Shadow Tyrants--Clive Cussler

by Clive Cussler

  “We need answers, Doctor,” Juan said, shrugging the suit over his torso and pulling the air tank and cooling pump onto his shoulders. “Once the lava reaches the ship, the hardened rock will make it impossible to enter the crew areas even after it has cooled. If we don’t go into that ship now, we never will.”

  THIRTY-SIX

  MUMBAI

  After circling the ballroom, Eddie returned to the area farthest from the bar, where Raven, MacD, and Linc were doing their best to avoid engaging with the other guests.

  “I found the door to the emergency stairs,” Eddie said. “It’s in the hallway to the bathrooms.”

  “Anyone guarding it?” Linc asked.

  “One guy. He looks serious about keeping people out of the stairwell.”

  MacD looked in that direction, but the guard wasn’t visible from the main room. “Is it alarmed?”

  “Doesn’t look like it.”

  “Then all we need to do is keep the guard occupied for a few minutes while you’re gone,” Raven said. “I can do that.”

  “You might be missed,” Eddie said. “The bathrooms are close by, though. Give me your perfume.”

  She handed him a small spray bottle, which he pocketed.

  “Do we know where Mallik’s office is yet?” Eddie said to Murph.

  “Got it,” Murph replied. “It’s on the floor right above you.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Yeah. I found a video of his wife before she died. She was giving a tour to one of those Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous–type shows just after they finished construction on the building. She showed off her husband’s office, and I could read the floor number when she got off the elevator.”

  “Okay,” Eddie said. “Linc, you come with me. Nobody will think it’s odd if her bodyguard is gone for a few minutes given how secure this building is.”

  “What should MacD and I do?” Raven asked.

  “Keep an eye on the hallway to the bathrooms. Let us know if anyone is coming.”

  “And try not to talk to anyone else,” Linc said.

  MacD smiled. “With the way we look, it’s gonna be hard to keep people away from us.”

  “Then you do all the talking,” Linc said. “That’ll drive them off.”

  “Because of this honey-smooth voice? It’ll be a challenge, but Ah’m up to it.”

  Raven rolled her eyes and continued to wear her most dour and unapproachable expression. Eddie thought that might actually work.

  He and Linc crossed the room and entered the hall to the bathrooms. They both nodded as they passed the guard before going into the men’s room.

  After a quick check to make sure it was empty, Eddie said to Raven, “Anyone coming our way?”

  “You’re clear,” she said.

  They both went back out. Eddie was clutching the perfume bottle. Without a word, he lifted it and sprayed it in the guard’s face.

  The guard sputtered for a second in surprise before the sedative gas took effect. He sagged into the waiting arms of Eddie and Linc, who quickly dragged him into a stall in the men’s room.

  They sat him on the toilet seat, and Eddie used zip ties to secure his wrists to the gold-plated grab bars on either side. At the same time, Linc gagged him with a handkerchief just in case he woke up before they left the party. They took his radio, then Linc exited the stall so Eddie could lock the door from the inside and climb out.

  “Three women coming your way,” MacD said.

  Linc and Eddie left the restroom and smiled at the women entering the ladies’ room. When they were alone, Eddie handed the radio to Linc and said, “Wait here and pretend you’re checking your phone. Let me know if anyone misses the guard.”

  Linc tucked the radio into his coat pocket and inserted the earpiece. Instead of saying “Good luck,” which was actually considered bad luck in the Corporation, he said, “Good hunting.”

  Eddie entered the stairwell and bounded up the steps two at a time. He was about to open the door to the floor where Mallik’s office was when he heard voices through it.

  He’d have to wait and hope they left. Of course, if they opened the door, the whole operation would be a bust.

  * * *

  —

  Natalie Taylor was arguing with the chef in the kitchen next to the ballroom. He claimed that there was no record of a cake that was supposed to be delivered to the party.

