51

Brekker surfaced with his men and another three barrels to haul aboard the yacht. It had been a long day, but they were almost done. Two more trips down and they’d be able to get out of there with all their loot. Brekker was already considering who would buy the treasure and how much he should charge. The Americans, Chinese, and Russians had the most money, but he wasn’t counting out the Saudis or Iranians. All he knew was that Salvador Locsin had his chance and he blew it. Besides, with the meth shipment in police custody, Locsin didn’t have the funds to pay for it.

Brekker threw his fins over the railing and climbed up the ladder to supervise hauling up the barrels. When he looked over, he froze, stupefied by the sight of Locsin and his men standing over the dead body of the watchman Brekker had left on board.

Five assault rifles were trained on him. He slowly finished getting out of the water. Locsin’s fishing boat had been circling two hundred yards away to avoid being seen as Brekker’s team surfaced. With their return, it now headed toward the yacht.

Locsin smirked at him. “Right now, you’re wondering how I found you here.” He obviously relished echoing the same line Brekker had used on him at the Manila fire truck warehouse. “The Americans left a record of the Pearsall at Corregidor.”

“You killed my man.”

“You and I both understand the need for force to make a point. We appreciate you bringing up the barrels of Typhoon for us. How many are left down there?”

“None,” Brekker said, fighting back the bile in his throat. “This is all of them.” He looked at the three of his men who were left. All of them were eyeing their captors for a chance to attack, but it would be a useless effort.

“I think you’re lying,” Locsin said. “The information we found said there were twenty barrels on board. I only see fifteen.”

“Then why don’t you go down and take a look for yourselves?”

“Because you’re already dressed for the occasion. I may even let you live if you dive down and get the rest of them.”

“And if I say no?”

“Then you die right here, right now. I may be a communist, Mr. Brekker, but I drive a hard bargain.”

Brekker looked at his men and nodded. They would go back down to the wreck. In fact, it would be necessary for what he was planning.

“I need a fresh oxygen tank,” he said.

Locsin waved his hand toward the equipment. “Of course. But remember that the water is crystal clear. We will be watching you.”

“I’m sure you will.”

He walked over and began the process of exchanging his old tank for a new one. At the same time, Locsin’s men began transferring the barrels of Typhoon from the yacht to the fishing boat.

The acoustic detonator was still lying where Brekker had left it. As he picked up the tank, he palmed the small electronic transmitter, which was wirelessly linked to the yacht’s sonar array. One push of the button would activate an underwater pulse that would set off the bombs they’d already planted on the destroyer below them. The bombs still aboard the yacht wouldn’t be activated because they weren’t yet in the water, but there were more than enough on the Pearsall to cause the ammo in the magazine to explode, taking both the yacht and the fishing boat with it.

But Brekker wasn’t suicidal. He had something else in mind.

He shrugged into the tank harness and took his mask and snorkel. He climbed back down the ladder, and just before he sank into the water, he shoved the small detonator onto a ledge behind the ladder. He couldn’t get the electronics in the transmitter wet because they would short out.

Accompanied by his men, he descended to the Pearsall and had them round up three more barrels. Meanwhile, Brekker went to the destroyer’s ammo magazine and removed one of the bombs they’d placed amongst the piles of five-inch high-explosive shells.

When the barrels were ready, they went back up. Locsin was so eager to get more of the Typhoon pills that he barely looked at Brekker, who carried the bomb in a net cinched closed with a nylon rope. As he took hold of the dive ladder to climb aboard, he quickly knotted the bomb to the lowest rung.

While climbing the ladder, he snatched the acoustic detonator and held it high for Locsin to see.

“If you shoot me,” Brekker said, “I will set off the bomb I just brought up and we will all die.”

He pointed to the bomb dangling next to him. He knew that he needed Locsin to believe his threat. Merely claiming that there were bombs in the wreck below wouldn’t have been convincing enough.

When they didn’t lower their weapons, Brekker yelled, “I mean it!”

Locsin peered over the railing, saw the bomb, then said to his men, “Put down your guns and let him up.”

Brekker slowly climbed up to the deck, watching for any sign they would try to kill him. He wasn’t bluffing. He knew Locsin had no intention of letting him and his men live. If he was going to die, he might as well take them all with him.

All of the barrels except the ones they’d just brought up had been moved to the fishing boat. Brekker dropped the oxygen tank to the deck, eyeing Locsin warily as he did so.

“Now what?” Locsin said. “We have the guns and you have the bomb. Is there a solution where we don’t all blow up or get shot?”

“As a matter of fact, there is,” Brekker said, who had thought of a way out of the standoff during the dive. He pointed at a chest holding the remainder of the explosives they hadn’t planted on the Pearsall. “We’re going to take a bomb out of there and tie it to your fishing boat.”

“Why? So you can blow us up as soon as we’re out of range of your yacht?”

“No. There’s also a backup detonator in the chest and it’s also connected to the yacht’s sonar system, which will send out a pulse at the push of the button. The sound wave will be received by any of these bombs that are underwater within three miles and activate the trigger mechanism. So as your boat leaves, we’ll each have a detonator and a bomb ready to explode. If you press the button, we both blow up. If I press the button, we both blow up. If neither of us presses it, we both come out of this alive.”

Brekker edged over to the chest and opened it. Locsin watched intently as Brekker bent down and removed a bomb and the second detonator.

“Which one do you want?” he asked Locsin.

“How do I know either of them work?”

“You want proof? If I push this button, that bomb lashed to the ladder will explode, and we’ll all be dead a split second after you got that proof. So, what will it be?”

Locsin looked at both of them before answering. “I’ll take the detonator you came out of the water with.”

“That’s exactly what I would have chosen.”

Brekker tossed the bomb and detonator to Locsin, who handed the bomb to one of his men and told him to hang it in the water from the stern railing of the fishing boat.

“When we’re five hundred yards apart,” Brekker said, “we’ll simultaneously lift our bombs out of the water, which will neutralize them. Fair?”

Locsin nodded. “Fair.”

“Oh, and one more thing before you go. I want six of those barrels you already took.”

“What?”

“It’s our compensation for all the work we’ve done. If you want them later, you can always pay us market value.”

Locsin hesitated, no doubt sick at the idea.

“My men and I are willing to die,” Brekker said. “Are you?”

Finally, Locsin said, “We are, but not over this. I’ll give you four since there are two more below. If that’s not satisfactory, you can kill us all.”

Brekker smiled. “You negotiate like a capitalist, Comrade Locsin. I accept your terms.”

“We’ll be watching. If you or any of your men try to remove your bomb before we reach the agreed-to distance, I’ll detonate it.”

“And I will do the same.”

As promised, Locsin’s men moved four of the barrels back to the yacht. Brekker’s team hauled up the three that were still in the water.

Before he got onto the fishing boat, Locsin nodded at the horizon behind Brekker. “We need to get out of here now, and you may not want to stick around to get those other two barrels.”

“Really? Why’s that?”

“Because that ship rushing toward us knows what we found here today, and they won’t like that you’ve taken the cargo.”

Without fully turning around in case it was a trick, he glanced sideways and saw a merchant ship coming their way at high speed, far faster than he would expect for a vessel her size.

“Who is that? The Philippine Navy?”

Locsin shook his head as he climbed into the fishing boat. “Remember that Juan Cabrillo person you said you didn’t care about, back at the fire truck warehouse? You should care about him now, because I’d bet that’s his ship. A friend of his told me the name when she was in a daze from a gunshot wound. It’s called the Oregon.”

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