and wanted to be with his two heroes for as long as possible. Considering his recent loss, neither man begrudged his clinging presence. It was a little after six in the morning. The
The twinge in Mercer’s gut tightened a degree.
Sitting around the coffee table eating breakfast, he led them through their plan once again. Lauren would drive the van to pick up the American commandos. She would take them straight to the Balboa Yacht Club where Mercer, Roddy, and the Legionnaires would be waiting with the boat. No amount of argument could keep Harry White from also joining them at the marina. It was then up to the Special Forces to assault the
The faces confronting him were grim and set. Everyone knew and accepted the risks. The French wanted a chance to avenge the comrades felled by Liu Yousheng and Hatcherly Consolidated. Roddy was defending his very home, hoping to keep it from slipping back into the kind of tyranny not seen since Noriega’s day. Lauren had a sworn duty to defend the United States and never in her career had her mission been clearer. If they failed, America would face a Cold War-style nuclear confrontation with an adversary possessing a frightening strategic advantage.
What about Harry? Mercer wondered. Why did he want to be a part of this? Like so many of his generation, Harry hadn’t waited for the draft. He’d signed up to do his part during World War II and rightly placed himself among those called the Greatest Generation. It could be that he thought this fight was worth the same kind of sacrifice. Or maybe, Mercer chuckled to himself, the stubborn fool had never backed away from anything in his life and was too set in his ways to stop now.
And his own reason for accepting the risks? Mercer knew it was a combination of them all-with one more addition. He made no distinction between the carbon dioxide gas that had wiped out Gary’s camp and the squad of soldiers Liu had dispatched to the river to kill them. To him the Chinese were as responsible for those deaths as the geologic anomaly. Mercer looked at Miguel. For no reason other than greed and ambition, this innocent had been orphaned by Liu Yousheng. It was a burden the boy would carry for the rest of his life.
Mercer had always been haunted by the idea that the terrorists who murdered his parents had probably been congratulated for their barbarity. In a thousand dreams he’d seen them celebrating the ambush that had cost him everything and gained them nothing. It made him hate the killers all the more, a deep and primal emotion that he’d carry to his grave. He wasn’t sure if punishing Liu would give Miguel any comfort as he grew into adulthood, but Mercer understood too well how the boy’s soul could be corroded if the Chinese mastermind succeeded.
“I think we’re set,” Lauren said when the briefing was over. “When I talked to my father this morning he said the commandos made their flight okay. They managed to bring extra communications gear so we can all stay in contact during the assault.”
“What about your missile cruiser?” Foch asked.
“The destroyer USS
“If Liu has moved SAM batteries here to protect his nuclear rockets, your drone won’t last five minutes,” Rene Bruneseau interjected.
Lauren gave him a smug look. “The spotter drone has the radar cross-section of a hummingbird. No worries.”
One of the Legion soldiers leaned forward. Named Rabidoux, he was the dark-complected son of an Algerian mother and a French father. He more than any of them had been stunned that Rene was a fellow Muslim. “I have been on NATO exercises with the American Green Berets. We won’t need the destroyer, its gun or missiles. I think we won’t even need us.”
Mercer nodded to him. “Hope you’re right.” He looked at the Timex Harry had lent him. “It’s seven o’clock now. I know it won’t take us that long to get into position, but I suggest we get going.”
All the weapons had been bundled in cheap nylon bags so they aroused little interest on the way to the elevator. While the majority of the group continued to the lobby, Miguel insisted that Mercer and Roddy escort him back to the Herraras’ room.
“Are you sure I can’t come with you?” he asked. He’d already asked that same question a dozen times.
“You have to stay here to take care of my children,” Roddy answered. “When I am gone, they look up to you.”
“But you might need me,” the boy insisted with a touch of petulance, then continued his appeal in Spanish.
Mercer admired Roddy’s patience with Miguel. Working past his own apprehension and fears, he was able to speak in reassuring tones. Mercer didn’t know the words but could follow the conversation, recognizing the exact moment of capitulation by the tears that formed in Miguel’s eyes. Roddy spoke to him some more, and like a magician managed to turn the tears into a weak smile and then a small giggle.
Not a magician, Mercer realized. A parent.
Miguel hugged both men and made Mercer promise to look out for Mr. Harry.
“You should know by now,” Mercer teased, “that with Harry on our side it’s the other guys who have to look out.” He pantomimed how Harry had shown Miguel the sword secreted in his walking stick. “He’s bloodthirstier than old Captain Morgan when he sacked Panama City.”
Roddy whispered to Mercer, “Then shouldn’t he drink his namesake’s rum?”
“Poetic license,” Mercer retorted. “Besides, I don’t know if Jack Daniel was bloodthirsty.”
Mercer retreated down the hallway to give Roddy and Carmen some privacy to say good-bye. Even if her husband wasn’t going to be in danger, she worried for him, for them all really.
A pounding rain had erupted in the few minutes it took to get to the parking lot. It stung Mercer’s face as he looked up to judge how long the foul weather would be with them. The sky was an arc of bruised gray clouds that obscured the tops of the tallest buildings. It appeared that the storm would last for hours.
Roddy had borrowed his brother-in-law’s pickup truck to drive the Legionnaires and the weapons to the Balboa Yacht Club. Victor had just finished the night shift at Hatcherly’s container port, and he and Roddy spoke quietly while the arms were loaded into the truck’s enclosed bed. It would be a tight fit for the soldiers in back, but they only had to drive fifteen miles or so. Lauren was already behind the wheel of the idling van.
Mercer climbed into the pickup’s cab to get out of the rain. Harry sat next to him and was squeezed in when Roddy jumped behind the wheel once Victor marched off for a bus stop.
“Victor says that last night Hatcherly moved a ship out of its dry dock. It had been there for weeks, although he’s sure no work was ever done to it. The freighter that took its place is about four hundred feet long. He thinks it’s a refrigerator ship but didn’t see the name.”
“Sounds like the
Roddy nodded, rainwater dripping from his nose. “I think it must be. The dry dock is fully enclosed, allowing the Chinese to unload their rockets without being detected.”
“That’s probably how they brought in the missile-launcher trucks.”
“Makes sense,” Roddy agreed.
“Once we hook up with the Special Forces we can alert the USS
Roddy started the truck and maneuvered so Mercer’s window came abreast of Lauren’s. “You all set?” Mercer called to her.
She rolled down her window a couple of inches. “This is gonna be a milk run.” She grinned. “We should be at the Balboa Yacht Club around ten. It all depends on customs at the airport.”
“And we’ll have the boat ready to go. See you when we see you.”
Lauren blew him a kiss and put the van in gear. Roddy waited until she had pulled into the early-morning traffic before turning around in the parking lot and leaving the hotel in the opposite direction.
Twenty minutes after reaching the Gamboa Highway they pulled into the Balboa Yacht Club, a grandiose title for a rather run-down establishment located immediately below the Pedro Miguel Lock. From the parking lot they could see a PANAMAX container ship in one lane of the lock and a cruise liner about to enter the other.