  “I didn’t approve that monstrosity,” the Frenchman said, sneering at the giant novelty cake. He’d been flown in from Paris especially for this event.

  “Mr. Mallik himself requested it,” Taylor said in a calm voice. “Here, I’ll show you.”

  She took a piece of paper from her pocket. It was an invoice with Romir Mallik’s signature on it. Even Mallik would think it was his own handwriting.

  The chef examined it carefully, frowning the entire time.

  “If you’d like to interrupt Mr. Mallik while he’s entertaining guests, I’m sure he’d be happy to come in here and attend to this. Or maybe you could call him.” She wasn’t bluffing. She’d be perfectly happy for Mallik to come into the kitchen.

  “You can’t expect me to have his personal number,” the chef said.

  “No, but I do,” Taylor said, holding out her phone. “He said to call him if there was any trouble.”

  The chef pursed his lips, then shoved the invoice back to her.

  “Fine. When does he want it?”

  “Now.”

  “But we are still serving the hors d’oeuvres!”

  She raised an eyebrow and held out the phone again.

  The chef put up his hands in surrender. “All right. It’s his party. But is any of that edible?”

  “Just the top tier.”

  “Before you go, let me finish preparing the rest of the desserts to go with it.”

  “How long will that take?”

  “Just a few minutes.”

  Taylor made a show of looking at her watch. “I will wheel this out in two minutes no matter what.” She lowered the bunting over the sides of the cart to hide the wheels.

  While she waited for the chef and his staff to frantically get the desserts ready, she looked at her phone, activating the app she would need once the cake was in place in the ballroom.

  Inside the cake was a tripod-mounted remote-controlled machine gun called a Small Caliber Ultra-Light, or SCUL. Her app showed the view from its thermal camera, which could see through the paper-thin sides of the cake. With the controls on her phone, she could rotate the gun in a three-hundred-sixty-degree arc, raise or lower the angle of the barrel, and fire its eight hundred rounds of belt-fed 5.56mm bullets.

  In a few minutes, Mallik’s ability to stop the Colossus Project would be finished. As soon as the cake was locked in place in the ballroom and Taylor had a clear view of him, she’d cut him down, taking as many of the guests with him as she could. She’d escape in the panic and confusion after she made sure he was dead.

  * * *

  —

  Raven, unhappy that she was relegated to serving as distracting eye candy, pretended to sip her champagne as she watched the hallway to the restrooms. MacD, on the other hand, seemed to be enjoying himself. Women continually gave him the once-over as they passed by.

  “Mallik sure is well connected,” he said. “Ah recognize at least four high-ranking generals here, in addition to the celebrities and politicians.”

  “How do you know?” Raven asked.

  “Did a lot of work in this region back in the day. Saw some of the local brass at that time.”

  “What if they recognize you?”

  “Never happen. Ah was too low-level back then. These guys wouldn’t bother looking at an officer ranking lower than major.”

  MacD had been looking at her, but his eyes suddenly focused on s
omeone over Raven’s left shoulder. They widened as a subtle message to her just before she heard a man’s voice speak to her. She turned to see Romir Mallik approaching her with a big grin.

  “Miss Jain,” he said, “I’m so glad you could come tonight.” Asad Torkan stood silently by his side.

  Raven gave him her high-wattage smile and said, “It’s a pleasure to see you, Mr. Mallik. It’s a wonderful party and a beautiful home.”

  “Thank you. I’m happy to finally meet you in person. I’ve been a fan of your films for many years. I’m sorry you went to America to continue your career. I hope you have returned for good.”

  “If India will have me.” She turned to MacD. “May I introduce you to Cole Randle.”

  Mallik narrowed his eyes at MacD and nodded curtly.

  “Perhaps I can have you over sometime to watch one of your movies,” Mallik said, obviously excluding MacD. “It would be a treat to be able to hear your comments on it as we watch. I have a private forty-seat theater three stories below this room.”

  “I would like that,” Raven said.

