Клайв Касслер - Typhoon Fury

Locsin’s soldiers, like their leader, were muscled beyond even the fittest officers on the Special Action Force. Two of them lifted the slain communist leader up as easily as if he were a doll.

Navarro got some small measure of satisfaction at seeing the dead man in his soldiers’ arms. Despite the colossal failure of the mission to bring Locsin to justice, at least he had prevented the rescue of his government’s greatest public enemy.

Despite the grievous wounds, Navarro felt no pain, an indication of how far gone he was. He watched as the soldiers dragged Locsin’s corpse toward the escort boats, then suddenly stopped.

Navarro thought his eyes were playing tricks on him when he saw Locsin’s feet deliberately plant themselves on the deck. It was as if he were seeing a zombie reanimate after death.

The soldier to either side stepped away. Locsin stood for a moment before turning slowly to face Navarro.

Navarro couldn’t believe it. Locsin had ragged wound holes in his thigh, stomach, and shoulder. He shouldn’t be alive, let alone standing.

Inhumanly, Locsin seemed to ignore the pain. He leaned down until he was eye to eye with Navarro, that sour garlic smell radiating off of him in waves.

“Nice try, Inspector Navarro,” Locsin said with wicked glee. “But, you see, I have things to do. Big plans.”

He stood up again and waved for his men to help him. They each put one of Locsin’s arms over a shoulder.

“Scuttle the boat,” Locsin ordered in a strong voice. “Let them wonder whether I’m dead.”

“Yes, sir,” they said in unison.

“Oh,” Locsin said, nodding toward Navarro, “and finish him off.”

Without hesitation, one of the men raised a pistol and aimed between Navarro’s eyes. The last thing he saw was its barrel spitting fire.

6

VIETNAM

Eddie steadied himself on the concrete lip at the top of the train tunnel opening. He had ditched the suit jacket and wore a harness around his legs and waist. The rope lashed to his harness was connected to a nylon line. One end of the weighted line dangled below them, just above the tunnel, while the other end was threaded through a winch anchored farther up the forested slope. Zhong Lin and the six other operatives with him made last checks of their harnesses and QBZ-95 assault rifles as the sound of the approaching engine echoed through the tunnel.

Zhong kept his eye on Eddie for any sign of betrayal or that he would chicken out of the assault. He made it clear that Eddie would be among the first four to drop onto the train, and if he didn’t do it, Zhong would shoot him on the spot.

Eddie had no intention of backing out, despite the challenge of getting onto the roof of a train moving at thirty miles an hour. He’d rappelled down cliffs and jumped out of helicopters many times, but this operation was something new. Although he could feel the surge of adrenaline that marked the beginning of any operation, he had no fear. Of course, he didn’t want Zhong to know that, so he maintained a mask of abject terror.

“Remember,” Zhong said to his men, “we drop the lines just as the engine passes beneath us, not before.”

They all returned a crisp “Yes, sir.”

He looked at Eddie. “Last chance to tell me the truth.”

“This is the train,” Eddie said in a deliberately shaky voice. “I’m sure of it.”

Zhong nodded. “It had better be.” Via a camera that had been set up at the tunnel’s opposite end, they had already confirmed the engine’s number was the same as the one Juan had texted to him.

They all lowered goggles over their eyes. Eddie gripped the rope tighter when the diesel motor reached a thundering crescendo below them. Just as it burst out of the tunnel, Zhong’s men took their cue.

They dropped two lines straight down onto the diesel engine. The weights at the ends were powerful neodymium magnets that attached themselves to the top of the steel chassis. The lines were yanked tight as they spooled out from the winch above.

“Now!” Zhong yelled.

The first two men jumped from the ledge and sailed down the temporary zip line. As soon as they were away, Zhong and Eddie followed.

Eddie sat into his harness, the straps digging into his thighs. His full weight was supported by the dual-bearing trolley that hung on the line like a miniature monorail.

Gripping the braking mechanism, he shoved off and accelerated down the line, quickly matching the train’s speed as he approached the top of the engine. The wind buffeted him, but the goggles kept his eyes from watering. When his feet were nearing contact, he hit the brake and came to rest on top of the train as if he were alighting from a street tram.

He detached the quick release and dropped to his knees as the other men came to rest on the roof within seconds of each other. When all eight of them were aboard, two men cut the lines, which snapped back toward the winch leaving nothing but the magnets still clinging to the metal. They all slipped out of their harnesses.

Zhong sent one man to take control of the engineer and the train, and he sent three men along the top toward the very back of the train to cut off any possible escape. For the rest of them, the next task was getting inside the first passenger car to begin the attack.

Eddie stole a look toward the ocean and saw the Oregon out there pacing the train. And in the jungle behind them, he barely glimpsed the flash of a black object brushing the treetops, something he would have thought was a bird if he didn’t know it was actually a quadcopter drone.

He hoped Juan was getting an update on where he was because it wouldn’t be long before the train was even more crowded.

• • •

FLANKED BY his most faithful bodyguards, Jimmy Su, the head of the Ghost Dragons triad, sat at a table in the train’s dining car and told his men to bring in the Americans. Six more triad soldiers lounged at the tables around them, relaxed but alert. Like him, they were all dressed in black suits and white shirts unbuttoned far enough to expose the tattoos on their chests.

Su had built up the organization to be one of the most powerful in Taipei. His most daring exploits had occurred in the last month. First, he had David Yao, his main rival in the triad, killed and thrown into the ocean. Then he orchestrated the theft of the USB drive carrying the names of the Chinese undercover agents operating in the U.S.

His real target had been a drive listing the Chinese moles on the island of Taiwan. If he had gotten hold of that information, he could have used it to his own advantage in infiltrating the Taiwanese security forces for his personal gain. But when the courier they’d kidnapped had revealed what the drive actually held, he’d had to change his plans. The data was worthless to Su but extremely valuable to the right buyer.

There was no way he would sell the drive back to the Chinese, no matter what price they were willing to offer. He wanted them to suffer the loss badly. Although he hated the communists, Su didn’t plan on simply handing over the drive to the Americans. They had to pay, and pay dearly, for the intelligence coup of the decade. The revelations would set Chinese intelligence gathering back years.

The thought brought a smile to his face as the two Americans were led in. One was tall and athletic, obviously the man in charge. He had to be the one who called himself Thomas Cates, although that certainly wouldn’t be his real name. The other was the thin, nerdy sort, and held a tablet in his hand.

“Mr. Cates,” Su said without standing or offering his hand, “please sit down.”

“Oh, good,” Cates said. “You speak English.”

“Six years at the American School in Taipei.”