Medusa

by Clive Cussler

  "Caitlin's the expert on the Triads," Yoo said. "I'll go along with what she says."

  "She also said that the front man for Pyramid is a guy named Wen Lo."

  There was a slight tick, a second, when Yoo seemed to pause before answering.

  "As I said," he began, "Caitlin knows more about the Triads. I'm familiar with organization and strong-arm stuff at the street level, but others can tell you about the leaders."

  Yoo talked about gang ritual and power structure for another five minutes before glancing at his watch.

  "Sorry to cut you short, Joe, I've got an appointment to keep."

  "No problem," Zavala said. He rose from his chair. "Thanks very much for your time, Charlie. You've been a great help."

  They shook hands, and Yoo called the security desk. They were standing out in the hallway when the guide arrived minutes later to take Zavala in tow.

  Yoo flashed a smile.

  "You've stirred up my curiosity about this thing with your robot stuff. Let me poke around and see if I can come up with anything else."

  Yoo jotted down Zavala's cell-phone number and wished him good luck. He went back into his office and locked the door. He sat behind his desk, stone-faced, as he punched in a number on his cell. The cell's signal flashed around the world several times, passing through a series of filters and detours, until it was untraceable.

  "Report, number thirty-nine," a gruff voice said.

  "He just left," Yoo said.

  "What does he know?"

  "Far too much for comfort."

  Yoo relayed the gist of his conversation with Zavala.

  "This is a fortunate happenstance," the voice said. "Zavala is small fish. Use him as bait. I want you to take Austin alive and bring him to me."

  "I'll get on it immediately," Yoo said.

  "Sooner," the voice said.

  Zavala was in his Corvette on the way back to NUMA headquarters when his cell phone buzzed. It was Charlie Yoo.

  "Hi, Joe, long time no talk. Look, I've got something for you on the Pyramid Triad."

  "That was fast," Zavala said with genuine surprise. He had thought Yoo to be something of a lightweight when it came to police work.

  "We lucked out. It's like pulling teeth with the guys at the Bureau. They'll pick your brains until there's nothing left, but I'm a foreigner so they still don't quite trust me. Anyhow, there's been an ongoing surveillance of a gang-connected alien-smuggling operation. After I told them about our little chat, they invited us to sit in. Might give you a chance to talk to some of the other Asian crime specialists. You could be in for some excitement if they make a bust."

  "When and where?" Zavala asked.

  "Later tonight, on the other side of the river. You interested? Your partner Austin is invited too, if he's not busy."

  "I'll ask him and get back to you."

  Zavala hung up and made a quick call to Austin and told him about Yoo's invitation.

  "I'm expecting a call from Sandecker in a few minutes," Austin said. "I have no idea what the old sea fox has up his sleeve. I'll have to catch up with you later."

  "Call me when you shake loose. And don't let Sandecker keep you too long."

  "Not a chance, pal," Austin said, and, in words that would come back to haunt him later, added, "Hell, Joe, I wouldn't want you to have all the fun."

  CHAPTER 24

  The second happy hour in the Dollar Bar was a repeat of the first gabfest. The vacuous chitchat around the table ground on Gamay's nerves, but she had to admit that the Gibson was perfect and that the dinner that followed was superb, featuring freshly caught shrimp in a savory jambalaya.

  Mayhew waited politely until dessert was served before he made his announcement.

  "Dooley will pick you up promptly at nine-fifteen tomorrow morning," he said. "You can leave right after breakfast. It's been a pleasure to have you as our guest, Dr. Trout. We'll be sad to see you go."

  Mayhew's broad grin seemed at odds with his dismay over Gamay's impending departure. She wondered how long he would maintain his smiley face if she insisted on staying another night.

  "And I will be sad to leave," Gamay said in a performance worthy of Ethel Barrymore. "Thank you for having me, and allowing me to see the wonderful work that you and your staff are doing here in this slice of paradise."

  Mayhew was too caught up in the moment to pick up on her veiled sarcasm. At his suggestion, they moved out onto the patio for a nightcap and to watch the sunset.