  He looked at her with a curious expression. “Which of your films would you choose?” He waited for an answer with a tight smile. Raven couldn’t tell if he was simply being courteous or that he suspected she wasn’t who she said she was. Torkan was as stone-faced as ever, but he was watching both her and MacD intently.

  She didn’t hesitate, saying, “Golibari Ki Rekha,” an action movie which meant Firing Line in English. It was Kiara Jain’s most famous role.

  That seemed to be the right response because Mallik beamed at her and said, “That is my favorite. Later, if you would be so kind, I may ask you to indulge us with a song.”

  At the mention of a possible performance, Raven felt her stomach clench. She paused for only a fraction of a second before she said, “I’d be delighted.”

  “Excellent,” Mallik said. “Well, I need to tend to my other guests, but you can be sure I will return.” He took Raven’s hand and gave it a squeeze before he walked away with Torkan.

  When they were out of earshot, MacD said, “You don’t sing, do you?”

  “Not a note. If they put a microphone in my face and make me serenade the crowd, every ear within a six-block radius will be bleeding.”

  She was turned away from Mallik for the moment, facing the direction of the hallway leading to the kitchen, which was on the opposite side of the ballroom from the bathrooms. A Caucasian woman with red hair caught her eye because she wasn’t wearing an evening gown. Instead, she was dressed in the attire of the serving staff. She was the only non-Indian working there.

  The woman was carefully surveying the room, almost like an operative. Her face seemed familiar to Raven, but she couldn’t quite place it. The servant kept scanning the room until her gaze settled on Romir Mallik. She stared at him for a few seconds, then went back into the kitchen.

  She walked with a grace and athleticism that wasn’t usual for a server, and that’s when Raven realized she’d seen the woman’s face before.

  MacD must have noticed her expression because he said, “What’s wrong?”

  “Remember that sketch Lyla Dhawan had Kevin Nixon draw?” Raven said. “It was circulated to the crew after she left.”

  MacD nodded. “Sure. The woman who killed half the passengers on Xavier Carlton’s missing jet and then imprisoned the rest on Jhootha Island. Why?”

  “She’s here.”

  THIRTY-SEVEN

  THE RED SEA

  Juan pushed away from Nomad’s air lock and swam toward the shipwreck’s superstructure with Linda behind him. They were wearing full-face masks and could communicate with each other and the sub using low-frequency acoustic transmitters. Cameras attached to each of their masks were recording the dive, but the video couldn’t be transmitted underwater. Though the cooling suit was keeping the heated water at bay, Juan could feel how hot it was because of the slim gap between his mask and hood. It wasn’t hot enough to burn him, but it was certainly hot enough to cook him in minutes if his cooling unit failed.

  “How are you doing back there, Linda?” he asked.

  “Cozy and warm,” she replied.

  “Water is up to one hundred and twenty and still rising, but your core temps are steady and normal,” Julia said, who was monitoring their body temperatures from the sensors embedded in the suits. The deep rumble of the flowing lava added to the sense of urgency.

  “I trust Max’s cooling suit design,” Juan said. “We shouldn’t be more than fifteen minutes.”

  “We’ll stay right here until you come back,” Eric said. He had Nomad hovering near the bridge wing’s outer door.

  When Juan reached the door, he said, “Let’s see what’s in here.”

  He pressed down on the handle, but it didn’t budge. He tried twice more. Nothing. He pulled as hard as he could and got nowhere.

  “The mechanism must be rusted shut,” Linda said. “All this heat.”

  “We better hope all the doors aren’t like this or we’re going to have to break out some explosives to get in. There’s another door two decks down. We’ll try that one.”

  They swam down to the door, and Juan tried the latch. It gave slightly. He kicked at the handle with his prosthetic foot, and the mechanism finally snapped free. He yanked at it, but it only came open a few inches. It took both of them pulling on it to make the gap wide enough for them to go through. Juan led the way in.

