Maria nodded. “He is an evil man.”
“What was the real purpose of your research?” Juan asked.
“He wanted us to replicate a drug,” Ocampo said. “It was a small white pill he called Typhoon. The image of a cyclone is embedded on its face.”
Juan imagined the buildings they just saw as a high-tech meth lab. “I’ve never heard of Typhoon. Is that a street name for a narcotic?”
Ocampo shook his head. “Nothing like that. After we were gathered together, it became clear that we all are experts in the development of steroids.”
Juan thought back to the guard who’d shrugged off two gunshot wounds to the chest. “Are Locsin’s men users of Typhoon?”
Ocampo nodded. “They showed many of the effects of prolonged steroid use: massive muscle growth, hair loss and severe acne in some of them, and wild mood swings. Locsin would be charming one moment, then lash out in rage the next. A Jekyll and Hyde.”
“They also had some side effects I’ve never seen before,” Maria said. “All of them smelled terrible. The rancid odor like garlic oozed out of their pores. I could barely stand being next to one of them.”
“The drug also seemed to have remarkable benefits besides muscle growth. Maria, tell them about the guard who cut himself.”
A look of profound confusion crossed Maria’s face as she recalled the memory. “It was the strangest thing. One of the guards was moving a crate of equipment into the lab and slashed himself on a nail sticking out of it. He didn’t even seem to notice until I pointed to the blood. He looked at the gash on his arm, shook his head, and wiped the blood on a towel like it was just a scratch. But the cut looked so deep that I thought he’d need stitches.”
“But it stopped bleeding almost instantly,” Juan said.
Maria gaped at him. “How did you know that?”
“Because the guy who was holding the knife to Beth’s throat should have been bleeding profusely from the shots I put into him. Instead, he had barely any blood on his uniform.”
“You’re right,” Ocampo said. “But that’s not all. I saw the wound myself. It was at least three inches long. The next day, I saw it again. Except for a thin scar, it had completely healed. Two days later, I couldn’t even tell that he’d been injured.”
“So these guys heal in less time than it takes to talk about it?” Eddie said.
“Nothing so fast,” Ocampo said. “The cut didn’t close itself instantly. But it does seem as if Typhoon speeds up the body’s natural healing process dramatically.”
“How is that possible?” Juan asked.
“That’s something I wish I knew. This kind of advanced healing isn’t unheard of in vertebrates. Dolphins can survive gaping wounds from shark attacks with little pain and no infection, and the missing flesh is completely replaced in a matter of weeks. We don’t know if the rapid healing process is stimulated by stem cells or proteins, but the Typhoon drug could be activating a similar mechanism in humans.”
“The problem is that the other side effects could be worse than the benefits,” Maria said. “I’ve noticed that the guards’ angry outbursts have become more frequent and violent during the last few weeks. There have even been fights between some of them. If they weren’t under orders by Locsin himself to leave us untouched, I have no doubt that we would have been attacked as well.”
“It may also be addictive,” Ocampo added. “Such profound effects may produce strong withdrawal symptoms if the user suddenly stops taking the drug.”
“If Locsin already had this drug,” Raven said, “why did he want you to figure out how to make more of it?”
“I got the impression that he only had a limited supply and was desperate to make more. When I told him that it would take at least three months to decipher the formula, he went crazy and demanded that we find it in two months.”
“Even the three-month time line was insane,” Maria said.
“Why?” Juan asked.
“Because we couldn’t figure out the key component without the formula itself. The main ingredient of the drug seems to be an organic compound, most likely from a plant. If we knew which plant the compound was from—which we don’t—it would likely take mere weeks to get production up and running.”
“So where did he get the drug in the first place?”
“We don’t know. We did a radiometric analysis on one of the samples to see if we could determine its age. There was no evidence of radioactive decay, which means they had to be created before the use of atomic weapons, which have left a radioactive signature on all organic compounds since they were first detonated.”
Raven leaned forward. For the first time in the short span that Juan had known her, she seemed genuinely surprised. “Are you saying these pills date from before 1945?”
“Yes. It means the pills were developed just before or during World War Two,” Ocampo said. “They had to be well preserved to survive intact for over seventy years, probably vacuum-sealed. And I know he’s looking for more of them. He threatened us by saying he had a backup plan if we failed.”
“I don’t suppose he told you exactly where he was looking,” Juan said.
“If you have a map with a nice big X on it,” Eddie said, “that would be even better.”
Ocampo smiled. “Why? Are you going after him?”
Juan nodded. “It seems like that would be in the interest of my biggest client.” As soon as he could, Juan planned to call Langston Overholt at the CIA and brief him on the situation. He had no doubt that Overholt would want him to go after Locsin.
“Your client? Who is that?”
“I’m afraid that the less you know about that, the better.”
Ocampo narrowed his eyes at Juan. “I don’t mean to sound ungrateful, but just who are you people?”
Up to this point, Juan had only used their first names. Revealing who they really were would just raise a lot of inconvenient questions when Ocampo and his people talked to the Philippine authorities.
