Клайв Касслер - Typhoon Fury

“We need to bulk up our food stores before the storm arrives,” Tagaan said. “We don’t know how long the roads may be out after that. We also need ingredients to keep our meth lab in operation.” The meth lab was in a remote corner of the cavern because of the noxious chemicals required.

Locsin turned to Dolap. “Since you’ve done such a good job with Ms. Anders, I’ll give you some time in Bacolod tomorrow morning to get the supplies. Pick a man to take with you. You shouldn’t require more than one truck.”

“Thank you, comrade,” Dolap said, obviously pleased with the reward. “She has been difficult at times.”

“You won’t have to deal with her much longer. We’ll test the Typhoon on her for one more day. If the effects are still positive, we’ll dispose of her before Hidalgo has passed. No sense in wasting any more of the drug on her.”

He dismissed Dolap, who went back to his post outside Beth’s room.

“What about the Typhoon and the flower?” Tagaan asked. All of the barrels were still inside the truck in which they’d arrived, under armed guard even inside the cavern. “Where should we store them?”

“Once the storm has passed, I will drive them to our hiding spot outside the cavern. Only you and I will know the location of the bulk of the pills. The temptation of theft by our men will be too high here. Since we should be in full production of the drug soon, I want to move up our timetable to take over the Philippines. How is Kuyog production proceeding?”

“With half the parts shipment destroyed by Juan Cabrillo and his people, and with fifty of them used to sink the Oregon , we’re down to one hundred and thirty-eight either complete or in production. We can order more components from the Chinese supplier that we addicted to Typhoon, but it will take time to manufacture and ship them here.”

Locsin thought about their planned attack on the Philippine Navy. Now that they’d annihilated the ultra-sophisticated Oregon and had refined their tactics, he felt confident that they could wipe out the more conventional warships of his own country’s navy with the remainder of the Kuyogs.

“Continue our production at maximum capacity,” Locsin ordered. “I want them all completed in a week and prepared for use. Then we will begin our campaign to conquer the Philippines. After that, we set our sights on the rest of Asia.”

Tagaan frowned. “Comrade, we should wait until we have Typhoon in production. It is reckless to move against the government before we have our supply secured.”

Locsin stared at Tagaan. This was the third time that his number two had questioned his judgment. “Do you think you’re smarter than I am?”

Tagaan hesitated only a moment before answering, but it was enough for Locsin to notice. “Not at all.”

“But you’re saying I’m reckless. Am I stupid, too?”

Tagaan averted his gaze. “Forgive me for being unclear. I meant that we have time now that we have more than a million Typhoon pills at our disposal. We should use them to take over the government from the inside. Then we can use the Kuyogs against any country that opposes us.”

Locsin balled his hands into fists, then released them and smiled. “Excellent. You are a wise man, my friend. I don’t know what I would do without you.”

“Thank you, comrade.”

“But I also think it’s wise to complete production of the Kuyogs as quickly as possible in case something unforeseen happens. Don’t you agree?”

“I do, comrade.”

“Then go make sure our production is continuing as projected. I’ll take the lead on finding more chemists to develop the drug from the orchid.”

Tagaan nodded, and Locsin glared at him from behind as he left.

Locsin then called to Dolap, who rushed to his side. Dolap was Locsin’s cousin and one of his most trusted men, which was why he’d been put in charge of Beth and the paintings.

“Yes, comrade,” Dolap said.

Locsin put his hands on Dolap’s shoulders and looked him in the eye. “When you’re in the city, I have a special mission for you. Make up some excuse for whoever you take with you that you need twenty minutes on your own. This is just for you and me. No one else is to know. No one.”

59

On the deck of the Oregon , Juan was buffeted by the steadily strengthening winds as he walked toward Max at the stern. The black clouds made it look like daybreak even though the sun had risen an hour before. A small river fed the wetlands that were protecting the ship from the brunt of the waves crashing onto the shore, but they wouldn’t completely mitigate the effects of the storm surge when Typhoon Hidalgo arrived. For that, they would need propulsion from the engines, which were currently shut down.

Standing beneath the jackstaff, Max peered over the railing at crewmen working on the Venturi nozzle below. He had to yell at the top of his lungs to be heard over the howling wind.

“No! Just rip it off!”

When Juan reached the railing, he looked down and saw three men in the water tugging at a bent piece of metal. A fourth crewman was using a blowtorch to cut apart the jagged remnant of the Kuyog explosion.

“Are you scrapping my ship?” Juan teased.

Max turned to him with bloodshot eyes from working straight through the night. “We might as well if we can’t get that nozzle functional in the next few hours. An anchor isn’t going to keep us in place. What’s the latest forecast?”

“We should be seeing hurricane-force winds before dark. It’s been downgraded to a Category Three, but the center of the storm is still on track to pass right over us, so we’ll get the worst of it. Do you think we’ll be ready for it?”

“Fingers crossed. There was nothing I could do about the ballast tank flooding. That will take some heavy-duty welding on the exterior hull. But I’ve finished recalibrating the cooling system, and the damage to the magnets wasn’t as bad as I first thought. If we can get this Venturi nozzle at least somewhat operational, I think we can get us to three-quarters power output. But even if that happens, the ride is going to be pretty rough for the next thirty-six hours.”

“I have faith in you,” Juan said.

“I’m glad someone does, because the thought of doing maintenance work outside in a gentle one-hundred-mile-an-hour breeze isn’t my idea of fun.”

Juan left Max still yelling and went to the nearest hatch, which looked as if it were jammed shut with a broken handle. He pressed in three spots simultaneously on the hatch, and it sprung open, revealing the luxurious secret interior.

He took the teak-paneled stairway down to the Magic Shop, the Oregon ’s workshop and storehouse for any gadget, costume, or makeup needed for a mission. He found Kevin Nixon hunched over one of the many workbenches tinkering with an electronic device. Dozens of clothes racks were behind him, as was a makeup counter worthy of a movie set, a metalworking table, a woodshop, and shelves full of electronics, tools, and assorted gear.

Kevin was an award-winning Hollywood special effects master who had joined the Corporation after his sister was killed on 9/11. Any time someone on the Oregon needed a disguise, a uniform, or an unusual piece of equipment, such as Juan’s combat leg, Kevin would put his considerable expertise to work. Unlike the athletic veterans, former special forces operators, and CIA agents that made up the bulk of the crew, Kevin’s sedentary job and rich food provided by the chef meant that he was constantly at war with his weight, though right now he was looking more svelte than usual and seemed to be winning the battle of the bulge.

When he saw Juan enter, Kevin looked up, pushed the pair of magnifying glasses back onto his head, and sighed.