Typhoon Fury (Oregon Files 12)

“Beach the ferry?” Murph said.

Eric nodded. “If we get it to shallow water, that would at least keep it from going under until the Coast Guard could get here to evacuate the passengers.”

“Chairman,” Hali said, “I’ve got Max.”

“Put him through.” When Hali nodded, Juan said, “Max, how’s it looking over there?”

“We had a hairy time getting onto the ferry. It would be a mess trying to get people off in a hurry. One of the English-speaking passengers confirmed that the crew is dead.”

“Change of plans. We’re going to tow you. Get ready to tie up some lines.”

“Roger that. We’ll go to the bow and get ready to receive them.”

Juan had Eric pull the Oregon ahead until the stern was next to the ferry’s bow. The deck crew tossed over three weighted nylon lines that let Max and the others pull three heavy ropes over to the ferry. These were lashed around the forward capstans, and Eric eased the Oregon ahead until they were taut. The ferry was one hundred feet directly behind them.

“Start increasing your speed, Mr. Stone,” Juan said.

The magnetohydrodynamic engines hummed as the Oregon strained against the ferry’s load. Eric was careful not to accelerate too quickly for fear of snapping the ropes. Soon, they were at ten knots, and steadily increasing.

Max called in and said, “It looks like the lines are holding at our end. I’m going to the bridge, and Linda and the others are going to check the flooding to see if they can close the valves manually.”

“What about the time?”

“I think Locsin was right. At the rate we’re settling, I’d say ten more minutes might be generous.”

Juan glanced at the clock and then at Negros Island on the screen growing slowly in the distance. “See what you can do.”

Eric didn’t take his eyes off the controls, but he said, “Chairman, at this pace of acceleration, we’re going to need all ten of those minutes to get to the beach.”

“Maybe more,” Murph said.

Juan frowned at the clock again. “I know. Right now, time is the enemy.”

• • •

LINDA RACED to keep up with MacD as they descended the port stairwell to the ferry’s lower decks to figure out if they could close the valves flooding the ship. Max was headed to the bridge to see if he could close them from there, while Eddie and Linc tried to calm the passengers, to keep them from jumping overboard.

Since it was a passengers-only ferry, there was no vehicles deck. Locsin’s men must have instructed all of the passengers to go topside because there was nothing but an eerie silence below, punctuated by Linda’s and MacD’s footfalls. The only light was provided by the faint, battery-powered emergency lights.

Five decks down, they reached the water and waded in. A sheen of oil on top meant the engines were at least partially flooded. The water level was already waist-deep on Linda and rising.

“This isn’t the bottom deck,” MacD said. “I can feel more steps going down.”

“Then there’s no way to get to the valves,” Linda said. “Maybe there’s still enough power for Max to do it remotely.”

She was about to radio Max when they heard faint cries.

“Those are coming from this deck,” MacD said.

Linda

turned and pointed to the starboard side. “It sounds like they’re coming from that direction.”

They splashed through the water into a corridor running the length of the ferry. The meager emergency lighting punctuated the darkness every thirty feet.

The pleas for help were more distinct now, and accompanied by repeated pounding. Linda and MacD went down the hall until they reached an unmarked door.

MacD knocked on the door, and the response came in two different languages—English from a woman, and some kind of Filipino language from a man.