Chapter 23

23

Juan's eyes had been tracking the horizon when he finally caught sight of a speck in the shimmering distance. In what seemed like mere moments the speck became a white shape, and the shape became a ship, and in short order the Oregon 's familiar hull and cargo cranes roared into view, skimming along the surface like a speedboat.

There were few pleasures in life as satisfying as standing on the upper bridge of the Oregon running at flank speed. But now, with a duck's-eye view from the surface, he gained a whole new appreciation for the physics-defying spectacle of nearly six hundred feet of steel racing along at over sixty knots throwing a surging wake behind it big enough for Laird Hamilton to surf.

Eric Stone's skill at the helm came into full display. The Oregon 's engines slowed as the ship made an effortless ninety-degree turn and came to a stop a mere hundred yards from Juan's position. The resulting waves bobbed Juan up and down a dozen feet at a time, but he was no worse for the experience. Juan knew that Eric probably could have parked the boat six feet away if he had chosen to, but safety protocols forbade it.

Juan caught sight of Max's beefy arms semaphoring from the main deck high above the water and he returned his own jaunty salute from down below. The Oregon didn't bother dropping anchor; it held its position with its array of thrusters, its purring engines quietly sucking in the free electricity offered by the sea.

The sound of the boat garage door rolling open rippled across the water. Seconds later, two roaring Jet Skis came flying off the interior ramp. They hit the water with a splash, their high-revving engines rooster-tailing water behind them as they raced toward Juan's position.

Cabrillo recognized the golden-blond hair of Marion MacDougal "MacD" Lawless waving in the breeze on the lead Jet Ski. Juan chuckled. MacD would make riding a lawn mower look cool. The former Army Ranger could have parlayed his devastating good looks into a career as a Hollywood hunk. Instead, he chose to serve his country as one of the nation's elite Special Forces operators before joining the Oregon crew. Few women could turn their eyes away from the sculptured Adonis and his honeyed Creole accent could melt a block of chromium.

Racing right behind him was Eddie Seng. In contrast to the beefy Cajun with his flowing golden mane, the wiry Chinese American wore his hair "high and tight" Marine Corps style. Eddie was a former CIA undercover operative like Juan who had served in Marine Recon before joining the Corporation. The New York City native was a martial arts master, but Eddie's primary skill set was combat team leadership, which was why Juan named him director of shore operations.

Both Jet Skis slowed to a stop before their engines had even reached maximum rpms.

"You gave us the frissons , mon ami ," MacD yelled over his rumbling engine. "You good to go?"

Juan tossed him a weary smile. "Could use a hand."

Eddie reached down with his cabled arm and hauled Cabrillo out of the water. Significantly smaller than the other two men, Eddie was preternaturally strong. Anyone foolish enough to call him Bruce Lee to his face quickly found themselves on their backs in a choke hold and taking a sudden nap that ended in a skull-pounding headache when they finally awoke.

"Ready, boss?" Eddie asked.

" Avanti ," Juan said.

Eddie gunned the throttle and off they flew.

★

Aboard the Oregon

Callie stood in the boat garage doorway next to Linda Ross and Dr. Julia Huxley. At five foot three, "Hux" was one of the more diminutive women on board the Oregon and also one of the most attractive.

The crew of the Oregon was entirely professional in that regard, but Hux had never cared for the unwanted attention she often got from men during her Navy career. The former chief medical officer of the San Diego Naval Base wore her thick dark hair in a perpetual ponytail, flattened her soft brown eyes with government-issue glasses, and hid her curvaceous figure beneath her daily uniform of baggy hospital scrubs and a lab coat.

A senior deckhand swung the lift arm out of the boat garage and over the sea as the two Jet Skis thundered to a halt just inches from the hull. The deckhand lowered the lifting cables for MacD to attach to the eyebolts on either end of his Jet Ski as Juan climbed up the ladder.

"I didn't know you made house calls, Doc," Juan said as he steadied himself on the deck.

"I don't. I just came down here to fetch you back to the clinic." Huxley frowned. "By the looks of you, I'd better call for a stretcher."

Juan waved a dismissive hand. "I'm fine. A trip to the galley would suit me better."

"You gave us another start," Linda said. "When the plane broke apart we assumed the worst."

"Somebody blew that plane out of the sky," Cabrillo said as he fished his busted phone out of his shirt pocket and handed it to Ross. Water poured out of its cracked case.

"I hope it blew up after you jumped," Callie said.

Juan grinned. "Technically, yes. Speaking of which, you obviously met Hux." He had to raise his voice over the surging electric winch lifting MacD's Jet Ski out of the water.

"Deflection is the highest form of childishness," Hux said. "Let's get you to the clinic."

"I really like her," Callie said, smiling at Huxley. "She doesn't mess around."

"That's her angry-mommy voice," Juan said. "She normally saves that for the clinic."

Hux stepped closer to Cabrillo and lightly held his chin in her fingers. She gently turned his head and studied the massive bruise on the side of his face.

"Nasty contusion. Slight edema. You crash into a brick wall?"

"The other way around."

"Let me see your eyes."

Juan faced Hux, but spoke to Linda.

"I need you to get Murph and Eric on a search for an arms dealer that goes by the name of ‘the Vendor.'"

"‘The Vendor'? Sounds like a Bond villain. Any details? Age, race, nationality…zodiac sign?"

"That's all I've got. It's up to them to figure out the rest."

Hux frowned. "Juan, your eyes are slightly dilated. I need you to come back to the clinic for an examination."

"Not a good time, Doc." He said to Linda, "I need one more thing."

"Name it."

"When that plane broke apart, were you able to track any of the debris?"

Linda nodded. "The big stuff, sure, until it hit the water."

"Think you can plot a track to the center of the debris field?"

"Sure. What do you have in mind?"

Juan turned to Callie. "You ready to test your vehicle?"

"Heck ya. Let's get after it."

"Not an option," Huxley said, stepping back. "Getting you to the clinic wasn't a suggestion. It's an order from your ship's doctor."

Juan raised an eyebrow. "An order, is it?"

"Ten minutes in my clinic so I can clear you for concussion. Otherwise I'm declaring you unfit for duty."

Juan fought back a laugh despite the pain. The diminutive doctor was tough as nails when it came to the health of her crew. He glanced over her shoulder. MacD and Eddie were helping the deckhand wrestle the Jet Skis into the garage.

"Sounds like mutiny to me, Dr. Huxley."

"Just following what my contract says. By the way, you wrote it, not me."

"How about a couple of naproxen and a shot of Four Roses Single Barrel and we'll call it a day?"

Huxley ignored him. "And then there's that Hippocratic-oath thingy I keep reminding you about from time to time. Even if I do clear you, you need to get some rest."

"Like my old priest used to say," Juan said, "‘There's no rest for the wicked and the righteous don't need any.'"

Hux threw a thumb at the elevator door.

"Your choice: the clinic or the clink."

Cabrillo raised his hands in surrender. "Okay, Doc. Let's go."

Hux guided Juan by the elbow toward the elevator. He called over his shoulder at Linda and Callie.

"Linda, get that radar fix as soon as you can and plot a course. Callie, get your boat ready."

"What's the plan, boss?" Linda asked.

"We lost all of our leads on that plane when it exploded. I think I know a way to get at least one of them back."

"Hux, call me when you know something," Linda said.

"Will do." Hux pushed the elevator button.

"How about that shot of Four Roses, Doc?" Juan asked. "I know you've got a bottle in your file cabinet."

"You're still on duty. But Lord knows I'll need two fingers as soon as I get rid of you."