Typhoon Fury

69

Although the winds were calm in the eye of Typhoon Hidalgo, the Oregon bucked like a bronco through the heavy seas in the narrow strait between Negros and Panay islands. Max, whose hands clenched the arms of the Kirk Chair in the op center, would have been shocked if any other ships were foolish enough to be out in these kinds of swells, and Linda confirmed that they were alone. The few roads they could see were deserted, as would be every building still standing along the shore if the residents valued their lives.

Max could see on the map that they were almost in visual range of the shoreline highway that had been used the day before by Locsin’s truck. They were taking a chance that Tagaan hadn’t chosen a different route, but it seemed likely he would be heading away from the eye wall, not toward it.

The road hugged the shore for only two miles, so they had a brief window for the intercept. If they missed Tagaan before he turned inland, they’d never find him again.

When they came around the next point, the highway came into view. The palms lining it were eerily still compared to the looming storm clouds behind them.

The big screen showed a single truck speeding along the road away from the direction of the cavern. It matched the description Juan had given them and was already halfway to the curve taking the road away from the shore.

“Murph, ready the cannon to fire,” Max said.

Murph worked his weapons control panel and said, “Cannon coming online.”

The hull plates covering the 120mm smoothbore cannon at the bow of the Oregon slid aside.

“Steady as she goes, Eric,” Max said.

“Steady, aye,” Eric replied from the helm as the Oregon slammed into another deep trough between waves.

“Your definition of steady needs work,” Murph cracked. He would need to time his shot like an archer on horseback at full gallop. “Ready.”

Max leaned forward. “Fire at will.”

Tagaan had to slow considerably when he was in the jungle to go around fallen branches, but now that he was on the highway and had it all to himself, he could more easily stay ahead of the storm. He knew of a concrete parking garage in Bacolod where he could outlast the rest of Hidalgo and plan his next steps. If he was lucky, he’d be there long before the edge of the eye wall reached him.

The stump of his leg still stung, but the bleeding had stopped. That was another thing he’d take care of in the city.

Now that he could pay less attention to the road, he had been able to open the cardboard sheets holding the pressed flower. As he looked at the secret ingredient of Typhoon, he considered how he could search for more of it. Finally, he would be the one with all the power.

But something about it wasn’t right. It was a white orchid, all right, but he didn’t remember the yellow petal in the center when he’d seen it on the fishing boat. The scrawled name was there, but it read Ceratostylis incognita. He thought the second word should be something more like inviolable.

Before he could make sense of it, the sugarcane field to his left exploded, throwing dirt high into the air.

Tagaan jerked the steering wheel in surprise but stayed on the road. Was someone bombing him? But surely no one was idiotic enough to fly in this weather. Then he glanced in the passenger-side mirror and saw the Oregon plunging through whitecaps.

A flash erupted from her bow. It was followed seconds later by a towering geyser of water erupting from the waves offshore.

The gunner now had him bracketed. Tagaan stamped the pedal to the floor. If he could get inland, he’d be out of visual range of the gun and home free.

When he saw another flash, he slammed on the brakes. A shell blasted a crater in the road where he would have been if he’d kept up the same speed. He swerved around it and accelerated back to full speed.

He could see the curve ahead. At this firing rate, they had two more shots at best.

Another flash. This time, he didn’t let up on the gas.

But the gunner hadn’t aimed at the truck at all. A hundred feet in front of the truck, he landed the shell right at the base of a palm tree next to the road. Severed from its newly created stump, the tree fell across the road, blocking the truck’s path. Tagaan stood on the brakes, but it was too late. The truck struck the tree, catapulted over the trunk, and flipped onto the driver’s side.

Tagaan’s front teeth were knocked out when his face smashed into the steering wheel, and he tasted blood as he tried to push himself out of the seat. Then he realized that the immobile truck was now an easy target.

He looked up to the passenger-side mirror and saw the Oregon relentlessly coming toward him.

From the bow, he saw one more flash.

The screen in the op center was zoomed in on the truck lying in the road. One second it was there, the next it was gone, blasted into a million pieces by the exploding shell.

“Say good-bye to Typhoon,” Max said with a smile. He turned to Murph. “That was genius taking out the tree to stop him.”

