Typhoon Fury

by Clive Cussler

“I call it a weakness. That ferry has over twelve hundred passengers aboard. My men have killed its crew, disabled its radio, sabotaged the lifeboats, thrown all the life vests overboard, and opened the sea cocks. I estimate it will sink within the next twenty minutes. What you may not know is that many Filipinos can’t swim. Strange, for an island nation like ours, but true. Most of them will die within sight of the shore.” He paused, then said, “Unless you do something about it.”

  Juan seethed at hearing Locsin so casually talk about killing men, women, and children who were simply in the wrong place at the wrong time. What he would do if Locsin were in the room right now . . .

  “The clock is ticking, Cabrillo. I know you’ll ‘do the right thing.’ You’ve been a challenging enemy, but I have to go now.”

  With a click, the line went dead.

  Juan knew it was no choice at all. He couldn’t take the chance that Locsin was bluffing.

  He looked at Eric and said, “Stoney, give me all available speed toward that ferry.”

  55

  Remembering the ruse he’d read about Locsin using to escape from the police transport boat, Juan knew they would need to tread carefully. As the Oregon raced to the sinking ferry, he had Hali send out a distress call to the Philippine Coast Guard, but he knew it might be an hour or more before help arrived. If there really were passengers on board, they would have to carry out the rescue themselves.

  When the Oregon neared the ferry, which was already riding low in the water, Juan ordered Eric to come up beside it but not too close. The sight that greeted them was disturbing.

  Lining the railings were hundreds of people, including a large proportion of women and children, many of them terrified and crying. There was no doubt they were civilians. Juan could not imagine the mind of someone who would put in motion the atrocity that would occur if the ferry actually went under.

  “We’ll have to take Locsin’s timing at his word,” he said. “That means we have fifteen minutes before that ferry sinks. Options?”

  “We can start bringing them over,” Murph said, “but the deck of the Oregon looks to be about twenty feet higher than the deck of the ferry. With twelve hundred passengers, it would take at least half an hour for the evacuation even if everything went perfectly. And we’re starting to get a lot of chop out there from the coming storm.”

  With the Oregon’s advanced stability systems, only large waves would be discernible to the crew, so Juan hadn’t noticed the swells. But the ferry was an older boat and rolling viciously and no longer under power. Many of the passengers were getting sick. Even if they could get a gangplank connected between the ships, bringing people across safely would be difficult.

  “What about going aboard and seeing if we can close the valves flooding her?” Max suggested.

  “Chairman,” Hali said, “the RHIB is pulling into the boat garage.” Eddie and the rest of his team had rendezvoused with the Oregon after recovering a severely damaged Little Geek.

  Juan nodded to Max. “Get over there and see what you can do. Maybe you can slow the flooding long enough to get people over. Take Eddie, MacD, Linda, and Linc with you. Hali, make sure they’re armed in case Locsin left some of his soldiers on board.”

  Hali nodded and relayed the order to Eddie.

  “On my way,” Max said as he grabbed a handheld radio and hurried out of the op center.

  “I’m going, too,” Raven said, but Juan put up a hand to stop her.

  “My people have got this.”

  “But—”

  “Stay right here. They know how to work together. Stoney, pull us alongside the ferry.”

  Raven grumbled but didn’t move.

  The Oregon edged up beside the ferry. A minute later, Juan could see Max and the others latch a ladder over the railing and begin climbing down to the stricken vessel.

  “We could tow her,” Eric said. He nimbly kept the Oregon butted up against the side of the ferry. There was a screech of metal as the ferry’s rocking hull scraped up and down against the Oregon’s.

  “Where’s the nearest port?” Juan asked.

  “Fifteen miles plus,” Murph said. “Our speed will be severely limited if we’re towing a sinking ship. It could take us an hour or more to get there.”

  While Juan was watching the ferry bob, he could see Negros Island in the background every few seconds. The waves crashing on a wide, sandy beach less than three miles away gave him an idea.

