River of Ruin

El Mirador West of Panama City

Built by a narco-trafficker currently serving the first of eight consecutive life sentences in a Miami prison, the elaborate estate called El Mirador, the Lookout, had been purchased by Liu Yousheng for a fraction of its value. There were dozens of such abandoned luxury homes in Panama.

Overlooking a sugar sand beach, the main house loomed atop a promontory and resembled a piece of modern sculpture, all angles and primary colors. Because the odd-shaped house had sat unoccupied for several years before Hatcherly acquired it, the landscaping had become overgrown, ragged with encroaching jungle. Liu had had a one-hundred-meter perimeter around the house and its outbuildings mowed flat. While not unappealing aesthetically, the open area was meant to give guards open lanes of fire if the house were ever assaulted.

Liu cared nothing for the architecture of the place, didn’t even bother to repaint the exterior to hide its outlandish silhouette. What drew him to this particular abomination was its isolation—the driveway was eleven miles long—and that the estate had a heliport with a hangar.

Approaching the well-lit porte-cochere, his limo’s headlights swept over two cars parked a short distance from the house’s front door. He recognized one from Hatcherly’s motor pool, and the other belonged to Omar Quintero, Panama’s president. There was also a black van in the driveway near the two vehicles. Sergeant Huai and Captain Chen stood by the van’s open rear doors as the limo purred to a stop. Beyond them all was darkness and shadow. Even the moon remained hidden.

Next to Liu in the rear of the limo, Maria Barber was curled up with her head resting against the rear door. Her coffee-colored breasts were almost spilling from the top of her loose blouse and the angle of her legs allowed him a view of her lace panties if he was so inclined to look. He wasn’t.

“Maria, we’re here,” he said and tapped her shoulder.

She muttered in her sleep, licked her lips and slowly came awake.

“I’m sorry, lover,” she cooed when her eyes fluttered open. “After what you did to me in your office, I just couldn’t stay awake.”

Liu didn’t believe her. He knew she’d feigned sleep so she wouldn’t have to talk to him on the long drive to the house. She still loved the money and gifts he gave her, but she could no longer maintain the pretense that she loved him. It was just as well. He’d grown bored of her too. She’d fulfilled her usefulness and he only kept her around now because sex with her was simpler than engaging prostitutes.

Stepping from the vehicle, Liu walked to the back of the van and looked at what Huai and Chen had brought him. His voice betrayed his disappointment. “Not exactly what I had in mind but I suppose it will do.”

“Sir.” Captain Chen made a gesture to Liu asking him to turn around.

Coming out the front door of the house was Panama’s new president, Omar Quintero, and the director of the canal, Felix Silvera-Arias. Behind them stood General Yu, the head of COSTIND. Liu nearly choked. In the military hierarchy of Hatcherly and COSTIND, Yu’s only superior was the defense minister himself. Not knowing why Yu was here, Liu didn’t take his presence as a good sign. A jet of acid erupted in his stomach. He wanted to reach back into his car for his Mylanta.

“Mr. Liu,” Felix Silvera-Arias greeted him from several feet away. “Your General Yu graciously invited us out for a meeting. I have never seen your home before. Quite interesting. Why, isn’t that—?”

With a sharp glance, Liu cut off the canal director when he realized that Maria was still with him. Felix had enjoyed the ministrations of two of Maria’s friends following a dinner a few weeks ago and was aware of the role Maria had played in their operation. Her death should have been ordered weeks ago because of what she knew. He had to get rid of her before Felix mentioned her name or Yu became suspicious about her identity.

“Get into the car,” he hissed at her.

“But I’m tired.” She pouted. “I want to go to bed.”

He shoved her into the vehicle, his anger at her masking his fear of Yu. “Shut up, you stupid puta.” He tapped the button to lower the divider separating the driver’s compartment and addressed his driver. “Take her back to her apartment then get back here as quickly as possible.”

“Yes, sir.”

Liu slammed the door on her protests.

“I’m sorry about that, gentlemen.” He spoke English, the only language they all shared. “Had I known you were coming I wouldn’t have hired some, ah, entertainment.”

President Quintero made a dismissive gesture as if he understood, but General Yu’s scowl deepened. Shorter than the others, but with a much more commanding presence, it was for the general’s benefit that Liu had made the excuse. Liu took a deep breath, wincing at the pain in his stomach. He had to get control of himself and the situation. He spoke a few words to Captain Chen and then started toward the others. He shook hands with the president and Silvera-Arias and snapped a perfect salute to Yu.