“The guy was getting on my nerves,” Murph said with a shrug as he closed up the plates over the cannon. “Pretty good shot, though, right?”

“You did miss him three times,” Eric reminded him.

“Fourth time’s the charm is therefore my new motto.”

“Right,” Max said, chuckling. “Put it on a T-shirt. Now, let’s get our people back before we run out of maneuvering room in the actual typhoon.”

Hidalgo’s course was taking the eye over Panay Island, so Gomez had to get the helicopter back inside the Oregon as soon as possible. As they hovered over the ship, he told Juan and the others that the landing might be a little dicey.

They had to wait until the pitching deck came to them. As the skids touched the Oregon, Gomez shut down the engine, and the helicopter dived into the next trough along with the ship. Eddie and Linc jumped out and lashed the chopper to the tie-downs as the helicopter was lowered on the elevator platform.

“That was some gutsy flying,” Juan said to Gomez.

“All in a day’s work,” he replied matter-of-factly.

“Thanks for keeping me from dying,” Raven said as she hopped off Juan’s lap.

He nearly replied, “My pleasure,” but thought that wouldn’t come out right. “Happy to” was almost as bad. He just said, “Of course.” A soft snicker came from his right, and Beth put a hand to her mouth.

Juan got out and was met by Max and Julia Huxley as the deck closed above them.

“You look like you need a thorough checkup,” Julia said to Juan.

“I’ll be okay,” he said and nodded to Beth. “There’s your patient.”

When Julia saw the bloody bullet wound in Beth’s side, she called for the waiting stretcher. Juan helped Beth out and onto the gurney.

“Take care of the paintings,” she said with a beatific smile. She didn’t seem to be feeling any pain. But when she saw Maurice suddenly appear next to Juan to deliver his traditional celebratory cigar, she barked, “Absolutely no smoking around the paintings!”

Juan handed it back and said, “Please leave it in my cabin, Maurice.”

“Along with a full breakfast and a Bloody Mary,” Maurice said and glided away.

“Satisfied?” Juan asked Beth, who relaxed again. “I promise you will get as much time as you want with them once you’ve recovered.”

Beth clapped her hands in glee, ignoring the injury. “I can’t wait.” Then she took Raven’s hand. “Thank you for rescuing me.”

For the first time that Juan had seen, Raven’s lips turned up in a tiny smirk. “Wait until you see my fee.”

“Believe me,” Beth said, “with the reward we’re going to get from those paintings, I can afford it.”

Raven turned to Juan and got so close to his ear that he could feel her breath on his neck. “I’ll go with her. From what I understand about the effects of Typhoon, she’s going to have a rough few days as she goes through withdrawal.” She didn’t add that Beth might die if she had become fully addicted to the stuff.

Juan nodded, and Raven kept hold of Beth’s hand as Julia and the med techs wheeled her to the medical bay.

He looked at Max and grinned. “I’m glad you got Tagaan. I wasn’t looking forward to another mission to find him. I think I need about twelve hours of shut-eye.”

“We all do,” Max said. “Eric has the Oregon headed to a harbor on Panay, where we can ride out the rest of the storm. The ship will rock you to sleep.”

Juan handed a couple of the tubes of paintings to Max and took the rest himself.

“Before I turn in, I want to see what we’ve got here.”

They went to the boardroom, where Juan opened the tube marked Picasso. He carefully pulled the paintings out and unrolled them on the conference table.

“Wow,” Max said when he saw the masterpieces lying there. “I can’t wait to hear what the reward is for returning these.” The top one was a Rembrandt that Juan recalled from the Gardner Museum heist. The one below it was signed by Gauguin.

“I know how we’re going pay for repairs to the Oregon,” Juan said.

“And maybe a few upgrades?” Max asked with a cocked eyebrow.

“Not a bad idea.”

The third painting was a small cubist oil instantly identifiable as a Picasso.

“Beth said this one is available for purchase since it was stolen from an auction.”

“Picassos always make a good investment.” The Corporation already had one in its possession, currently in a bank vault in Monaco. “This one might look good on the walls in here.”

As Juan lifted it up for Max to get a better look, he suddenly understood why Locsin had wanted it back so badly.

He nodded appreciatively and grinned at Max. “I’ll take it.”