Typhoon Fury

25

Baylon Fire, one of the largest suppliers of fire trucks and firefighting equipment in Asia, sold its products to over a dozen countries, from India to South Korea. The privately owned company’s monstrous shipping warehouse by the Manila docks sat beside its main manufacturing plant and testing facility, where its fire engines were put through their paces on a proving ground that could simulate anything from a structure fire to a plane crash.

Dozens of trucks of all types stretched to every corner of the building, from pumpers and ladder trucks to gigantic eight-wheeled airport firefighting vehicles, colored bright red or yellow, depending on the specifications of the country that had ordered them.

When Locsin traveled through Manila, he wore a cap and sunglasses to disguise himself, since he was a wanted man. But inside the warehouse, which was now empty of people on his orders, he had nothing to worry about. For months, he had cultivated the loyalty of Baylon Fire’s fitness-conscious owner by getting him hooked on Typhoon. Getting him to clear out the warehouse for an hour this early in the morning was a simple matter.

While he watched, Tagaan supervised a group of his men passing brick-sized white packets from a series of crates to the top of a scarlet red fire truck. The man on top of the truck systematically dropped each packet into the opening where water would normally fill the three-thousand-gallon tank.

“How much longer will this take?” Locsin asked Tagaan. He was impatient to get back to the dig.

Tagaan regarded the pallet holding the crates. “It looks like we’ve got about three hundred packets to go.”

The setback at the chemical lab compound made this shipment even more important, which was why Locsin felt the need to oversee the loading himself. The extensive search for more Typhoon was burning through their cash hoard. In all, the packets of methamphetamine going into the fire truck had a street value of over fifty million dollars.

“Good,” Locsin said. “When we’re done here, inform Lynch that we’ll be loading the truck onto the Magellan Sun tomorrow night. I want the money transferred to us as soon as it reaches Jakarta.”

“Yes, comrade.”

It was Tagaan, a marine engineer by training, who had come up with this smuggling method. The packets were designed so that not only were they watertight, but they would also float. No customs inspector would think to examine the interior of a sealed water tank inside a fire truck. When the truck reached its destination and received its clearance, it would be prepped for delivery to the customer at a secure facility where the tank would be filled. The packets would float to the top, and they would be removed by a large, four-pronged retriever snake like those used to pull cables from inside walls.

That kind of ingenuity was the only reason Tagaan was still alive. The drive back to Manila had been a long and miserable trip, with Locsin browbeating his most trusted comrade the whole way for somehow leading Beth Anders and her friends to them. There was no other explanation for how they happened to show up at one of his most secret facilities.

Negros Island hadn’t been raided, but he’d put his men there on high alert just in case.

In fact, all of their operations from now on had to be strictly controlled and protected until they knew how they’d been compromised. The cargo being transferred from the Magellan Sun this evening was critical to their plans. Locsin couldn’t be there because he was focused on the important dig they had going on, but he could make Tagaan available.

“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.”