Piranha (Oregon Files 10)

Lieutenant Dominguez was one of her brightest pupils and she had trusted him with some of the most valuable information about her operations that would propel her planned rise to power in the Venezuelan government. There had already been a female defense minister, but her ambitions were much higher than that. Hugo Chávez had been her idol and she foresaw following in his footsteps.

But Dominguez had let her down and her empire was threatening to crumble.

She had called him to check on the status of her arms smuggling operation. When he didn’t answer, she had called the guardhouse at the warehouse to check on him. Soon after the guards arrived at the security office, they found Dominguez and another man tied up in the bathroom. She immediately ordered the entire facility locked down so they could find the impostors who had sneaked in. She was now awaiting news that they had been found since no one had seen them leave the base.

The phone rang and she snatched up the receiver.

“Report,” she snapped.

“Dominguez here, Admiral,” he said. “We have them cornered.”

“Where?”

He cleared his throat. “On the ship. They’re in the cargo bay. They knocked one of my men unconscious and locked themselves inside.”

Ruiz had to find out who they were, how they’d discovered her operation, and whether any other part of it was in jeopardy.

“I want them captured alive,” she said.

“Yes, ma’am. We have all the exits covered.”

“What about the cargo door?”

“We’ve cut power to that part of the ship. There’s no way they can lower it. I have fifty additional men on the way. There’s no way they can escape.”

“Do you know

what they were after?”

Another hesitation.

“Don’t lie to me, Lieutenant. I will find out.”

“They took the laptop and my phone.” He added quickly, “The computer is encrypted and I destroyed the phone, so they won’t be able to transmit any information from inside the ship.”

Ruiz’s hand tightened on the mug until it seemed in danger of shattering.

“You had better be right, Dominguez, or I’ll use you for target practice.”

She could hear him gulp. “Aye, Admiral.”

“Describe these men.”

“Both were dressed in Navy uniforms. One was a large black man. The second . . . well, I could have sworn he was Captain Ortega. But, then, he thought you were a man. I was about to arrest him, but he and the other impostor were so quick—”

“Enough. I’ll read about it in your report later. Call me the moment you have them in custody.”

She hung up without waiting for acknowledgment.

The news that they’d gotten hold of the computer and phone was the most disturbing part of Dominguez’s report. She could survive the discovery of her arms smuggling operation, but if anyone outside her inner circle found out about the second aspect of her illicit activities her standing in Venezuela would be destroyed. She’d be executed as a traitor.

She retreated to her cabin. The next calls required more privacy.

Ruiz dialed a number that she had memorized. She erased the number after every call.

On the second ring, a clipped voice answered. “What?”

“We’ve had an incident, Doctor,” she said in fluent English using the only name she knew him by.