  The scientists gathered in knots, keeping their voices low. Occasionally, Gamay heard a scientific term spoken, suggesting they were talking among themselves about their research.

  By nine o'clock, all the staff people had gone to their cabins, leaving Gamay alone. She waited another half hour until everyone had settled in, then followed the shell path to Song Lee's cabin. The windows were dark.

  Gamay climbed onto the small porch and knocked softly at first, then harder. There was no answer.

  She was surprised to find the door unlocked. She went inside and switched on the lights. It only took a few seconds to see that the cabin was unoccupied. There was no sign that Lee had eaten dinner alone there. Gamay switched the lights off, and hurried along the path to the waterfront. Lee's kayak was not in the boat shed.

  Gamay pondered what she should do. She could wake up Dr. Mayhew and the rest of the staff, but, given the penchant for oysterlike secrecy on the island, it was likely she'd be cut out of the action.

  Impulsively, Gamay lifted the second kayak from its rack and set it on the beach.

  Then she had another thought, and dashed back to the boathouse to grab Dooley's night vision goggles. She slipped them over her head, shoved the kayak in the water, got in, and paddled furiously.

  She followed the perimeter of the island and headed out into the bay. The stranded cabin cruiser was greenish and grainy through the goggles. She paddled directly to it to get her bearings, then turned in to the funnel-shaped cove Dooley had shown her earlier that day.

  The mangroves squeezed in on both sides. At the narrowest part of the cove, she found the post that marked the break in the mangroves. She paddled to shore, got out of the kayak, and was pulling it up onto the beach when she stumbled over Song Lee's rucksack, which was lying in the sand.

  Gamay glanced around and saw something gleaming in the grass. It was Lee's kayak.

  Gamay struck off inland, following the winding path through the thicket of trees, carrying her wooden kayak paddle in one hand. The path emerged from the trees into the open, meandering through cactus and scrub. The whisper of the waves washing the beach provided a backdrop to the insect chorus.

  With the aid of the night vision goggles, Gamay moved quickly along the path. She paused where it broke out onto the beach and looked around. Two sets of footprints led off down the beach. Taking up the hunt like a hound on a scent, she followed the prints around a bend. She was trotting now, slowing only when she saw a yellow glow in the distance. There was a house up ahead, partially hidden by trees and bushes. She moved closer and saw that the light was spilling through a screen door and window.

  She crept up to the house and put her back to the wall a few feet from the window. She could hear a man and a woman speaking excitedly in Chinese, their voices starting out low and then getting louder. The man now sounded angry, the woman hysterical.

  Gamay edged up to the window, pushed the goggles up on her forehead, and peered through the glass panes at a sparsely furnished room illuminated with gas camp lanterns.

  Song Lee was sitting at a kitchen table across from a brutish-looking Asian man who was dressed in shorts and T-shirt. An automatic weapon lay on the counter next to the stove. The man had apparently just run through his reserve of patience. He brought his hand back and slapped Lee across the face. The blow knocked her off her chair to the floor.

  The man turned away from Lee to get his weapon, a big mistake on his part. She got to her knees and plucked a steak knife from a rack that was w
ithin arm's reach. There was a flash of blade as she plunged it into the man's thigh, then pulled it free. Letting out a scream of pain, he dropped the gun to the floor and grabbed his bleeding leg.

  Lee stood up and dashed for the door. Bellowing with rage, the man lunged after her, but she was too quick for him. She burst through the screen door and ran down the beach.

  The man picked his gun up off the floor and limped to the door. Standing in the doorway, he shouted in Chinese, then raised the gun up to shoulder level.

  Gamay stepped from the shadows just then, raised the kayak paddle high, and brought it down on the man's head with all her strength. The handle snapped like a dry twig, and the man crashed to the ground, falling on top of his gun.

  Gamay hoped the blow had knocked him out, but he soon groaned and began to stir.

  She pulled the goggles down and sprinted along the beach. Seeing a figure running a hundred feet or so ahead, she called out Song Lee's name. The scientist stopped and wheeled around to face her pursuer. She clutched the steak knife defensively in her hand.

