Typhoon Fury

by Clive Cussler

  The mechanic checked the diagnostics on each Kuyog, then said, “Ready, comrade.”

  Tagaan held the powerful targeting laser as he scanned the sea. His drone showed the mystery cargo ship continuing toward them at high speed. It would be in range of his laser as soon as it came around the northern point of the bay.

  Then Tagaan’s eye was drawn to movement two hundred yards away. He wouldn’t have seen the small submarine conning tower surfacing if it hadn’t been for the two men climbing out of the water onto it.

  “Launch now!” he shouted.

  The mechanic flipped a switch, and the two Kuyogs raced away from the dock. In seconds, they reached such a high rate of speed that they rose up out of the water to ride atop drag-reducing hydrofoils jutting from the hull.

  Tagaan focused the laser on the sub’s conning tower. He heard the two-tone beep from the control pad indicating that the Kuyogs had locked onto the target.

  Tagaan felt a surge of pride at how well the system was working, and soon he’d see the results of thousands of hours of effort. Given how close the sub was, there was no way the two men would be able to get inside and submerge before the Kuyogs blew it out of the water.

  39

  Juan heard them coming before he saw them. The two bullet-shaped watercraft were backlit by the lights at the dock. Their engines sounded like the sinister growls of attacking predators.

  Once Linc was on the deck of the Gator, Juan pounded on the hull.

  “Linda, purge the ballast tanks and get out of here!”

  “Aye, Chairman,” she replied over the radio. “I see them.”

  The Gator’s big diesel engines rumbled to life as the pumps emptied the tanks. The submarine-boat hybrid rose out of the water and shot forward. Salty spray washed over them as Linda weaved back and forth in evasive maneuvers, but she couldn’t shake the pursuing craft.

  Juan gripped tight to one of the deck handholds so he wouldn’t be thrown off the slick deck and into the water. “Those must be a couple of the Kuyogs that the parts in the truck were for.”

  “Which means they’re loaded with a good chunk of Semtex,” Linc said. “And they’re gaining on us.”

  “I’m assuming those things aren’t friendly,” Linda said as she turned the Gator toward the open sea. “The Oregon is on its way to take them out with her Gatling guns.”

  Juan looked forward but couldn’t see the Oregon. The distance between them and the Kuyogs chasing them was closing too fast.

  “We won’t make it in time. Turn around.”

  “Turn around?” Linda asked. “Did I hear that right?”

  Juan eyed the supply ship still tied to the dock. “Yes. We’re going to give these things another target.”

  Linda sounded dubious, but she said, “Aye, Chairman.” The Gator swung around in a wide turn and headed back the way they’d come. The Kuyogs nimbly banked with them, their hydrofoils knifing through the water.

  “Refill the ballast tanks, but keep the Gator trimmed with the bow up.”

  “Got it,” Linda said with obvious understanding of what he had planned. “Filling tanks. I’ll straighten out so you can come below.”

  “Not yet. Come in on a parallel course to the supply ship. Stick with the evasive maneuvers until we’re within five hundred yards of her.”

  “That’s cutting it close.”

  Juan glanced at Linc, who gave him a thumbs-up. “I know. We’ll make it work. Tell Eddie to open the hatch as soon as you are level.”

  “Will do,” she said.

  “You really think this will work?” Linc asked. “As far as I know, this tactic wasn’t one we simulated during the Gator’s testing phase.”

  Juan smiled and shrugged. “We never tested it because it was too risky. I’d say it’s worth the risk now.”

  “Have to agree with you there,” Linc said over the menacing snarl of the gaining Kuyogs.

  “Get ready, Chairman,” Linda said.

  Juan watched the Gator’s hatch. “We’re ready. You first,” he said to Linc. “Just don’t get stuck.”

  They tossed their guns away, but Juan kept his pack with the Kuyog imaging sensor inside.

