Typhoon Fury Page 12

  Five scientists were hard at work, hunched over high-powered microscopes, operating gas chromatographs, and poring over computer data. Although Locsin kept them captive, at least he provided them with the latest equipment. All of the chemists looked up for a moment but turned back to their jobs when they saw who had entered not because they were ignoring him but because they wanted to appear busy.

  Ocampo knew it was a sham. Their work was futile without more information about what they were attempting to produce.

  “Why aren’t you able to create more of the pills?” Locsin demanded.

  “Mr. Locsin, you’ve given us only ten of the pills to work with,” Ocampo said. “We need at least fifty more to effectively analyze its chemical makeup.”

  “I thought you only needed a small sample to identify a chemical.”

  “If we were comparing it to something else that already exists, then yes. For example, if we were trying to match a chemical residue from an arson investigation, there’s a known database to compare with the sample. But what we’re trying to do is much more difficult. You want us to figure out the exact chemical formula for this drug from scratch.”

  Without warning, Locsin picked up a heavy metal desk with one hand and flung it at the wall as if it were as light as balsa wood. The loud crash stopped all work, and the scientists looked at him in fear.

  Locsin, his face scarlet with rage, got nose to nose with Ocampo and screamed, “I don’t care about the details! What I want to know is if you can do it!”

  Ocampo’s mouth was suddenly bone dry from terror. Finding a way to replicate the drug was a long shot at best, but there was no way he was going to say that. “With time and resources, yes. But I must have more of the drug.”

  “And if there is no more to give you?”

  “Then it will take even longer.”

  “How long?”

  “It’s hard to estimate.”

  “And if you have more pills?”

  Ocampo swallowed reflexively. “Three months. I feel like we are close to a breakthrough.” He caught one of his chemists, a woman named Maria Santos, eyeing him when he made that proclamation.

  Locsin’s face instantly transformed. The furious expression was gone and a beatific smile took its place. He put his arm around Ocampo’s shoulder like he was an old friend.

  “A breakthrough,” he said. “That’s what I like to hear. I knew I could count on you, Dr. Ocampo. However, I need the formula in two months, not three. I’m sure you can do it. We have a limited supply of pills, so I can’t give you any more, but I can bring in more people if you need them. Just say the word.”

  The thought of dragging more innocent souls into this nightmare nearly made Ocampo shudder. He couldn’t bear the responsibility for that.

  “Perhaps if you told us more about the drug’s effects, we could narrow our focus.”

  “Your expertise is in the development of steroids,” Locsin said. “That’s why you’re here. You don’t need to know what Typhoon is for, you only need to make more of it.” He turned Ocampo toward him and looked him in the eye. “Now, if you can’t do it, tell me and we’ll shut down the project right now.”

  Shut down the project. What a nice way of saying that he’d have them all killed and buried in a shallow grave.

  “We can do it, Mr. Locsin,” Ocampo said reassuringly. “As I said, the breakthrough could come at any time.”

  Locsin patted him on the back. “I hope my presence here has provided the needed motivation.”

  “Of course it has.”

  “Good. Now I’m going to get my breakfast. When I come back, I want a detailed report on how you plan to accomplish your task.”

  Ocampo felt the blood drain from his face. “Yes, sir.”

  Locsin and Tagaan left. Maria Santos jumped up from her desk and raced over to Ocampo.

  “Are you crazy?” she said. “We’re nowhere close to a breakthrough.”

  “But he doesn’t know that.”

  “We might be able to come up with some kind of bogus plan today, but he’s going to find out sooner or later that we have no idea how to do what he wants. My guess is sooner.”

  “I agree. That’s why we’re all going to escape from this place.”

  “Escape? You really are crazy.”

  Ocampo put his hands on her shoulders. “I already have an idea for how to do it. The only thing left is to come up with the proper distraction.”

