The Malacca Conspiracy Read Online Free Page A

now be heard on the ship.
    “That’s enough,” the captain said. “Open fire! Take her out!”
    “Aye, sir.” The weapons officer picked up a telephone to the two gunner’s mates manning the fifty-caliber machine guns mounted along the starboard side of the ship. “Open fire. I repeat, open fire!”
    Chit-a-chit-a-chita-a-chita-chita-a-chita-chita-a-chita-chita-a-chita.
    Like dueling jackhammers shaking and pounding the deck, the fifty-caliber machine guns sprayed a wall of lead over the sea, splashing a straight trail in the water toward the boat.
    Flames and smoke erupted. Boom! The sound of the explosion traveled across the water and rocked the Reuben James. The boat, now a flaming hulk, drifted listlessly on the sea.
    “Get a rescue party out there,” the captain said. “Let’s see what we can find.”

Chapter 2
    Singapore-Changi International Airport
    12:00 p.m.
    T he United States naval officer, wearing his summer white uniform, plucked his suitcase off the luggage conveyor, turned, and stepped through the sliding doors onto the sidewalk. The whoosh of the warm wind brought a sweet floral smell, mixed with a slight scent of salt air from the sea.
    Car horns honked and blared as the officer waved down one of the dozen limousine taxis that were lined up outside.
    “Where to, Commander?” the driver asked.
    “Sentosa Island, please,” the naval officer said. “Rasa Sentosa Resort.”
    “Of course.”
    The taxi rolled into the bright, equatorial sunshine, which cast an electrical glow onto grass, palm trees, and pink, red, and yellow flowers.
    “Your first trip to Singapore?”
    “First trip.” The officer slipped on a pair of Oakley shades. “It’s beautiful. So much greenery.”
    “This is East Park. These flowers and these palm trees”—the driver steered with his right hand and gesticulated out the window with his left—“Singapore wishes to impress visitors leaving the airport. Lots of locals come down here to have a picnic or sit and watch the water. We’ll take the East Coast Parkway along the waterfront, then take the causeway across to Sentosa. It’s less than five miles. You’ll enjoy the ride.”
    The officer looked to his left as the taxi sped west along the parkway.A few yards beyond the grassy banks, past the seawall, the blue waters of the Singapore Straits sparkled under the midday sun. Three ships, large, black tankers, were passing in the straits just a few hundred yards from them. Two of them, headed to the east, churned low in the water. Probably full of Middle Eastern crude.
    “We get navy visitors from many countries,” the cabbie said. “US, UK, Canada. More and more Chinese too.”
    Car horns blared. Brake lights flashed.
    The cab slowed to a stop in the traffic jam. The officer rolled the window down. A fresh sea breeze blew in from over the strait.
    “You look familiar, Commander.” The cabbie’s black eyes darted into the backseat through the rearview mirror. The cab started rolling again.
    Oh, great. I can’t get away even here in Singapore. He glanced at the dashboard. A name tag was screwed onto the panel just above the central air conditioning duct. Your Driver — Victor Yang Loon. “So I’ve been told.”
    “Have I seen you before?”
    “I don’t know.” Just drive.
    “Aren’t you Commander Zack Brewer?”
    Should I get into this? “My mother calls me Zack. The navy calls me Commander…Actually that’s Lieutenant Commander Zack Brewer.”
    “I saw you on TV. You were great in that court-martial against those chaplains! A few years ago.” The cabbie, whose eyes were now on the rearview mirror more than on the road, was referring to the case called United States of America v. Mohammed Olajuwon, et al., which brought Zack Brewer international fame when he prosecuted three US Navy Islamic chaplains for treason and murder.
    “Thanks,” Zack said.
    “And then you were on television again with those other two cases you handled!” This time, he