  The supply ship loomed ahead and the Gator suddenly straightened out. The hatch flew up, and Linc lunged for the opening. He neatly slid inside, and Juan quickly followed, tumbling down as his feet slipped on the metal hull. He tucked and landed in the cabin.

  Eddie sprang up and slammed the hatch down, whirling the wheel to seal it. When it was tight, he said, “Buttoned-up.”

  Linc pulled Juan to his feet. Juan went forward to the cockpit and said to Linda, “Now turn us toward the supply ship.”

  She yanked the wheel to port, aiming the Gator in the direction of the supply ship’s stern while continuing her evasive maneuvers.

  Juan stuck his head into the cupola and looked back. The Kuyogs were no more than twenty yards behind them.

  “When should I dive?” Linda asked, her hands tight on the wheel.

  Juan turned and pointed at the supply ship. “Get as close to her as you can.”

  • • •

  TAGAAN WATCHED with a grin as the strange vessel aimed straight for the supply ship on what seemed to be a suicide mission. He didn’t really care if they wanted to kill themselves, since the supply ship was no longer of any use to him with the Magellan Sun on the ocean floor. He was more excited to see the performance of the Kuyogs. So far, they had outdone even his lofty expectations.

  Then his grin vanished when he saw the fleeing boat plunge beneath the surface like a diving dolphin. With a surge of white water, it disappeared, leaving the pursuing Kuyogs with no target.

  No, they did have a target. The sensors were programmed to reacquire the target as quickly as possible if they lost their lock.

  So the supply ship directly ahead of them became the target.

  They reached the stern of the supply ship simultaneously, detonating just as Tagaan had designed them to do.

  He flattened himself on the dock as a hail of debris fell around him. The stern of the supply ship erupted in a geyser of flames, its fuel tank ruptured and burning. The crew fled the bow superstructure as the ship began to sink.

  Tagaan blinked and stood up. He searched the water for signs that the submarine-boat had been damaged or destroyed by the explosions, but he saw no telltale slick or debris, though he didn’t know if they’d be distinguishable from the remains of the supply ship. He had to assume that the daring maneuver had worked and they had got away.

  But even if the sub hadn’t escaped disaster in the sudden dive, the mystery cargo ship speeding toward them was still a threat. If it had more missiles or other weaponry on board, it might use them on the trucks loaded with half the shipment he’d come to collect.

  Only now he noticed his mechanic still cowering on the dock with his hands over his head.

  “Get up, you imbecile,” he said.

  The mechanic gingerly got to his feet and surveyed the supply ship that was now partially underwater. He smiled timidly at Tagaan. “At least the Kuyogs worked.”

  Tagaan gave him a withering look and barked at him through clenched teeth, “We’re leaving. Now! Get the drivers to their trucks.”

  “Yes, comrade.”

  While his orders were being carried out, Tagaan checked the approaching cargo ship on the feed from his airborne drone, which was following her on autopilot. Now that she was closer to coming around the point of the bay, he could see how dilapidated the ship was. If she was equipped with a missile battery and carried a submarine, he wondered what other secrets she held. If only he had more Kuyogs with him, he’d test out her defensive capabilities.

  The mechanic came running back to him.

  “Comrade Tagaan, the lead truck’s radiator is damaged, and the fuel tank is punctured. It will take an hour t
o fix them enough to drive.”

  “We don’t have time for that.”

  “Should I move its cargo to another truck?”

  Tagaan grabbed the mechanic’s shirt and screamed in his face, “I told you we’re leaving this minute!” Then he shoved the man away. He hated to leave so much of their precious cargo behind, but he couldn’t risk losing the entire shipment instead of just half. He’d also have to abandon the drone.

  Tagaan took one last look at the unassuming cargo ship racing toward them and said, “Now, get me a lighter.”

