Typhoon Fury (Oregon Files 12)

“KEEP SHOOTING!” Tagaan yelled to his guards. “They’ll have to come up eventually.”

Twenty men lined the water, firing at any shape that looked vaguely human, but no bodies bobbed to the surface.

Tagaan had recognized the man who’d been in the missile-armed truck that had taken down the helicopter. Mel Ocampo or one of his chemists must have told him about this cargo drop. But the burning remains of the Magellan Sun meant they weren’t attempting to hijack the shipment. They were after something else.

He didn’t know how the two men remained underwater, but he

knew that someone was going to have to pick them up. For that, he had a solution.

“Get the Kuyogs ready to launch,” he said to his lead mechanic.

The mechanic nodded and removed the tarps covering two objects floating in the water next to the dock. Painted a glossy black, each of the sleek watercraft was the size and shape of a Jet Ski, with the seats and handles removed. The only protrusion that interrupted the streamlined hull was a state-of-the-art imaging sensor that could detect anything bigger than a scuba diver’s marker buoy. Once the target was tagged by a laser, the internal sensor would lock on. The Kuyog would then doggedly continue its pursuit until it came within three feet of the target and detonated the hundred pounds of Semtex inside.

An accomplished marine engineer before joining Locsin’s cause, Tagaan had designed the Kuyogs himself. Though he had only two of them tonight, an unlimited number of Kuyogs could be unleashed on a single target, which was why he’d given them the Tagalog name for swarm.

Locsin had known that to control an island nation like the Philippines would require taking out its Navy, and the Kuyogs were specifically designed for the task. Asymmetric warfare was the term. Tagaan had learned the lesson from the bombing of the USS Cole, an American destroyer crippled by suicide bombers in a fiberglass boat that had come alongside and detonated four hundred pounds of explosives. But with Tagaan’s expertise, they now had a much more sophisticated attack plan. Hundreds more Kuyogs were already in various stages of construction, and this shipment from China was the final load that would allow a communist takeover of the country with the help of foot soldiers fueled by Typhoon.

Tonight was supposed to have been the test run for the Kuyogs. Tagaan had been planning to launch them at the oil supply ship once the cargo was unloaded from the Magellan Sun, but now he had a real challenge. If no boat showed up to pick up the two men who’d dived into the water, he’d send them after the disguised cargo ship that had fired the missile against the Magellan Sun.

The mechanic checked the diagnostics on each Kuyog, then said, “Ready, comrade.”

Tagaan held the powerful targeting laser as he scanned the sea. His drone showed the mystery cargo ship continuing toward them at high speed. It would be in range of his laser as soon as it came around the northern point of the bay.

Then Tagaan’s eye was drawn to movement two hundred yards away. He wouldn’t have seen the small submarine conning tower surfacing if it hadn’t been for the two men climbing out of the water onto it.

“Launch now!” he shouted.

The mechanic flipped a switch, and the two Kuyogs raced away from the dock. In seconds, they reached such a high rate of speed that they rose up out of the water to ride atop drag-reducing hydrofoils jutting from the hull.

Tagaan focused the laser on the sub’s conning tower. He heard the two-tone beep from the control pad indicating that the Kuyogs had locked onto the target.

Tagaan felt a surge of pride at how well the system was working, and soon he’d see the results of thousands of hours of effort. Given how close the sub was, there was no way the two men would be able to get inside and submerge before the Kuyogs blew it out of the water.

39

Juan heard them coming before he saw them. The two bullet-shaped watercraft were backlit by the lights at the dock. Their engines sounded like the sinister growls of attacking predators.

Once Linc was on the deck of the Gator, Juan pounded on the hull.

“Linda, purge the ballast tanks and get out of here!”

“Aye, Chairman,” she replied over the radio. “I see them.”

The Gator’s big diesel engines rumbled to life as the pumps emptied the tanks. The submarine-boat hybrid rose out of the water and shot forward. Salty spray washed over them as Linda weaved back and forth in evasive maneuvers, but she couldn’t shake the pursuing craft.

Juan gripped tight to one of the deck handholds so he wouldn’t be thrown off the slick deck and into the water. “Those must be a couple of the Kuyogs that the parts in the truck were for.”

“Which means they’re loaded with a good chunk of Semtex,” Linc said. “And they’re gaining on us.”

“I’m assuming those things aren’t friendly,” Linda said as she turned the Gator toward the open sea. “The Oregon is on its way to take them out with her Gatling guns.”

Juan looked forward but couldn’t see the Oregon. The distance between them and the Kuyogs chasing them was closing too fast.

“We won’t make it in time. Turn around.”

“Turn around?” Linda asked. “Did I hear that right?”

Juan eyed the supply ship still tied to the dock. “Yes. We’re going to give these things another target.”