Typhoon Fury (Oregon Files 12) - Page 37

When the inspector left, Eddie said, “Sometimes we have to grease a few palms to avoid questions.”

Beth nodded but said nothing. She’d done the same in a few seedy locales when she needed answers to awkward questions.

They stood by while Eddie made preparations in the PIG. A few minutes later, Juan strode down the gangway in a black T-shirt and light cargo pants.

“I like this version much better,” Beth said.

“Me too,” Juan said. “I’m done with Herb Munson for the day. How’s it looking, Eddie?”

Eddie poked his head from the cab. “Everything checks out, Chairman. We’re ready when you are.”

“Then let’s load up. Beth and Raven, I’ll ride shotgun, if you don’t mind.”

Beth got in back with Raven and was happy to find that it had already been cooled down by a powerful air conditioner. Though the seats were torn and faded, the leather was surprisingly supple and the cushions provided good support.

When all the doors were closed, Eddie flipped a switch, and the ancient dashboard retracted and flipped around. It was replaced with a state-of-the-art computer display and high-tech switches.

Eddie engaged the powerful diesel and drove away

from the Oregon. The ride was limousine smooth.

Juan turned in his seat. “The PIG’s got a few more hidden features that might come in handy, since we don’t know what we’ll find up in the mountains. GPS says it’s a four-hour drive. There are drinks and sandwiches in the cooler between you, if you want some.”

Beth shook her head and laughed. “What hidden features? Am I sitting in an ejector seat? Does it have machine guns in the headlights?”

Juan gave her a mysterious smile. “No, not in the headlights.”

He didn’t say anything about the ejector seat.

• • •

MEL OCAMPO nervously watched Salvador Locsin’s helicopter land inside the compound in remote central Luzon. He’d been stalling as long as he could to avoid this visit, but he could no longer disguise his lack of progress in replicating the Typhoon drug.

He pined for his days as a research scientist at a pharmaceutical conglomerate in Manila. It had been solid if unexciting work that paid well, but when this new job offer had come along—with three times the pay—he’d jumped at the chance. At the time, it seemed like the opportunity of a lifetime. With the money he’d been advanced, he sent his wife and two children to the United States to live with a cousin until he could join them. Now he wished he’d never answered that phone call.

For four months, he’d been trapped in this remote compound in charge of five other chemists who were given the impossible task of divining the formula for a pill none of them had seen before. Now he wasn’t sure any of them would ever leave this place alive.

Locsin and his right-hand man, Tagaan, got out of the helicopter and marched toward him.

“Dr. Ocampo,” Locsin said, his annoyance obvious, “why am I here?”

Ocampo stammered, “To . . . to see the headway we’ve made on your project—”

“Wrong. I’m here because you aren’t doing the work you said you could do.”

Locsin brushed by him and walked toward the main lab facility with Tagaan. They pushed open the doors and walked in without caring about sterilization procedures. Ocampo scurried after them.

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.”

Tags: Clive Cussler Oregon Files Thriller
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