Typhoon Fury (Oregon Files 12)

“You and I both understand the need for force to make a point. We appreciate you bringing up the barrels of Typhoon for us. How many are left down there?”

“None,” Brekker said, fighting back the bile in his throat. “This is all of them.” He looked at the three of his men who were left. All of them were eyeing their captors for a chance to attack, but it would be a useless effort.

“I think you’re lying,” Locsin said. “The information we found said there were twenty barrels on board. I only see fifteen.”

“Then why don’t you go down and take a look for yourselves?”

“Because you’re already dressed for the occasion. I may even let you live if you dive down and get the rest of them.”

“And if I say no?”

“Then you die right here, right now. I may be a communist, Mr. Brekker, but I drive a hard bargain.”

Brekker looked at his men and nodded. They would go back down to the wreck. In fact, it would be necessary for what he was planning.

“I need a fresh oxygen tank,” he said.

Locsin waved his hand toward the equipment. “Of course. But remember that the water is crystal clear. We will be watching you.”

“I’m sure you will.”

He walked over and began the process of exchanging his old tank for a new one. At the same time, Locsin’s men began transferring the barrels of Typhoon from the yacht to the fishing boat.

The acoustic detonator was still lying where Brekker had left it. As he picked up the tank, he palmed the small electronic transmitter, which was wirelessly linked to the yacht’s sonar array. One push of

the button would activate an underwater pulse that would set off the bombs they’d already planted on the destroyer below them. The bombs still aboard the yacht wouldn’t be activated because they weren’t yet in the water, but there were more than enough on the Pearsall to cause the ammo in the magazine to explode, taking both the yacht and the fishing boat with it.

But Brekker wasn’t suicidal. He had something else in mind.

He shrugged into the tank harness and took his mask and snorkel. He climbed back down the ladder, and just before he sank into the water, he shoved the small detonator onto a ledge behind the ladder. He couldn’t get the electronics in the transmitter wet because they would short out.

Accompanied by his men, he descended to the Pearsall and had them round up three more barrels. Meanwhile, Brekker went to the destroyer’s ammo magazine and removed one of the bombs they’d placed amongst the piles of five-inch high-explosive shells.

When the barrels were ready, they went back up. Locsin was so eager to get more of the Typhoon pills that he barely looked at Brekker, who carried the bomb in a net cinched closed with a nylon rope. As he took hold of the dive ladder to climb aboard, he quickly knotted the bomb to the lowest rung.

While climbing the ladder, he snatched the acoustic detonator and held it high for Locsin to see.

“If you shoot me,” Brekker said, “I will set off the bomb I just brought up and we will all die.”

He pointed to the bomb dangling next to him. He knew that he needed Locsin to believe his threat. Merely claiming that there were bombs in the wreck below wouldn’t have been convincing enough.

When they didn’t lower their weapons, Brekker yelled, “I mean it!”

Locsin peered over the railing, saw the bomb, then said to his men, “Put down your guns and let him up.”

Brekker slowly climbed up to the deck, watching for any sign they would try to kill him. He wasn’t bluffing. He knew Locsin had no intention of letting him and his men live. If he was going to die, he might as well take them all with him.

All of the barrels except the ones they’d just brought up had been moved to the fishing boat. Brekker dropped the oxygen tank to the deck, eyeing Locsin warily as he did so.

“Now what?” Locsin said. “We have the guns and you have the bomb. Is there a solution where we don’t all blow up or get shot?”

“As a matter of fact, there is,” Brekker said, who had thought of a way out of the standoff during the dive. He pointed at a chest holding the remainder of the explosives they hadn’t planted on the Pearsall. “We’re going to take a bomb out of there and tie it to your fishing boat.”

“Why? So you can blow us up as soon as we’re out of range of your yacht?”

“No. There’s also a backup detonator in the chest and it’s also connected to the yacht’s sonar system, which will send out a pulse at the push of the button. The sound wave will be received by any of these bombs that are underwater within three miles and activate the trigger mechanism. So as your boat leaves, we’ll each have a detonator and a bomb ready to explode. If you press the button, we both blow up. If I press the button, we both blow up. If neither of us presses it, we both come out of this alive.”

Brekker edged over to the chest and opened it. Locsin watched intently as Brekker bent down and removed a bomb and the second detonator.