Marauder

by Clive Cussler

  “A waterpark?” she said.

  “The newest and biggest on Bali,” Sinduk said. “Very popular with foreigners.”

  “What’s the plan?” She noticed that the entrance pavilion had metal detectors and guards checking bags. “We can’t get any weapons inside.”

  “That is why we have cells independent of one another, so that you can’t know enough to be a problem. There will be guns waiting for us inside along with more men. Besides,” he added, ominously, “we have a backup plan.”

  For just a second, he glanced out to the channel separating them from a nearby island covered in jungle vegetation, but all Raven saw was a single fishing boat collecting the morning’s catch.

  “And what’s my role?”

  Sinduk handed her a small ceramic knife. “You should get this through the metal detector without trouble.”

  “What do you expect me to do with it?”

  “The American Senators’ spouses are currently enjoying a day out with their children while the summit is going on,” Sinduk said, eyeing her carefully. “To prove you are really one of us, you’re going to use that knife to kill one of them.”

  TEN

  THE TIMOR SEA

  Sylvia Chang’s clothes were in tatters, but she’d suffered only minor burns. She could do nothing but watch in horror as the Namaka was blasted apart while she clung to the experimental drone they hadn’t recovered before the assault began. She couldn’t fathom a reason for them being targeted, but she recognized the type of weapon the hostile trimaran was using to decimate the American research ship. As stunning as the realization was, she could come to no other conclusion. It had to be a plasma cannon.

  Her own work with the Rhino plasma shield meant she was very familiar with the concept, but she had no idea someone had made such an enormous breakthrough. In any other context, the discovery would have been exhilarating. Now it was simply terrifying.

  Of course, she had heard about the MARAUDER experiments conducted for the Strategic Defense Initiative at Lawrence Livermore in the nineties. MARAUDER stood for Magnetically Accelerated Ring to Achieve Ultrahigh Directed Energy and Radiation, and the idea was to force superhot ionized gas into a doughnut-shaped ring and shoot it out at ridiculously high velocities. Some estimates were that it would reach two thousand miles per second.

  The project was a success in its early stages, which led to MARAUDER being classified by the military. But despite her own top secret clearance, Sylvia could find no further mention of a working plasma weapon, so she believed that the next phase had been a failure, and the project was disbanded.

  Here, however, was proof that a plasma cannon was not only viable but devastatingly effective. The Namaka had been reduced to a burning hulk in mere minutes, sinking into the water by her stern. It wouldn’t be long until she was completely swallowed by the ocean.

  Strangely, their other research ship, the Empiric, was mostly spared. Only the masts of the ship had been melted, preventing any contact by radio or satellite.

  What was even odder was the launch of a different weapon from the trimaran. It shot a rocket toward the Empiric that detonated directly above it, dispersing a fine mist that settled over the ship. After that, the Empiric had been unmolested by the trimaran, but it made no effort to escape, and she could see no activity on her deck. The Australian research vessel just floated there, adrift, like a ghost ship.

  Sylvia’s idea to climb onto the drone to get out of the water was dashed when the unknown trimaran, instead of slinking away, motored toward her and the sinking Namaka. She kept the drone between her and the trimaran, with just her eyes peeking out from behind it.

  The trimaran slowed to a stop only a dozen yards away, as if gloating over the Namaka’s bow as it disappeared below the surface.

  She tried to look for any distinguishing markings, but the ship had no name stenciled on its hull, and it flew no flag. The only distinctive item she noticed was when four men were gingerly carrying a large plastic crate marked with a logo. It was a white A and a B layered stylistically one over the other and backed by a starburst pattern. The men seemed wary of its contents.

  She couldn’t tell what country they might hail from. Two of them were talking, and she recognized right away that they were speaking in Mandarin. While her mother was of Irish descent, her father was originally from Shanghai. Sylvia had been born and raised in Northern California and understood a few Chinese words thanks to her dad, but the language was unmistakable.

  The men were looking over the railings, searching for something in the water. Then one of the men pointed and shouted before firing an assault rifle into the sea.

  An Asian woman in her thirties ran out onto the deck and ordered the man to stop firing. A white man the same age raced after her.

  “What happened?” he asked in an Australian accent as the Chinese man slunk away in embarrassment.

  The woman switched to English. “The lookout thought he’d spotted a survivor and shot at them. I told him we need to make this look like an accident.”

  “Was it a person?”

  “No, thankfully. Just a piece of wreckage. Nobody has spotted a real survivor yet. Looks like the cannon did its job.”

  The white man looked toward the Empiric. “What about that ship?”

  “It looks like the Enervum works just like we thought it would, but we’ll make sure before we leave. They had no idea the real experiment today would be ours.” She chuckled at that, which made Sylvia sick, reminding her of Kelly and all the others who had died on the Namaka. Her mind flashed to an image of Mark Murphy on the Empiric, and she agonized over his fate.

  The man on the trimaran scanned the water and stopped to peer at the drone. Sylvia ducked behind it.

  “What is it?” the Asian woman asked.

  “That drone. I think we should sink it.” Sylvia heard the snapping of a bolt on an assault rifle. She prepared to dive under, but she saw no other place to hide once she came back up to the surface.

