Marauder

by Clive Cussler

  Eddie understood what was about to happen and backed away from the railing to grab hold of a lashing chain. Linda was going to use the Oregon herself to push the Thai Navigator off its current course like a tugboat.

  But with two ships over 500 feet in length, it was a hazardous maneuver at best. If Linda came in at the wrong angle, the Oregon’s armored hull could cave in the steel of the ore carrier, causing as much damage as the rocks. And she was running out of time. They had only minutes before both ships ran aground. It was like they were playing a futile game of chicken with Adolphus Island, and the winner was already decided.

  The Oregon came alongside the Thai Navigator, matching her speed. Slowly but steadily, the Oregon eased over until the ship lurched, accompanied by the piercing shriek of grinding metal. The noise continued unabated as the two ships rubbed against each other.

  The Oregon’s venturi tubes were thrust vectored, meaning the jets of water produced by the magnetohydrodynamic engines could be pointed in different directions to steer the ship. Right now, they were straining to shove the cargo ship off her heading, with the Thai Navigator and her fixed rudder fighting back the whole way.

  Eddie wasn’t sure it was going to work until he noticed the Oregon’s bow gradually starting to point away from the island.

  “It’s going to be close,” Linda said.

  She wasn’t exaggerating. Eddie could no longer see water between the Oregon and the shore. The island’s sandy cliffs towered over them. At times, he could hear a scraping sound coming from the island side of the ship.

  Then they passed the promontory of the island’s peninsula and were back into the open water of the gulf. The Oregon backed away from the ore carrier, and the grating noise stopped. In places, the ore carrier’s hull had been stripped down to bare metal, but there were no holes visible.

  “You okay up there?” Linda asked.

  “No problem for me,” Eddie said. “Nice driving. Other than needing a touch-up on the paint job, I don’t think the Thai Navigator suffered much damage.”

  “Thanks, but we’re not home free yet.”

  The flat mangrove-fringed shore on the opposite side of the gulf was now directly in front of the Thai Navigator. At their current speed, Eddie estimated they had less than five minutes to bring the ship to a stop.

  Linda kept a parallel course and lowered the gangway until it was hanging out over the water. Eddie walked out to the far end of it, ready to jump onto the Thai Navigator as soon as it was in place over the deck.

  The Oregon crept closer until the gangway was five feet above the other ship’s deck. Eddie tensed to jump and made his leap just as the Thai Navigator was bumped just a fraction off course by some unseen force.

  Instead of tucking and rolling onto the deck, Eddie had to reach out and snag the railing with one hand to keep from dropping into the churning wake below. He dangled there, his fingers cramping from the effort.

  “Eddie,” Linda yelled. “Hold on. We’ll get the gangway under you.”

  “No,” Eddie grunted. “I’ve got this.”

  He swung himself around and latched onto the metal railing with his other hand, pulling himself up until he could put his foot on the deck. He hopped over and headed for the bridge.

  When he got there, he found four men lying on the deck. They were all conscious but immobile except for a few arm and hand movements.

  “Don’t worry, guys,” Eddie said. “I’m here to help you.”

  He got only unintelligible moans in return.

  The mangrove shore was much closer now. “Eric, I’m here, and we don’t have much time. What do I do now?”

  “I found the bridge specs on that ship design,” Eric said. “Steering is going to be too complicated for you to handle by yourself. We’re just going to stop the ship.”

  “How?”

  “In the center of the console, there should be a lever labeled Engine Order Telegraph. It’ll look a lot like the handle on the RHIB’s thrust control.”

  Eddie scanned the controls until he spotted it. It was above a semicircle sticking out of the console marked with STOP, DEAD SLOW, SLOW, HALF, and FULL on both AHEAD and ASTERN. It was currently set to HALF AHEAD.

  “Got it,” Eddie said.

  “Good. Linda thinks that you won’t be able to stop in time to avoid grounding on the shore, so you’re going to have to set the engines at full astern.”

