Клайв Касслер - Marauder

Juan had lost sight of the drone. “Did the CAD escape the blast?” he asked.

“All systems functioning perfectly,” Gomez said. “Flying back as we speak.”

Juan breathed a sigh of relief. After losing so much in South America during their last operation, he was glad to get out of this mission without casualties or destroyed equipment.

He went out onto the bridge wing and looked down to the Gator . Hali was already climbing back inside. Juan turned toward the bow and waved at Linda and Eric seven hundred feet away.

“Linda, are your hostiles secure?”

“They won’t be going anywhere until someone unties them,” Linda replied. “And we’ve retrieved the darts.”

“Good. Then you and Eric get back to the Gator .”

“On our way.”

Juan wished he could collect all the terrorists in one place, but dragging them around a ship this size while sedated would be a chore, especially with the Malaysian Maritime Enforcement Agency forces arriving by helicopter in the next thirty minutes. Besides, they had to erase all the video from the closed-circuit cameras before they left. Newer ships like this one had them all over the place.

“Tick-tock,” Max said. “I don’t want to answer awkward questions about what we’re doing here in black clothes looking like the bad guys.”

“You make a fine point,” Juan said as he went back into the bridge to wipe any video recordings of their visit. “But we can’t leave the crew locked up. On my way out, I’ll pass by the mess and set a cutter on the locking mechanism. We’ll activate it when we leave. Nice work, everybody. When we get back to the Oregon , margaritas are on me.”

That brought a round of cheers.

“Let’s keep the carousing to a minimum,” Max said. “We have to be in Bali in two days, and we’ve got a lot of work to do tomorrow to get ready for the operation.”

“You heard Commander Killjoy,” Juan joked. “Only one drink apiece.”

Now it was mocking groans.

“I didn’t say what size the glass had to be.”

More cheers. Juan didn’t care how much it would hurt tomorrow. Tonight called for a celebration.

The Oregon was officially back in business.

—

When Captain Rahal and his crew heard the explosion outside, they knew it hadn’t occurred on the ship. Too far away. Most of them thought that meant the helicopter coming to rescue them had been shot down, which didn’t help morale. The preceding sound of a massive piece of equipment like a buzz saw only added to the confusion.

Fifteen minutes after the explosion, the locked handle on the door to the mess hall began to smoke. They backed away and were surprised when the door suddenly sprang open.

Rahal peered out into the corridor and found it vacant. He crept out. No one stopped him.

The XO was the next one out, and he stared at the scorched door lock in astonishment. “What do you think happened?”

Rahal inspected the melted metal lying on the floor. “I have no idea. Come with me. The rest of you stay here until we know what’s going on.”

Rahal and the XO made their way up to the bridge, tensing at every corner in fear that they might run into the terrorists.

But when they got to the bridge, it was completely empty.

The XO did a quick systems check. “All operations nominal. Engines, pumps, and cargo are intact, and everything’s functioning normally.”

“Where did they all go?” Rahal wondered out loud. “Is their boat gone?”

The XO went outside to the flying bridge and pointed down. “Captain, look.”

Rahal joined him and saw a terrorist lying on the deck and two more in the hijackers’ boat, all of them tied and motionless.

They went back inside and checked the shipboard cameras. Two more men were lashed to a pipe at the bow, and two were prone with their wrists tied to a railing in the engine room. The lifeboat had been launched. The remains of its shattered hull floated behind the ship.

“Was that the explosion we heard?” the XO asked.

Before Rahal could hazard a guess, he heard a call come over the radio in American English.

“ Dahar , this is the Norego off your starboard stern. We’ve been alerted that you may be under attack by hijackers. Can we render any assistance?”

Rahal turned and was surprised to see a ship just a mile away. It was a break bulk freighter a little more than half the size of the Dahar .

“ Norego , we read you. Where did you come from? Our radar had you thirty kilometers behind us less than an hour ago.”

“Must have been a faulty reading. We were only ten klicks behind when you stopped. Are you and your crew okay? We saw your lifeboat launch and then explode, and we’ve detected an inbound Malaysian security forces helicopter.”

Rahal, still stunned by the fortunate turn of events, said, “We were attacked by hijackers, but they’ve all been subdued.”

“That’s great news. I’m sure your company and the Malaysian authorities will be impressed by your response to the emergency.”

Rahal exchanged a look with the XO. They both knew that credit for saving their ship from certain destruction would earn them a hefty bonus.

“Yes, I’m sure they will be happy that the hijackers were stopped,” Rahal answered.

“Well, you have a good day. Be careful out there.”

“You, too.”

Rahal replaced the handset and watched the cargo carrier with a puzzled look as it passed by. He didn’t know how this miracle could have happened, but he couldn’t shake the sensation that they’d been saved by a guardian angel.

EIGHT

THE TIMOR SEA

Standing on the highest deck of the U.S. research ship Namaka , Sylvia Chang shielded her eyes from the midmorning sun to focus on the sea-based drone that looked like an unmanned Jet Ski. It was approaching her 300-foot-long ship from the east, where the similarly sized Australian research vessel Empiric idled a mile away, ready to record the data that would decide if her brainchild was a success or a failure.

Sylvia gripped the railing so tightly her hand was going numb, and she struggled to control her breathing. Since she was the chief physicist on the project, her career was riding on the experiment’s outcome. This test would prove whether a plasma shield worked on the open ocean.

Ever since the USS Cole was nearly sunk in a Yemen harbor by suicide bombers in a small boat, the U.S. Navy had been searching for a way to protect its ships from small-craft attacks. Once the technology was perfected, it could also be used by civilian vessels to ward off hijacking attempts. The report of a foiled attack on the tanker Dahar just two days ago in the Strait of Malacca only reinforced for Sylvia that her creation—code-named Rhino for the animal’s protective hide—was urgently needed.

In principle, the idea was fairly simple. Rhino used lasers to project a dense shield of tiny plasma explosions, each equivalent to the power of a firecracker, in front of an approaching vessel or drone. Vessels would have to turn back so their crews would not be burned, and drones would be disabled because their electronics would fry.

At least that was the theory.

The tests on dry land had achieved the benchmarks required, but the most important test was on a ship at sea where the environment was less controlled. If she could show that Rhino worked in a real world situation, the Defense Advanced Research Projects Agency would fund her project for the next five years. If not, she’d risk being washed up before she was thirty.

Because the Defence Science and Technology Agency, DSTA, Australia’s DARPA analogue, had technical expertise on important elements of the design, Sylvia joined forces with them on the project. They had suggested conducting the test in the open ocean two hundred miles west of Darwin, far away from all the main shipping lanes. The isolated location south of Indonesia meant they could do the experiments out of view of prying eyes.