  “We don’t have to go that far,” Juan said.

  Eric and Murph followed his eyes.

  “Beach the ferry?” Murph said.

  Eric nodded. “If we get it to shallow water, that would at least keep it from going under until the Coast Guard could get here to evacuate the passengers.”

  “Chairman,” Hali said, “I’ve got Max.”

  “Put him through.” When Hali nodded, Juan said, “Max, how’s it looking over there?”

  “We had a hairy time getting onto the ferry. It would be a mess trying to get people off in a hurry. One of the English-speaking passengers confirmed that the crew is dead.”

  “Change of plans. We’re going to tow you. Get ready to tie up some lines.”

  “Roger that. We’ll go to the bow and get ready to receive them.”

  Juan had Eric pull the Oregon ahead until the stern was next to the ferry’s bow. The deck crew tossed over three weighted nylon lines that let Max and the others pull three heavy ropes over to the ferry. These were lashed around the forward capstans, and Eric eased the Oregon ahead until they were taut. The ferry was one hundred feet directly behind them.

  “Start increasing your speed, Mr. Stone,” Juan said.

  The magnetohydrodynamic engines hummed as the Oregon strained against the ferry’s load. Eric was careful not to accelerate too quickly for fear of snapping the ropes. Soon, they were at ten knots, and steadily increasing.

  Max called in and said, “It looks like the lines are holding at our end. I’m going to the bridge, and Linda and the others are going to check the flooding to see if they can close the valves manually.”

  “What about the time?”

  “I think Locsin was right. At the rate we’re settling, I’d say ten more minutes might be generous.”

  Juan glanced at the clock and then at Negros Island on the screen growing slowly in the distance. “See what you can do.”

  Eric didn’t take his eyes off the controls, but he said, “Chairman, at this pace of acceleration, we’re going to need all ten of those minutes to get to the beach.”

  “Maybe more,” Murph said.

  Juan frowned at the clock again. “I know. Right now, time is the enemy.”

  • • •

  LINDA RACED to keep up with MacD as they descended the port stairwell to the ferry’s lower decks to figure out if they could close the valves flooding the ship. Max was headed to the bridge to see if he could close them from there, while Eddie and Linc tried to calm the passengers, to keep them from jumping overboard.

  Since it was a passengers-only ferry, there was no vehicles deck. Locsin’s men must have instructed all of the passengers to go topside because there was nothing but an eerie silence below, punctuated by Linda’s and MacD’s footfalls. The only light was provided by the faint, battery-powered emergency lights.

  Five decks down, they reached the water and waded in. A sheen of oil on top meant the engines were at least partially flooded. The water level was already waist-deep on Linda and rising.

  “This isn’t the bottom deck,” MacD said. “I can feel more steps going down.”

  “Then there’s no way to get to the valves,” Linda said. “Maybe there’s still enough power for Max to do it remotely.”

  She was about to radio Max when they heard faint cries.

  “Those are coming from this deck,” MacD said.

  Linda
turned and pointed to the starboard side. “It sounds like they’re coming from that direction.”

  They splashed through the water into a corridor running the length of the ferry. The meager emergency lighting punctuated the darkness every thirty feet.

  The pleas for help were more distinct now, and accompanied by repeated pounding. Linda and MacD went down the hall until they reached an unmarked door.

  MacD knocked on the door, and the response came in two different languages—English from a woman, and some kind of Filipino language from a man.

  “Don’t kill us! Please!”

  “We’re not going to kill you,” Linda called through the door. “We’re here to help.”

  “Oh, thank you! Thank you!” The woman inside translated for the man, who let out a cry of joy, then began speaking quickly in his native tongue.

  “We saw some men killing other crew members, so we hid in here,” she translated. “Now we can’t get the door open, and water is seeping under it.”

  MacD examined the door and said, “It opens out. There’s too much pressure on this side.”