  There were several other buttons and knobs to set, and Eric guided Eddie through them. Then Eddie yanked the lever all the way back.

  The Thai Navigator shuddered as the screw came to a stop, and even as it began rotating in the opposite direction, the inertia of the huge ship was still carrying it forward. The trees were growing closer with each passing second.

  “We’re still moving, but we’re slowing,” Eddie said. “Is there anything else I can do?”

  “I’m afraid not. Just hang on.”

  While he waited, he dragged each of the crewmen so that they were lying against the front of the bridge.

  As he finished bracing them, Eddie felt the bow rising as it crunched across the sandy bottom of the marsh. He took the captain’s chair and watched as the ship sliced through the stand of mangroves.

  To his surprise, the Thai Navigator came to a gentle stop on the shore.

  He switched the throttle to STOP, and the vibrations ceased.

  “We ain’t going anywhere,” Eddie said. “Better get Doc Huxley over here. She’s got some new patients.”

  “She’s on the way,” Linda said.

  “What about the Marauder?”

  “The trimaran turned east after leaving Cambridge Gulf, but it’s now out of the rail gun’s range and off our radarscope. April Jin got away.”

  FORTY-EIGHT

  By the time Juan got back to the Oregon with Nomad and his team, the entire crew of the Thai Navigator had been evacuated and brought on board. He oversaw their transfer to the nearby port town of Wyndham, where they’d be treated by an incoming military medical team familiar with the symptoms.

  None of the men on the ore carrier remembered the attack, so it was easy to pass off the Oregon crew as Good Samaritans who happened to be in the vicinity and came to their rescue. With the story they’d made up about how they’d found the stranded ore carrier, the questions from the authorities didn’t take long to answer, and they were allowed to leave.

  As they left the port, Juan was on the Oregon’s deck with Max inspecting the damage from the battle with the Marauder. The stern Kashtan gun was out of commission, as was the automated control module on the superstructure, the fake bridge would need extensive repairs, and the hull was scorched in several places, requiring new paint to fill in the gaps of their active camouflage system.

  “We couldn’t keep her clean for even a week,” Max grumbled. “It’s like driving your brand new sports car off the dealer’s lot and being sideswiped by a garbage truck before you can get home.”

  “I’m sure you’ll patch her up nicely until we can get back to Malaysia and finish outfitting her,” Juan said. He pointed at two of the Oregon’s technicians whose cutting torches were showering the deck with sparks. “I’m more worried about the hangar doors. How long until we can get them open again?”

  One of the blasts from the plasma cannon had fused several hinges on the doors that allowed the tiltrotor to rise out of the ship. That’s why they hadn’t sent Gomez to keep an eye on the trimaran as it fled, and their short-range drones didn’t have enough battery power to track a ship that could be more than a hundred miles away by now.

  “I’d say another three hours before we can crank them up,” Max said. “The mechanism will be held together by spit and baling wire, but it’ll work.”

  “You’re an engineering genius, Max,” Juan said, clapping him on the shoulder. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
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  “Supergenius, I think you meant. And you’d do what you always do. You’d find a way to get the job done, just like you did with that croc.”

  “That was mostly Linc. All I had to do was not get eaten. Let me know when the repairs are complete.”

  As he left Max, they were passing the stranded Thai Navigator, the front third of it surrounded by mangrove trees where it had plowed ashore. It would take a very high tide and several powerful tugboats to get it floating again. He’d already been briefed on what it took to save the crew, and he felt a swell of pride in what his well-trained team could accomplish.

  Back inside, he headed to the boardroom and found Sylvia and Eric waiting for him. They were huddled closely together and didn’t notice Juan enter.

  “Find out anything interesting?” he asked.

  Instead of being embarrassed by their proximity, Eric seemed comfortable with it. He smiled at Sylvia and said, “A few things. We’re just waiting for Murph and Doc Huxley to get back to talk about some of them.”