  “No. Accident, remember? Leave it there. It’ll just make what happened here even more mysterious.”

  A few moments later, the trimaran’s engines powered up, and it headed to the Empiric a mile away. Sylvia watched several figures board the Australian vessel, but they didn’t stay long. A few minutes later, they returned to the trimaran. It sailed off in the direction of Darwin.

  The fact that they left the Empiric intact gave Sylvia an uneasy sense of foreboding. But she was glad it was still there, since it was the only ship visible on the horizon.

  Sylvia left the security of the floating drone and began the long swim toward the Empiric, petrified about what she would find when she got there.

  ELEVEN

  BALI

  Eddie Seng, the Oregon’s Director of Shore Operations and a former CIA officer like Juan, sat in the front seat and watched the van with Raven inside. From the SUV’s parking space a hundred yards away, Eddie could see Sinduk and the four men with him milling about the van as they waited for her to change clothes.

  “Should we take them out here?” Raven whispered.

  “No,” Eddie replied. “Since they’re not armed right now, there have to be more of them inside with the bombs or weapons. I contacted the State Department, but the Senators’ families don’t have a security detail in the park, just a guard in the car that dropped them off. All the focus is on the conference center downtown. If we call in a threat to the park, an evacuation might cause one of Sinduk’s other cells to carry out their plan immediately.”

  “So what’s the plan?”

  “MacD has already gone in. He’ll be keeping an eye on you. Linc and I will follow you in.”

  Sinduk banged on the van door and shouted something.

  Raven’s voice became even quieter. “I’ve got to go.”

  “One of us will have you in sight the whole time.
Be ready for anything.”

  “Copy that.”

  The van’s door opened, and she stepped out wearing a bikini sport top, a sarong around her waist, and flip-flops. The terrorists openly ogled her tall, fit frame.

  She said something in Arabic, and Eddie noticed a couple of them back away from her. She probably warned them what she could do with that knife they gave her.

  As the six of them walked toward the park, Franklin “Linc” Lincoln appeared at the SUV’s window. Like Eddie, he was wearing a T-shirt and jeans, which wouldn’t help them blend in, but they had nothing else in the vehicle to change into. Their attire was where the similarities between the friends ended. Eddie, who grew up in New York’s Chinatown, was wiry and lean from his martial arts training, much of it done these days sparring with Raven. Linc, on the other hand, was built like The Rock’s more muscular cousin and hailed from inner-city Detroit. He came to the attention of the Corporation because of his legendary exploits in the Navy SEALs as a deadly sniper.

  Linc was grinning as he held two wristbands.

  “Where’d you snag those?” Eddie asked as he got out.

  “A couple of teenagers decided to make a quick buck by selling them to me at a steep markup,” Linc answered. “Now we don’t have to wait in line.”

  “You’re full of good ideas.”

  “Full of something, all right. Were you able to get in touch with the Senators’ families?”

  Eddie shook his head. “They put their phones in a locker. Understandable in a waterpark.”

  According to their intel, Senator Gunther Schmidt of Iowa and Senator Maria Muñoz from Florida were attending the summit. Emily Schmidt and teenage son Kyle were enjoying the free day at Ocean Land with Oliver Muñoz and his fifteen-year-old daughter, Elena.

  “How do we find them? It’s a big place.”

  “We may have to let Sinduk lead us to them.”

  They walked to the entrance next to a family so they wouldn’t be conspicuous. Sinduk and his men checked their surroundings frequently, but Eddie and Linc studiously kept their eyes off their target. The terrorists took Raven through the bag check and metal detectors without incident.

  Before Eddie went through security with Linc, he briefly looked out to sea. A fishing boat was the only vessel he saw, but he knew the Oregon was hiding on the back side of the island, which felt reassuring. He hadn’t seen the ship since a walk-through when it was still being built in the dry dock, so he’d never gotten a full view of it. He was eager to finish this mission and get properly acquainted with his new home.

  First, however, his team had to live through the rest of the afternoon, and they had to do it unarmed.

  He and Linc scanned their wristbands in the security line and entered the park, staying at least thirty feet behind Raven and Sinduk. MacD was nowhere to be seen.

  “MacD, you there?” Eddie said into his molar mic.

  “Ah have eyes on you and Raven,” MacD replied. “Just let me know when to move.”

  “Will do.”

  The main promenade was jammed with tourists, most of them in swimwear, some of them carrying towels and bags. Staff wore distinctive yellow polo shirts and shorts, and cheerful music blared over the loudspeakers to mix with the screams and shouts echoing from the numerous rides. Everything smelled of chlorine and suntan lotion.

  In the distance at the end of the broad walkway was the park’s premier attraction, the Crazy Eights waterslide. The ten-story-tall octopus-themed ride had a wide central staircase around which eight tubular slides painted like blue tentacles snaked and coiled, leaving riders unsure where they would come out, which was part of the fun.

  When they were halfway along the promenade, Sinduk stopped and spoke to two of his men, who peeled away and headed toward a walled-off section of the park that had a sign written in both Indonesian and English. It read “Coming soon. Feel the rush of Raging Rapids.” A rendering showed thrilled riders on an eight-person raft careening down a white water course.

