Typhoon Fury

29

From the catwalk at the top of the chamber housing the moon pool, Juan looked down at the unusual vessel that hovered above the water, making sure it was positioned correctly as it was lowered by the gantry crane. The distinct smell of ocean brine and machine oil filled the cavernous room, the largest on the Oregon. It was in the center of the ship and contained an Olympic-pool-sized opening that was equalized with the sea level outside the ship so that subs and divers could leave unnoticed through huge double doors that swung down from the keel. Eddie, Linc, MacD, and Murph, clad in black night camo, were down below getting ready to load their tactical gear on board.

The Gator was the newest addition to the ship’s complement of watercraft. The test dives they’d put it through over the last few months had gone off without a hitch, but this was the first time it would be used on an operation. Modeled after the U.S. Navy Sealion and other semi-submersibles employed by countries like Singapore and North Korea, the 40-foot-long Gator was a craft specifically designed for infiltration of targets both at sea and onshore. The Oregon’s Discovery 1000 had been used for similar missions in the past, but its replacement boasted significant advantages.

Shaped like an angular cigarette boat, the stealthy Gator’s surfaces were shaped to reduce its radar signature to that of a bathtub toy, and the mottled black and charcoal paint made it difficult to see at night when surfaced. Like the Discovery, the Gator could carry up to eight passengers, dive to one hundred feet, and maneuver with electric thrusters, but the newer vessel’s sound-insulated diesel engine allowed it to reach over forty knots on the surface while simultaneously recharging the batteries. The Gator’s most unusual and useful capability was its ability to semi-submerge so that the small viewing cupola for the single pilot was the only part of it above the water, just like an alligator cruising through a swamp with nothing but its eyes visible. Since the Gator ran on its powerful diesel engine in this state, it could sneak up on a moving ship, match its speed, and deliver a boarding party through a portal in the roof while still in motion.

The Gator complemented the larger Nomad, which hung from a sling above the moon pool. The 65-foot-long deep-water submersible was built to descend to one thousand feet with six passengers and had an air lock for swimmers to exit while submerged. Though the Nomad could remain underwater for long periods before the batteries needed to be recharged, its bulky pressure hull and electric motors meant it moved much more slowly than the sleek Gator.

As the Gator settled into the water, and the mission team climbed aboard with their equipment, Linda Ross joined Juan on the catwalk and leaned on the railing, her head barely even with Juan’s shoulder. Like him and the rest of the team, she was dressed all in black.

“I’ll miss the Discovery,” she said, “but, I have to say, her replacement is extremely sexy.”

“Don’t let Nomad hear you or she’ll get jealous.”

“Oh, I love all my children equally.” She mouthed Not really, then pointed at the Gator and gave Juan the thumb-and-fingers OK sign.

“Well, now we get to prove to Max that it was a wise investment.”

Linda chuckled and said, “I think his hand was shaking when he signed the purchase order,” referring to their notoriously stingy VP.

Knowing that Linda’s arrival meant the Magellan Sun was nearing its destination, Juan asked, “What’s the good news?” Gomez was observing the 400-foot-long ship with a drone equipped with a night vision camera.

“Seems like she’s preparing to hold station a mile off Campomanes Bay, just like we thought she would.” They had surveyed the coastline of Negros, and the bay was the least populated spot on the west side of the island. Satellite imaging showed a small dock in the bay that was normally used for scuba diving boats and sightseeing tours. At this time of night, the entire place would be deserted, the ideal spot for illicit activity. The dock was too small for a large cargo ship, so they knew the Magellan Sun wouldn’t be entering the bay. The Oregon was positioned five miles to the north, far enough away so that it wouldn’t seem to be any kind of threat.

“How is she getting her cargo off-loaded?” Juan asked.

“There’s an old offshore supply ship, the kind used for oil rigs, heading out from the island, and the crane on the Magellan Sun is getting set to lower cargo from her deck.”

“Then we should get going,” Juan said and nodded at the Gator. “Ready to take her for a spin?”

Linda rubbed her hands together with glee. She was going to be driving the Gator during the mission. “I thought you’d never ask.”

They took the stairs down to the well deck. Juan picked up his own gear bag that he’d packed earlier, and they went aboard. Linda sat in the pilot’s seat and went through her pre-dive check, while Juan secured the top hatch and joined the rest of the team in the passenger area at the rear. Because of the Gator’s low profile, the accommodations were cramped but still comfortable, with cushioned benches along both sides of the cabin and seat belts if the seas got choppy. The interior was solely lit by red illumination so that their eyes would quickly become dark-adapted.

“What’s the weather report?” Juan asked Murph, whose tablet was connected to the Oregon via satellite linkup.

“Cloudy and dark right now,” he said, “but the moon could put in an appearance.”

“Have you got the feed from Gomez’s drone?”

“As if you were there,” Murph said and turned the tablet toward Juan.

The Magellan Sun was clearly visible against the flat black sea. Although she was only two-thirds the length of the Oregon, she had a similar outline, with a superstructure rear of amidships, four cranes for loading and off-loading cargo at smaller ports, and a deck stacked with pallets and containers. Judging from the diminishing wake behind her, she seemed to be coming to a stop.

One part of the two-pronged mission would put Murph, Eddie, and MacD on board the Magellan Sun. Since she was a standard Chinese design, Langston Overholt was able to send them CIA archived blueprints of the ship, which they studied to plan their infiltration.