“I am honored by your visit, General.” Liu barely succeeded at sounding genuine. Rather than honor he felt terror. As far as he knew, the general had never set foot outside China. Liu blew on his fingertips as if they’d just been burned.

“Perhaps,” Yu grumbled. “Let us go inside.”

The four men moved into the cool interior of the house. In the large living room, a pair of half-finished drinks stood amid condensation puddles on a glass-topped table. The minimal furniture was sleek, whites and chromes mostly. The walls were bare of any decoration, as if the design of the house was art enough. Yu sank into a separate chair while the two Panamanians took their places on a sofa facing the cocktails. Although they were the most powerful men in the nation, even they were subdued by Yu’s menacing aura. They waited for the general to start the conversation.

Liu desperately wanted something to settle his roiling stomach, and every second the silence dragged on made it worse. His abdomen made an audible twist. The autonomy he’d enjoyed since first coming to Panama was at an end. That much was clear. What he didn’t know was what controls Yu was about to place over him and what that meant for his career once Operation Red Island was complete. He felt his place within COSTIND suddenly slipping.

Felix Silvera-Arias finished off his drink in a nervous gulp while President Quintero, elegant in a tailored suit despite what must have been an urgent summons to this meeting, wiped his glasses on a scrap of silk he then returned to his breast pocket. Like Liu, the canal director wore casual slacks and a loose shirt. Both Panamanians possessed the studied polish of longtime politicians. They even resembled each other slightly—they were cousins. Felix owed his new job to the president and Quintero owed his presidency to the backroom machinations orchestrated by Silvera-Arias—and Liu.

Yu, squat and pugnacious in a suit he made look as regimented as a uniform, had neither an insider’s élan nor a politician’s charm. His rank was the result of years of unwavering discipline and success. And in a culture that revered age, Yu was just sixty-four years old. He had a great deal further to go within the Beijing power structure.

“Mr. President, Mr. Director,” Yu started formally. “If you could excuse Yousheng and I for a moment, we need to speak in private.”

There was a second-long pause when the leader of Panama thought he was expected to leave the room. Instead, Yu stood and beckoned his protégé to follow. They took up seats on the far side of the room, where even if the two Panamanians could understand the language, they couldn’t overhear.

“When I am finished,” Yu spoke softly in Chinese, “translate what you feel necessary to keep those two satisfied. There is a new resistance developing within the portion of the People’s Congress who know about what you are attempting here. They feel that your plan will antagonize the Americans rather than deter them.

“Our president has been informed about this and is beginning to rethink our position in Panama. I believe he’s going to order COSTIND to pull out of Operation Red Island.”

The news was devastating, but Liu knew better than to interrupt.

“I understand nearly everything is in place to execute the plan with the exception of finding the buried treasure. Is that true?”

“Yes, General.” Liu spoke formally, hoping there was still a chance to salvage Red Island. “Gemini has been in the Bay of Panama awaiting transit for a couple of days. Our submersible is ready to deflect the ship preceding Gemini through the locks. Everything at the mine is as it should be, and the government here has already accepted the first shipment of bullion from home as down payment for what we will recover near the River of Ruin.”

“But no gold has been found at the volcanic lake?”

“That is correct, sir,” Liu answered at once.

“Why?”

“I overestimated the abilities of local troops to act as guards and have needed to use more of our own soldiers. I’ve spread them too thin, sir. I’ve lost efficiency in all aspects of the operation because of this.”

“And you’ve needed extra guards?”

Liu gave the other two men a significant look. “This is a lawless country, sir. Thieves have attempted to infiltrate our container port and the Twenty Devils Mine.”

Yu seemed convinced by the ready answers. They agreed with his own sense of what he’d seen of Panama since his arrival just a few hours earlier. “Very well.” The general went silent for a moment. “I need an honest assessment, Yousheng.” His use of Liu’s first name was meant to impart trust. If anything it made the Hatcherly executive even more suspicious. “How far can we safely push up the timetable without jeopardizing the mission? Don’t give me an answer you think I want. I want the truth.”

Liu wasn’t fooled into believing there was a truthful answer to that question. The general was looking to execute Red Island before China’s president canceled it, but wanted to leave a scapegoat, someone to blame, if it didn’t go well. By answering, Liu was being maneuvered into that sacrificial role. If he delayed implementation too long and Red Island was canceled, his future in COSTIND was over. He’d be lucky to get a job as a dock worker. On the other hand, if he pushed it too close and it failed, Yu would have him killed long before he returned home.

