Клайв Касслер - Typhoon Fury

41

MANILA

When one of the Oregon ’s two lifeboats reached the Manila dock at noon, Juan met Raven at the gangway. With bloodshot eyes and rumpled clothes, she looked like she’d gotten even less sleep than he had. As soon as she was aboard, the lifeboat cast off and headed back to the Oregon , anchored south of Corregidor in Manila Bay.

“Has there been any ransom demand?” she asked without preamble, her ebony hair blowing in the breeze.

Juan shook his head. “Locsin’s group hasn’t even publicly acknowledged that they have Beth, and they have no way to contact us directly. We found out that Gerhard Brekker is a South African mercenary, but we don’t know how or why he’s involved in all this. It sounds like he thinks that this unnamed shipwreck he mentioned might contain more Typhoon, although if it’s been under the ocean for seventy years, the cargo is likely to have been destroyed long ago. And the fire truck with the meth on board is in police custody, so you hurt Locsin’s smuggling operation badly.”

“What about the helicopter he used to escape with Beth?”

“There’s no way to track it.”

“It’s my fault that she was taken,” Raven said, her hands tightly balled into fists. “I have to get her back.”

“It’s Locsin’s fault, not yours. And we’ll all work together to get her back.”

“How?”

“We have a lead in the search for Locsin.” He told her about the previous night’s operation and the discovery that the Magellan Sun had visited Corregidor several times.

“You think that’s where he’s digging to find more of the Typhoon drug?”

“It makes sense, given Ocampo’s claim that the pills date back to World War Two. Corregidor was the most heavily defended island in the Philippines during the war. If the Japanese wanted a place to develop the drug, they couldn’t have picked a more isolated location.”

Raven nodded. “If I remember my West Point history lessons correctly, many of the tunnels on Corregidor collapsed during the final American assault to retake the island.”

“Corregidor is riddled with tunnels and caves,” Juan said. “Gomez Adams, our helicopter and drone pilot, is getting ready to do an aerial survey of the island and look for any unusual recent activity.”

“I want to be there when you get Locsin. If you try to stop me, I’ll—”

Juan put up his hands in surrender. “I thought you might, so I’m having Eddie prepare some gear and weapons for you. As far as I’m concerned, you’re part of this operation now. “

When they got to the Oregon , where it was anchored south of Corregidor, Juan went straight to the unused cleaning supply closet and led her into the secret bowels of the ship. Even someone as seemingly jaded as Raven had to stop for a moment when she saw the plush carpet, soft lighting, and stunning paintings inside the outwardly decrepit cargo hauler.

“It gets better,” Juan said with a smile. “Come on.”

A full tour of the ship would have to wait. He took her directly to the op center, where Gomez was at his usual spot, piloting the drone that was circumnavigating Corregidor. Juan took his seat while Raven wandered around the high-tech command center with her mouth agape. Max, Linda, and the rest of the bridge crew each nodded to her as she passed, amused at the response of their guest and no doubt reliving their own amazement at seeing the same room for the first time.

“Welcome to the real Oregon ,” Juan said.

Raven recovered quickly from her shock and came to stand next to him, staring at the big screen relaying the drone feed.

“You people are full of surprises,” she said. “Does Beth know about all this?”

Juan shook his head. “We like to keep things close to the vest. She probably thinks the artwork we buy with her help is kept in an airless vault. Most of it is, but we like to display some of it on board. Makes the Oregon seem more like a home, which for us it is.”

“You must make a good living.”

“The Corporation is a for-profit enterprise, but we’re also patriots. We only take jobs that are in America’s interests. The fees we charge are compensation for the dangerous work we do. The Oregon has taken some costly hits in the past, and we’ve lost good people along the way. I don’t want to lose Beth, too.”

Raven gave him a brief nod. “Then let’s find Locsin.”

Juan turned to Gomez. “Anything interesting yet?”

“Nothing so far. I started on the north side at the dirt airfield, and I’m traveling counterclockwise around the island. The drone is flying at a thousand feet, but if we notice something interesting, I can zoom in.”

The quadcopter’s camera was currently focused on Topside, where the island’s main artillery batteries were located. Most of Corregidor was heavily forested, with only a few roads connecting the structures and displays making up the Pacific War Memorial.

Gomez narrated whenever he focused on a particular item. “That husk of a building used to be the island’s hospital, at least the one that was above ground. The other hospital was underground in Malinta Hill, which we’ll see in a few minutes.”

The camera panned over to a quarter-mile-long, burned-out structure.

“That’s the old barracks. Used to be the largest in the world. Next to it is the museum. Those little open areas at the ends of the roads are where the old cannons are. Some of them are still intact, but they were disabled long ago.”

Tourists strolled around the attractions, and open-air trams trundled along the roads to shuttle them amongst the sites.

The drone circled around and flew east toward the tail end of the island. The flat area of Bottomside was where the Lorcha Dock was located, to the north. Another pier jutted from the south coast, and a small powerboat was pulled alongside it. “Tourist catamarans and other boats have been going in and out next to the old Lorcha Dock.”

“What about the south dock?”

“Not used commercially, but it’s used occasionally by private charters. There are enough people around that you’d be noticed if you docked there.”

Juan looked at Max. “We may not want to disembark there and draw attention, but it sounds like a good place for a pickup to get off the island. What about the landing?”

“There’s an unused airstrip at the tail end of the island,” Max said. “The tourist trams don’t go there, so we should have some privacy to come ashore. I’ll have the techs get the Gator fueled and ready.”

The drone kept going. Juan’s eye was drawn to a fine cloud of dust rising from a spot on the south side of Malinta Hill.

“I’d say that qualifies as unusual,” Juan said.

“I see it,” Gomez replied. “Zooming in.”

A narrow road could be seen hugging the steep terrain, ending where a dark hole punctured the hill. A van was parked outside, and cables led from a portable generator into the tunnel. A miniature bulldozer, commonly known by the brand name Bobcat, came out to add a load of rocks and dirt to a large pile. When it was finished dumping its load, the Bobcat went back inside.

“I think we have a winner,” Max said.

“Do we have a map of the tunnel system?” Juan asked.

“Pulling it up now.”

Gomez zoomed out, and Max overlaid the tunnel map over Malinta Hill. A twenty-four-foot-wide main tunnel bisected the hill from east to west along the central axis of the island’s tail. Dozens of smaller lateral tunnels extended from the main tunnel, forming a herringbone pattern. Another herringbone went south toward the exact spot where the excavation was taking place.

“Those are called the Navy Tunnels,” Max said. “The whole complex was dug out by the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers after World War One, since the Philippines was an American colony at the time. Some of the tunnels were intentionally blown up during the 1945 American invasion by suicidal Japanese Marines and were never reopened. They no longer connect to the main tourist tunnel.”