Borger took a deep breath. “Uh, well, the Bowditch sunk. And it almost took you with it.”
Clay nodded. “Thanks for finding me.”
“Yeah, well, I wish I could say ‘you’re welcome.’ But it wasn’t us.” Borger grinned at Alison.
“Dirk found you,” she said, with a sniff.
“Dirk?”
“He heard you banging on the wall.”
Clay furrowed his brow. He’d forgotten that part. “I’ll be damned.”
“I think you’re going to owe him a boatload of fish for this one,” Borger joked.
“Indeed.” His expression became serious. “Who hit us, Will?”
“The torpedo? I don’t know. But I agree with what you said earlier. The Forel was never designed for weapons. Unless it was done after the fact.”
“That’s what the brass is going to think.”
“They probably already are.”
Clay reached out to both Alison and Borger. “Help me up.” Once on his feet, he kept his hands on their shoulders, steadying himself. He spotted Captain Emerson, who stepped in towards him.
Emerson shook his head, smiling. “You have nine lives my friend.” He put his hand out. “Now I’m wondering how many you have left.”
Clay shook his outstretched hand. “Thanks for coming to the rescue.”
“Any time.” Emerson’s face turned somber as he glanced over at his crew. They were still standing in anticipation at the edge of the ship, waiting for Krogstad. Or more likely, Krogstad’s body. “I was supposed to call Langford,” Emerson commented. “But maybe you should instead.”
Langford picked up the call on the first ring. He was relieved to hear Clay’s voice and immediately asked about Krogstad. His voice became quiet when he heard they were still waiting. He was a Navy man, and he knew what that meant.
Clay changed the subject. “Sir, what’s our response?”
Langford knew he meant the U.S. military response. “We don’t know yet. We’re trying to figure that out. There are a lot of factors in play here.”
“I’m not so sure it was the Russians, sir. It would have taken a massive design change on the Forel.”
“Well, we know they’ve already modified some things on that sub. Now we need to find out how much. The CIA is on it. In the meantime, we’re considering our options.”
“Yes, sir. However, we appear to have another problem.” Clay looked at Borger as he spoke. “Borger says there’s a fire on top of our mountain, where the Chinese were sourcing whatever they took. A big fire.”
“Damn it.” Langford turned around, thinking. He was standing quietly in the corner of the President’s Situation Room. “How do you feel, Clay?”
“I feel fine,” he lied.
“What do you need?”
Clay peered at Alison and Borger as he spoke. “Some transportation.”
“Let me make some phone calls.”
62
It took them hours to finally reach the top of the mountain. With the vehicle’s powerful engine constantly roaring up the steep inclines, DeeAnn couldn’t even hear herself think. Next to her, both Dulce and Dexter were still trapped in their cages and fearfully peered through the steel bars. DeeAnn was trying to comfort them, but the noise was too loud for her vest to translate anything. It was without a doubt the longest ride of her life.
The smoke from the fire was extremely heavy due to the jungle’s damp air. Rather than rising, some of the brown layers descended outward and down the mountainside. And the thick smoke made their climb over the final hill even more shocking, when they finally saw the fire in curtains of wild dancing flames all around them. In some areas, it caused the dark smoke to glow a crimson red.
Once he had a full view, Alves’ driver stopped and everyone’s mouth fell open. The breadth of the destruction was immense.
Alves’ hope of a miracle promptly evaporated, and at the same moment, Dexter went completely ballistic. He screamed at the top of his tiny lungs and pulled even harder against the bars of his cage. His desperate hands searched the outside lock and frantically tried to finger it open.
Dulce was visibly shaking while watching Dexter. A helpless feeling washed over DeeAnn as she realized that she couldn’t help either primate. Both had devolved into full panic attacks, and no amount of training could help now.
A desperate Alves pushed open his door and jumped out onto the smoldering earth. He stood there in shock, watching the flames stretching up into the brown sky. No! NO!
From a distance, the black earth looked utterly lifeless. He could not even ascertain what had originally been on the ground before it was burned beyond all recognition. Alves abruptly pulled a white handkerchief from his pocket and placed it over his mouth to reduce his coughing.
Dexter was still screaming when Blanco’s man pulled the cages out of the back of the vehicle and dropped them onto the ground. DeeAnn spotted the fur around the capuchin’s miniature hands, soaked red with blood as he tried fiercely to move the bars. His dark pupils were wide with fear.
“Let them out!” DeeAnn screamed.
But Alves didn’t hear her. He and the other men were taking in the sheer destruction before them with a sense of awe. For Alves, the scene caused a gut wrenching sense of mortality. His mind tried to understand how something like this was even possible, here in the mountains of the Amazon.
Then both Alves and Blanco spotted it at the same time. Less than fifty yards away, lying on top of the burnt ground were boots. They were protruding out from behind a large group of rocks. One of the dark boots was pointing up with the other twisted sideways against the ground. Both men hurried across the scorched ground with Alves moving surprisingly fast without his cane.
When they rounded the enormous rock, the entire body became visible on the ground. Dressed in a gray, partially burnt uniform, the man was twisted onto his side and wearing a giant, mechanical pack. On it, they could see two metal tanks with a long hose dangling to the ground. The dead man remained motionless with his right cheek against the ground, goggles pulled down over his face. Both Alves and Blanco stared at the lifeless body with confusion.
The soldier’s face was frozen in a look of agony and part of the skin was blackened as well. Yet his characteristics were still clearly Chinese, with dark eyes gazing upward at the sky. The corpse’s left arm was still under one of the straps, appearing as though the figure had been trying to get the pack off when he entered the eternal realm. Blanco circled around the body and pushed it over further with his boot. On the back of his uniform was a large patch of blood.
“He was shot from behind.”
Alves recognized the flamethrower and shook his head, dumbfounded. He was still holding the handkerchief over his mouth. “Why? Why would they do this? If they got here first, why would they destroy it?”
Blanco coughed and covered his mouth with his sleeve. He scanned the area and spotted another body further away, also on the ground. “Maybe they didn’t know what they were doing.”
Alves followed Blanco’s eyes to the second body. “Or they were used.”
“Or both.”
Alves stepped away before reaching down to pick up a scorched piece of vegetation off the ground. He wiggled his fingers and watched it break apart into pieces of ash and drift away.
Further down the slope, he could see a much larger section completely untouched by the fire. The soil looked lumpy, like it had been turned up. His eyes grew wide when he realized what it meant. Excavation!
Behind them, the sound of Dexter’s screaming abruptly ceased. They both whirled around and Alves’ face drained in a panic. “NOOO!” he screamed.
DeeAnn had managed to open the cage. Alves watched helplessly from a distance as Dexter bolted away from them and disappeared into a wisp of swirling brown smoke.