Typhoon Fury

by Clive Cussler

  The two guards didn’t slow down. They ambled by, still talking. Soon, even the muted voices were no longer audible.

  “Turn on the lights,” Eddie said.

  Murph found the switch and flicked it on.

  The ten-foot-by-ten-foot room was unassuming, just a collection of conduits and LCD control panels on the walls around them. No stacks of dollars or euros, no poor souls being trafficked, no piles of smuggled Uzis and AK-47s. Just the equipment room they were expecting.

  At least that’s what Eddie thought until Murph said, “Some things are different here.”

  “What things?” Eddie asked while MacD kept an eye on the door.

  “There are more conduits than the CIA schematics showed.”

  “Conduits for what?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Eddie was curious about what was locked in there, but it wasn’t important to their mission. “It doesn’t matter. Let’s get the navigational data and leave.”

  “In a jiffy,” Murph said. He cut into one of the conduits and exposed the cables inside. He attached clips to the wires and connected the leads to his tablet computer, immersing himself in the task as his fingers danced across the screen.

  “Someone else just walked inside,” Gomez said over the radio.

  “More guards?” Eddie asked.

  “No, this guy looks like one of the crew.”

  “All right, we’ll keep an eye out for him.” Eddie turned and saw Murph peering at his screen in confusion. “What’s wrong? You can’t find the data?”

  “No, that’s not it. I’m sure it’s here somewhere.”

  “Then what?”

  “It’s just strange,” Murph said and looked up at Eddie, his brows knitted together like he was about to deliver bad news. “I think this ship has a fire control system.”

  At first, Eddie thought he was talking about a fire suppression system, but then he realized Murph would never confuse the terms control and suppression.

  He meant the Magellan Sun was armed.

  32

  As Brekker had expected, getting into the warehouse had been a simple task once his men had taken out the guards at the front gate. Locsin hadn’t posted any of his soldiers outside, the mistake of someone who was overconfident in the security of his position. Now Brekker had the high ground in the warehouse office, which still bore the distinct smell of garlic body odor. Locsin and his men had taken up defensive positions next to the fire trucks. Van Der Waal, acting as the sniper, was up in the rafters of the warehouse while the rest of his men were spread out around the perimeter, ready to open fire at his command.

  At first, the only response Brekker had received from Locsin about discussing his business proposal was a few potshots at his men and some choice curse words about their predicament, but, with several well-placed sniper rounds, Brekker made it clear that any attempt to fight back would come at a high price. He keyed the microphone for the warehouse PA system.

  “Right now, you’re wondering who I am and how I found you here,” he said. “Alastair Lynch sends his best wishes. He couldn’t be here, however, because he’s feeling under the weather. Apparently, a couple of days without a dose of Typhoon will do that to a man.” He paused to let the information sink in.

  “All right,” Locsin finally yelled back. “You have my attention. You’re obviously not with the authorities or we wouldn’t be talking like this. What do you want?”

  “I have a business transaction that you might be interested in. Specifically, the Typhoon business. I think it could be lucrative for both of us.”

  “Why should I trust you? You killed one of my men.”

  “You and I both understand the need for force to make a point. Obviously, my point was that I could have killed you and all your men before you even knew I was here, but where would that have gotten me?”

  Brekker knew Locsin’s type. Capturing him at gunpoint wouldn’t work. He may have been nabbed by the police once, but he wouldn’t let that happen again. Locsin would go down fighting rather than be taken alive. He’d never submit to the kind of torture that Lynch was going through.

  Brekker continued, “If I hadn’t made my demonstration, would you have listened to me?”

  “I’m listening now.”

  “Good. Then I think we can help each other. I know you have found a supply of Typhoon secretly stored since World War Two.”

  “I won’t tell you where it is.”

  “I’m not expecting you to. But I may know where more of it is.”

  “Then why are you talking to me?”

  “Because I think you know where more of it is, too. It would be a shame for it to be destroyed before either of us could find it.”

  Another pause. Brekker had hit a nerve.

  “How do I know you’re telling the truth?”

  “There’s a shipwreck somewhere in the Philippines that carried a large supply of Typhoon in its hold. It was sunk by a submarine during the Second World War. I know its location.”

  “What is your proposal? You’re going to tell me where it is?”

  So Locsin didn’t know about it. He must have another potential source of the drug. Interesting.

  “It depends how much that knowledge is worth to you,” Brekker said.

  “Why don’t you keep it for yourself?”

  “I’m a pragmatic man, Mr. Locsin. The Typhoon may still be inside the ship or it may not. There’s no guarantee that the cargo was actually on board. And even if it had been, it might have been destroyed either in the sinking or by deterioration during the last seventy years on the ocean floor. I’d rather go for the sure thing than risk coming away with nothing.”

  “How much is a sure thing worth?”

  “Fifty million dollars.”

  Brekker heard laughter coming from the warehouse floor.

  “What makes you think I even have that kind of money?”

  “Because Alastair Lynch told us about the meth shipment in that fire truck down there. Fifty million dollars’ worth headed to Indonesia.” Brekker neglected to mention the fact that he didn’t know which fire truck it was.