  • • •

  TEN MINUTES LATER, the Oregon stopped just long enough for the Gator to surface inside the moon pool and to pluck Eddie, MacD, and Murph from the water. Juan was the first out and he made a beeline for the op center, with Murph tagging along behind, still turning the Kuyog imaging sensor over in his hands. He reclaimed his chair from Max, who returned to his customary position at the engineering station. Murph handed the sensor to Eric and sat at the weapons console, tapping away at the tablet holding the data from the Magellan Sun’s navigation system.

  “What’s this?” Eric said, inspecting the object.

  “That’s one of the items in the shipment,” Juan said.

  “Imaging tech,” Murph added absently without looking up from his handheld computer. “Chinese-made. Can’t wait to take it apart and check out what they came up with.”

  “Anything salvageable from the Magellan Sun?” Juan asked Max.

  Max shook his head. “Went up like a Roman candle. Linda said you found Semtex on the truck. That must have been what cut it in half. Straight to Davy Jones’s locker.”

  “Then that’s our only insight into the Kuyog’s design,” Juan said, first pointing at the sensor, then nodding at the big screen.

  The feed from the deck camera showed the dock and road where he and Linc had infiltrated the truck. The supply ship was gone, and so were all but one of the trucks. The remaining truck, still parked near the end of the road, was ablaze. The Semtex wouldn’t be detonated by the fire, but it would probably burn brightly all through the night, reducing the truck and its contents to molten slag.

  Max raised an eyebrow at Juan. “Please don’t tell me that’s the truck you planted the tracker on.”

  “Okay, I won’t,” Juan said with a resigned look.

  “But it is.”

  Juan nodded. “So we have no way to follow where those trucks are going.”

  “That’s a bigger problem than you think,” Max said.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Raven called a few minutes ago. She said Locsin kidnapped Beth Anders.”

  While Max summed up what happened to Beth and Raven, Juan rubbed his temples, sick at the thought of what she must be going through.

  “And now we have no way to find him,” Juan said.

  Murph cleared his throat. “Actually, we might.”

  “I like your timing,” Juan said, glad to get some good news.

  “I was able to extract the GPS logs from the Magellan Sun and create a map of her shipping courses over the last month. We’re looking for an islet, right?”

  Juan nodded. “Dr. Ocampo told us Locsin had a dig going on somewhere in the Philippines, but he didn’t know the exact location, just that it was a small island. There are thousands in the country that could fit that description.”

  “Well, most of the Magellan Sun’s stops were either in Chinese or Filipino ports. Or right here, of course, when she was off-loading her illicit cargo. But there was one small island where she made multiple visits.”

  “Put it up on the screen so we can see where we have to go,” Juan said.

  “No need,” Murph said. “We saw the island just yesterday when we sailed out of Manila Bay. Locsin’s dig is on Corregidor.”

  40

  MANILA BAY

  The morning sun lit up the forested island of Corregidor like a glittering emerald set against the brilliant sapphire expanse of the Pacific behind it. Salvador Locsin sat in the bow of a pump boat, a large outrigger canoe fitted with an automobile engine at the back, a vessel common in the Philippines. He watched the tail end of the tadpole-shaped island pass by their port side, but he couldn’t see the abandoned dirt airfield that was hidden by the trees. A mile behind them to the north was the Bataan Peninsula, infamous for the merciless Death March that the Japanese forced the surrendering Americans and Filipinos to endure in 1942.

  Corregidor, the former fortress and current historic monument, sat at the entrance to the bay thirty miles from the city of Manila. The tiny pump boat was the most inconspicuous way for Locsin and his seven communist soldiers to get to the island, which would be teeming with curious, photo-happy tourists.

  For the past three weeks, Locsin’s men had been digging on the island under the pretense of a restoration project to excavate one of the tunnels that the Japanese had collapsed during the American invasion in 1945. The cache of Typhoon pills that his men had discovered also contained information that indicated the main research lab had been housed in one particular tunnel on Corregidor and gave its exact location. Locsin’s best hope for maintaining his supply was to dig out this tunnel and find either more Typhoon pills or the formula itself.

