River of Ruin

As Roddy had predicted there were no other vehicles at the club. It was a Tuesday morning and the weather only helped keep sailors away. Rain hitting the tin roof of the two-story clubhouse sounded like hail. There were a dozen sailboats in the marina and an equal number of powerboats tied to the wooden jetties. Like most small boatyards, there were watercraft resting on wooden trestles and a battered crane to hoist them into or out of the water. A lone gasoline pump stood like a sentinel on one of the piers.

Beyond the marina lay the mile-long Miraflores Lake. Like forgotten castles on a mist-shrouded moor, several cargo ships floated eerily on the water, their running lights barely cutting into the storm and the smoke from their funnels blending with the murky clouds. A single horn blast echoed across the artificial lake.

The three men sat in the quiet truck for a second until Harry broke the spell the haunting scene had cast over them. “What a shitty day.”

Mercer threw open his door at the same time Foch and Rene emerged from the rear of the pickup. His men swarmed out after him with the bags of weapons. Only Harry and Roddy had rain jackets with them, but the storm didn’t faze the soldiers. If anything they knew the weather would help the American commandos when they staged their assault.

Roddy led them around the clubhouse and across the lawn to the marina. Wind whistled through the rigging on the sailboats and waves slapped against their hulls. The boat he had borrowed was a thirty footer with a tuna tower that rose fifteen feet and a cabin accessible through a sliding glass door. He leapt onto the craft and jammed the key into the lock. The men piled into the cabin, water dripping from their clothes onto the faded indoor/outdoor carpet. The soldiers were more intent on the weapons than the fact they were all soaked to the skin.

“They okay?” Mercer asked.

“Oui,” Rabidoux said and handed over one of the.45-caliber pistols.

Mercer checked the action once, then popped the magazine so he could replace the round he’d chambered. With two more hours to wait, there was no need to charge the weapons yet. Roddy had gone forward and returned with a handful of towels. He passed them around and turned to start the gas stove to make coffee.

“Anyone bring a deck of cards?” Harry asked from the settee. He played idly with the spring mechanism on his cane.

At ten minutes past nine, Lauren called from the airport to tell Mercer that the jet from Miami had just arrived. No sooner had Mercer cut the cell connection than Roddy’s phone rang again. It was Victor. From the hotel, he had taken a bus to the viewing area at the Miraflores Lock to wait for the Mario diCastorelli. Mercer handed over the phone and listened as Roddy spoke in Spanish with his brother- in-law.

“The ship is already in the upper of the two western locks,” Roddy reported after hanging up. The western lock was on the opposite side of the canal from the marina. “The doors just closed behind it and they are beginning to flood the chamber.”

“It takes an hour to cross the lake, right?” Mercer asked.

Roddy nodded. “A little longer with the rain.”

“Man, this is going to be tight.” Mercer and Foch exchanged a look. “What do you think?”

“I think that if the Green Berets don’t arrive in forty-five minutes we should do this ourselves.”

Mercer looked out into the storm. He could just see the darker shadow of a cargo ship approaching the locks. “I agree.” He dialed Lauren. “It’s me. Victor just called. Our friend is already at the Miraflores Lock.”

“Passengers are beginning to come through now. No sign of the guys in the green hats yet.”

“We might not be able to wait for them,” Mercer told her.

“I hear you, but I don’t like it.”

“Neither do we.”

“As soon as we’re on the road, I’ll call.”

“Roger. And Lauren, be careful.”

“You too.”

Her call came fifteen minutes later. “We’re coming. Should be with you in twenty minutes. The storm’s keeping traffic down to a dull snarl.”

“Good. Hey, let me talk with the commanding officer.”

“This is Jim Patke.” The voice was mild, not the nail-eating fire-spitter Mercer expected. “You’re Mercer?”

“Yeah. Listen, I just wanted to go over some details about the assault.”

“Forget it. The plan you discussed with General Vanik isn’t going to happen. Delta Force and SEALs go for those kinds of attacks. Not us. I’ve seen pictures of the lock area. What you’re going to do is take us by boat to the other side of the canal. We’ll make our way onto the retaining wall and jump to the target while it’s in the chamber.”

“Doesn’t give much time to secure the ship,” Mercer said.

“Won’t know ’til we get there since no one has intel on the target’s complement.” Patke’s voice was filled with bitter complaint.

Mercer could understand the commando’s frustration. He was leading his team against an unknown force without any time to properly plan or train for the attack. For all Patke knew there were a hundred Chinese soldiers on the Mario diCastorelli. “I hear you,” Mercer replied at last. “If you think you’ll need it, there are seven of us ready to help.” He counted Lauren in his tally but not Roddy or Harry. Roddy’s orders were to drive the boat for the Special Forces and remain out of the way until events had been played out. Mercer could not risk the family man.

“No way,” Patke answered. “It’ll be hairy enough without having to worry about civilians.”

There was no point explaining that the Foreign Legion veterans weren’t civilians or that he himself had probably seen more combat than Patke or any of his men. Besides which Mercer had already determined a fallback position he wanted to use while the Green Berets took over the bomb ship. Roddy had mentioned it when they’d arrived at the marina.

“Okay,” Mercer said. “We’ll be waiting.” He clicked off the cell phone.

Bruneseau cleared his throat. “Well?”

“They’re going to take the ship in the lock. Roddy will take them to the other side of the canal in the boat. I think the rest of us should move to where the pilot boats are stored on the upper end of the lock chamber.” There was a small marina used exclusively by the Canal Authority a half mile up the road from the Balboa Yacht Club. It was this boatyard where the launch that had chased Mercer from the Pedro Miguel Lock came from after Lauren’s ill-fated dive. If necessary Mercer and his team could commandeer one of the thirty-foot pilot boats and stage their own last-ditch attack on the Mario diCastorelli.

“We’ll leave now,” Foch announced. “Monsieur Herrara, are you certain that they won’t question us if we park the truck near that marina?”

“Just as long as you park in the lot reserved for tourists who watch ships going through the lock. There’s a chain-link fence separating it from the employee lot. The pickup can smash through it no problem.”

Harry slid open the door and stepped into the salon. His coat was shiny with rain, and when he pulled off his hood, water cascaded to the floor. He’d been up on the flying bridge keeping watch for the Mario diCastorelli. “I think I saw her.” He set down a pair of binoculars and dried his hands on his pants so he could pull a cigarette from its crumpled pack. “I also saw a couple other freighters behind her and a ship with a huge white superstructure just coming out of the Miraflores Locks. Must be a PANAMAX cruise ship.”

Roddy consulted the manifest he’d gotten from Essie Vega. “The freighters will be the Robert T. Change, the Englander Rose and the Sultana. The cruise ship is the Rylander Sea.”

Harry seemed to lose focus for a moment when he heard the names. He said nothing, just silently smoked his Chesterfield.

Roddy added, “The Rylander Sea carries about five thousand passengers and crew. Transit cruises are some of the most popular so she’ll be full. Also, she’s considered to be a luxury ship with cabin prices about twice most other liners. Her passengers are going to be elderly since they have the money and the time to take a twenty-five-day cruise from Alaska to Puerto Rico.”

Mercer’s brow furrowed as he absorbed this information. “Unless the Green Berets need you to wait at the lock, I want you to go across the lake and be prepared to warn that ship off if it looks like we won’t stop the