His career, his very life, was coming down to this moment. “I can implement the plan in three days,” he said, shaving five days from the original timetable.

“Can it be done the day after tomorrow?” The general’s eyes bored into his. His meaning was clear. Red Island will be executed the day after tomorrow.

“Yes,” Liu said, then qualified his answer. “But only if the DF-31 missiles are here. We can smuggle the warheads later, they are smaller, but those rockets need to be in Panama before the canal is closed. Afterward there will be too much scrutiny to offload them.”

Yu glanced at the compliant president and canal director. “You think they will pursue a vigorous investigation?”

“Not them, but even if the Americans are denied the right to place troops here, they will send in covert teams of investigators. Hatcherly’s warehouses will be watched closely. It’s too much of a risk to unload the missiles after such a team arrives. The Americans shouldn’t be underestimated.”

“That’s why you didn’t want the warheads brought in until after the canal was closed?”

“Yes, sir.” Liu was heartened to see that Yu understood the subtleties of the operation. “It’s likely that the United States will send a group from NEST, that’s their Nuclear Emergency Search Team. Even under the best shielding, a nuclear warhead may be detected by their sophisticated equipment. I’ve heard they can identify trace radiation from medical X-ray machines that haven’t been used for years.”

Yu grunted.

Liu continued. “If the rockets were here, we could proceed with the rest of the operation and then bring in the warheads after a few weeks. But I believe the DF-31s are still in China, yes?”

Liu saw immediately that he’d been outmaneuvered. Yu gave no outward sign, but he could feel it. The missiles were already in Panamanian waters, or would be by the next day.

The general didn’t need to state the obvious. “You have an enclosed dry dock at the Hatcherly facility that you plan to use for their unloading?”

Liu swallowed. The operation was going ahead a full week before his schedule and he couldn’t stop it. His only choice now was to put his full efforts into seeing it through. “Yes, General. There’s a ship in it now, ostensibly for a refit, but it’s a COSTIND vessel we’ve been keeping there as cover.”

“Have it moved out,” Yu ordered through the cloud of a freshly lit cigarette, his dark eyes squinting. “The vessel carrying the missiles, a refrigerator ship named Korvald, will arrive tomorrow night.”

“And the warheads?”

“Are still in China. As you suggest, we’ll ship them in a few weeks.”

“Ah, General. The gold? I have enough from the supply you gave to me at the beginning of the operation to make one more payment, but after that ...”

“You will get no more from COSTIND. It is up to you to find the treasure. That is all there is to it.”

Liu stopped himself from protesting more. He knew the general wouldn’t be swayed by any argument he could devise.

There were over a hundred and fifty men scouring the volcanic lake and the banks of the River of Ruin. He’d always known it was only a matter of time to find it, but time was the one thing now taken from him.

Liu nodded at the two Panamanians pretending not to be offended that they’d been excluded from the conversation. “I will negotiate to extend the bullion you’ve given me. I should be able to buy a few more weeks.”

Yu just shrugged. He had no interest in those kinds of details. “Is there anything else you need from me?”

“I don’t think so, sir. My geologists have assured me that the ground in the Gaillard Cut has been sufficiently saturated with water to ensure liquefaction when the explosives go off.”

Implementation of Red Island had been designed to coincide with Panama’s rainy season so that the land had soaked up a tremendous amount of water. Under the onslaught of the special explosives they were to use, the wet ground would become a liquid slurry unable to support its own weight. The principle was the same that caused such devastation during earthquakes. Structures on solid rock fared well during a temblor but buildings on reclaimed land were severely damaged because the soil seemed to dissolve in a process called liquefaction.

Liu continued. “Most of the crew have already been taken off Gemini and the submersible is ready to retrieve the remainder once everything is in position.”

“What about the diving chamber near the lock?”

“Explosive charges are in place to destroy it as soon as the men have attached the diverter submersible to the ship we intend to use to block the canal.”

“And you know which ship that will be?”

“Yes, sir. Like Gemini, it’s a bulk carrier registered in Liberia. She’s named Mario diCastorelli and is already on station and ready to go through the canal. She’s loaded with Portland cement and scrap steel. When Gemini explodes she should roll over and that cargo will turn into a solid mass weighing about twelve thousand tons. Removing just her hulk alone will take several months.”

“Well thought out.”

