OVER THE PHILIPPINES
Rankin leaned out of the helicopter as it whipped over the compound. There was a docking area with a pair of small boats, but no helo in the flat helipad area at the side.
“Can we get down for a look?” he asked his pilot, pointing.
“Not a problem,” replied the pilot, who like most Filipinos had spoken English all his life. The four choppers tucked downward, buzzing the shoreline and small building in formation. They turned back to land, slowing to a hover over a dirt road at the back of the facility. Rankin covered his face as he jumped off the skids, ducking and coughing as he ran toward the buildings. Six Filipino soldiers came off the helicopters behind him, and by the time Rankin rapped on the door to the small shack they were lined up at the corner of the building, ready for a takedown. Guns and Massette had their MP-5s out directly behind Rankin.
The soldier knocked several times, Uzi ready. He eyed the door and lock; it was flimsy, easy to kick down, but he was wary of booby traps.
“I’m going in,” he told the others. He blew off the lock, tensing, expecting a booby trap. Nothing happened. He
kicked in the door, hesitating as it flew against its hinges. But there were no explosives, no trip wires; it looked like the sleepy office of the sleepy, one- or two-man operation Corrigan said it claimed to be.
They went inside. There was a desk with two computers, some folders and old newspapers. Nautical memorabilia—a miniature ship’s wheel, a decorative clock—were scattered around the room gathering dust.
“Looks like a water taxi office,” said Guns. “Except that there’s no dispatcher here to take calls.”
“Maybe they’re out,” said Rankin. “Where do you figure the helicopter is?”
“I don’t know. They’re missing their boat as well,” said Guns. “Neither of those little skiffs out there rates as a water taxi.”
“You sure they have one?” Rankin asked.
“Either that or the picture’s a fake,” said the Marine, picking up a framed photo from the front desk.
“Maybe we should go look for them,” suggested Rankin. They left Massette with the Filipinos to search and secure the building, with orders to seize the computers and papers as part of the terrorist investigation. Guns and Rankin climbed aboard one of the Defenders and pulled back out over the ocean.
“What are we looking for?” asked the pilot.
“This boat,” said Rankin, showing him the picture.
“I can check with the Navy patrol,” added the pilot.
“Go for it,” said Rankin.