  Gamay ripped the goggles from her head.

  "It's me… Dr. Trout!"

  "Doctor… What are you doing here?"

  "I followed you."

  Gamay glanced back toward the house.

  "No time to talk," she said. "I slowed your friend down only for a second."

  Gamay tossed away the useless paddle, and then she and Lee ran along the beach. In their haste, they missed the path that would take them across the island and had to go back, costing time. But Gamay took the lead, and within minutes they were on the other side of the island. She had Lee give her a hand getting the kayak out of the grass.

  There was a soft footfall on the path, and seconds later a figure burst from the bushes. The man who had held Song Lee prisoner flicked on a flashlight and snarled in triumph. He was surprised to see Gamay, but only for an instant, and quickly swung his light and gun around and brought them to bear on her midsection for an easy gut shot.

  Gamay put her head down and charged like a bull, butting the man in the stomach. He had abdominal muscles like a stone wall. He brought down the gun's stock on her head in a blow hard enough to knock her to the ground. Through a gray haze she punched his wounded leg and heard him scream in pain.

  Lee leaped onto the man's back, clinging to him, but he shook her off and she fell to the ground. He stood there unmoving, staring at her, then the gun dropped from his hand and he crumpled to the ground as if all the air had gone out of him. The beam from his flashlight fell on the wooden handle of the steak knife protruding from his chest.

  As Gamay helped Lee to her feet, Lee gazed at her deadly handiwork.

  "I've never done anything like that," she said. "Never."

  "You'll get used to it," Gamay said. "Who is he?"

  "I don't know. He came up while I was getting my kayak and struck me with his gun. He said he'd been watching me, and that others were coming in a boat to take me away."

  Gamay suddenly put her hand on Lee's arm.

  "Listen," she said.

  Excited voices talking in Chinese could be heard coming along the path. The others had arrived.

  Lee's kayak was righted and dragged to the water. She produced a spare plastic-and-aluminum paddle for Gamay to use. They both shoved their kayaks off the beach and paddled madly. They were about a hundred feet from the mangroves when flashlight beams probed the water around them.

  The shafts of light reflected off the shiny fiberglass hulls. Gamay told Lee to hug the shore, where they'd make a more difficult target. She tensed, expecting gunfire, but the lights blinked out.

  "They are going back to their boat," Lee said. "They will come around the other end of the island and intercept us."

  "How long before they get there?" Gamay asked, without breaking the rhythm of her strokes.

  "Five, ten minutes, maybe. What should we do?"

  "Paddle as if our lives depended on it… because they do."

  They put their backs into each stroke and made it out of the cove, but the sound of a boat engine soon shattered the quiet of the night. A spotlight moved slowly back and forth across the water. There was no place along the shore where they could put in and hide. Thick, gnarly roots extended out from mangroves, forming a formidable barrier.

  A silhouette loomed ahead. They were coming up on the grounded cabin cruiser. Gamay paddled toward the old boat with Lee right behind. They climbed aboard the derelict, pulling their kayaks up behind them, and lay facedown on the rotting deck.

  Through cracks in the hull, they saw the spotlight go past the cruiser. For a second, Gamay entertained a flash of optimism, but that faded as the search boat changed direction, circled the wreck, and came closer. The spotlight filtered through the cracks and fell on their faces.

  The women's pursuers peppered the cabin cruiser with gunfire, starting with the elevated bow and working back toward the stern. They took their time, pumping round after round into the pilothouse. Splinters showered the two women. Gamay covered her head with her hands and cursed her own stupidity. The only thing they had accomplished by climbing on the old boat was to give these bozos some target practice. It would only be a matter of seconds before the bullets found them.

  Then the firing stopped.

  Gamay expected the attackers to swarm aboard, but instead a bottle filled with flaming gasoline arced through the air and landed on the deck. Crackling fire from the Molotov cocktail spread in a blazing puddle that lapped at their feet. The heat became unbearable. The two women stood up, preferring to be shot rather than be burned to death. But the boat carrying their assailants was moving away from them and picking up speed. By then, the cabin cruiser had become a blazing torch.

