Piranha (Oregon Files 10)

“Yes, thanks for letting me do that.”

“There was no point in holding back the news any longer. Your survival of the shipwreck is known to the conspirators by now.” He didn’t add how he came by that knowledge. “You’re still free to go at any time, of course, but your life might be in danger until we resolve our current situation.”

“I will have to go soon. My company is demanding to debrief me.”

“I’m hoping we can get some more evidence that Admiral Ruiz was behind the attacks in a few more days. That should clear your name completely with your company.”

“The admiral is why I wanted to speak with you. The shipping industry captains in my country are tightly connected and one of them told me he saw her at Carúpano, a minor port on the eastern side of Venezuela. I also talked to a few friends who are still involved with the Navy and don’t have a particular fondness for her. They told me she had left headquarters with members of her staff to join the Cuban Navy in observing a joint U.S.–Caribbean exercise going on in the Bahamas.”

“What was she doing in Carúpano?”

“He didn’t know, but she was boarding a small cargo ship. She wasn’t wearing her uniform. It was the government-issue car that drew his attention.”

“Any idea what the cargo was?”

She shook her head. “Nothing but a stack of shipping containers.”

“I appreciate the information. It’s probably something to do with her smuggling operation. I’ll let you know if we learn anything else about it.”

Juan said good night and continued on to the boardroom. When he entered, Murph was recounting the events of the sub encounter to Eric.

“That’s when I drove Little Geek under the falling girders on the Roraima,” Murph said, his hands behind his head. “It destroyed the ROV, of course, but I didn’t have a choice.”

Eddie took up the story. “Although Little Geek kept me from getting crushed, I was still pinned. I had my hands on the photo tin but I couldn’t get away, and I knew the bomb inside the barrel was ticking down. Linc’s the one who pried me out of there. My legs were numb by then, so he had to drag me until I got blood flow back in my feet.”

“I just wish I had gotten us fully behind that piece of coral before the bomb went off,” Linc said, munching on an apple. “Doc said you won’t be going into the water for a few weeks.” The only injury among them was a perforated eardrum Eddie suffered.

Juan took his seat at the head of the table. “Good job, everyone. I’m going to have to stop taking excursions like this or you’ll start thinking you can get along without me.”

“Not a chance,” Max said. “I was sweating fifty-caliber hollow points the whole time.”

“That was a tough call to keep your plan a secret, but I would have done the same thing. Where are we with the fruits of your labor?”

“Kevin Nixon worked with the techs in the lab to open the tin,” Linda said. “It was lined with zinc and sealed with paraffin, so it hadn’t rusted through and water hadn’t penetrated the gaps. We found four photo plates inside.”

She removed a cloth covering a white canvas sheet on which lay the five four-and-a-half- by six-and-a-half-inch glass plates. The silver bromide emulsion had been perfectly preserved. Two of the plates had cracks down the center, but the others were completely intact.

“You can look at these originals, if you want,” Linda said, “but I wouldn’t handle them. Not only are they delicate but we found traces of radioactivity on them.” When she saw Hali edge away, she added, “Not enough to be dangerous, but it doesn’t hurt to be careful. They were transferred to digital so we can see them in more detail.”

She lowered the screen and turned on the overhead projector. The first image showed a man standing on a dock in a dark coat and trousers, boots, and a wide-brimmed hat. He wore a serious expression, but his eyes shone with an intensity visible even in the old photo. The Roraima’s name was stenciled on the hull of a ship behind him.

“He’s a happy-looking guy,” Murph said. He looked at Eric. “Is that Gunther Lutzen?”

“I don’t know. We never found a photo of him.”

“It’s probably him,” Linda continued, “but there’s no way to be sure. I’m showing these photos in reverse order to try to backtrack his travel from the time he reached the Roraima. As you can see, the numbers of the photo plates are noted on the bottom right corner. Unfortunately, there aren’t any indications where this photo was taken. There’s nothing distinguishing the port.”

She moved on to the next photo. This one showed a jumble of crystals embedded in rock, the facets reflecting the camera’s burst of flash powder. The image was marred by the crack through the middle.

“That looks like a geode,” Eric said.

“Yeah,” Murph agreed, “but without anything else in the photo, we can’t get a handle on its size. The crystals don’t look clear, though, like the quartz crystals in a typical geode. They look darker than that. It could be amethyst.”

“Or they could be green. Lutzen’s thesis mentioned that his detection method would rely on crystals of selenium, copper, and uranium, and copper impurities in crystals give them a green hue. The uranium would also explain why the plates are radioactive.”

“Maybe he was collecting gems,” Linc said. “Whatever this is could still be buried in the Roraima. Not that I want to go back to l

ook for it.”