“Where’s the equipment room that you three are sticking your noses into?” Juan asked.

Since Ocampo reported that the ship had been used to deliver supplies for Locsin’s dig, the goal was to download the ship’s computerized navigational logs in the hope of narrowing down which island Locsin was searching for more Typhoon. The computers were located on the bridge, which would be manned at all times. The CIA blueprints indicated that there was a junction box in an equipment room nearby, where Murph thought he could access the network.

“It’s right about there,” MacD drawled, pointing at a spot directly below the bridge. “That kind of room should be unattended, but Ah’ve got good ole Diana here in case we’re wrong.” He patted his crossbow like it was a faithful dog.

Eddie tapped the port side away from the crane. “That looks like the best place to climb up. Our guests should be busy with their cargo on the other side, but Gomez will let us know if anyone is getting too close while we’re boarding.”

Juan nodded. “How long will you need?”

“Once I’m in there,” Murph said, rubbing his scraggly beard, “no more than five minutes to crack the system and download the data. They shouldn’t even know I was there.”

While they were on the Magellan Sun, Juan and Linc would be conducting the second part of the mission.

Juan inserted his encrypted communications earpiece and checked it before calling Gomez, who was in the op center, where Hali was on radar, in Linda’s absence, Stoney was at the helm, and Max was in command of the Oregon.

“Gomez, show us the supply ship.”

In an instant, the camera slewed around and focused on the supply ship heading toward the Magellan Sun. The design of the much smaller vessel looked at least forty years old and had a two-story superstructure at the front and a flat cargo area taking up the rear half of the ship.

“That’s a lot of open deck space, Chairman,” Linc said. “I don’t think we’ll get a friendly welcome if they spot us hanging around their precious cargo.”

Juan and Linc’s objective was to tag some of the cargo that was being off-loaded from the Magellan Sun so they could track it to where it was being delivered. And if they had the opportunity, they would open it to find out just what was being transported.

But Linc was right. Trying to do that on the unprotected deck of the supply ship would be a death wish. They might as well put neon bull’s-eyes on their chests.

“You up for a shore excursion?” Juan said.

“As long as it’s the package tour,” Linc replied, “a mai tai would hit the spot.”

“Sorry, refreshing beverages not included. They’ve got to have trucks for transporting whatever they’re bring ashore. I think we’ll have a better shot at getting close to the cargo on land.”

“I wouldn’t mind getting on dry land.”

Juan leaned toward Linda and said, “Linc and I are getting out on our way to the ship.” He checked the satellite map of the bay. “There’s a nice beach about half a klick from the dock. Linc and I will hoof it the rest of the way.”

“Aye, Chairman,” Linda said. “My checklist is done and we’re ready to rock and roll.”

“Then let’s get moving.”

She radioed that they were departing, and the crane released the Gator. It sank below the keel doors and motored away from the Oregon with a barely perceptible whirr of the electric motors. When it was out from under the ship, Linda brought the Gator to the surface. She cranked up the diesel, which reverberated through the interior but would be inaudible outside except when they were cruising at high speed.

She pushed the throttle forward until they were rocketing toward the shore without any worry that the Magellan Sun’s radar would pick them up.

Just five minutes later, Linda eased the throttle back, which meant they were within two miles of the ship. Any closer and the sound of the engine might be heard. She activated the ballast tanks, and the Gator sank until the water’s surface lapped at the bottom of the cupola. Linda’s face glowed red in the soft light, but it wouldn’t be visible through the tinted windows. They continued forward at fifteen knots, reaching the beach a short time later, where they stopped, with the Gator’s bow resting on the sandy bottom.

Linc popped the hatch and climbed out. Juan handed their gear up, then turned to Linda and said, “We’ll meet back here for extraction when you’re done. See you soon.” Then he looked at Eddie, MacD, and Murph. “Don’t get into too much trouble.”

“Don’t worry about these jokers,” Murph said with a grin. “I’ll keep an eye on them.”

“You’re the real problem. I bet you’re planning to plant a virus that’ll back up their toilet system or something.”

Murph raised his hand in mock salute. “Guilty.”

“Linda, you’re in charge of this motley crew,” Juan said with a laugh. “Just get in and out and back here quick.”

She shook her head at the banter. “Aye, Chairman. I’ll make sure they behave.”

Juan had no doubt about that. He knew as soon as they were away, they’d all get their game faces on and become supremely focused on the upcoming operation.

He climbed out and buttoned up the hatch before walking along the sunken bow as if he were walking on water. Holding his equipment bag over his head, he followed Linc into the gentle surf and was submerged up to his chest. His prosthetic combat leg was designed to withstand immersion in water, but it always felt strange having only one soaked foot.

As soon as Juan was off the Gator, Linda revved the motor and backed away from the beach. In the distance, he could see that the supply ship had reached the Magellan Sun and was pulling alongside. The crane was already in motion off-loading pallets.

After he kitted himself out with his tactical gear and body armor, Juan slung an MP5 submachine gun over his shoulder and lowered night vision goggles over his face. Even with the enhanced imaging, the noiseless Gator had already disappeared from view.

Without a word, he and Linc put on their own serious game faces and began the trek through coastal jungle. Their footsteps were so soft that the only sound was the constant chirp of insects and the shouts of a dozen men at the dock ahead of them.