  Juan took his seat at the head of the table where the golden eagle he’d found in the shipwreck was on display. It had been cleaned, and its wings gleamed as brightly as the day it had been buried two thousand years ago. The letters SPQR were etched over crossed swords.

  “Can you tell me what this idol is?”

  “We think it’s an aquila, which is the Latin word for ‘eagle,’” Sylvia said. “It was a battle standard carried by a Roman legion, worshiped by them as a symbol of Jupiter.”

  “You think that’s what it is?”

  “None have survived,” Eric said, “so we have nothing to compare it to. At least none until now. The closest we’ve found are some imperial seals. But the SPQR definitely confirms it’s Roman. The letters stand for Senātus Populusque Rōmānus. ‘The Roman Senate and People.’ This might be the only one still in existence.”

  “How did it get to Australia?”

  “They must have hidden it from the Parthians to protect it when they were taken prisoner,” Sylvia said. “It was considered a shameful disgrace and a terrible omen for an aquila to be captured in battle. When the Romans lost three of them in Germania, they spent the next thirty years trying to get them back.”

  Eric nodded. “So we think Flavius and his men either kept the eagle hidden from the Parthians or they stole it back when they escaped.”

  “It must be priceless,” Juan said. “But the formula for the nerve gas was apparently worth more.”

  “Which leads to our next finding,” Eric said. “There was one more useful item in the files you took from the swamp factory. The file refers to an upcoming operation using the factory’s output that was loaded onto the cargo ship in Nhulunbuy.”

  “Do you know where the op will take place?”

  “Unfortunately, no,” Sylvia said. “It’s an inventory spreadsheet titled ‘Canisters for 12/31 Shepparton mission.’”

  “New Year’s Eve,” Juan said. “That’s only five days from now.”

  “That’s not the worst part,” Eric said. “The spreadsheet has a column heading called MR-76 and another for Enervum canisters, followed by a list of production dates.”

  “Enervum is the name they used for the gas. What’s MR-76?”

  “It’s a Swedish-made rocket used by the militaries of many countries,” Sylvia said, “including Australia. That must be what they are using to disperse the gas.”

  “How many?” Juan asked.

  “The total at the bottom for each is two hundred and ninety-six,” Eric said.

  “Used all at once, it would be enough gas to saturate an entire city,” Sylvia said.

  Juan sat back in his chair at the grim news. “So we know there is going to be a nerve gas attack on New Year’s Eve, but we don’t know the place where it will happen or the actual name of the ship carrying the rockets, and we have no antidote.”

  “We’ve made progress on that front,” Julia said from the boardroom door. She walked in and took a seat, followed by Murph trailing her in his motorized chair.

  “Can you make it from the nut I found?” Juan asked.

  “No, it was too old and desiccated to be viable. But we’ve identified the source.”

  “Yes, we did,” Murph said, and then played a chorus of cheers from his audio translator.

  “The Romans called it the green-eyed nut,” Julia said, “but the tree is known today as arenga randi, or Rand’s palm. It’s found on only one island in the world.”

  “Christmas Island,” Murph said.

  “Fitting for this time of year,” Juan said. “The one in the Indian Ocean, I assume, not the one in the Pacific?”

  “Correct. It’s an Australian territory. About fifteen hundred miles from here.”

  “The tiltrotor could make it with a stop in Indonesia,” Juan said. “How many nuts do you need?”

  “I estimate it will take three nuts to provide enough oil for each dose,” Julia said. “Given that we have more than six hundred people affected by the gas, we’ll need approximately two thousand nuts.”

  “And I volunteer to be the first to try the antidote,” Murph said.

  Sylvia reached over and took his hand. “Are you sure? There could be side effects.”

  “I may look cheery, but this sucks. If there is a potential cure, I’ll try it.”

  “First, we need to make sure we can find the trees,” Juan said. He called Hali on the speakerphone.

  “Yes, Chairman?”

  “Connect me with Bob Parsons.”