  “And if I refuse your offer?”

  “Then the National Police Force will be making a raid on this facility in the very near future, and you’ll be out fifty million dollars anyway.”

  “Then you won’t have Typhoon.”

  “I’ll just have to take my chances that I can find the cargo on my own.”

  “All right. When do you want the money?”

  “According to Lynch, the meth is scheduled to be delivered in a week. I expect the money to be wired to my account the same day you receive payment.”

  “How do I know you’ll tell me the location of the shipwreck once you have the money?”

  “I’m going to tell you before you wire the money.”

  Silence.

  “What’s the catch?” Locsin asked.

  “The catch is that if you don’t wire the money once I tell you the location, I’ll blow up the entire shipwreck and everything in it. You’ll get nothing.”

  “I’ll have to verify the ship is there first before I pay you.”

  “Of course,” Brekker said. “That won’t be hard to do before the meth arrives in Indonesia. And when I get the money, I’ll tell you how to disable the explosives. They’ll obviously be booby-trapped, so don’t try to disarm them without my instructions. Do we have a deal?”

  “We have one other problem,” Locsin said. “There’s someone else after the Typhoon drug. His name is Juan Cabrillo.”

  “Yes, you mentioned him. That sounds like it falls under the category of ‘not my problem.’”

  “It’s your problem if he finds the ship before you do.”

  “He won’t. I’m the only one who knows it’s there and what’s inside.”
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  “The woman who got away from me. She’s heard everything you just said. She works with Cabrillo.”

  “Then I suggest you find her and get rid of her. Again, not my problem. I repeat, do we have a deal?”

  While he waited for Locsin’s answer, Brekker heard Van Der Waal speaking in his earpiece. “We’ve got movement at the airport crash tender.”

  Brekker released the microphone button and replied, “One of Locsin’s men?”

  “No, we’ve got them all accounted for. I think it’s the woman.”

  “Take her out. We’ll do it as a favor to Locsin.”

  “I don’t have a clean shot. Now I can see the cab door opening. The dead guy in the driver’s seat just fell over.”

  Brekker looked down at the airport crash tender, but he didn’t have any better view inside the cab. What he did see was the nozzle on the front slewing around.

  It was pointing directly at Van Der Waal’s sniper position on the catwalk.

  “Get out of there!” was all he could yell before a jet of water rocketed from the nozzle all the way across the warehouse and hit Van Der Waal just as he rose to run away. The powerful stream lifted him off his feet and tossed him over the railing like a rag doll, his rifle tumbling in the air next to him. As Brekker watched in horror, his closest friend plummeted fifty feet to the concrete floor, lethally smacking his head into a ladder truck on the way down.

  The détente was gone. “Kill them all!” Locsin shouted. As gunfire erupted throughout the warehouse, he shoved the redheaded woman into the nearest fire truck and started it up.

  “Don’t let anyone leave the building!” Brekker yelled into his comm unit.

  But it was too late. Despite the furious barrage of rounds pouring into it, Locsin’s truck smashed into the closest garage door and tore through the thin aluminum. That had to be the one carrying the load of meth.

  “We can’t let him get away!” Brekker shouted to his team. “Forget the other men and meet me outside. I want Locsin’s head on a pike.”

  Apparently, he wasn’t the only one who wanted to hunt Locsin down. The woman in the airport crash tender revved up the enormous engine and jolted forward, tearing an even bigger hole in the building as she took off in pursuit.

  33

  Beth held on to the console in front of the fire truck’s passenger seat as it smashed through the front gate and careened onto the road. The terror that had gripped her before was now numbed, replaced by a resolve to get out of her predicament. Locsin, incandescent with anger, was driving so wildly that she had the urge to buckle her seat belt, but she decided she’d rather risk dying in a fiery wreck than go any farther with this madman. At her first opportunity, she’d open the door and jump out no matter how fast the fire truck was going.

  Locsin seemed to read her mind.

  “Don’t try to escape,” he said, brandishing the pistol in his right hand. “I never miss.”

  Beth had no doubt that, even if he did miss, he’d turn the truck around just to run her down. Still, she had to try.

  Locsin flicked on the emergency lights but left the siren off. The early-morning streets of Manila were nearly deserted, and the few cars that remained pulled aside for the approaching fire truck. When the cars were going too slowly, Locsin smashed them out of the way.

  He thumbed the fingerprint reader on his phone and tossed it to Beth. Then he trained the pistol on her.

  “Call the first number in the contact list and put it on speaker.” When she hesitated, he yelled, “Now!”

  She did as he demanded.

  “Tagaan here.”

  “We were ambushed,” Locsin said through gritted teeth. The words almost seemed to pain him. “I’ll try to lose them, but I may not be able to.”

  “Cabrillo?”

  “Not him. New player. I need to meet the helicopter somewhere else.”

  Another helicopter? Beth thought. The last thing she wanted to do was get in a helicopter with this guy, especially after he crashed his last one.

  “Where?” Tagaan asked.

  “We’re headed toward the Navotas Fish Port Complex. Tell the pilot to track my phone. I’m in the fire truck. He won’t be able to miss me.”

  “And the meth?”

