Typhoon Fury

30

Having seen Locsin’s men in action before, Raven knew they were a ruthless group and wouldn’t hesitate to kill her and Beth if they resisted, so she simply did what they told her to do. Beth followed her lead. Still, she was constantly watching for their best opportunity to either escape or call for help. Beth seemed frightened, but her initial panic was gone, and Raven knew she could depend on her when they attempted to make a break for it.

The briefcase bomb had been deactivated as soon as the two of them had climbed into the SUV and were under Locsin’s control. Now they were sitting in a glass-walled warehouse office, unshackled, apparently no threat to the six men around them, including Locsin, who seemed to be studying them. The smell of sour garlic wafted off the guards like a putrid perfume. Raven, not wanting to give them any satisfaction at their capture, yawned and stretched as if she were bored by the whole thing. She looked out the third-story window at an enormous warehouse filled with more fire trucks than she had ever seen in one place.

Two of Locsin’s men were standing guard next to a particular pumper engine with Vietnamese writing on the side that sat on the edge of the warehouse, right between a heavy rescue vehicle destined for the Manila Fire Department and a gigantic yellow airport crash tender with nozzles jutting from its front. Hoses coiled up next to the eight-wheeled truck were still wet, as if its water tank had just been filled.

Locsin, who had been pacing around the room like he had more energy than he could contain, must have noticed Raven looking at the crash tender because he strode to the window and boasted, “They were testing that this afternoon on the proving grounds outside. I saw it myself. Very impressive. The nozzle is so powerful that its water can reach a burning plane from over one hundred yards away.” He spoke English like an educated man, not the brutal thug that he was.

“Skip the ridiculous lecture,” Raven said. “What do you want?”

She got the response she was expecting. Locsin was obviously not used to being sneered at by a woman. He stalked over to her, his face twisted in anger, and smacked her cheek with a vicious open-handed slap. Beth gasped, but Raven merely winced and worked her jaw to get through the pain, which was nothing compared to what she’d gone through when she was caught in the explosion of an IED in Afghanistan. She had endured two abdominal surgeries, and received the Purple Heart and a Bronze Star, for two minutes of what the Army deemed a heroic act, even though she just thought of it as her job. The scars on her torso were a daily reminder that she could live through anything, including this.

But she could tell Locsin had held back. He could easily have broken her jaw if he’d wanted to.

“By the time we’re done with you, you’ll give us anything we want,” he said, letting that sit for a moment to stir their imaginations. However, Raven felt sure that any assault would be limited to torture. She knew heavy steroid use often left men performance-challenged.

Locsin reared back to strike Raven again, but Beth shouted, “Wait! I’ll tell you what you want to know.”

Locsin lowered his hand. “Which is what?”

“I was the one who planted the tracker on the finial. Don’t take that out on her.”

“You wanted the other paintings, didn’t you?” He sat on the edge of the desk, suddenly calm again.

Beth nodded. “I thought I might be able to follow you to them. Do you have them?”

Locsin grinned. “That would be something, wouldn’t it? Maybe I’ll keep you alive just in case I do. Your services as an art historian might be useful. But I’m still confused about the man with the weaponized truck. Who is he?”

“He’s a friend.”

“Name?”

She looked at Raven, who nodded for her to tell them. Withholding his name wasn’t worth getting tortured.

“Juan Cabrillo.”

“Is he American like you?”

Beth nodded.

“Government?”

“Not anymore,” Raven said. “Former CIA. Now he’s a private contractor.”

Locsin’s grin disappeared. “And what does he want with me?”

“He was working with us to find you.”

“And he just happened to be there to kidnap my scientists?”

Raven shrugged. “We can’t help that you run a shoddy operation.”

Locsin bristled, and his tone got menacing. “Where is Ocampo now?”

“Some safe house somewhere, blabbing his guts out. Anybody who wants to kill or capture you now knows whatever Ocampo and his people know. You really should consider a new occupation.”

Locsin ground his jaw, never taking his eyes off Raven. She seemed to have struck a nerve.

“I think everything you’ve said is a lie,” Locsin said. “I’ve got a helicopter coming to pick you up and take you somewhere you won’t ever be found, but I can’t join you for a few days and I’m not very patient. You remember that airport truck out there? I think a few minutes being blasted by eight hundred gallons of water per minute will change your story.”

Raven smirked at him. “I need a shower anyway. I feel pretty nasty being around you. In fact, I might need two showers to get your stink off me.”

Locsin shook his head slowly. “Not you.” He tilted his head at Beth, then stared at Raven. “You get to watch.”

Two men pulled Beth and Raven to their feet and manhandled them down the stairs. When they reached the main floor of the warehouse, Beth was shoved in front of the airport crash tender while Raven was made to stand next to it, a gun pointed at her knee by Locsin.

The rest of his men fanned out beside them, except for one who climbed into the tender’s cab. All the trucks in the building must have had the keys in them for easy movement around the warehouse because the engine rumbled to life immediately. The nozzle rose from its slumber and angled around until it was pointing directly at Beth.

“If you move,” Locsin shouted at Raven over the din of the monstrous diesel next to their ears, “you will never walk the same again. Now, I’m going to show you what this water pump can do, and then you will tell me the truth about what you and your friend know about us.”

Raven tensed every muscle in her body as the water pump whined, preparing to fire. She was severely overmatched, but she wasn’t going to let them torture Beth, even if that meant getting killed in a futile escape attempt.

She readied herself for Locsin’s signal, but it never came. A single shot rang out from somewhere in the rafters of the warehouse, drilling a hole through the center of the crash tender’s windscreen. Judging by the placement of the headshot, the shooter was an excellent marksman. The operator inside slumped over dead.

Raven didn’t waste the moment. Locsin and his men were formidable, but they lacked high-quality military training, and she took advantage of that. She sidestepped out of Locsin’s aim and rammed him in the gut with her elbow. He pitched backward, firing as he fell. The round missed her by inches.

“Beth, run!” she yelled and dashed behind the heavy rescue truck. Locsin’s men, who had dived for cover, had been so distracted by the gunshot from above that they began shooting at her too late. The bullets pinged off the metal body of the fire engine behind her.

In the side mirror of the truck, she could see Beth, whose face showed a mixture of fear and confusion, running crouched toward her position. She had almost reached Raven when Locsin came out of nowhere and tackled her. In one fluid motion, he hopped back to his feet and pointed the gun at Beth’s head.

Raven cursed under her breath. Trying to get to Beth now would be suicidal. Expecting Locsin’s men to chase her, Raven retreated to consider options for how to help her unknown rescuer. She stealthily began winding her way through the maze of trucks.

“Don’t shoot again, Cabrillo,” she heard Locsin yell, “or your friend dies.” Raven knew it couldn’t be Juan but Locsin didn’t.

She stopped when a disembodied voice boomed over the warehouse intercom system.

“I don’t know who Cabrillo is, Mr. Locsin, and I don’t know or care about the redhead. My name is Gerhard Brekker. I know you’re a devout communist, but I have a business proposition for you.”