  18

  The Halsema Highway, a mountainous route north of Manila, was considered one of the ten most dangerous roads in the world. Juan didn’t have to share that ranking with Beth and Raven. They could see for themselves how hazardous it was.

  The winding route through the mountains of central Luzon often narrowed to one lane, which meant they’d had to back up hundreds of yards several times during the five-hour trip to let a bus pass in the other direction. The poorly maintained road was little more than a dirt path in some places, but the asphalt wasn’t much better because it could become as slick as ice in the frequent tropical downpours. Sheer, unprotected drops, landslides, and accidents in fog-shrouded conditions claimed dozens of lives every year. The PIG’s wide, self-sealing tires sometimes skirted the edge of five-hundred-foot drops, but Juan trusted Eddie’s assured driving skills, which were apparent when he had steered them around a pile of rocks from a previous slide and then accelerated to avoid a bus barreling toward them out of the mist.

  Juan had just as much confidence in the PIG. Based on a Mercedes Unimog chassis, Max’s from the ground up modifications included an armored cab that could withstand rifle fire and an eight-hundred-horsepower turbodiesel that could push past one thousand with a nitro boost. Although the PIG didn’t have ejector seats, Beth’s guess that there were guns in the headlights was wrong only in location. A .30 caliber machine gun was tucked behind the front bumper, mortars could be fired from a retractable hatch in the roof, and guided rocket launchers were hidden in drop-away side panels. A smoke generator was capable of pumping out a thick cloud behind it. The fifty-five-gallon drums in the back did contain extra fuel, but they also served as a concealment for a cargo area that could be configured as a mobile surgical suite, radio listening post, or personnel carrier for up to ten fully outfitted commandos.

  For today’s mission, the PIG was set up as a reconnaissance vehicle, with observation drones that could take off through the roof hatch. Juan wasn’t as adept as Gomez at flying them, but he’d get to test his recent training.

  Guided by the satellite GPS navigation, Juan told Eddie to turn when they reached a dirt road near their destination, the last location of the homing beacon broadcast by the transmitter attached to the bronze eagle finial. The trail was well worn by truck treads, but the dense jungle foliage threatened to overgrow it, and branches scraped against the sides of the PIG.

  A mile into the dirt road without passing a single vehicle, they arrived at a turnoff fronted by a heavy steel gate topped with razor wire. A ten-foot-high chain-link fence disappeared into the jungle on either side. Eddie slowed the PIG as they passed.

  “That kind of security seems a tad excessive,” he said, “since we’re about an hour from nowhere.”

  “They’re either very intent on keeping people out,” Juan said, “or they really want to keep someone from leaving.”

  Raven peered at the sturdy gate. “It’s definitely the type of precaution I’d take to safeguard half a billion dollars of artwork.”

  Beth shook her head. “But why keep it way out here in the middle of the jungle? Wouldn’t they want to have it more accessible if they’re planning to use it for trading purposes?”

  “Only one way to find out,” Juan said. “Why don’t we see what our eye in the sky can tell us?”

  Eddie drove another three hundred yards, out of sight of the gate, and stopped. The vegetation was so dense that
he couldn’t pull off the road, but it didn’t seem like they’d be blocking traffic anytime soon.

  Juan hit the switch to retract the rooftop hatch, and humid mountain air flooded the cabin. Using his smartphone as a controller and watching the camera’s feed on the dashboard screen, Juan launched the gull-sized unmanned aerial vehicle.

  The UAV shot up above the treetops, then whizzed toward its target. Although a quadcopter would have been more maneuverable, the buzzing of four rotors would draw unwanted attention in a quiet location like this. Instead, the drone had wings and a tail, with a compact gimbaled camera in the nose and a variable-speed propeller at the rear. Its top speed was sixty knots, but the prop could be slowed to stealth mode for silent reconnaissance. Painted to resemble a hawk, the drone looked like a bird of prey soaring on an updraft.