  Locsin paused, then said, “We’ll make more.”

  “But that’s fifty million—”

  “I know how much it is!” Locsin screamed, before calming his voice. “Just get the Magellan Sun unloaded, and let me know how the Kuyog test goes. And get that helicopter here now!”

  Locsin nodded for Beth to give the phone back to him and she did. He turned on the siren, emitting an ear-piercing wail.

  They turned onto a wide road separated by a median. Beth recognized it from their drive to the mall earlier that evening and knew they were near the harbor. There wasn’t much time until they reached the fish complex, where the helicopter was supposed to rendezvous with them.

  A siren behind them began to blare. Beth thought—hoped—the police were after them, but when she looked in the side rearview, she saw that it was the huge airport crash tender that had almost been used to blast her with water.

  Streetlights lit up the driver’s face. It was Raven, her eyes laser-focused on her quarry.

  Beth felt a sudden pang of guilt at getting Raven stuck with this mess. If she hadn’t rushed to get the eagle finial, which she realized now that they’d left back in the warehouse office, the two of them wouldn’t have gotten captured.

  But Raven wasn’t giving up on her. And that made Beth even more determined not to give up, either, but the truck was going at least sixty on the four-lane road. Jumping out now would kill her for sure.

  Two black SUVs came up fast and tried to pass the crash tender. Those had to be Brekker and his men. The smaller vehicles were more nimble than the crash tender, but one of them made the mistake of lagging behind to try to shoot out the massive tires. Raven wrenched the wheel sideways and crushed the SUV against a concrete wall abutting the street. Cinder blocks went flying as the SUV plowed into it.

  The other SUV, however, managed to sneak by the crash tender and was approaching fast.

  Locsin wasn’t about to let it get close. He weaved back and forth across the road in an attempt to smash it into a wall like Raven had. But the driver of this SUV had learned his lesson. He jumped the median and drove on the other side the wrong way.

  Now Locsin couldn’t stop them from pulling up even with him.

  Gunshots rang out from the SUV. Beth screamed and covered her face as bullets shattered the side windows. Several of them ricocheted around the interior and put holes in the windshield safety glass. Locsin returned fire with his pistol while he swerved all over the road.

  Beth tried to hang on with both hands, but her right arm wouldn’t work. At first, there was no feeling in it, but then there was a stab of agony as her shoulder rammed into the door.

  She looked down and got light-headed when saw blood soaking her shirt.

  She’d been shot.

  • • •

  WITH THE FIRE TRUCK slowing down ahead of Raven as it weaved back and forth across the road, she caught up until she was right behind it. She saw Brekker reloading his weapon in the passenger seat of the SUV and knew it was only a matter of moments before he aimed a kill shot at Locsin. If it had been only Locsin in the pumper truck, she would have gladly let him, but Beth was in there, too. Raven had to do something to keep her from being badly injured or, worse, dying.

  The eight-wheeled airport crash tender wasn’t much different from the trucks she’d learned to drive in the Army during convoy escort duty. The biggest distinction was the dashboard’s firefighting control system. From her seat, she could reach the joystick controlling the nose-mounted water nozzle, the one she’d used to take out Brekker’s sniper.

  She aimed it at the open win
dow of the SUV and pressed the trigger, unleashing a combination of water and foam.

  Her aim was off, and the jet of liquid arced up high over the front of her target, spraying the road with the slick white foam. Brekker, who had finished reloading, saw the stream of water and turned to fire at her, but the SUV was having trouble maintaining traction.

  She adjusted her aim down, and the foamy water hit Brekker square in the face, knocking him out of view and flooding the SUV. It spun as the driver lost control and plunged into a concrete wall. Probably not a deadly crash but enough to take the SUV out of the action.

  Raven shifted her aim to the fire truck. The foam poured onto the top of the cab. She was hoping it obscured Locsin’s vision, and it seemed like it worked. The fire truck slowed enough for her to pull along the passenger side.

  She eased closer, hoping to let Beth escape the truck and jump onto the airport tender. But when she saw Beth looking back at her, a grimace of pain on her face, she knew that wouldn’t be possible. Her shirt was covered with blood.

  Locsin leaned forward and raised a pistol to fire at Raven. She ducked, but, to her surprise, only one bullet lodged in the cab door. She looked up and saw him disgustedly throw his empty pistol out the window.

  Raven’s only hope was to run them off the road, disable Locsin somehow, and get Beth to a hospital.

  She rammed them twice, but the fire truck was resilient and absorbed the blows without much damage. She was about to make a third attempt when the fire truck veered left.

  The airport crash tender was less maneuverable, and she struggled to follow the fire truck into the Navotas Fish Port Complex, smashing through part of a run-down building as she heaved the steering wheel left to make the turn.

  She saw where Locsin was heading. A helicopter was coming down up ahead. That was her new target. If she could take out the chopper, his only avenue of escape would be gone.

  The fire truck turned into a narrow alleyway with stacked shipping containers on either side. Raven followed, but she soon realized that had been exactly what Locsin had been hoping she’d do.

  The crash tender was far wider than the fire truck, and the sides impacted the containers, causing them to begin a cascade of falling steel.