Typhoon Fury (Oregon Files 12)

“Communists? They’re still around?”

“Apparently. With the rise of radical jihadists in the southern part of the country, they’ve been out of the limelight for a few years, but it seems like they’re starting to make a comeback.”

“That’s the Philippines’s problem. All we need is someone to tell us where they got the Typhoon. And I know just the man. Gerhard Brekker, a South African who owns a small private military contracting firm. He’s done some work for us before, off the books, and he isn’t afraid to get his hands dirty if the price is right. Brekker’s told me that he can have contractors anywhere in the world within twenty-four hours.”

“If General Jefferson finds out were doing this, he’ll shut us down immediately,” Davis said.

“Then we won’t tell him,” Polten replied. But it was actually worse than that. Polten wasn’t supposed to have access to the classified files where he’d found out about Typhoon. Those files were supposed to be dead and buried. If the general discovered the Pandora’s box the two chemists were opening, Polten wouldn’t be surprised if both of them ended up in prison.

17

THE PHILIPPINES

Beth wrinkled her nose in disgust at the rickety ship tied up at the Manila dock where she and Raven had been told to meet Juan. The bright morning sun didn’t do the vessel any favors, throwing a harsh light on the rust spots, mismatched green paint, and cracks in the hull. It looked like it was in danger of sinking right there in the harbor.

“Are you sure this is the place?” she asked Raven, who regarded the ship with nothing more than an arched eyebrow.

“That’s what the text message said,” Raven replied.

“But this ship is called the Norego.” Beth pointed at the name painted in black on the fantail. The jackstaff flew a flag she didn’t recognize, and it certainly wasn’t American. “Maybe the Oregon couldn’t make it here so fast from Guam after all.”

Raven frowned at the corroded hulk. “Maybe not.”

She and Raven had ho

led up in a Manila hotel for the last two days, and Beth had been bored out of her mind waiting for a chance to retrieve the stolen Gardner paintings. Raven, on the other hand, had spent her time going out into the city to acquire new equipment that she thought they’d need, including a pistol and knife, neither of which she could have gotten through customs.

Beth was about to suggest that they text back to make sure they’d understood the message correctly when a uniformed Filipino man appeared at the top of the gangway accompanied by a weather-beaten old man in dirty khakis and a sweat-stained denim shirt unbuttoned down to his round belly.

The Filipino waved his hand like he was hastily refusing some kind of offer and hustled down the wobbly gangway. As he passed them, his face was ashen, and he mopped his brow with a handkerchief. He looked as if he’d lose his breakfast at any moment.

The old man lurched down the plank as if he’d drunk his breakfast. He stopped at the bottom and leaned against the railing.

“What do you want?” he rasped in a voice as rough as sandpaper. Deep lines etched his leathery face like a geological formation around his bulbous nose. His head was hairless except for gray muttonchop sideburns and bushy eyebrows that could have served as birds’ nests.

“We’re looking for Juan Cabrillo,” Beth said.

He scowled at them. “If you want a burrito, go find a restaurant. I’m a captain, not a cook.”

Raven choked down a laugh.

Beth gave him her best smile and raised her voice so he could hear her. “Sir, we’re supposed to meet a man named Juan Cabrillo here.”

“All right, all right. You don’t need to shout. So you’re Beth Anders and Raven Malloy?”

“That’s right.”

He pursed his lips as if he was considering whether they were legit, then nodded. “I’m Herb Munson. Juan’s this way. Come on.”

He staggered up the gangway. Beth and Raven looked at each other and shrugged before going after him.

The deck was a mess, and they had to step over trash and broken chains as they made their way toward the superstructure. Munson weaved his way ahead of them, and Beth expected him to take a spill on the cluttered deck with every step.

She leaned over and whispered to Raven, “Do you think this is a good idea?”

“He knew who we are, so obviously we are expected.”

“How could this guy be a part of Juan’s organization? He looks old enough to have been a stowaway on Noah’s ark.”