  There were no windows on this level, so he turned on his headlamp. No wildlife had penetrated the crew areas, and the corridor was free of growth, which meant they might come across intact information about the ship.

  Most navigation and other work would be done on a computer, but even a ship as advanced as this one would have written checklists and maps as backups. If he and Linda could at least find out the name of the vessel, they would be able to track it back to its owner and manufacturer.

  “There’s a set of stairs,” Juan said, and swam toward them. They went up two levels and entered the bridge.

  The bridge was a high-tech operation consisting of dozens of flat-panel screens, interspersed with keyboards, control buttons, telephone handsets, and joysticks for maneuvering the ship. The only loose items he noticed were several coffee mugs scattered on the floor. Just a few pinpoints of dim light penetrated the thick growth of algae on the windows. The leather of the captain’s and helmsman’s chairs hadn’t begun to decay.

  “Chairman,” Linda said. “We’ve got a name.”

  He turned to see her pointing at a brass plaque fastened to the back wall. He swam over and could make out the name COLOSSUS 3 emblazoned across the top.

  “Project C,” Juan said. “And I’ll take a wild stab that there are at least two more Project Colossus ships.”

  “Look at the launch date,” Linda said.

  “Eighteen months ago. Right around the time that Xavier Carlton’s A380 was hijacked.”

  At the bottom of the plaque was a symbol he recognized: a circle with nine spokes with a clockwise swastika at its center.

  “Eric,” Juan said, “we now have confirmation that the Nine Unknown Men are connected to Project C, which apparently stands for Colossus.”

  “That must be a nod to the first programmable computer,” Eric said. “Colossus was built to decipher the Nazi Lorenz cipher during World War Two”

  “It’s also part of this ship’s name. Colossus 3.”

  “I hate to break it to you,” Julia said, “but it’s over one hundred and twenty-five out here. I recommend you start heading out of the wreckage.”

  “Two more minutes, Hux,” Juan said. “Don’t want to come out of here empty-handed.”

  “I’ll give you two, and not a second more.”

  “Roger that.”

  Next to the plaque was a row of shelves with manuals and rolled-up maps
.

  “Start gathering those up to take with us,” Juan said to Linda. “I’m going to see if I can find the captain’s log.”

  Linda nodded, unfurled a drawstring net bag, and began stuffing books and maps into the sack. Juan swam through an open door at the back of the bridge, where he expected to find the captain’s private office.

  The small room contained a desk, two chairs, a file cabinet, and a large safe. The safe still shut meant the captain didn’t have enough time to retrieve its contents before abandoning ship. But, it did mean that there might be other important items in the office that the captain had neglected to recover.

  He started with the desk and rifled through the drawers. They were locked, but his small pry bar was strong enough to lever them open. It was in the third drawer that he found the captain’s log. He simply shoved the leather-bound notebook into his drysuit pocket and went over to the file cabinet to see what he could find.

  As soon as he opened the top drawer, there was a rapidly growing roar coming from outside the Colossus 3, which started shaking violently.

  Juan had the odd sensation of being tossed around by the water inside the ship. He raced back to the bridge.

  “What’s going on out there?” Juan asked over the deafening sound.

  “Oh, no!” Julia shouted.

  “Brace yourselves!” was all Eric could get out before Juan and Linda felt something slam into the shipwreck.

  With a thundering crash, the Colossus 3 rocked to the side and felt as if it were going to keel over. After a few seconds, the roar subsided, and the ship stabilized.

  “You okay?” Juan said to Linda, who had dropped the bag she’d been filling.

  “Yes. Just a little shaken up.”

  “Nomad, what’s your status?” he said. “Eric, Julia, are you all right?”

  There was a moment of silence. Then he heard Eric’s voice, tinny and distant.

  “Chairman, do you read me?”

  “We’re fine in here,” Juan said. “How’s Nomad?”

  “We got a good rattle, but we were able to avoid any damage.”