  Sinduk pushed Raven forward with the remaining two men. The strays went through a door to the construction area that said “Employees Only.”

  “Where do you think they’re going?” Linc asked.

  “That must be how they snuck the weapons in,” Eddie said. He keyed his mic. “MacD, Linc and I are heading into the Raging Rapids. We’ll let you know what we find.”

  “Acknowledged. Ah’m on my own.”

  Eddie eased the door open and peeked through. No one was on the other side. He and Linc went in and found themselves on the pathway for the ride that was divided into two lanes, one for the majority of the attendees, the other for those who’d paid extra for the Super Pass.

  The ride seemed nearly complete, with vines, fake trees, and artificial rocks adorning what was supposed to mimic a remote canyon. Eddie could hear water roaring just out of sight, which meant the ride was being tested in preparation for its opening.

  A short way up the path, they crossed a bridge and could see down into the false gorge. An empty raft with eight barred seats around a flat center area was adrift on the seething water. It bounced and spun as its rubber sides slammed into the walls, soaking the craft with a gush of water every time it dipped over another mini-waterfall.

  As they got closer to the ride loading area, Eddie could hear several men speaking rapidly in Indonesian. He and Linc climbed over the path’s railing and crept along the concrete simulated rocks until they found a hidden spot in the bushes where they could see who was talking.

  Four bodies were lined up beside the control room. All of them were dressed in the characteristic yellow park uniforms, as were the terrorists, who must have secured their own supply of uniforms. Bullet holes were stitched across the dead men’s shirts.

  Huddled around two large metal boxes were six men, the two they’d been following and four more. One box was already opened and contained seats to be installed on more rafts. The other box was being pried apart. A pile of white towels lay on the floor.

  They finished prying open the box and pulled out six submachine guns from between the seats, which they handed around, tucking them into towels so they could carry them out into the park unseen. Eddie recognized the weapons as Daewoo K7s. The South Korean–made guns were equipped with noise suppressors and were popular with the Indonesian military.

  Eddie looked at Linc, who nodded. He’d noticed the same thing. If one box had room for six weapons, then the other opened one meant six more K7s might already be out in the park.

  The four terrorists who were already dressed like employees took their towel-wrapped weapons and started down the path back to the main area of the park. The two left behind began stripping so they could put on their own uniforms.

  This was the best chance for Eddie and Linc to procure weapons. Forty feet separated them from the terrorists, but there was a spot farther along the canyon where they’d only be ten feet away when they sprang from the bushes. Eddie pointed to the place, and Linc nodded again.

  Before they could move, they heard voices coming from behind the ride’s control room, causing the terrorists to freeze. There must have been an unseen passage from the employee area of the park. Two women in yellow uniforms came around the building and stopped, staring in horror at the corpses.

  They looked up at the half-dressed men, screamed, and edged back the way they’d come. The terrorists scrambled to pick up guns.

  Eddie and Linc responded instinctively, knowing that the women were dead if they didn’t act. Both of them charged out of the bushes and rushed the men, distracting them long enough for the women to run.

  The only thing that saved them was the terrorists’ struggle to free their guns from the towels. Linc tackled his man, sending the submachine gun flying. They rolled across the loading area together and into one of the rafts that was moving along the conveyor belt toward the release zone int
o the rapids.

  Eddie knocked his guy senseless and knelt down to retrieve the K7. He picked it up and turned toward footsteps pounding up the rider path. The four other terrorists must have heard the women’s screams and came running back to investigate.

  Eddie unleashed a volley from the automatic weapon and took down two of the men as they rounded the bend. The other two took cover and returned fire, forcing Eddie to dive behind the control room as its windows blew apart.

  In the reflection of the lone remaining pane of glass, Eddie could see the shirtless terrorist he had flattened get to his feet and sprint toward the raft where Linc and the other terrorist were brawling. He leaped into it as the craft tipped down and plunged into the rapids.

  TWELVE

  Raven heard the muted staccato gunfire coming from the direction of the rafting ride that was under construction, but no one besides Sinduk and his men reacted. To tourists, it would have sounded like construction equipment, but Raven suspected that Linc and Eddie had engaged the terrorists in battle. She had seen them out of the corner of her eye when they entered the construction zone.

  “They must have encountered a couple of workers,” Raven said.

  “Then why is the gunfire still going on,” Sinduk said. “They’re supposed to take care of anyone who spots them quickly and with minimal noise. I don’t like this. We can’t wait any longer.” He scanned the promenade. “There they are.”

  He nodded in the direction of the Crazy Eights waterslide. Raven saw Emily Schmidt, a forty-something brunette in a black one-piece, and her son Kyle, a sunburned redhead in long board shorts. With them was Oliver Muñoz, a reedy Cuban American covered by a loose swim shirt, and his look-alike teen daughter Elena, who was wearing a blue tank-top bikini.

  The four of them were laughing, carefree, and dripping with water. They scanned their wristbands to use the Super Pass lane and began the long walk up the stairs to the top of the ride.