  Their progress had been slower than Locsin wanted because they could only dig during the day, otherwise they would draw unwanted attention to the project. His diggers told him that they were close to breaking through, so he’d come out himself today to oversee the final push.

  Locsin’s phone beeped with the call he’d been waiting for.

  “Are you back at the cavern?” he asked Tagaan.

  “Yes, comrade,” Tagaan replied. Even though their headquarters on Negros Island was situated far from any cell phone towers, he was able to call through the cavern’s Wi-Fi and illicit satellite Internet connection.

  “Has Beth Anders arrived?”

  “Yes, comrade. She’s currently unconscious, but we’ve already begun the experiment on her.”

  “Good,” Locsin said. “Let me know when you have any results. The information could prove useful to future operations. And if she recovers enough to work, have her examine the paintings and give us an appraisal. With our meth shipment now in the custody of the police, we’ll need another source of revenue soon. How did the Kuyogs perform?”

  In a brief conversation earlier, Tagaan had told him only the bare minimum about the sinking of the Magellan Sun and the attack on the truck convoy.

  There was a moment of silence from the other end of the phone. “The Kuyogs performed as intended” was Tagaan’s terse reply.

  “Then how did the attackers get away?”

  “I designed them to attack surface targets, not submarines. Our goal is to destroy the Philippine Navy, which has no subs.”

  Locsin fumed. “Are you making excuses?”

  “No, comrade. Just explaining the situation.”

  Locsin felt himself going ballistic, so he paused until he was able to calm himself. “How many Kuyogs do you have ready now?”

  “We have forty-five operational, and another ninety-five in various stages of production.”

  “Would they be effective against the ship that sank the Magellan Sun?”

  No hesitation this time. “Absolutely. But the ship does seem to have some defensive capabilities.”

  “I don’t care. If we have a chance to sink her, I would use every one of the Kuyogs we have now to put her at the bottom of the ocean. This Juan Cabrillo has caused extensive damage to our cause. He needs to pay.”

  “If the opportunity arises, I will make it happen. But we don’t know where he or his ship is.”

  “You said earlier that the captain of the Magellan Sun called you before she was sunk and told you that the reason he knew about the intruders was because he happened to be reviewing his computerized navigation char
ts at the time they were being downloaded.”

  “That’s correct. He said if he hadn’t been looking at them at that exact moment, he never would have known they were hacked, let alone that intruders were on board.”

  “Then I know where Cabrillo is headed next,” Locsin said. “The Magellan Sun stopped at Corregidor multiple times over the last few weeks to drop off equipment. The navigation logs had to be what they were looking for when they boarded the ship. They’re coming here.”

  The pump boat was now passing Malinta Hill in the middle of the island’s tail, an area called Bottomside, where the stronghold’s extensive tunnel system had been turned into one of the Philippines’s most popular tourist attractions.

  “You don’t have much time before they arrive,” Tagaan said.

  “You said the ship had to be bigger than the Magellan Sun.”

  “I think so, though there was no frame of reference in the dark for me to be sure.”

  “Then it can’t make more than fifteen knots. That gives us at least fourteen hours.”

  “It seemed to be going very fast for a ship its size.”

  “Twenty knots, then,” Locsin said with a shrug. “That still won’t put them here until nightfall. By then, we should have broken through and made off with whatever is inside the tunnel.”

  Locsin couldn’t take anything sizable with him on the small pump boat, which was why he had an alternative way off the island ready to go at a moment’s notice.

  “What about this Brekker who came after you last night?” Tagaan asked. “Do you think he’s dead?”

  “I doubt it,” Locsin said. “His wreck didn’t look bad enough to kill him.”

  “Do you think he was right about the World War Two ship carrying more Typhoon pills?”

  “If he was, then he has a head start on us, and we don’t know where he’s going. Unless we find out the name of the ship, it will be impossible to find Brekker. Be ready with the Kuyogs, just in case we run into Juan Cabrillo again. Get them loaded into the trucks for quick transport. I will contact you when we are successful here.”