  Flying at a thousand feet, the drone followed the road for a half mile until it reached a clearing with a large central prefab-style building, surrounded by several smaller ones, and a helicopter pad where a chopper idled, its rotors slowly churning. The gravel driveway continued on past the compound and into the jungle beyond. Nobody seemed to notice the circling drone. A half-dozen guards in green fatigues armed with assault rifles patrolled the compound, and five Humvees were parked at the edge, two of them with mounted .50 caliber machine guns.

  “That’s some heavy firepower for an art storage facility,” Eddie said.

  “With that many guards, we’ll have to wait until nightfall to get a closer look,” Juan said. “Raven and Beth, you’ll wait here and watch us with the drone while Eddie and I go through the fence and see if we can find out what’s going on here.”

  “I’ll go with you on the infiltration,” Raven said.

  Juan shook his head. “We’ll move faster if it’s just the two of us. Besides, your file said you’ve operated small drones before, and I’m guessing that’s not Beth’s forte.”

  “If you wanted me to crash one,” Beth said, “I’m your woman.”

  “Then it’s settled . . . Raven, I’ll show you the controls for this—”

  Juan was interrupted when a door on the large building opened and six men walked out. The two in the lead were talking as they headed toward the waiting helicopter.

  “Looks like someone’s getting ready to leave,” Juan said.

  Raven leaned forward to get a closer look at the screen. “Can you zoom in on them?”

  Juan focused on the two men in front, both powerfully built Filipinos.

  “That’s him,” Beth said. “The guy in the Bangkok club.”

  “He was called Tagaan,” Raven added.

  “Do you know who the man next to him is?” Eddie asked.

  Beth and Raven shook their heads.

  “Maybe we can get an ID,” Juan said. He took a freeze-frame of the image and uploaded it by satellite to the Oregon’s computer. He texted Murph to run it through the CIA facial recognition database to see if they could get a match.

  Tagaan and the other man stopped and talked animatedly, pointing several times at the building they’d just left.

  “Something inside sure has them worked up,” Eddie said.

  “I just hope they aren’t arguing about whether to destroy the paintings,” Beth said.

  “If Eddie and I determine that the artwork is inside,” Juan said, “we’ll decide if we can get it out ourselves. If not, we’ll return with a bigger team. But remember, that transient signal from the homing beacon doesn’t mean this is the storage facility. It could have been taken somewhere else while it was shielded in its case.”

  “I know,” Beth said. “I’m just nervous about coming up empty after getting so close.”

  “We got an ID on our mystery man,” Eddie said. On the screen was a photo of the man with Tagaan, but in this photo he looked much skinnier.

  Juan read the name aloud. “Salvador Locsin. It seems your drug dealers are also communist revolutionaries looking to overthrow the Philippine government, and this guy is the leader.”

  Eddie leaned toward the screen. “His men wiped out a dozen policemen during an attempted prison escape at sea last week. The Philippine National Police are still unsure whether he was actually rescued or went down with the ship.”

  Juan nodded at the drone feed. “He’s the healthiest-looking dead person I’ve ever seen.”

  Eddie scrolled through the list of charges against Locsin. “Murder, political assassinations, extortion, corruption, racketeering. There are pages of this stuff. It would take less time to name the crimes he hasn’t committed. And he has a price on his head. Two million dollars.”

  “Our first priority is the paintings,” Beth said.

  “Agreed,” Juan said. “But if we can get a two-for-one deal on this job, we might as well help the Filipino police get their man.”

  Locsin and Tagaan finished their discussion and both boarded the helicopter.

  “This might be good for us,” Eddie said. “Security could loosen up once he’s gone.”

  “When the boss is away, the mice will play?” Juan said with a smile.

  Eddie chuckled. “Present company excluded, Chairman.”

  The chopper took off and pivoted over the compound before accelerating away.

  Right toward them.

  The sound of the throbbing rotors grew quickly.

  “Juan,” Beth said, craning her neck to the window, “isn’t he going to fly right over us?”