“Thank you, General.” Liu was startled by the compliment. “It was an idea I had after first making this proposal to the minister of defense.”

“Who is crewing the Mario diCastorelli?”

“As the name implies she’s owned by a shell company in Italy with Liberian registration. Her crew is mostly Filipinos with Greek officers. They have no idea what’s in store for them. Gemini will detonate less than a hundred feet from their ship. Just before the explosion, the submersible will dock at Gamboa to unload the divers and the crew from Gemini. It will be scuttled there. All the men will be driven straight from Gamboa to Cristobal on the Atlantic coast, where a ship will spirit them away.”

“And it is the last piece of physical evidence?”

“That’s correct. The diving bell and mini-sub are the last links. At some point during the redredging operation, their remains will be quietly retrieved and disposed of.”

“You’ve thought this out well, Yousheng. I’m pleased. With the exception of finding the gold, everything has gone remarkably smoothly. Just for the sake of argument, could you maintain control of Panama after the canal is closed if you don’t find the treasure?”

Liu shook his head. “For the short term, perhaps, but it’s not sustainable. Panama’s economy depends on transit tariffs far and above what we can provide through taxes on using our railroad and pipeline. Without the money, the country will descend into chaos. Quintero would be overthrown and his likely replacement would invite American troops in to keep the peace and see that the canal is reopened.”

“But if we keep them afloat economically, they will resist when the Americans pressure them to allow them in?”

“That’s why we’ve paid Quintero and Silvera-Arias. It’s up to them to defy any U.S. pressure.”

“They’ll hold up?”

Liu looked at his superior. “As long as the money keeps flowing, they’ll do what we want. By the time we reveal the missiles to the American government, our position here will be unassailable.”

“A well-thought-out plan,” Yu repeated.

Knowing that if it succeeded the general would take all the credit, Liu was certain that if it failed, that failure would rest on his shoulders alone. Such was the way of Chinese politics. But success meant Liu would forever be attached to the general as he continued his rise in Beijing.

“Go tell our Panamanian friends about the change in schedule.” Yu stood. “I’m returning to the city. I have an early flight in the morning.”

Meaning you won’t be anywhere near the action when it comes, Liu thought bitterly. But this was the price he had to pay. A man like General Yu had already proven himself again and again. Now it was Liu’s turn. “Yes, sir.”

“Do you know what time you will detonate Gemini?” Yu asked as he led his subaltern toward the door without any thought to President Quintero or Director Silvera-Arias.

“My explosives experts tell me that when it is overcast, the pressure waves bounce back from the sky and amplify the detonative forces. So it will depend on the weather on the day after tomorrow, General.”

“Very well. I look forward to your call telling me it is done.”

Liu snapped another salute. “It will be my honor.”

The wily old general didn’t return the salute as he wandered over to the sedan he’d commandeered from Hatcherly for this visit. Liu waited until the vehicle’s taillights faded down the long drive, absently blowing on his fingers. Then he went in search of Captain Chen. He found the leader of the commando group just returning from one of the outbuildings.

“Tell Sun to get to work as soon as he gets here,” Liu barked. Yu had set a near-impossible task, made worse because of the situation Liu had intentionally kept from him—the Special Forces, or whoever they were, who’d been interfering at every turn. “Yu’s ordered the timetable pushed up. We have about thirty-six hours.”

The soldier couldn’t hide his shock. “Is that feasible?”

“It damned well better be,” Liu said. “And sometime tomorrow morning I want Maria picked up and disposed of.”

“You mean ...”

“You know damned well what I mean. Kill her.”

Liu could feel the pressure mounting: a lead weight in his gut and a burning ache behind his eyes. That was why he had no compulsion about ordering his lover’s murder. Even an hour ago, the thought had given him pause. No longer. Too much was at stake to care about his conscience or anything else. Same went with using Mr. Sun’s talents. Having Mercer tortured had bothered him on one level, surely not enough to stop him from ordering it, but the feelings were there. That too was gone now. He would use any assets open to him to see Red Island’s successful completion.

Red Island. He’d even picked the code name, as an allusion to what the Soviets had attempted in Cuba. Of course they had wanted their missiles discovered, otherwise they would have camouflaged them rather than leave them in the open for U-2 spy planes to find. The Cuban Missile Crisis had been a game of nuclear brinkmanship: remove yours and we’ll remove ours. What he had in mind was much subtler.

Nuclear blackmail—back off when we take Taiwan or eight American cities get carbonized.