  “Then we need to equalize it,” Linda said. “I didn’t see any axes on the way down.”

  “The door looks pretty flimsy. We’ll try it the old-fashioned way.” He reared back to give himself some room to kick. Though the water was above Linda’s waist, it wasn’t quite above his.

  “Stand back from the door!” Linda shouted, and gave MacD space.

  MacD lashed out with a hard kick, but the door held. He tried again, with the same result, but Linda thought she saw the door buckle a little at the jamb, so she said, “Keep going.”

  He gave it three more kicks. On the third one, the door caved in. It happened so suddenly that it swept MacD and Linda inside with it.

  Linda swirled around and finally came to rest against the far wall. She stood and wiped the oily water from her eyes. She saw the two crew members help each other to their feet while they spit out the nasty mixture.

  “Are you all right?” Linda asked them.

  They both nodded. Linda told them to join the rest of the passengers on the deck, where they could get more info about what was going on. The woman said, “Thank you,” again, and she took the crewman by the hand as they waded out of the room toward the relative safety of the upper decks.

  Linda turned to see MacD kneeling, the water lapping at his chest and dripping from his head. He grimaced in pain.

  She went over and helped him up. “What happened?”

  “My ankle got twisted when the door gave way,” he said through gritted teeth. “Feels like it was cranked in a vise.”

  “We need to get topside.”

  Even though MacD towered over her, Linda put one of his arms on her shoulders so she could help him hobble to the stairs. When they got there, he hopped up to the next landing with her assistance, then stopped so Linda could radio the situation to Max.

  “Linda, give me good news,” he said.

  “Wish I had something nice to say,” Linda replied, “but MacD injured his ankle saving a couple of the crew. And there’s no way to get to the valves. They’re underwater, maybe a deck below us, so we’re on our way up to you. Can you do anything from the bridge?”

  “Not a chance.”

  “How bad does it look up there?”

  “Really bad.”

  • • •

  MAX STOOD in a slaughterhouse.

  The ferry’s bridge was littered with half a dozen corpses, all of them shot and left where they dropped. Footprints of Locsin’s killers were stamped into the blood that was already congealing on the linoleum. The distinctive coppery smell was nearly overpowering.

  The crew wasn’t the only thing that had been laid to waste. All of the instrumentation was blown to bits. Radio, helm, engines, ballast control—all of it was completely destroyed. They had made sure that no one would be able to save this ferry, condemning twelve hundred people to their doom if the Oregon couldn’t save them.

  To the south, Max could see the fleet of fishing boats chugging along as they headed west toward their home port. They’d soon be out of view, shielded by the peninsula jutting from Negros Island. Max knew that just as soon as the ferry was safe, Juan would chase the boats down and carry out his plan to board each and every one of them to find Locsin.

  He stepped out onto the flying bridge to get some fresh air. Passengers milled about on deck below, but the information that Linc and Eddie were passing along to those who spoke English had seemed to quell the panic.

  He looked at the Oregon, its stern frothing with white water as it dragged the ferry toward the safety of Negros Island. Eric was doing an admirable job keeping the trajectory steady in seas that were getting choppier by the minute.

  The beach, however, was still a long way in the distance. Max didn’t want to think about what might happen if the ferry foundered before it got there.

  With the engines stopped and all of the ship’s equipment silent, Max was surprised to hear the whine of a small motor from the rear of the ferry. He turned to see something black bouncing along the water at high speed as it approached the stern on the starboard side.

  With horror, he recognized one of the Kuyog drones. It wasn’t bothering with the ferry. It was heading straight for the Oregon.

  “Juan, you’ve got a drone coming!” he yelled into the radio. “Starboard side!”

  Murph was lightning quick. The Gatling gun came to life, rotating quickly to find the drone. With a teeth-rattling buzz, it fired and blew up the Kuyog just before it reached the Oregon.

  The massive explosion caused many of the ferry passengers to scream and drop to the deck. But the cries of terror didn’t mask the noise of more approaching motors.

