River of Ruin (65 page)

Twelve miles up the canal, seven thousand tons of explosives detonated. It wasn’t so much an explosion as a hurricane of fire that shredded the sky as it bloomed and billowed into a towering column of flame. The
Robert T. Change
ceased to exist, wiped from the earth in the first milliseconds of the blast. Slapped as if by a giant fist, the
Mario diCastorelli
was lifted from the water and tossed nearly a half mile, while chunks of her hull sailed even farther. The billion gallons of vaporized water added to the overpressure that hammered the surrounding rock. In an instant, the soil below the canal turned into a slurry no stiffer than Jell-O and the fractured mountains began to collapse, tumbling and grinding and filling the crater gouged by the explosion. Clouds of dust rose around the blast scene like the banks of ash that pour from a volcanic eruption.

The shock wave traveling through the earth made the surface of the canal near the
Rose
come alive. They could see the growing fireball climbing over the horizon but could hear nothing yet as jittering waves topped ten feet and washed over their tight group. The pressure wave hit a second later, and then came the rumbling thunder of the detonation, a roar like a thousand jet aircraft.

In the cut, tens of thousands of cubic yards of rock and debris tumbled from the mountainside in an endless cascade. On the opposite bank was a gently sloping field nearly four acres square. The structural shifts in topography caused the top ten feet of dirt covering the field to slide like a conveyor belt into the canal. The avalanches fell unabated for several minutes, and slides would continue for days as the landscape resettled itself.

For the first time since October 10, 1913, when a telegraphed signal from Woodrow Wilson in the White House detonated the dike separating the Gaillard Cut from Lake Gatun, the Atlantic and Pacific Oceans were no longer joined. The most vital sealane in the history of maritime commerce had been severed. Below the churning dust and dissipating flames, angry water lapped at both sides of an earthen plug that stretched from bank to bank.

Mercer roused his people as soon as the sound hit them. They couldn’t waste the precious seconds of distraction the explosion gave them. The Seahawk pilot understood her orders and didn’t bother staring at the awful destruction taking place up the canal. She swung her chopper in a tight circle, lowering her altitude so the door gunner could open fire directly into the
Korvald
’s bridge. Glass and blood flew.

The Legion soldiers led the group around the wing bridge and across what had once been the side of the superstructure. The steel was slick with rain and the footing treacherous. There was no cover. Had it not been for the chopper keeping the Chinese pinned, their charge could have been cut down before it ever really got going.

Munz and Foch reached the edge of the superstructure first, dropping flat to peer over the lip to see who or what was below them. Mercer and Lauren watched where the
Korvald
’s wing bridge jutted out ten feet over their heads. So far no one on the Chinese ship presented themselves as a target.

“Clear,” Foch called and disappeared from view over the edge.

The others rushed forward. The
Korvald
’s rail was only a foot below them and was less than a yard away. The water between the two ships continued to bubble as air escaped from the capsized freighter.

Foch waited in the shadow of a ventilator to help steady the others as they leapt over. Above them and forty feet aft, the ship’s mangled wheelhouse continued to take automatic fire from the Seahawk. A short way off two pairs of legs shown grotesquely from under the
Rose
’s decapitated funnel.

“What’s your plan?” Mercer asked the Legion officer.

He shrugged. “
Je ne sais pas
. I thought you’d have an idea.”

Looking toward the bow, Mercer saw movement. A Chinese soldier was working his way along the raised hatch covers to find a way to shoot down the helicopter gunship with his type 87. Mercer swung his M-16, but Rabidoux was quicker and triggered off a three-round burst that threw the soldier flat.

Two more Chinese rose from their hiding places to counterfire and were cut down by Lauren and Foch.

“The chopper’s keeping everyone on the bridge occupied,” Mercer said, his breathing growing ragged as adrenaline once again electrified his body. “Foch, take two men and mop up the forward deck so no one can sneak up behind us.”

“
D’accord
.” He grabbed Munz and the Legion trooper whose name Mercer didn’t know and vanished around the funnel.

