Typhoon Fury (Oregon Files 12) - Page 127

• • •

DOLAP’S HEART was pounding at getting caught away from his chair outside Beth Anders’s room. During his guard stints in the middle of the night, he usually went off to find some food when everyone else was asleep. This was the first time anyone had seen him, and he hoped his punishment would be light after carrying out Locsin’s mission in town as ordered.

When he got to the room, he fumbled with his key in nervousness. When he inserted it, he realized with dread that it was already unlocked. He flung the door open and was aghast to find the room empty.

Now he was in a panic. If he didn’t find her, Locsin would surely take away his Typhoon dosage. And Dolap definitely couldn’t let Locsin know she was missing until he found her.

He hadn’t been away from his post for long, so she and her rescuers couldn’t have gotten far. Given her love of those stupid paintings, there was only one place she could be.

He checked his assault rifle and made sure there was a round in the chamber before going to find her.

• • •

USING A MULTI-TOOL, Juan rapidly unscrewed the housing on the nearest Kuyog while Linc kept Tagaan’s men at bay. The only reason they weren’t under constant attack was Tagaan’s desire not to damage the drones.

With the screws out, Juan pulled the housing off and carefully removed four bricks of Semtex that had been packed inside.

“Juan Cabrillo!” a voice yelled from the far end.

“Salvador Locsin!” Juan yelled back as he pressed the Semtex against the back wall. “I see you figured out I’m not dead.”

“Not yet, anyway. But you will be soon.”

“That’s big talk coming from a man who can’t even sink a ferry right. By the way, the Philippine National Police are eager to talk to you about that. They should be here anytime now.”

“Now who’s talking big?” Locsin said with a laugh. “I don’t think they sent out an assault team in the middle of a typhoon. No, it’s just you.”

“You have more enemies than you think. Ask your good friend Tagaan.”

That shut Locsin up for a moment. Juan could hear lowered voices but not what they were saying.

Gomez called on the radio. “Chairman, I’ve got bad news. Hidalgo’s course is shifting.”

“That’s the only kind of news we’re getting right now,” Linc mumbled.

“How long have we got until the eye wall is here?” Juan asked Gomez.

“Ten minutes, tops. You need to steal one of those trucks you were talking about and get back here pronto.”

Linc rolled his eyes and shook his head at Juan, who said, “We’ll work on that.”

“I’ve already got the engine spooled up. Let me know when you’re on your way. Out.”

Locsin must have gotten an answer he liked from Tagaan because he called out again. “Cabrillo, I’m done talking to you. You’re going to die either way, but if you don’t come out right now, I’ll torture Beth to death in front of you. Your choice.”

Juan nodded to Linc and they crabwalked as far from the Semtex as they could, pushing the Kuyog on the handcart so that it stayed between them and Locsin’s men.

When they reached the opposite wall, Juan yelled out, “Locsin, if you want us, you’ll have to come and get us!”

That did the trick. Locsin angrily ordered his men to make their way forward. He wanted Juan and Linc alive.

65

When Dolap was close to the trailer where the paintings were stored, he saw the door open. He quickly ducked behind one of the Humvees parked nearby. A Chinese man poked his head out and looked around before waving two women out with him—Beth Anders and a dark-haired woman carrying an assault rifle. All three had plastic tubes slung over their backs, while Beth carried another tube in her hand. Dolap immediately recognized the man as one of the two who’d gotten into a fight in Bacolod the day before.

It was like an electrical shock to his spine when Dolap suddenly realized that he must be the reason these intruders had found the cavern headquarters that had remained hidden for so long. They followed him back here somehow.

He had to atone for his mistake. He raised his rifle, flicked the safety to full auto, and indiscriminately emptied his magazine at the three of them, not caring if he hit any of the precious paintings.

Tags: Clive Cussler Oregon Files Thriller
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