Medusa (NUMA Files 8)

“Well, here’s the problem,” Austin said with a heavy smile.

“You killed that man in the commission of a crime, the hijacking of U.S. property and the missile attack on the support ship. You’re lucky no one died on the Proud Mary. Then there’s the death of the security-company man who got your ID.”

“The missile attack was meant to distract the guards long enough to steal the lab,” Phelps said. “I’ll admit someone could have been killed, but I’m glad that didn’t happen. I had no part in the security man’s death . . . But I see what you mean.”

“Glad to hear that you understand the situation,” Austin said. “I’m going to have to turn you over to the authorities when we land. I’ll tell them the whole story, and that’s sure to mitigate your punishment.”

“Ten years in the brig instead of twenty?” Phelps grinned. “Well, sometimes you gotta do what you gotta do. Mind if I go tell Lois what’s happening?”

Austin couldn’t help admiring the man’s calm. He nodded, then rose from his chair. They left the salon, and a few minutes later were in a pontoon boat headed back to the Concord.

Lois Mitchell was waiting there for them. Phelps peeled Lois away from the others, and they went off to talk while Austin and Zavala went to the wardroom to meet with the captain and the scientists from the lab.

Dixon brought everyone up to date on the progress of the jet flying to China. It would be close, but the vaccine would make it there in time.

Austin glanced at his watch. He excused himself and went out on the deck. He asked several crewmen if they had seen Phelps and Mitchell, and he finally got an answer when one of them pointed toward shore.

“They took the inflatable into port,” the crewman informed Austin. “They said they would be back in a couple of hours. Guy said to give this to you.”

Austin unfolded the sheet of lined notebook paper and read the short, scrawled message:

“Gotta do what you gotta do. P.”

An annoyed smile came to Austin’s lips. Phelps had outfoxed him.

Austin walked over to the railing and looked toward Pohnpei. Kolonia was small town on a small island, but the local police department wasn’t exactly Interpol. Phelps would be far away by the time local police mobilized.

Austin climbed to the bridge at a very leisurely pace, and asked a crewman to call the police, report a stolen launch, and give them a description of Mitchell and Phelps.

He took solace in the fact that Chang was dead. His attempt to spread the virus had been foiled. The vaccine would soon be made available.

One Triad triplet had been eliminated, but that still left Wen Lo and the mysterious Dragon Lady.

Austin was still pondering his course of action when his cell phone rang. It was Lieutenant Casey.

“Congratulations, Kurt,” Casey said, “the admiral just called and gave me the good news.”

“Thanks, Lieutenant, but our work isn’t done as long as the other Triad triplets are on the loose.”

“We’re well aware of that, Kurt. I have someone on the line who would like to talk to you.”

Austin told Casey to transfer him. A few seconds later, a man’s voice came on the line.

“Good day, Mr. Austin,” he said in a silken tone. “Let me introduce myself. I am Colonel Ming of the People’s Liberation Army.”

“Good day, Colonel Ming. How can I help you?”

“That is not why I called, Mr. Austin. The question is, how can I help you?”

CHAPTER 47

WEN LO EMERGED FROM HIS FAVORITE NIGHTCLUB WITH A gorgeous prostitute clinging to each arm. His walk was unsteady, but the Triad triplet wasn’t too drunk to see that something was very wrong. His guards were gone. The two SUVs that escorted his armor-plated Mercedes everywhere were gone. His Mercedes was gone, and a black Roewe sedan had taken its place at the curb.

Standing on the sidewalk next to the car was a husky, granite-faced man in a dark blue suit. He opened the Roewe’s rear door and motioned for Wen Lo to get in.

Wen Lo looked up and down the street, as if he could make his guards and car reappear through sheer willpower. No pedestrians or traffic moved in either direction. The street obviously had been cordoned off.

Wen Lo dispensed the prostitutes with a shove and a brusque word and got in the Roewe. The husky man shut the door and slid in front next to the driver. As the car pulled away from the curb, a slender man in an Army uniform sitting in the backseat, said, “Good evening, Wen Lo. My apologies for spoiling your night out on the town.”