Клайв Касслер - Typhoon Fury

“I want you to fly down to Negros today,” Locsin said. “You’ll take charge of the unloading of the Magellan Sun .”

“But the dig—”

“Is going as planned. I’ll send for you if I need you.”

Tagaan hesitated before nodding. He was just as anxious as Locsin was about their dwindling supply of Typhoon.

“What’s the status of the Magellan Sun ?” Locsin asked. “Is it on schedule?”

Tagaan checked his phone. “The GPS tracker says that it will arrive at the rendezvous as expected tonight at midnight.” He handed the phone to Locsin. The dot on the map display indicated that the Magellan Sun had already entered the Sulu Sea west of Negros.

“All right. You’ll have plenty of time to get down there.” Locsin liked being able to know where his specially modified cargo ship was at all times. With the kind of payload it was carrying, they couldn’t take any chances that it was being diverted, and the GPS tracker confirmed that the captain was staying the course.

Locsin was about to give the phone back when he stopped, transfixed on the map showing where his ship was.

An electronic tracker. That had to be the explanation for how the lab compound had been found.

“What did you bring back from Thailand with you?” Locsin asked Tagaan.

Tagaan cocked his head at Locsin, confused by the question, then shrugged. “It was a short trip. Just the briefcase holding the eagle finial. Beth Anders made off with the painting.”

“Did she touch the finial?”

“Yes. She inspected it before I brought out the painting.”

“How long did she have it?”

“Just a minute, while she examined it.”

“And the other woman? Did she touch it?”

“No. When I lost them after the gunfight, I went back to the club, put the finial inside the case, and got out of there with my surviving men.”

Locsin knew the metal case was lined with a thin layer of lead, which meant it had to be opened at customs. But it would also shield any electronics inside as well.

“Did you open the case when you stopped at the chemical lab on the way back?”

Tagaan thought for a moment, then said, “Yes, I did. I gave the two pills to Ocampo as you instructed.” Those had been the last pills Ocampo had received for his research, and he got them only because the two men who’d died in Bangkok wouldn’t need them anymore.

It also meant that the finial was exposed for a short time while the case was open. It had remained closed ever since it arrived back at their headquarters.

A look of recognition dawned on Tagaan’s face. “That redhead placed a tracking device on the finial?”

“A very small one.”

As the enormity of his mistake became apparent, Tagaan reared back and kicked an empty crate so hard that it shattered.

Locsin called one of his men at the headquarters and told him to retrieve the case from his room. He told the man to go to the most remote part of the cavern and open the case far from the opening in the roof so it wouldn’t be in the direct line of sight to any satellites overhead. He was to inspect the finial and replace it in the case before reporting back.

Ten minutes later, as the last packets were being loaded into the fire truck’s tank, Locsin’s phone rang.

“Yes,” Locsin said as Tagaan listened intently to the speakerphone.

“There was a small electronic chip inside the finial’s base,” the man replied breathlessly.

“You didn’t remove it, did you?”

“No, comrade leader.”

“Good. Have the finial brought to me in Manila at once. Do not open the case again. Do you understand?”

“Yes, comrade leader. It will be there by this afternoon.”

“Good. And send another ten men with it.” He hung up.

Tagaan fumed as Locsin put the phone away. “I’m a disgrace.”

“Spycraft isn’t your strength,” Locsin said, surprising himself about how calm he was about the setback. “Your other abilities are more valuable.”

“You’re not going to destroy the tracking device?”

Locsin shook his head. “It’s much more useful intact.”

Tagaan looked at him, puzzled, until he realized what Locsin meant.

“Do you still want me to supervise the unloading of the Magellan Sun ?”

“Yes, I can handle things here.” Locsin understood why he was so serene. It was because he was back to being on the offensive. When he was in control of the situation, it kept the anger at bay. “I want to find out who was helping Beth Anders. And now that we know there is a tracker on the finial, we have the perfect lure.”

26

After arriving in Manila and loading the PIG back onto the Oregon , Juan had the ship cast off and race down to its current anchorage five miles off the west coast of Negros Island in the central Philippines. The crew had spent the day planning and prepping for the midnight mission to intercept the Magellan Sun when it was scheduled to off-load its mysterious cargo. With only three hours until the anticipated arrival of their target, Mark Murphy was monitoring the radar in the op center and would inform Juan as soon as the ship appeared on the scope.

He and Julia Huxley were in his quarters finishing a pre-mission dinner loaded with carbs. Although the cabin was situated in the center of the ship, what looked like a huge window dominated the far wall. Only close inspection revealed that it was actually a 4K display screen feed of the view from a high-definition camera up on deck. The sun had set long ago, but the reflection of the brilliant half-moon shimmered off the calm sea.

The state-of-the-art TV was the only item to remain from Juan’s recent cabin renovation. He had grown tired of the modern design, so using his share of the generous budget all crew members received to decorate their homes at sea, he had it converted back to its previous style: retro classic forties based on Rick’s Café Américain from the movie Casablanca . The antique desk, dining table, chairs, and even the black handset telephone wouldn’t have been out of place in Bogie’s smoky office. Though he didn’t have room for Sam’s upright piano, the bedroom held a massive safe where he stored the ship’s working cash and his personal weapons. Other than the old-fashioned electronics, the only object that would have seemed unusual sat on his desk, a detailed model of Robert Fulton’s nineteenth-century hand-powered submarine that had been given to him as a gift by the French government after the successful completion of a past mission.

“How did Beth take it when you told her and Raven that they couldn’t come with us?” Julia asked as she nibbled on the remainder of her pasta. She had met the women briefly when she stitched up Mel Ocampo’s wound. Instead of the scrubs the Navy-trained physician favored while on board, Julia was still wearing the peach blouse and black pants from her shore excursion. As usual, her hair was tied back in a ponytail, and her soft, dark eyes conveyed both the intense focus and caring empathy of a first-rate doctor.

“They weren’t happy about it,” Juan replied, taking a drink from his coffee mug. He would have preferred to savor a glass of “Sori Ginestra” Barolo, but because of tonight’s upcoming mission, he restricted himself to caffeine instead of alcohol.

“She’s never been on the Oregon , has she?”

Juan shook his head. “And I didn’t think participating in this operation was the proper introduction since we don’t know what we’ll face. I’ll show her around when we get back to Manila.”

“I think she’ll like what we’ve done with the art she’s consulted on.”

“I don’t know about that. She probably thinks we’ve got it displayed in some corporate headquarters in New York, not on a ship loaded with weaponry.”