Typhoon Fury

40

The morning sun lit up the forested island of Corregidor like a glittering emerald set against the brilliant sapphire expanse of the Pacific behind it. Salvador Locsin sat in the bow of a pump boat, a large outrigger canoe fitted with an automobile engine at the back, a vessel common in the Philippines. He watched the tail end of the tadpole-shaped island pass by their port side, but he couldn’t see the abandoned dirt airfield that was hidden by the trees. A mile behind them to the north was the Bataan Peninsula, infamous for the merciless Death March that the Japanese forced the surrendering Americans and Filipinos to endure in 1942.

Corregidor, the former fortress and current historic monument, sat at the entrance to the bay thirty miles from the city of Manila. The tiny pump boat was the most inconspicuous way for Locsin and his seven communist soldiers to get to the island, which would be teeming with curious, photo-happy tourists.

For the past three weeks, Locsin’s men had been digging on the island under the pretense of a restoration project to excavate one of the tunnels that the Japanese had collapsed during the American invasion in 1945. The cache of Typhoon pills that his men had discovered also contained information that indicated the main research lab had been housed in one particular tunnel on Corregidor and gave its exact location. Locsin’s best hope for maintaining his supply was to dig out this tunnel and find either more Typhoon pills or the formula itself.

Their progress had been slower than Locsin wanted because they could only dig during the day, otherwise they would draw unwanted attention to the project. His diggers told him that they were close to breaking through, so he’d come out himself today to oversee the final push.

Locsin’s phone beeped with the call he’d been waiting for.

“Are you back at the cavern?” he asked Tagaan.

“Yes, comrade,” Tagaan replied. Even though their headquarters on Negros Island was situated far from any cell phone towers, he was able to call through the cavern’s Wi-Fi and illicit satellite Internet connection.

“Has Beth Anders arrived?”

“Yes, comrade. She’s currently unconscious, but we’ve already begun the experiment on her.”

“Good,” Locsin said. “Let me know when you have any results. The information could prove useful to future operations. And if she recovers enough to work, have her examine the paintings and give us an appraisal. With our meth shipment now in the custody of the police, we’ll need another source of revenue soon. How did the Kuyogs perform?”

In a brief conversation earlier, Tagaan had told him only the bare minimum about the sinking of the Magellan Sun and the attack on the truck convoy.

There was a moment of silence from the other end of the phone. “The Kuyogs performed as intended” was Tagaan’s terse reply.

“Then how did the attackers get away?”

“I designed them to attack surface targets, not submarines. Our goal is to destroy the Philippine Navy, which has no subs.”

Locsin fumed. “Are you making excuses?”

“No, comrade. Just explaining the situation.”

Locsin felt himself going ballistic, so he paused until he was able to calm himself. “How many Kuyogs do you have ready now?”

“We have forty-five operational, and another ninety-five in various stages of production.”

“Would they be effective against the ship that sank the Magellan Sun?”

No hesitation this time. “Absolutely. But the ship does seem to have some defensive capabilities.”

“I don’t care. If we have a chance to sink her, I would use every one of the Kuyogs we have now to put her at the bottom of the ocean. This Juan Cabrillo has caused extensive damage to our cause. He needs to pay.”

“If the opportunity arises, I will make it happen. But we don’t know where he or his ship is.”

“You said earlier that the captain of the Magellan Sun called you before she was sunk and told you that the reason he knew about the intruders was because he happened to be reviewing his computerized navigation charts at the time they were being downloaded.”

“That’s correct. He said if he hadn’t been looking at them at that exact moment, he never would have known they were hacked, let alone that intruders were on board.”

“Then I know where Cabrillo is headed next,” Locsin said. “The Magellan Sun stopped at Corregidor multiple times over the last few weeks to drop off equipment. The navigation logs had to be what they were looking for when they boarded the ship. They’re coming here.”

The pump boat was now passing Malinta Hill in the middle of the island’s tail, an area called Bottomside, where the stronghold’s extensive tunnel system had been turned into one of the Philippines’s most popular tourist attractions.

“You don’t have much time before they arrive,” Tagaan said.

“You said the ship had to be bigger than the Magellan Sun.”

“I think so, though there was no frame of reference in the dark for me to be sure.”

“Then it can’t make more than fifteen knots. That gives us at least fourteen hours.”

“It seemed to be going very fast for a ship its size.”

“Twenty knots, then,” Locsin said with a shrug. “That still won’t put them here until nightfall. By then, we should have broken through and made off with whatever is inside the tunnel.”

Locsin couldn’t take anything sizable with him on the small pump boat, which was why he had an alternative way off the island ready to go at a moment’s notice.

“What about this Brekker who came after you last night?” Tagaan asked. “Do you think he’s dead?”

“I doubt it,” Locsin said. “His wreck didn’t look bad enough to kill him.”

“Do you think he was right about the World War Two ship carrying more Typhoon pills?”

“If he was, then he has a head start on us, and we don’t know where he’s going. Unless we find out the name of the ship, it will be impossible to find Brekker. Be ready with the Kuyogs, just in case we run into Juan Cabrillo again. Get them loaded into the trucks for quick transport. I will contact you when we are successful here.”

“Yes, comrade.”

Locsin hung up as they pulled up to Corregidor’s north side and tied up at the pier beside the Lorcha Dock, where Douglas MacArthur had made his departure in 1942, abandoning the Philippines to the vicious Japanese invaders. A high-speed catamaran from Manila was unloading a mix of Filipino, Asian, and American tourists next to them, where they were being herded into tranvías, open-sided trams that were the main form of transportation on the island.

He made his way through the throngs of eager tourists and joined his men at the van that had been unloaded earlier in the week at the Magellan Sun, along with two Bobcats and other digging equipment, as well as any weapons they might need in the event the police caught on to their scheme.

He donned his yellow work vest and helmet and climbed into the passenger seat of the van. They set off for the south side of Malinta Hill, where the tunnel dig was located, passing a souvenir shop and a bronze statue of MacArthur, smiling and waving, upon his return three years after his escape to Australia. When Locsin got control of the nation, one of his first acts would be to tear down that smug symbol of American colonization.

The thought made him smile, and, for the first time, his rage was at bay. He felt even better when he imagined his swarm of attack drones sinking Juan Cabrillo’s precious ship.