  "Jump!" Gamay yelled.

  They dove into the water and swam away from the burning wreck. They struck out for the nearest mangrove and had only gone a short distance before they heard a boat engine again and saw a spotlight coming their way.

  Gamay's hopes were dashed. The shooters were coming back to finish them off.

  The boat slowed and the spotlight played over the water, finally finding the pair of swimmers. Gamay expected that the rattle of gunfire would be the last thing she would ever hear, but instead a familiar voice rang out.

  "Gamay," Paul Trout called, "is that you?"

  She stopped swimming and began to tread water. She stuck a hand in the air. The boat edged closer, looming over them, and she looked up to see Paul Trout's long arms reaching down to pull her to safety.

  CHAPTER 25

  Zavala swung his Corvette into the parking lot of the Eden Center shopping mall in Falls Church, Virginia, as Charlie Yoo had instructed. The Chinese agent was waiting for Zavala near the clock tower in a black government-issue Ford Crown Victoria. He rolled down the window.

  "Where's your friend Austin?"

  "Delayed," Zavala said. "He'll catch up with us later. Or we can wait."

  Yoo frowned, raised an index finger indicating Zavala should wait, and rolled up the window. Zavala could see Yoo's lips moving and assumed he was talking on a wireless Bluetooth setup. Then the window came down.

  "The guys on stakeout said to come along now. You can call Austin later and tell him where you are. Hop in."

  Zavala didn't like the idea of leaving his prized Corvette in a public parking lot, but he raised the convertible top, locked the door, and slid into the passenger's seat of the Crown Victoria. Yoo drove out of the parking lot, through Seven Corners, and toward Wilson Boulevard, slowing after a few miles to take an off-ramp. After a short drive, they came to an industrial park consisting of large metal-sheathed buildings spread over several blocks. Except for the amber security lights over the loading-dock doors, the complex was dark and seemingly deserted.

  Zavala expected Yoo to pull over and park before they got to the stakeout so that they would walk the rest of the way. Yoo slowed the car to a crawl, then, without stopping, hooked the steering wheel over to the right and accele
rated through an open gate with a sign on it that read GOOD LUCK FORTUNE COOKIE COMPANY.

  Yoo kept his foot on the gas pedal, swerved behind the building in a g-force turn, then pointed the car at a garage door. As the car headed for the big black square, Zavala braced himself for the impact, but then the headlights showed that the door was almost fully open. Yoo finally hit the brakes inside the warehouse, sending the car into a fishtail skid into a wall of cardboard cartons.

  The car's grille slammed into the cardboard boxes with a loud crunching sound. The boxes split wide open, spilling dozens of plastic-wrapped fortune cookies over the hood.

  The car's air bags exploded, cushioning the impact further.

  Zavala caught his breath, then reached down and unclasped his seat belt. Pushing his air bag aside, he saw that Yoo was not in the driver's seat. Zavala's exit from the car was less than graceful, and he fell onto one knee. He was slow to anger, but as he got to his feet he wanted to rip Yoo's head off.

  The overhead lights snapped on. Charlie Yoo was nowhere to be seen, but Zavala was not alone.

  He was surrounded by several Asian men, all dressed in black running suits, and all carrying automatic weapons that were pointed at his midsection.

  The closest man poked Zavala in the gut with the barrel of his gun.

  "Move," he ordered.

  CHAPTER 26

  Austin flipped over the last page of the voluminous file on Pyramid Trading Company, leaned back in his chair, and rubbed his eyes. The picture that the file painted was of a vast corporation with no regard for human life. Pyramid had put out more than three hundred harmful products. It had exported tainted fish, killer pet food, unsafe tires, and poisoned toothpaste, candy, vitamins, and drugs. Under international pressure, the Chinese government had admitted that there was a problem with Pyramid and promised to remedy the situation. But nothing in what Austin had read would explain why Pyramid would go after Kane and his research project.