Клайв Касслер - Marauder

She shifted her gaze to the Empiric , plucked the radio from her hip, and pressed the TALK button. “Mark, are you ready over there?”

“Does Crocodile Dundee carry a knife?”

Sylvia rolled her eyes, imagining Mark Murphy as she’d last seen him this morning: lounging in his chair at a computer terminal, drinking a Red Bull, and wearing a black T-shirt that read “And yet, despite the look on my face, you’re still talking.”

“I’m sure the Australians over there are loving your sense of humor,” she said.

“That’s what they’re all saying. ‘Murph may be a whinging yobbo, but he’s no drongo.’ I haven’t looked those words up yet, but I can only guess that it’s a compliment.”

With multiple Ph.D.s, Murph was by far the most brilliant man on the Empiric even though he was also just in his twenties, so she had no doubt he knew that the phrase meant he was whiny and obnoxious but no dummy. She was also sure that nobody over there had said any such thing.

Murph was on loan to DARPA from his real job. No matter how much she pried, she couldn’t get much out of him about what that real job was, but his prior expertise had been designing weapons for the U.S. military. She’d requested him specifically for this project because his creative and analytical skills were unparalleled. To consult on the job, Murph had required only one condition, that DARPA supply key technology for the organization that he worked for. After some haggling, he joined the Rhino project, and his presence had proved invaluable.

“Let’s get started with the test,” Sylvia said.

“You’re the boss,” Murph said.

She turned to her research assistant, Kelly, and said, “Fire up the lasers.”

Kelly called on her own radio, then replied, “Lasers are prepped, and the automated sensors are activated.”

“Good.” She called back to Murph. “Send in the drone.”

“It’s on the way.” The drone, which had been making lazy circles, suddenly bolted toward them. “Don’t worry, Sylvia. I’ve checked your math. This will work.”

“Thanks, Mark. You’re a sweetie.”

“Hey, you’ll ruin my reputation as a yobbo.”

“Sorry.”

This was the moment of truth. Sylvia’s heart was hammering in her chest. She lifted the tablet hanging from her shoulder and saw that all the readouts from the Rhino equipment were normal. There was nothing else for her to do. All she could do was wait and watch.

When the drone was within three hundred yards, she heard the hum of the lasers charging in anticipation of a nearby threat. When the drone reached the two-hundred-yard mark, the lasers crackled to life.

She’d seen the Rhino in action before, of course, but to see it live always took her breath away. The air surrounding the drone lit up in thousands of tiny bubbles of prismatic fire, refracting the sunlight in a dazzling array of colors.

As the drone charged through the plasma shield, it shut down instantaneously and coasted to a stop a hundred yards away, slightly charred from the exposure to the intense temperatures. If it had been packed with explosives for an attack, the detonation would cause little or no damage to the ship from that distance.

“Sylvia,” Murph called over the radio, “you rocked it. The feedback we got from the drone before the electronics died was exactly what we were expecting. If anyone had been on board the drone, they would have felt cooked and turned around pronto.”

Kelly pumped her fist into the air and gave Sylvia a big hug.

Sylvia thumbed the TALK button at the same time she broadcast on the Namaka ’s intercom. “Well done, people. We’ve made a huge breakthrough. I’m so proud of all the hard work you’ve done, and I thank you. Now let’s bring the drone in and set up for the next run.”

The Namaka turned and eased toward the drone to recover it.

Kelly got a call on her radio and said, “Sylvia, we may have to wait for the next test.”

“Why’s that?”

“We’ve got an unknown ship passing by.”

“Out here?”

Kelly pointed north at a ship two miles away. Sylvia took out her binoculars, expecting a passing freighter or cruise liner.

Instead, it was an odd-looking vessel with three hulls. A trimaran slightly smaller than the Namaka . And it was heading in their direction at a high rate of speed.

“Who are they?”

“The captain says they won’t answer his hails,” Kelly said.

The trimaran abruptly turned and slowed, practically idling where it was.

“That’s odd,” Sylvia said. “What are they doing now?”

Kelly shrugged. “Maybe it’s a billionaire’s yacht. Those guys are weird.”

A bright red flash from the ship’s midsection caught Sylvia’s attention. It looked like the muzzle blast of a gun. The Namaka was hit by a searing hot blast that tore through the bridge, setting it on fire. It couldn’t have been a gun. No shell could have struck them that quickly from two miles away.

Sylvia was a scientist, but panic shoved aside any logical analysis.

“We need to get off the ship now,” she called to Kelly, who was gripped by her own terror and ignored her boss. She ran to the nearest door and disappeared into the seeming safety of the ship’s interior.

At that moment, the trimaran fired another volley.

Sylvia ducked her head as the burst from the unknown weapon made an impact right next to her and blew apart the door that Kelly had just entered.

The force of the explosion tossed Sylvia over the railing. The last thought that went through her mind before she plunged into the water was that her clothes were on fire.

NINE

BALI, INDONESIA

Raven Malloy couldn’t see out of the van’s windowless cargo area, but given how long they’d been on the road, she knew the terrorists from Indo Jihad were not going to the Denpasar conference center where the South Asia summit was being held. Despite her infiltration of the group, she hadn’t discovered what the real target of their attack would be that day.

Indo Jihad operated in cells, which meant she had met only the five men in the van, but she knew there were more members of the group. Even if her cell was stopped, the attack would still go on. Her mission was to find out those plans.

“I thought we were going to kill infidels,” she said in fluent Arabic as she pointedly cast her eyes around the van’s interior. The sole object with them was a backpack, and when she’d placed her hand on it while getting in, she’d felt only soft clothes. They had no weapons.

“We are,” said the terrorist leader Sinduk, who went by just his given name.

“But not at the economic summit?” Despite the heat, she had dressed in an expensive pantsuit and a headscarf as she’d been told to so she wouldn’t seem out of place at the formal event. All the men in the van wore suits.

“That’s where they think we will attack, which is exactly why I have chosen a more suitable target.”

“Which is?”

Instead of answering, Sinduk paused as he peered at her. Finally, he said, “What do you think happened to our brothers who were caught hijacking the Dahar ?”

Raven didn’t hesitate to answer. “How should I know?”

However, she knew exactly what happened. Raven was the one who had warned the Oregon about the impending assault. In her dealings with the group, she’d come across a single cryptic text message on a phone that mentioned the Dahar and Malacca. The Oregon had been able to set sail and intercept the tanker barely in time to foil the attack.

“I think someone new to our group was either careless or was spying on us,” Sinduk said.