Mercer and the rest shuffled over to the superstructure, mindful of glass still falling from the bridge. Reaching a sealed hatchway, Bruneseau took up a covering position while Rabidoux spun open the dogs. No one was waiting inside.

“Haven’t we already done this once today?” Harry remarked as they stepped out of the storm.

“Quit your complaining and help us find a place to hole up until Foch gets back.”

They made their way down a dim passage, turning left toward the interior of the ship, and found an unlocked cabin. Mercer went in first, his M-16 held tight to his shoulder. It was clear. Harry went straight to the desk and sat down. “Ah, that feels better. Damned peg leg is starting to bother me.”

A minute later, they heard movement outside the cabin. Rene peeked out the door then opened it wide for Foch and the others. “Is the deck clear?”

He nodded. “There were three others. What do we do now, hunt down the rest?”

Mercer thought about it. “No. Just one of them.”

“Sun?” Harry asked, understanding.

“I’ve got to do it,” Mercer said. “I can’t explain why, but I’ve got to.”

“It’s not worth it,” Lauren said, stunned that Mercer would suggest it. “We can all wait right here. No one’s going to find us and the Panamanian coast guard is going to be here in a few minutes.”

“I do want you all to wait right here. But I’m going.” Mercer checked the ammo in his M-16 and felt for the .45-caliber pistol tucked behind his back.

“Sun isn’t going to get away,” Lauren pleaded. She’d never seen such savagery in Mercer’s eyes before and it frightened her. “You talked about being macho before. Well, listen to your own advice.”

Mercer didn’t look at her when he spoke. “If you knew how empty I feel because of what he did to me, you wouldn’t ask me to stay. I won’t be myself until I know he’s dead. It doesn’t make sense, I know. But it’s how I feel.”

Harry stood. “Let him go, Lauren. He’s right.”

“You too?” She wheeled on him, feeling betrayed because she was sure Mercer’s oldest friend would see the insanity of what he wanted to do.

“It’s for the best. Mercer, go. We’ll be right here.”

“That’s another I owe you,” Mercer said, moving to the door. Lauren’s expression was one of disgust. “I’m sorry,” he mouthed and took off down the hall.

No one moved or spoke for several long seconds. Foch finally turned to Harry. “Enough time?”

“Another few seconds.”

“What are you talking about?” Lauren blazed.

“We’re going to follow him,” Harry said. “What did you think?”

Mercer’s feet barely touched the scuffed linoleum decking as he ran. His vision felt heightened, as if nothing could hide from his gaze. Even the deepest shadows looked bright.

His hearing was more acute. Each creak and groan reverberating around the ship sounded distinctly in his ears and he could tell where each noise originated.

He climbed two decks, moving ever closer to where automatic fire from the chopper continued to slam the bridge. He passed the body of an officer who’d staggered down from the wheelhouse to die. A trail of blood from the large-caliber holes in his chest led up a third flight of stairs. Over the staccato beat of machine-gun fire, Mercer heard voices shouting in Chinese. He started up the stairs, keeping low and to one side.

At the upper landing he guessed that the bridge had been evacuated because the door separating it from the rest of the superstructure was closed. To his left was a short hallway that doubled back aft. It was where the ship’s officers had their quarters. To the right, he could just see into another large cabin, probably the captain’s. That’s where the voices came from.

He moved out of the stairwell to get a better view of what was going on inside. He recognized one of the men as the captain and the other as the stocky civilian. Unfortunately the third man wasn’t Sun. It was a soldier. The more Mercer looked at him the more he was convinced it was the same guy who’d captured him following the chase on the car carrier.

Mercer couldn’t understand what they were saying but it appeared the veteran soldier wasn’t happy about something. In fact it looked like he was holding a pistol on the civilian and the captain.

“For the last time, Huai,” General Yu said, trying to keep his anger in check. “Put that damned gun away.”

“I can’t do that, General. Not until you tell me exactly why you felt it necessary to sacrifice my men.”

“I told you that soldiers dying is the price of war.”

“That’s what confuses me. Who was this war against? Panama? America? Who?”