  “I’ll track him down.”

  A few moments later, Parsons said, “What can I do for you?”

  “You mentioned that you have connections all over Australia,” Juan said. “Do you have any on Christmas Island?”

  There was a hesitation. “Well . . . not really.”

  “It sounds like you do. This is important. We need a guide who might know the island’s flora.”

  Parsons sighed. “All right. I do know someone. Renee LaBelle. She runs an eco-tourism business there. If she can’t help you, she’ll know someone who can. But she might not want to hear from me.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “We had a fling a few years back and it didn’t work out.”

  “Listen, we’re sending a team there, and we just need an introduction.”

  “Better I go with you, then,” Parsons said. “I should do it in person.”

  “You’re on the team,” Juan said before switching back to Hali. “Tell Gomez to get the tiltrotor ready to fly. As soon as Max has the hangar doors fixed, we’re heading to Christmas Island.”

  FORTY-NINE

  JAKARTA, INDONESIA

  It was near midnight as Polk drove his black Toyota SUV behind two other identical vehicles through the city’s central business district, its dazzling array of skyscrapers awash in a variety of colors. Their destination was far less glamorous—the manufacturing region east of downtown known as Cikarang.

  He had the vehicle to himself so he could speak to Jin freely.

  “Are you all right?” he asked when she told him about the sea battle with the spy ship.

  “Just a few scrapes from some shrapnel,” Jin said. “We lost four crew and the plasma cannon was damaged, but I was able to get away.”

  “And we still don’t know who we’re up against?”

  “The only person I spoke to was a cheeky woman named Linda. Their ship had more advanced features than we realized.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like an anti-missile laser and some sort of camouflage system.”

  “You’re joking.”

  “There are only a few countries in the world with the resources to fund something like that. But it was odd, as the woman spoke English with an American accent. I’d say the United States must be involved.”

&n
bsp; “How much do you think they know?” Polk asked.

  “I wish I had an answer. But they obviously found out about the archaeological dig. Who knows what they discovered there.”

  “Then it’s good I came on this trip. We can’t have them making their own antidote.”

  “Be careful. They seem to be a step ahead of us.”

  “Do you think Lu is playing some sort of game with us?”

  “I don’t think so,” Jin said. “But that’s why we have our backup plan.”

  They had never put all their confidence in the cryptocurrency payout for accomplishing their objective in Sydney. If the money didn’t come through as Lu had promised, they still had a way to profit from the paralysis of five million Australian citizens.

  When Polk flew away from the factory near Nhulunbuy, his helicopter was carrying ten gallons of Enervum antidote, enough for nine thousand people. The containers were now sitting on his jet, ready to fly to Sydney for rapid deployment after the gas attack. The city’s rich and famous would pay anything to reverse the effects, and Polk figured they could sell the doses for at least fifty thousand dollars apiece on the dark web, netting them close to half a billion dollars.

  Whether Lu delivered or not, they would come out of this with enough money to change their identities and build a new life.

  “Where are you going now?” Polk asked.

  “We’re on our way back to Marwood,” Jin said. “I don’t think repairs will take more than a couple of days. Then we’ll head down to Sydney to rendezvous with you.”

  “You be careful, too. The location of our base wasn’t in any of the records at the factory, but we’ve been surprised before.”

  “Don’t worry. I’ll make sure the guards are on full alert. Hope your raid goes well.”

  “Thanks. One more stop after this and then I’ll head to Marwood. See you soon, luv.”

  Polk hung up. He could see their target up ahead. It was a giant manufacturing plant owned by Blovex pharmaceuticals.

  The drug company was the only place outside of Christmas Island with a supply of nuts from the Rand’s palm tree. They’d been experimenting with them trying to make high-priced health supplements. Polk and Jin had attempted to buy out their inventory, but they’d refused to sell. Jin had convinced Polk to leave them alone and not raise any further suspicions about their interest in the nuts, but now that storehouse was a threat.