  Of all the directions he could have flown, the pilot happened to pick the one that would do exactly that.

  “Too late to leave now,” Juan said. “They’d notice our dust trail for sure. We’ll just have to hope they don’t spot us through the foliage.” The drab green paint provided some camouflage, but the squat outline of the truck wasn’t designed to blend into a jungle background.

  They all held their breaths as the helicopter approached. It didn’t fly directly over, which was actually worse because it meant that one side of the chopper had a decent view. That is, if anyone was actually looking in their direction. The sun glinting off the canopy made it impossible for Juan to tell if anyone was facing them.

  The helicopter passed without slowing.

  They all sat back in relief, but it was short-lived. The feed from the drone, which was still circling the compound, showed a frenzy of activity as gunmen poured out of the buildings fully armed and piled into four of the five Humvees, including the ones equipped with machine guns.

  Two of them sped off on down the driveway leading into the jungle while the other two raced toward the front gate.

  “Smart,” Eddie said appreciatively. “The chopper pilot kept going so we wouldn’t know they had spotted us. Good thing they didn’t realize we’re watching them.” He started the PIG and threw it into reverse.

  “There must be another exit from the compound onto this road,” Juan said. “They’re trying to catch us in a pincer move. I’ll recall the drone. Eddie, get us out of here.”

  Eddie punched the gas, and they shot backward.

  Before he could set the drone to return to the PIG, its camera showed six people in white lab coats being roughly removed from the main building by the two remaining guards. They looked around in bewilderment at the suddenly empty compound.

  “Who are they?” Beth asked.

  “I don’t know,” Juan said. “But they don’t look like they’re there willingly.”

  One of the guards shouted at the lead man, who turned and threw something at him. It exploded in a gush of flame, and the guard dropped his weapon as he ran amok trying to extinguish the white-hot fire.

  Two more of the people in lab coats tossed objects at the second captor. Both of the makeshift grenades exploded. The guard rolled to the ground in an attempt to put out the flames, but he still held on to his assault rifle. Despite being ablaze, he picked off one of the captives. The m
an who had thrown the first grenade snatched up the dropped gun and killed the armed guard with a sustained barrage. The remaining guard, still on fire, ran at him like a madman before being taken down.

  Beth gasped at the carnage and said, “Are they trying to escape because of us?”

  “They must be desperate,” Juan said and glanced at Eddie, who nodded, knowing what Juan already had in mind.

  The man who’d instigated the jailbreak sprinted to one of the smaller buildings and emerged seconds later triumphantly holding an item in his hand. It had to be the keys to the last Humvee because the four other captives ran for it and got in. Soon, the Humvee was driving at high speed toward the main gate.

  “We might get away,” Raven said, “but if those people run into the other Humvees, they’re going to be wiped out.”

  “I know,” Juan said as he heard the rotors of the helicopter returning to direct the coming ambush. “That’s why we’re going to help them.”

  19

  Ocampo’s hands were shaking as they gripped the wheel of the speeding Humvee. He couldn’t see the compound entrance through the trees, but he knew it wasn’t far.

  “Where did they all go?” said Maria Santos from the passenger seat, her voice trembling. The three other scientists in the back were silent with fear.

  “I don’t know,” Ocampo replied, “but it looked like they were in a hurry.”

  Maria choked down a sob. “Paul’s dead.”

  Ocampo couldn’t shake the sight of the chemist’s lifeless body riddled with bullets. “But we’re alive.”

  “For how long? If they catch us, they’ll kill us.”

  “They would have killed us eventually anyway.”

  “How do you know they’re not waiting for us up ahead?”

  “I don’t. But this is the fastest way out.”

  When they rounded the next bend, Ocampo stood on the brakes, and their vehicle skidded to a stop. Two Humvees, one with a mounted machine gun, were positioned ahead of them just outside the gate as if they were waiting for something farther up the road. Guards were crouched behind the doors, their weapons at the ready.