Jack Du Brul - River of Ruin

“Incoming!” he screamed as a streaking trail of smoke seemed to grow from the tip of the seawall, a twisting, probing tentacle that raced for the Englander Rose .

The news reached Liu Yousheng in fits and starts and the more he learned, the more confused and bizarre the reports became. He’d arrived at the Hatcherly container port at eight in the morning, his usual time, and spent two hours in his office pretending that this wasn’t the most important day of his life. He had found himself reading and rereading the same document pages several times and even then he gained only the barest impression of what they’d said.

The tension taxed his legendary concentration, making him irritable with his secretaries and the two junior executives who’d come to him with problems. None of them knew what had so distracted their boss, but all understood not to ask.

At ten, he couldn’t take it anymore. He grabbed his raincoat and told the secretary that he would be out for several hours. He ignored his car and chauffeur and chose to stride through the rain to the enclosed dry dock on the far side of the terminal. He cut a severe figure in his dark coat that even the enormity of what he’d built in Panama couldn’t dwarf. The cranes and stacks of containers looked like they scraped the roiling storm clouds; the gantry lights cast shadows as strong as the sun. The huge ships tied to the quay were like steel mountains that he had brought to the jungle. The expanse of asphalt was like an artist’s canvas that he alone could paint upon. The men, local and Chinese alike, were his too, and they felt his presence as he stalked across train tracks and around rows of shipping crates. A few of the longshoremen called respectful greetings and a forklift operator offered him a ride.

Today he would cement his domain by risking it all. When it was over, he would not only control the container port, but all of Panama, including the mighty canal. At the same time he was giving his homeland the leverage it needed to finally rein in the rogue province of Taiwan. It was a momentous day and he didn’t blame himself for allowing no other thoughts but this to concern him.

The loose ends-Maria Barber, Philip Mercer, and the soldiers helping him-had been relegated to the back of his mind. They were distractions really, nothing more than nuisances he would deal with over the next few days. President Quintero would be grateful to help him hunt them down for another percentage or two of the Inca treasure his men were sure to find.

His cell phone rang as he reached the huge building that hid the Korvald . He let the phone ring a second time so he could step out of the driving rain. The ship loomed over him, its funnel no more than fifteen feet from the arched roof. The rain beat against the metal building and made the drafty interior vibrate.

He shook water off his coat and unfolded his phone. “Yes.”

“Mr. Liu, this is Captain Chen. I’m at the Pedro Miguel Lock. Something is wrong.”

Liu’s voice cracked. “What?”

“The captain of the Englander Rose -”

“Use the code name, damnit!”

“Ah, Gemini Two. He reported that he heard gunshots and then he went off the air.”

“Gunshots? Where?”

“On his ship, sir.” The military commander paused, unsure how to proceed, for he could feel Liu’s anger over the phone. “And now it appears the ship is sitting just above the lock.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I don’t know, sir. Ah, hold on, please. I’m getting another report.”

Much to Liu’s irritation the connection was cut. What was that all about? He looked up to the rafters and noted that one of the big overhead cranes was in position to remove the DF-31 missiles from the Korvald . The rockets were going to be loaded directly on the eight erector/launcher trucks that lined the dock on one side of the refrigerator ship, their bright paintwork an odd juxtaposition to their deadly purpose.

The phone rang again and he answered before the chime stopped. “Talk.”

“The captain of Gemini One is reporting a problem on the Mario diCastorelli . He says that it just grounded in the Gaillard Cut, but not in its exact target spot and that the submarine was crushed when she hit.”

“An accident?”

“He couldn’t tell. He’s evacuating his own ship using its lifeboats.”

“Is he in position to detonate the Change ?” Liu asked sharply, ignoring his own rule about code names.

“Pretty close, sir. His men will make their way to shore and run for Gamboa and the boat that will carry them to the Atlantic side of the canal.”

“What’s happening on Gemini Two?”

“Nothing. It’s just sitting there. I’m about to order some men onto a pilot boat to see what the problem is. I’ll call you back when I have a report.”

“Good.” Liu snapped off his phone and walked calmly toward the gangplank. He relaxed his shoulders and returned his face to neutral. He wanted nothing to disrupt his plans and he realized how the Korvald ’s captain, Wong Hui, seemed to want a reason to bolt with the eight rockets still in the ship’s hold.

Captain Wong, Sergeant Huai and Mr. Sun met him as he climbed up the steep set of stairs and stepped onto the old ship’s deck. “Gentlemen,” Liu greeted warmly. “I trust we are set to go this morning.”

Wong made a point to study his watch. “At eleven o’clock, Mr. Liu.”

Liu tried to disarm the man. He smiled. “I can see why General Yu chose you for this job, Captain. Your dedication is laudable.”

“It is, yes,” Wong said without expression. “We have almost an hour to wait. Join me in my cabin for tea.”

“Is that really necessary?” Liu wanted those rockets on the dock as soon as possible. With those in his hands, General Yu couldn’t claim ignorance of what was happening if something catastrophic really was happening at Pedro Miguel.

This time, a hint of merriment touched the dour captain’s eyes. “Of course it isn’t. We can wait right here until the appointed hour.”

Bowing slightly in the face of such obstinacy, Liu made a gesture for Wong to lead the way. They waited in silence for a steward to bring the service and pour the tea. Liu felt the double pressure of Wong’s stubbornness, which bordered on insubordination, and the dissecting glances that Mr. Sun shot his way, as if he knew something was amiss. Only Sergeant Huai, a veteran of countless battles and a master of patiently waiting between them, seemed immune to the tension. He drank the tea and kept his eyes from meeting anyone else’s without seeming obsequious or arrogant.

Liu’s cell phone cried from inside his coat pocket. Rather than draw even more attention by excusing himself, he took the call and made sure his responses were guarded. “Liu Yousheng.”

“Sir, it’s Cheng.”

“Yes, of course. How may I help you?”

“Sir, the pilot boat was destroyed. I think by rockets from Gemini Two, but I can’t be sure. Now the ship is turning back for the lock. I think they mean to go back down.”

“Well, that is interesting news,” Liu replied mildly while his stomach erupted so fiercely that acid seared the base of his tongue. He fought not to wince and covered the pain by shifting in his seat. “Anything else?”

Either Cheng caught on to the fact Liu couldn’t speak openly or was too frightened to notice. He continued his report despite his superior’s easy tone. “The ship is about to reenter the lock. The bottom gates are closed so maybe they mean to ram it.”

“Let them try.” Liu’s laugh was genuine, for he knew nothing short of a battleship at full speed could break through the two sets of massive gates.