Juan said. “All he has to do is
lock in on the target and fire. He’ll be able to do that with a single finger.”
“With my help,” MacD said. “I’ll be on the Gator with Linda. Even though I’ve only got one arm, I can point a laser designator at the hull. As I understand it, the rail gun targeting system will automatically adjust to fire at whatever I point at.”
“Just don’t sneeze,” Raven said.
“Sink her?” Linc asked. “Why not just blow the ship out of the water?”
Murph grunted aloud. “Uh-uh.” Then he used his voice box to say, “Gas cloud.”
Sylvia nodded. “If the rockets detonated simultaneously, it would form a toxic cloud that could still poison a significant portion of the city.”
“Once the ship is sunk,” Eric said, “the water should absorb the Enervum gas even if there is a subsequent explosion.”
“Polk would want to keep something as valuable as that antidote secure,” Juan said. “The two likeliest places to stow it would be in the galley refrigerator if he needs to keep it cool or in the captain’s cabin if he doesn’t. Our plan is to sweep the accommodation block, check the galley, and then take the bridge. Once we’ve captured or killed Polk, his men might give up or attempt to escape. If they don’t, we’ll need to fight to the bitter end. Any questions?”
No one spoke. They all wore serious and determined expressions.
“Then let’s begin to gear up,” Juan said. “We leave the Oregon an hour before midnight.”
SIXTY-SIX
SYDNEY
From his perch on the Centaurus’s bridge, Polk should have been enjoying the New Year’s Eve light show. It had begun at 9:30 p.m. with a minor fireworks show for children who couldn’t stay up until midnight, followed by the Harbour of Light Parade in which boats strung with colorful lights sailed through the harbor.
Instead, he continued to regularly phone and text his wife. She hadn’t responded since her last voicemail to him, and now he was beyond worried. All contact with the Marauder had ceased. He feared some kind of catastrophic accident with the plasma cannon.
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