Typhoon Fury (Oregon Files 12)
When he heard the news, Captain Garcia, who had seemed wary but calm about the storm, looked at Navarro with fear. He stepped next to the first mate and inched the throttle forward.
“I’m on my way,” Navarro said.
Navarro took the stairs two at a time down to the hold. The fishing vessel had been modified by the police force as a prisoner transport. In place of the freezer where mackerel or tuna might have been stored, tiny barred cells had been installed with only enough room for a prisoner to sit on the steel bench.
When he reached the hold, he saw Torres sprawled on the floor in front of one of the cells. His head was cocked at an unnatural angle, his eyes wide and staring. Two other officers stood behind him.
Navarro stalked forward, enraged at losing another man. “What happened?”
The older officer glanced nervously at the cell, then looked at Navarro. “Torres was going to use the head. I guess we weren’t paying attention because, the next thing we knew, he was on the floor with a broken neck.”
Navarro looked at the sole prisoner on board. Salvador Locsin sat on the bench with his eyes closed, smiling beatifically. Ropey biceps strained at the sleeves of his shirt, the veins in his forearms looking as if they were about to explode from under the skin. His black hair draped across his forehead, where it mingled with the beads of sweat trickling down his face.
Navarro, furious, stared at his men and jabbed a finger in Locsin’s direction. “Didn’t I warn you not to get too close to his cell?”
“But he looked like he was asleep when Torres got up,” the younger officer protested. “How could he break someone’s neck through the bars?”
Navarro walked over to the cell, stepping between Torres’s legs. Both of the officers brought their weapons up to cover him.
“You’re going to answer for that, Locsin,” Navarro said.
Locsin replied in an unfamiliar dialect of one of the over one hundred and seventy languages native to the Philippines. Navarro knew only the country’s two official languages, English and Tagalog.
“Come on, Locsin,” Navarro continued in English. “I know you understand me.”
Locsin opened his eyes. His irises were so dark that they seemed to merge with the black of his pupils. Navarro nearly stumbled backward from the force of his gaze, an evil that seemed to stab at his very soul.
“I said, I am dead already, aren’t I?”
Navarro composed himself enough to respond without faltering. “I don’t know what your punishment will be, but you’ll have to pay for your crimes.”
“I have, Inspector Navarro, and with a price more costly than you’ll ever understand.” Locsin closed his eyes again.
Navarro stepped back, and the two officers moved in as if they were going to pick up Torres.
“Leave him there,” Navarro said. “We’ll take care of him after we get the prisoner off the boat.”
The two officers looked at him in shock but didn’t challenge his command.
“What should we do about him?” the older one said, motioning with his rifle at the prisoner.
“Keep watch on him at all times. I want him alive for questioning. Wound him, if you have to, but don’t kill him.”
“Yes, sir,” they both said.
The engine suddenly wound down to idle, and the boat slowed to a crawl.
“Now what?” Navarro muttered as he charged back up to the bridge.
When he got there, Captain Garcia was on the radio, peering out the window, while the first mate spun the wheel away from their destination.
“It looks like the ferry is on fire,” Garcia said into the handset. “We’ve got survivors in the water, and more still on the boat. How long until you arrive?”
Navarro followed Garcia’s gaze to the foundering vessel, more than a mile off the port bow. The stubby car ferry’s stern was already awash, and smoke poured from the superstructure. Navarro counted more than two dozen people in the water, some wearing life jackets, others flailing as they tried to stay afloat in the waves.
“The nearest patrol vessel is at least an hour away,” said a voice on the radio that had to be with the Coast Guard. “We’ll notify any vessels in the vicinity to provide assistance.”
“Thanks. We’ll pick up as many as we can.” Garcia put the handset down and ordered the first mate to bring them alongside the survivors.