“Let’s just say we’re on the side that doesn’t want a supersoldier drug in the hands of a communist madman.”
Ocampo stared at Juan for a moment, then looked at each person in his group. They all returned his look with a silent nod.
“All right,” he said, turning back to Juan. “We owe you our trust after you put your lives on the line for us. I have some other information that might help you.”
“About where Locsin is looking for the drug?”
“Not really. All I know about that is he’s got a dig going on somewhere on a small island in the Philippines. Since there are well over a hundred languages spoken in our country, the guards thought I didn’t know what they were saying. But apparently my mother was from the same area they were from, so I could understand snippets of their conversation. They said they’re expecting a shipment to arrive tomorrow night from China.”
“A shipment of what?” Eddie asked.
“They didn’t say. But it’s coming in on a cargo ship called the Magellan Sun, the same ship they used to deliver equipment for the dig. The guards were expecting to rendezvous with it off the west coast of Negros Island. Maybe you can have the Philippine Coast Guard intercept it.”
“That’s one possibility,” Juan said. He wouldn’t reveal that he had the Oregon, a better solution than trying to convince a foreign nation’s coast guard to stop a ship at sea.
Beth, who’d been silently watching up until now, said, “This might seem like a strange question, but did you see any artwork while you were held captive?”
Ocampo gave her a confused look. “What kind of artwork?”
“Paintings.”
Ocampo shook his head slowly. She looked hopefully at the other chemists, but none of them had seen any, either.
“What are you going to do with us?” Maria asked. “Locsin will kill us if he finds us.”
Juan had been considering that question during the discussion. If they simply dropped Ocampo and his people at a hospital, it was possible that Locsin and his men might track them down to keep them from talking to the authorities.
In return for the information Ocampo had given them, Juan thought he could convince Overholt to put them up in a CIA safe house until Locsin was captured or killed. They might also be able to think of additional info that would help them further.
“I think I have somewhere you can stay safely until we can find out what Locsin is up to. And I have a friend who can sew up that arm.” He’d have Julia Huxley, the Oregon’s doctor, meet them and tend to Ocampo’s wound before they were taken to the safe house.
It was still a few hours before they would get back to Manila, and Juan wanted to be ready to go as soon as they arrived. He texted Max to prepare the Oregon for sailing and had him tell Murph and Eric to search for anything they could find out about the Magellan Sun.
24
THAILAND
Gerhard Brekker was fascinated by the behavior of Alastair Lynch, who was handcuffed to a metal chair bolted to the floor. During the entire night of “enhanced interrogation techniques,” as the Americans liked to call them, Lynch had barely uttered a whimper no matter how much water was poured on his face or how many electrical shocks he endured. But now, as dawn broke through the remote shack’s grimy window and Lynch watched Brekker wave a small white pill in front of his face, the compromised British Interpol agent howled and screamed as if the mere sight of the withheld Typhoon tablet was the worst torture imaginable.
“Please!” Lynch cried to Brekker, his lips flecked with spittle. “I need my morning dose!”
Brekker looked at the other men in his employ with an amused smile. He’d seen a lot of violent and strange behavior in his days with South Africa’s National Defence Force, as had the five men who’d left it to join his private military contracting firm. All of the native Afrikaners around him—compatriots who remembered the glory days of Apartheid from their youth—had participated in police actions and fought against rebellions throughout Africa, but they’d never seen someone blubber uncontrollably at the prospect of not getting his drug fix.
Brekker leaned over until he was only inches from Lynch’s face.
“Why do you need it so badly?” he calmly asked in a soft Afrikaner lilt. Shouting was not his way. He found he was more likely to get the results he wanted when he was rigorously in control, both of his captive and himself.
“It’s my medicine!” Lynch yelled. “You have no right to keep it from me!”
“I don’t care about what you think I have a right to do. Besides, you still haven’t given me the information I asked you for.”
“I told you! I don’t know where the pills come from!”
Brekker stood up, wiped his face with a handkerchief, and took a seat on a beat-up wooden bench opposite Lynch. He ran his hand over his mustache and shut his eyes for a moment. Though the yelling wouldn’t attract any attention because they had chosen this crummy hovel for its isolation, it was getting tiresome. Brekker hadn’t slept all night, and Lynch’s screeching was giving him a headache.
“I’ve had enough with the shouting,” he said, fixing Lynch with a glare. “The longer you shout, the longer it will take for me to give this to you.”
Lynch’s desperation was still evident, but he managed to lower his voice. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Just give me the pill and I’ll tell you what you want to know.”
“I don’t think you will. I think you’ll just shut up again.”
“I won’t!” Lynch yelled, before calming down again. “I won’t. I promise.”
“You got this from somewhere,” Brekker said. “We know it’s from some Filipino gang, but we haven’t the slightest clue where to start looking for them. Now, it’s obvious you know something or you wouldn’t have been tailing us in the first place. So, tell me what you know.”