Yu snapped his mouth closed, suddenly understanding what the sergeant was going on about. He had lost men in a conflict he didn’t understand. He wanted answers and Yu could see that some pat response wouldn’t satisfy him. “Sergeant, this operation was about defending our way of life. Not all our enemies come with white skin and round eyes. Some are within our own ranks.”

“Liu Yousheng might have been a bastard, but I never saw him as my enemy.”

Yu seized on his statement. “Might have been? You killed him?”

Huai seized on the general’s desperation. “Maybe. Or maybe let him go and he is right now making arrangements to return to China.”

In truth, Liu was unconscious in a cabin, shackled to the plumbing behind a toilet. Huai wasn’t sure yet if he would tell anyone or let him drown as the
Korvald
continued to fill with water from the holes in her hull. In just the few minutes since he’d burst into the cabin to find Yu hiding from the helicopter gunship, Huai could feel the deck was tilting more.

“You let him go!” Yu thundered.

Huai readjusted his pistol to remind the general who was in charge. “Who decided that Liu was our enemy?”

“Your government.”

“So my government denounced him as a traitor and yet they let a dozen of my men die working with him just to make a political statement about his treason. I see that as a greater violation than whatever Liu did.”

“What do you plan to do about it?” Yu scoffed, his lip twisting with derision. He’d been pushed as far as he’d go. “Are you going to shoot me? Then you’d have to shoot the captain here and everyone else on this ship to keep them from killing you.”

“That’s what you don’t understand,” Huai said calmly. “That is the kind of sacrifice a soldier is willing to make for his men. I don’t mind dying to kill you. You’ve betrayed my men, you’ve betrayed me and you’ve betrayed the People’s Liberation Army.” He raised his pistol. “For the crime of treason against his troops, General Yu Kwan, I sentence you to death.”

The shot rang out, crisp and sharp.

Sergeant Huai staggered back a step, his left hand reaching for his chest where blood oozed from the wound. Mr. Sun had watched the whole exchange from a hiding place in the adjoining bathroom. He’d enjoyed the play of emotion between the combat soldier and the political one, feeding off their fear and hatred. But he knew where his loyalties lay and judged precisely when the sergeant would shoot. He’d fired his own pistol an instant before Huai and was pleased the bullet had hit within a few inches of where he’d aimed. He’d never been good with guns.

The second shot had been delayed by a fraction of a second. The aim was perfect. The bullet had been fired even as Huai absorbed a shot to the chest and still blew most of General Yu’s brains out the back of his head. The gore exploded against the cabin wall and oozed like slime to the floor.

Mercer watched as the two fell to the deck. He didn’t have the proper angle to see if the civilian had used a hidden gun to kill the soldier, but it stood to reason that anyone involved in this plot would be armed. All he was sure of was that this incident had nothing to do with him. His fight was with Sun, not the Chinese Army and its civilian controllers. The ship’s captain walked over the soldier’s body to close and lock the cabin door.

Mercer lifted himself from where he’d hidden behind a cabinet. He put out of his mind what he’d just seen and continued his hunt for Sun, guessing that he would be cowering as far from the bridge as he could. He moved down the hallway, checking cabins. Most were unlocked and took just a moment to examine. Those doors that were locked he kicked in as quietly as he could, although the cacophony from outside and the alarms screaming on the bridge effectively masked any noise he made.

Each time he returned to the hall, he eyed the captain’s cabin to make sure no one had emerged. Reaching the last door, he felt the handle. It was locked. He kicked once and the puny lock shattered. He had the M-16 ready and swept the cabin in one movement. No one. He moved to check the bathroom. There was a body chained to the toilet.

What the hell?
The bathroom was tiny so he shouldered the M-16 and pulled the .45. He called out softly. No response. He approached slowly and tapped the body with his foot. The man was facedown and didn’t move. A briefcase was handcuffed to his wrist. He kicked again, angling so he could roll the man over. He recognized Liu Yousheng immediately and had to fight not to pull the trigger.

“Well, well, well.” He looked closer. A livid purple bruise covered half of Liu’s face. Mercer touched his cheek. The skin was cold and waxy. He was dead. Whoever had clocked him had hit a little too hard and caused bleeding on the brain. “Good.”