Chapter 49

49

Aboard the Oregon

Off the Coast of Kuala Lumpur

Max sat in the Kirk Chair, drumming his thick fingers on the cool metal of the arm console. The chill air smelled of ozone from the op center’s electronics. But for all of the Oregon’s computational power and vast array of intelligence-gathering equipment, Max was still completely in the dark about Juan and Linc. Where were they?

“Tell me you found something,” Max asked over the intercom. Eric was in the electronics lab with Murph.

“We finally broke the encryption on all three phones. Surprisingly sophisticated,” Eric said in the speaker.

“And?” Max tried to hide his growing irritation.

“The Cray translated the voicemails and texts,” Murph said. “Our Islamic extremist friends shared a lot of porn sites and soccer scores, along with a couple of halal recipes and a few verses from the Quran. But there was bubkes about any information on the Vendor or where Juan and Linc might be.”

“Thanks guys—for nothing,” Max said as he punched off the call.

“Not their fault, Max,” Linda said standing by his chair. Callie was next to Linda at her invitation. Callie was trying to stay out of the way, but she was also really concerned about her new friends and wanted to help if she could.

Max rubbed his face with a meaty paw, beyond frustrated.

“I know. I’ll apologize later.”

In truth, Max was more afraid than he was angry—or maybe equal parts of both, since anger and fear both came out of the same vent hole in his magnanimous heart. Angry because he was helpless; afraid because he knew his friends were in danger.

Every sat phone call they made to Juan failed to connect and their trackers were still offline. It had been more than a couple of days now. Safety protocols required that Juan and Linc call in after forty-eight hours if at all possible. The fact they hadn’t called in meant they were under duress or in a place where contact was impossible. Neither prospect was acceptable.

Max bolted out of his chair and stormed over to the wall-sized map of the region displayed on one of the big screens. Linda and Callie followed him over.

“Where could they be?” Max asked, studying the map for the umpteenth time.

“They could be anywhere,” Linda said. “That’s the problem.”

“But they’re not anywhere. They’re somewhere. Somewhere on this map.”

“Not necessarily. They could have taken a short hop to an international airport and then flown to any place on the planet.”

“Why would they fly into KL, transfer to a smaller airplane at an airstrip, and then fly to a different international airport? Unless this Vendor creep is a complete paranoid, I think the small airstrip is the key. Whatever plane they flew could handle a grass strip, which means a smaller plane. And a smaller plane means they’re probably somewhere in this region. But where?”

Linda stepped closer to the map. “If you’re right, the first thing we can assume is that a grass airstrip means they’re flying in a turboprop. It had to carry at least twelve operators. An aircraft that size and capacity would have a range of at least fifteen hundred miles, if not more.”

She used her fingertip and drew a crude yellow circle approximately three thousand miles in diameter onto the map screen with the Oregon located in the center of it, anchored in the Malacca Strait off the coast of Kuala Lumpur.

The circle still covered nearly two million square miles. Sri Lanka, India, and Bangladesh were west of their position, Myanmar and Thailand were north, as was China. Taiwan down to the Philippines and New Guinea and northern Australia bounded the east. And the long archipelagoes of Indonesia and Malaysia bounded the south with a lot of other islands in the middle.

Murph and Eric slipped quietly into their stations at weapons and helm.

Max turned around. “Sorry, guys. Short fuse today. Good work.”

“We get it,” Eric said. “We’re worried, too.”

“Well, just to play along,” Linda said, “I’d say the place to start is the Vendor’s dark web ad. If he really was recruiting for a security gig, there isn’t any point for a legit VIP to hire a platoon of miscreant mercs when there are so many experienced and qualified security services in places like China, Australia, and Taiwan.”

“But if he was recruiting serious people, he’d have to convince them this was a real job, otherwise they’d smell a rat. If that’s the case, his fake VIP would have to be a Third World politician.”

“Or maybe a criminal enterprise,” Max said. “But a small one. The big cartels all employ their own heavy hitters now, many of them ex–special forces.”

“Definitely another possibility. Either way, that still leaves a ton of places for them to go.”

Max stepped even closer. His eye was drawn to the giant island of Borneo, the third largest in the world, and shared by three separate nations. It was in the center of the mass of islands and archipelagoes between Indonesia, Malaysia, and the Philippines.

“I’m sick of sitting around on my sculptured derriere and doing nothing. Let’s set a course for here…” Max touched the screen. A pin dropped off the coast of Brunei.

“But they could be in exactly the opposite direction,” Callie said.

“It’s a coin toss for sure,” Max said. “But it’s better than twiddling our thumbs. And with all of that free seawater powering our engines, it’ll only cost us time.”

“Eric, would you please lay in a course for that point?” Linda asked.

“Aye, ma’am.”

Max turned to Callie. “If Juan and Linc are in trouble there’s going to be fireworks. Let me get you over to KL and fly you back home and we’ll pick up where we left off with the Spook Fish when everything cools down.”

“Unless that’s a direct order, I’d rather hang around. Maybe I can be of help.”

“We can’t guarantee your safety,” Linda said.

Callie shrugged. “Of course you can’t. Danger is a function of disorder, and a battlefield is nothing less than controlled chaos. On the other hand, you might drop me off at a ‘safe place’ like the airport just in time for me to get pancaked by a runaway bus.”

“But a gunfight is a lot more ‘chaotic’ than a crosswalk.”

“Even in something as chaotic as a gunfight, something tells me my odds are better with the Oregon’s highly trained and disciplined crew.”

Linda turned to Max. “Remind me to never play poker with her.”

Max chuckled as he fell into the Kirk Chair.

“Eric, is the course laid in?”

“Aye.”

“Then hit the afterburners, my boy.” Max clapped his hands. “Flank speed!”