The Jungle (Oregon Files 8)

“What’s our new heading, Juan?” Eric asked.

“Get us to Brunei at the best possible speed. Maurice, rustle up some food and bring it to the conference room. I want all senior staff except Hux, who has to stay with MacD, in there in thirty minutes. We have a lot of ground to cover.”

* * *

CABRILLO GAVE THEM a tight deadline because he had no intention of luxuriating in a long, steamy shower. He didn’t want to unwind. He wanted to stay as tight and focused as possible until Linda Ross was safely back aboard the Oregon.

Juan was the first to arrive in the boardroom. The thick glass table could seat a dozen comfortably on black leather ergonomic chairs. The walls were painted a chocolate/gray with recessed pin spotlighting and flat-panel screens on the two shortest walls. Louvers could be lowered over large square windows to let in natural light, but Maurice had rightly left them closed. The steward was just finishing laying out silver chafing dishes filled with several Indian curry dishes.

An orderly in blue scrubs was also there with an IV bag on a skeletal metal stand.

“Doctor Huxley’s orders,” he said when Juan questioned his presence. “The amount of dehydration you suffered has unbalanced your electrolytes and played havoc with your kidneys. This will help.”

Cabrillo had to admit he wasn’t anywhere near a hundred percent. His head ached, and he felt fluey. He sat at the head of the table while Maurice prepared him a plate of food and an iced tea and the orderly threaded the IV into his left forearm, freeing his unhurt right to eat.

“Any word on MacD?” he asked.

“Sorry, no change. He’s still in a coma.”

Eddie Seng and Max Hanley came in moments later, followed by Eric Stone and Mark Murphy. The two techno-junkies were carrying laptops that could jack into the ship’s dedicated Wi-Fi and were discussing the most useless apps for the iPhone.

Everyone helped themselves to the food and took their customary places around the table. Linda’s empty seat was a grim reminder of why they were there, and the absence of her elfin face and quick wit made for a somber mood.

“Okay,” Juan began. He set a napkin aside. “Let’s go over the knowns. Roland Croissard double-crossed us. His hiring us to find his daughter was just a pretense to help his henchman, Smith, get into Myanmar and presumably steal whatever was in a small satchel we found on the body of someone I can only assume was a member of a team he had sent into the country earlier.”

“Their failure was why he brought us in,” Max said in an acknowledging tone. It made sense, and everyone nodded.

“What was in the satchel?” Eddie asked.

“No idea,” Juan replied. “Probably it was something looted from a long-lost Buddhist temple. As I look back on it, there was damage to a wooden dais in the main prayer chamber. Whatever it was had probably been hidden there.”

“Just to play devil’s advocate,” Max said. “What if Croissard’s clean and it was Smith who pulled off the double cross?”

“Has anyone been able to contact Croissard since this mission turned sour?” Juan looked around the table.

“No,” Hanley admitted.

“Besides,” Juan added, “we were sent out supposedly to find his daughter. I’m sure now that the body in the river was that of a slender man with longish hair. You have tried calling Croissard’s office number and not just his cell?”

“Yeah. We even managed to get to his private secretary. She says that he is traveling and can’t be reached.”

“Typical runaround,” Juan summed up. He looked to Mark and Eric. “I want you two to track him down. He flew into Singapore on a private jet, I’m sure. Find out which and track where it went after our meeting. It’s probably owned by his company, so it shouldn’t be too tough.”

“What about the attack in Singapore?” Max asked. “Does our thinking change on that, knowing what we know now?”

“I had time to consider it while I was being held prisoner. I can’t see how Croissard’s betrayal changes our perception of that assault. I really believe it was just like we thought originally. Wrong place, wrong time. The big question on my mind is, why? Why did Croissard do this? Why hire us only to betray us?”

“Because whatever he was after was something he knew we wouldn’t get for him,” Eric said. “Croissard came to us through the Cypriot information broker L’Enfant, right? He knows the kinds of missions we deal with. So in order to get us to accept, Croissard had to make it something he knew would interest us. And come on, Juan, could you resist saving the beautiful daughter of a billionaire? Could any of us?”

“Damsel in distress,” Max grumbled. “Oldest ploy in the book.”

“The other thing I’m wondering,” Mark Murphy interjected. “How did the Myanmar military get mixed up in all this? I mean, if Croissard had contacts in the government, why not use them instead of sneaking around?”

The question hung unanswered because no one had a logical answer.

Eddie finally said, “Could he have brokered a last-minute deal?”

Everyone agreed quickly since it was the only suggestion put forth. Cabrillo knew that this was dangerous groupthink, but he also had a feeling that in this instance it was the correct answer.