"Looks like," Vaughn agreed. He pointed forward.
"Take a look. I'll hold you."
Tai scooted forward as Vaughn moved back, wrapping his arms around her thighs. She moved farther into the plastic tube, and he had to exert more effort to keep her from tumbling forward. Finally he felt her pull back and helped her, bringing her back into the steel tube.
"There's a damn big fan at the bottom of that thing, about eight feet down from the curve," Tai reported.
"We do not want to go into that."
Vaughn slid his knife out of its sheath. She nodded. He moved to the edge and put the tip of the knife against the plastic. Bearing down on it, he broke through the thin material and then began to cut. On the other side, Tai did the same. They met in the middle on the bottom, having severed the lower half of the plastic tube. Securing his knife back in the sheath, Vaughn grabbed the plastic and pushed it open. A dirty tile floor was about twelve feet below their position in a narrow space between the large machine holding the fan and the rock wall. The space was about two feet wide.
Vaughn moved forward but Tai grabbed his arm.
"How do we get back in here?"
"If we need to leave this way," he said, "we crab up between the wall and the machine."
Tai nodded, and Vaughn edged out, swinging his feet down. His toes scrambled for purchase, one foot on the wall, one on the machine. He flexed his legs, pressing outward, then began his descent. Within seconds he was on the floor. He quickly scooted to the edge of the machine and looked, half expecting to see some sort of custodian or engineer. But the ten-by-twenty-meter cavern was empty. At the far end was a steel door.
Tai was right behind Vaughn, weapon at the ready. He nodded toward the door and they moved forward.
Sinclair walked into the latrine and heard the sound of vomiting from one of the stalls. He walked over and, given that Kasen and Orson were still in the planning room, knew that it was Hayes occupying the stall.
"You all right?" Sinclair asked.
The noise had stopped and now there was a strange silence.
"Hey?" Sinclair tapped on the door.
"Hayes. You okay, man?"
There was no reply. Cursing, Sinclair pulled his knife out and slid it between the door and the jamb, releasing the latch. The door swung open, revealing Hayes passed out next to the toilet, bloody vomit everywhere.
"Goddamn," Sinclair muttered. He reached down and grabbed the man. He pulled him out of the stall and then into the operations room.
"Hey, guys. We need a medic."
Orson and Kasen ran over as Sinclair put Hayes on one of the planning tables. Sinclair slapped his face a few times and Hayes's eyes flickered, then opened.
"What happened?" he muttered.
"Clean him up," Orson snapped.
Sinclair grabbed some paper towels and dabbed off the blood and vomit on Hayes's face while Kasen offered his canteen. Hayes weakly took the canteen as he sat up, his upper body wobbly. He took a swig, washed it around in his mouth, then spit to the side. Then he took a deep drink.
Orson was standing still, watching, hands on hips.
"We need a medic," Sinclair repeated.
Orson slowly nodded.
"All right. I'll take care of it."
He went over to the phone linking them to the ASTs and quietly spoke into it.
"An ambulance is on the way," he said afterward.
Then he went to his laptop, typed in a message and transmitted it.
Ruiz wiped the sheen of sweat off his forehead as he stood in the warehouse. Behind him were three large wooden crates resting on pallets. They contained the rest of the Golden Lily treasure from the cave that was supposed to be auctioned this evening. He checked his watch once more. It was time, but where was -
He looked up as the small door set into the large sliding door for the warehouse opened. The Japanese woman walked in. She was dressed all in black: slacks, shirt, and leather coat. She was carrying a metal briefcase. She walked up to the small table set in front of Ruiz and put the case on it without a word. Then she gestured with one hand, indicating for him to open it.
Ruiz hesitated as he considered the possibility the case was rigged. But his greed overcame his fear and he flipped the two latches and swung the lid up. Stacks of cash along with a plane ticket were lying on top, and a Japanese passport.
"As promised," the woman said.
"Only half the money. The other half will be given to you at the airfield after we ensure you have given us what we paid for and to make certain that you truly are gone. We don't want you having second thoughts."
A second thought was the last thing on Ruiz's mind as he checked the plane ticket and saw his picture in the passport along with a new name.
"Is this real?" he asked, holding up the passport.
"Yes."
He stared at the cash.
"Everything remaining is in the crates."
"I'm sure it is," the woman said. She was looking at him strangely, and he wondered what she was thinking.
His focus shifted back to the case and the money.
"Abayon," she said. Ruiz was startled.
"What?"
"Abayon. Why did he put these pieces out for auction? He's been sitting on them for over half a century."
Ruiz shrugged.
"He wants to help fund other groups. He has so much there…" He paused, not sure how much he should say.
"He has the Golden Lily, of which this is only a taste," the woman said.
"You knew that," Ruiz said.
"Or else you would not have sent the envoy."
"Who you killed."
Ruiz licked his lips.
"Abayon did that. I wasn't even there."
"What else does Abayon have planned?"
"Nothing."
"You lie."
Ruiz took a step back from the table.
"No. I have no idea. This was my job…" He indicated the crates.
"Abayon is very good at keeping things compartmentalized. I only know what I needed to know to do this."
"That is too bad," the woman said. Her hands were on her hips, the long leather coat pulled back. For the first time Ruiz noted a sword hanging at her side. A samurai sword.
"We have a deal," Ruiz said, his throat tight.
"Yes, we do."
The woman indicated the case.
"Take it."
Ruiz tentatively stepped forward, snapped the case shut and picked it up. He held it at his side.
"Our deal is complete now, yes?" the woman asked.
Ruiz frowned.
"Yes."
"Very good. I am a person of honor. I would never allow it to be said I do not fulfill my word."
"Well, that's good," Ruiz said. He glanced over his shoulder toward the back door. He froze as he saw a large black man with a wicked looking gun in his hand standing there.
"What the hell?"
"The deal is done," the woman said. The door behind her opened and another man walked in, short and muscular, with a submachine gun in his hands.
"Hey."
Ruiz held up the briefcase.
"I – "
"Made a deal," the woman said. She flipped aside the right side of her long leather coat and smoothly drew the sword.
"Both of us kept our word. But now the deal is over."
"Wait!" Ruiz begged.
"For…?" The woman cocked her head.
"Abayon is up to something else," Ruiz said.
"We know that," the woman said.
"That statement is of no help."
"A submarine. It involves a submarine."
The woman lowered the sword.
"If everything is so compartmentalized, how do you know this?"
"I talked to one of the men who was to be part of her crew. They kept the submarine hidden, probably in one of the coves on Jolo, but they had to get men to operate her."
"What does Abayon plan to do with the submarine?"
"The man didn't know," Ruiz said.
"He said it was an old submarine."
"That is not very specific."
"He was very drunk," Ruiz said.
"He said it was a one-way mission. They were all volunteers who had agreed to give their lives."
"That is all?" Ruiz nodded, a sheen of sweat on his forehead again.