River of Ruin

American military proud.”

“We have a problem,” Harry called from the sofa as soon as they entered the room. He was backlit by the afternoon sun. “Roddy phoned. He got the list and says it’s about to come over the fax machine. Then it sounded like he ran into trouble. Now he’s not answering his cell.”

A chill ran through Mercer’s body. “What kind of trouble?”

“Don’t know,” Harry admitted. “He said he thought he was being followed. That’s it.”

Just then the fax line rang and the compact machine began to whir. Lauren was closest and read the list as the pages emerged. Her worried frown deepened as she passed each sheet of paper to Mercer. The six pages made a circuit of the room, frantic eyes looking for the name they sought. None found it. It was Bruneseau who stated the obvious. “There’s no ship called Gemini.”

“Not even close,” Foch said.

“What does this mean?”

“I don’t know.” Mercer’s face had drained of all color. “Gemini must be a code name of some sort, not the name of the vessel.”

Harry was the only one not entering the heated discussion that flew around the room. He sat calmly on the sofa, the list of ships’ names spread in front of him. Miguel sat at his side, looking along with him, although he could barely read English.

“Even if your father gets us troops, what’s the purpose?” Rene told Lauren. “We have no target.”

“We’ve got to do something,” she defended.

“Guys,” Harry called quietly, repeating it louder and louder until his ragged voice cut off all arguments. “If any of you knew the first thing about crossword puzzles you’d see the answer right here.” He rattled the first sheet of paper.

“What do you have?” Mercer recognized the triumphant gleam in his friend’s eye.

“The ship that Liu’s going to use to blow up the canal.”

Bruneseau’s impatience boiled over. “Out with it, damnit.”

“It’s the Mario diCastorelli, a bulk carrier registered in Liberia.” He checked the manifest again. “Says she’s loaded with twelve thousand tons of scrap steel and cement, but that’s gotta be bullshit.”

“Why do you say it’s the Mario diCaso-whatever?” Lauren asked.

“DiCastorelli. It’s an old crossword clue.”

“Mario diCastorelli is an old crossword clue?”

“No. Listen, what is Gemini?”

“It is a sign of the Zodiac,” Foch answered.

“That’s right.” Lauren brightened “The twins.”

Mercer saw it then. “Castor and Pollux. DiCastorelli.”

Harry looked smug. “I’ve seen Castor or Pollux as a clue for Gemini a hundred times. This has got to be our ship. She goes into the canal at seven A.M. on the Pacific side.”

“Good job, you cagey old bastard,” Mercer said amiably.

“One moment.” Bruneseau took the list from Harry. “I thought ships entered from the Atlantic in the morning.”

“Usually, but if you’ll see here, there are a bunch of cruise ships returning to the Caribbean.” Lauren pointed out the names of several PANAMAX cruise liners. “They always transit in the morning so the passengers get the full show. Remember the one we saw before crashing the chopper on the car carrier?”

“Jesus.” Mercer looked up sharply. “Any of them close to the Mario diCastorelli?”

She double-checked. “No. There are a few freighters in between, Robert T. Change, Englander Rose, and the Sultana, a container ship.”

“I wonder if that’s intentional, that maybe the canal director is trying to minimize the loss of life?” Harry commented. “You know, by isolating passenger ships from the explosion.”

“I’m not looking for altruism from these bastards,” Mercer said sourly. He had to ask Harry the time. “There are only about eighteen hours before that ship enters the Gaillard Cut. We’ve got to get a plan together.”

“I’ll call my father right now.” The phone rang as Lauren reached for it. “Hello. Roddy! Are you okay? Where are you? What happened?”

“I’m fine. I’m in my car. I was stopped by an undercover traffic cop who saw me pull an illegal U-turn. I’ll be at the hotel in a few minutes. You or Mercer didn’t tell Carmen, did you?”

“No, we didn’t tell her anything.” Lauren’s relieved laugh dispelled the anxiety in the room. “We got the list and found the ship. Harry figured it out.”

“Thank God,” Roddy breathed. “When I read it I thought we were sunk.”

“I have to get off this line,” Lauren told Roddy. “I need to call my father.”

“Okay. Hey, I’m going to spend some time with my family before I come up.”

“That’s a good idea. We’ll call you if we need you. I’ll send Miguel down too.”

“Good. Thanks. I’d like to see him too.”

Lauren hung up the phone and gave the others a brief outline of her conversation. “I’m going to use the phone in the bedroom to call my father,” she announced. “I’ve already tracked down weapons if he can get us Special Forces. It’s up to you boys to have a plan ready for when they arrive.”

Foch had a map of the Canal Zone ready. “We’re on it.”

She was still talking with the Pentagon when Mercer ordered up room service, and barely acknowledged when he left a steak dinner on the bed where she’d surrounded herself with pages and pages of notes. He could see some were drawings of the diving chamber and submersible she’d seen at the Pedro Miguel Lock. Others detailed Liu Yousheng’s compound outside the city and still others were revisions of weapons and equipment lists she’d secured from some of her local contacts.

Mercer considered himself lucky just for the brief smile she threw him and the dazzle in her eyes.

Back in the sitting room, the men tore into their meals. Lights were on, and out the window the skyline of Panama City resembled a constellation of fallen stars. Harry had given his watch to Mercer after the tenth question about time, so Mercer knew that twelve hours remained before the Mario diCastorelli entered the canal. About four hours after that it would reach the cut. If they didn’t get an answer from General Vanik soon, they would be on their own.

The air was thick with cigarette smoke, mostly from Harry, who was on his fifth Jack Daniel’s and ginger ale. Foch and Rene also added to the fog that made Mercer’s food taste like the bottom of an ashtray. He barely noticed.

They’d discussed countless operational ideas for taking out the Mario diCastorelli in the canal in the event they couldn’t disable her before she entered the waterway. Everything from a fast-rope rappel off the Bridge of the Americas when the ship passed underneath, to a helicopter assault, to blowing it apart with the VGAS cannon on the guided missile destroyer hopefully steaming into the Bay of Panama. All of these were ultimately rejected in favor of launching an attack from a small boat in Miraflores Lake.

Everyone agreed that assaulting the bomb ship before she reached the lake was too dangerous because of the possibility of an early detonation. A blast anywhere before she passed through the first set of locks would certainly level Balboa and likely cause damage as far away as Panama City. Hitting the ship in the isolated lake would drastically reduce collateral damage if the SF soldiers failed and the sailors on the vessel blew the explosives. And by risking a raid, they prevented the certainty of a colossal explosion caused by precision munitions from the USS McCampbell’s VGAS autocannon. It was a calculated gamble they would have taken even if they were assaulting the freighter themselves.

All eyes turned to the bedroom door when Lauren emerged. The bruise on the right side of her face had settled to a uniform plum color that matched a dark shadow under her other eye. The past week was taking a physical toll on her-on all of them.

“Well?”

Her somber mien suddenly vanished as she smiled. “We got ’em. General Horner, head of the Special Operations Command, is sending them down on a commercial flight so as not to tip anybody off.”