Клайв Касслер - Typhoon Fury

For today’s mission, the PIG was set up as a reconnaissance vehicle, with observation drones that could take off through the roof hatch. Juan wasn’t as adept as Gomez at flying them, but he’d get to test his recent training.

Guided by the satellite GPS navigation, Juan told Eddie to turn when they reached a dirt road near their destination, the last location of the homing beacon broadcast by the transmitter attached to the bronze eagle finial. The trail was well worn by truck treads, but the dense jungle foliage threatened to overgrow it, and branches scraped against the sides of the PIG.

A mile into the dirt road without passing a single vehicle, they arrived at a turnoff fronted by a heavy steel gate topped with razor wire. A ten-foot-high chain-link fence disappeared into the jungle on either side. Eddie slowed the PIG as they passed.

“That kind of security seems a tad excessive,” he said, “since we’re about an hour from nowhere.”

“They’re either very intent on keeping people out,” Juan said, “or they really want to keep someone from leaving.”

Raven peered at the sturdy gate. “It’s definitely the type of precaution I’d take to safeguard half a billion dollars of artwork.”

Beth shook her head. “But why keep it way out here in the middle of the jungle? Wouldn’t they want to have it more accessible if they’re planning to use it for trading purposes?”

“Only one way to find out,” Juan said. “Why don’t we see what our eye in the sky can tell us?”

Eddie drove another three hundred yards, out of sight of the gate, and stopped. The vegetation was so dense that he couldn’t pull off the road, but it didn’t seem like they’d be blocking traffic anytime soon.

Juan hit the switch to retract the rooftop hatch, and humid mountain air flooded the cabin. Using his smartphone as a controller and watching the camera’s feed on the dashboard screen, Juan launched the gull-sized unmanned aerial vehicle.

The UAV shot up above the treetops, then whizzed toward its target. Although a quadcopter would have been more maneuverable, the buzzing of four rotors would draw unwanted attention in a quiet location like this. Instead, the drone had wings and a tail, with a compact gimbaled camera in the nose and a variable-speed propeller at the rear. Its top speed was sixty knots, but the prop could be slowed to stealth mode for silent reconnaissance. Painted to resemble a hawk, the drone looked like a bird of prey soaring on an updraft.

Flying at a thousand feet, the drone followed the road for a half mile until it reached a clearing with a large central prefab-style building, surrounded by several smaller ones, and a helicopter pad where a chopper idled, its rotors slowly churning. The gravel driveway continued on past the compound and into the jungle beyond. Nobody seemed to notice the circling drone. A half-dozen guards in green fatigues armed with assault rifles patrolled the compound, and five Humvees were parked at the edge, two of them with mounted .50 caliber machine guns.

“That’s some heavy firepower for an art storage facility,” Eddie said.

“With that many guards, we’ll have to wait until nightfall to get a closer look,” Juan said. “Raven and Beth, you’ll wait here and watch us with the drone while Eddie and I go through the fence and see if we can find out what’s going on here.”

“I’ll go with you on the infiltration,” Raven said.

Juan shook his head. “We’ll move faster if it’s just the two of us. Besides, your file said you’ve operated small drones before, and I’m guessing that’s not Beth’s forte.”

“If you wanted me to crash one,” Beth said, “I’m your woman.”

“Then it’s settled . . . Raven, I’ll show you the controls for this—”

Juan was interrupted when a door on the large building opened and six men walked out. The two in the lead were talking as they headed toward the waiting helicopter.

“Looks like someone’s getting ready to leave,” Juan said.

Raven leaned forward to get a closer look at the screen. “Can you zoom in on them?”

Juan focused on the two men in front, both powerfully built Filipinos.

“That’s him,” Beth said. “The guy in the Bangkok club.”

“He was called Tagaan,” Raven added.

“Do you know who the man next to him is?” Eddie asked.

Beth and Raven shook their heads.

“Maybe we can get an ID,” Juan said. He took a freeze-frame of the image and uploaded it by satellite to the Oregon ’s computer. He texted Murph to run it through the CIA facial recognition database to see if they could get a match.

Tagaan and the other man stopped and talked animatedly, pointing several times at the building they’d just left.

“Something inside sure has them worked up,” Eddie said.

“I just hope they aren’t arguing about whether to destroy the paintings,” Beth said.

“If Eddie and I determine that the artwork is inside,” Juan said, “we’ll decide if we can get it out ourselves. If not, we’ll return with a bigger team. But remember, that transient signal from the homing beacon doesn’t mean this is the storage facility. It could have been taken somewhere else while it was shielded in its case.”

“I know,” Beth said. “I’m just nervous about coming up empty after getting so close.”

“We got an ID on our mystery man,” Eddie said. On the screen was a photo of the man with Tagaan, but in this photo he looked much skinnier.

Juan read the name aloud. “Salvador Locsin. It seems your drug dealers are also communist revolutionaries looking to overthrow the Philippine government, and this guy is the leader.”

Eddie leaned toward the screen. “His men wiped out a dozen policemen during an attempted prison escape at sea last week. The Philippine National Police are still unsure whether he was actually rescued or went down with the ship.”

Juan nodded at the drone feed. “He’s the healthiest-looking dead person I’ve ever seen.”

Eddie scrolled through the list of charges against Locsin. “Murder, political assassinations, extortion, corruption, racketeering. There are pages of this stuff. It would take less time to name the crimes he hasn’t committed. And he has a price on his head. Two million dollars.”

“Our first priority is the paintings,” Beth said.

“Agreed,” Juan said. “But if we can get a two-for-one deal on this job, we might as well help the Filipino police get their man.”

Locsin and Tagaan finished their discussion and both boarded the helicopter.

“This might be good for us,” Eddie said. “Security could loosen up once he’s gone.”

“When the boss is away, the mice will play?” Juan said with a smile.

Eddie chuckled. “Present company excluded, Chairman.”

The chopper took off and pivoted over the compound before accelerating away.

Right toward them.

The sound of the throbbing rotors grew quickly.

“Juan,” Beth said, craning her neck to the window, “isn’t he going to fly right over us?”

Of all the directions he could have flown, the pilot happened to pick the one that would do exactly that.

“Too late to leave now,” Juan said. “They’d notice our dust trail for sure. We’ll just have to hope they don’t spot us through the foliage.” The drab green paint provided some camouflage, but the squat outline of the truck wasn’t designed to blend into a jungle background.

They all held their breaths as the helicopter approached. It didn’t fly directly over, which was actually worse because it meant that one side of the chopper had a decent view. That is, if anyone was actually looking in their direction. The sun glinting off the canopy made it impossible for Juan to tell if anyone was facing them.