  Max turned to the chilling sight of dozens more Kuyogs coming at them like a swarm of hornets.

  Though Murph was the best at what he did, he wouldn’t be able to shoot them all before they hit. And if enough of them made it through, not even the Oregon’s armored hull could withstand that kind of punishment.

  Then two more ships would join the USS Pearsall on the ocean floor.

  56

  While Murph struggled to fight off the Kuyogs, Juan glanced at the fishing boats disappearing one by one behind the Negros Island peninsula. Locsin must have targeted the Oregon with a laser when they were distracted attaching the tow lines.

  Since the attacking drones were shielded from view by the ferry, Max spoke to Murph on a private channel to tell him whether they were coming along the port or starboard side.

  Murph couldn’t set the Gatling guns to automatically fire with the radar targeting system because of the stealth technology, so he had to switch back and forth between cameras on either side of the ship to see what he was aiming at. Both of the gun camera feeds were up on the big screen, along with the view dead ahead. Murph destroyed the first five Kuyogs, but he had only seconds to hit each one when it came into view.

  The sixth one got through.

  It struck the starboard side of the Oregon right at the waterline. Juan felt the ship rock as the explosion reverberated through the hull.

  Juan looked at Hali. “Damage report!”

  “We’ve got flooding in the starboard ballast tank,” Hali said. “Watertight doors are sealed and holding.”

  The Oregon began to tilt to starboard as the tank filled. Murph continued to fire away as more drones came into range.

  “Let’s get this list under control,” Juan said. “Flood port ballast tanks. It’ll slow us down, but we need the stability.”

  Hali said, “Aye, Chairman,” and initiated the flooding procedure. The listing stopped, and the Oregon began leveling out, though it was now riding lower in the water.

  “Our speed has been cut by twenty percent, Chairman,” Eric said.

  “Push the engines as hard as
you can,” Juan said. The beach was growing on the view screen, but too slowly.

  “We’re already at one hundred percent power output.”

  “Take us to one hundred and ten percent, and keep an eye on the coolant temperature.”

  Juan could hear the objections from Max in his head, that the supercooled magnets that accelerated the water through the Venturi tubes would fail if they operated above the red line for too long. They might even melt, irreparably damaging the engines.

  “Stoney, Murph said you and he had a possible way to decoy these drones away from the Oregon.”

  “I also said that we needed a working Kuyog to test out the theory,” Murph said, the strain in his voice obvious, as he blew away another drone. “This wasn’t what I had in mind, but now might be a good time to try it out.”

  “As long as Gomez has the UAV ready,” Eric said, “the beacon is set to go.”

  “Hali, tell Gomez to get it into the air ASAP.”

  “Aye, Chairman.”

  Juan watched as two Kuyogs came in from both sides simultaneously. Murph hit the first one but missed the second, which was aimed directly at the Oregon’s stern.

  “Incoming!” Juan called out.

  The drone went out of sight of the camera and detonated in a huge blast that echoed through the op center. The aft end of the Oregon momentarily lifted up from the impact.

  “Speed falling,” Eric said. “It must have damaged one of the engines.”

  Juan didn’t want to distract Max from his duties helping out Murph, so he got Linda on the line. She was now on the ferry’s flying bridge with Max and MacD, who was propping himself up on the railing to take the weight off his injured ankle.

  “Linda, did that explosion sever any of the tow lines?”

  “No, they’re still intact,” she replied. “But it looks like the starboard Venturi nozzle was hit. It’s spewing water upward, so it’s doing nothing for propulsion. I recommend shutting it down.”

  “Do it, Eric,” Juan ordered. “Linda, what’s the ferry’s status?”

  “It’s just a matter of time before she goes under. The passengers are scared stiff, but Linc and Eddie are doing a good job keeping the situation from melting down. Everyone has been moved to the stern of the ferry to keep them away from the explosions.”