Lynch’s eyes flicked back and forth between Brekker and the pill. Something was still holding him back. Brekker had seen it before. Lynch was scared of someone who he thought would do far worse to him than anything Brekker could do.
A little push was needed.
Brekker took out the second pill and put both of them on the floor. He adjusted the position of his boot so that the heel was poised over them. He slowly lowered the heel, making it clear he was close to crushing them to powder.
“No!” Lynch wailed.
“I’m waiting for the information I know you have.” His heel kept moving down.
Lynch watched in wild-eyed horror until the boot’s rubber sole was almost on top of the pills. “All right! All right! I’ll tell you.”
Brekker stopped but didn’t move his boot away from tablets. Lynch was convinced that Brekker would destroy these precious commodities, even though the South African had no intention of harming what was a potential gold mine for him.
“I’m listening,” he said.
“His name is Locsin. Salvador Locsin.”
Brekker glanced at Altus Van Der Waal, his second-in-command. The short but powerfully built former commando thought for a moment, then said, “Communist insurgent from one of the southern islands. Not much known about his financial dealings.” It was Van Der Waal’s job to keep up on all the hot spots around the world so they’d know where their services would most likely be needed.
“How do they deliver the pills?”
“It’s a dead drop somewhere in Bangkok. The location changes every week.”
“Is this your last pill? Does that mean you have a drop tomorrow?”
Lynch nodded quickly.
“Why did Locsin want this pill back so badly?”
“I don’t know. He doesn’t tell me everything.”
“But you’re with Interpol,” Brekker said. “Surely you know much more than one of his average clients.”
“I suppose he didn’t want anybody else to get their hands on it,” Lynch said.
“I think I can see why.” Brekker pulled out Lynch’s ID. He looked at the picture, which seemed to be less than three months old. In it, Lynch had a pencil-thin neck and narrow shoulders. Brekker looked up, and the sunken cheeks and cleft chin were the same, but Lynch’s bulging neck and muscular trapeziuses now seemed to belong to a professional bodybuilder.
“Have you been working out a lot lately?” Brekker said.
Lynch shrugged. “I suppose so.”
“Or has this Typhoon given you a little boost?”
Lynch averted his eyes for a moment before going back to the pills on the floor. “It helps.”
“I bet it does. What do you do for Salvador Locsin? I bet someone in your position would be perfectly placed to give him warnings about any potential interceptions of his drug shipments.”
Brekker’s boot still hadn’t moved.
“Yes, you’re right,” Lynch said, his lips trembling. “He needed someone on the inside, and I have access to police databases and major operations throughout Southeast Asia.”
“And I’m guessing the person who makes the dead drop knows even less than you do. So even if we were able to capture him, it wouldn’t do us much good.”
Tears were streaming down Lynch’s face. “What do you want me to say?”
“Until you give me something useful,” Brekker said, picking up the pills, “I’m afraid I’m going to have to keep these myself.”
“Okay! Okay!” he screamed. “I do know about Locsin’s shipments. I know where they come from.”
“Where?”
“Manila.”
“Manila’s a big city. You’ll have to do better than that.”
“It’s a warehouse near the docks. That’s where they store the product before they load it onto their ship.”
“What ship?”
“The Magellan Sun. Locsin thou
ght it was better to buy his own ship after one he’d chartered was confiscated.”
“Do you know where I can find this ship?”
Lynch shook his head, then blurted out, “But I know where the warehouse is. I can give you the address.” He recited an address, which Van Der Waal entered into his phone. “Now, please. Please, can I have my dose?”
Brekker studied Lynch, but he couldn’t detect any deceit. “Let me make a phone call first. Just to check your story.”
He pocketed the pills and stepped outside while, behind him, Lynch cried for him not to go.
The hut sat in the middle of a vast grid of flooded rice paddies, and the rising sun reflected off the still water. Mist rose around Brekker, obscuring the nearest building, another shack a mile away in the distance. He took out his phone and called his current employer.
Greg Polten answered on the second ring. “I’m in L.A. about to get on a flight to Bangkok. Did you get any info?”
“You might want to change your flight plans. Lynch cracked when I held back the Typhoon pill that was on him when we took him, just as you predicted. Perhaps it’s time you told me what this drug does.”
“That’s not important for you to know,” Polten said, the air of superiority in the American chemist’s voice oozing through the phone. “I’m paying you to retrieve that pill for me and find more of it if you can. That’s it.”
The tone convinced Brekker that he was holding something far more valuable than the contract he’d taken.
“All right” was all he said.
“So can you find more of it?”
“Yes, I think we can. We’re going to Manila next.”
“Good. I’ll meet you there.”
“You will?”
“Yes,” Polten said. “I need to test the pill you have before we go any further, just to make sure you have the real thing.”
After seeing Lynch’s behavior, Brekker had no doubt that it was.
“And Lynch?” he asked. “What should I do with him? Eliminate him?”
“No. Bring him with you.”
“With us? Why?” Transporting him would bring extra security risks, though he thought Lynch would do anything he asked as long as he dangled the prospect of his dose in front of him.
Typhoon Fury Page 15