Piranha (Oregon Files 10)

“Excellent. When we are in launch position, have our escape boat ready. As soon as the Oregon is sunk, we will scuttle the Reina Azul and our companion ships. By the time anyone has figured out what happened, we’ll be flying out of Haiti.” False passports would be the last measure to erase any links.

Ruiz couldn’t help but flash a smile, an unfamiliar expression that surely unnerved the captain. She savored the irony that she would be destroying Juan Cabrillo and the Oregon using their own stealth tactics against them.

—

As Bazin walked toward the exit of Sentinel’s underground complex, the natural limestone caves with all their imperfections and protrusions made an abrupt transition to the smooth, rounded walls of the man-made tunnels. He would never admit it to anyone but the threshold always made him breathe a bit easier. The maze of caves went on for miles, as far as anyone could tell. No one had taken the time to explore them fully once the Oz cave had been found, and Bazin didn’t relish the idea of getting lost in those dank confines.

Fluorescent lights buzzed at regular intervals through the tunnel. A massive electrical cable hung from the ceiling to provide power to the Sentinel telescope. The hydroelectric dam was the primary source, but it was so unreliable that it was supplemented by diesel generators, installed in one of the outbuildings, and by a battery backup inside the Oz cave itself that could run the telescope for more than two hours if all other power sources failed.

When he was close enough to the exit to receive a signal on his phone, which was routed through the Internet to make up for the nonexistent mobile service in the region, he dialed Kensit.

“Status,” was the one-word greeting to his call.

“The engineers tell me that there are no mechanical issues they can foresee for Sentinel.”

Although a large contingent of engineers and technicians had been trucked in to build Sentinel, only a few were retained on staff to maintain it. The rest were taken back out blindfolded, just as they had been brought in, with all paper and electronic records of their work left behind. Bazin knew that Kensit intended to use their skills again, but each of them was aware of only a small part of the design and none knew the software code used to operate the equipment. If they had known how it worked, Bazin would have hired them himself, killed Kensit, and taken over the operation long ago. Instead, he became Kensit’s loyal right-hand man.

Bazin could live with being the second-most-powerful man in the world. For now.

“What about power?” Kensit asked.

Bazin walked past the humming generators housed in the building where the tunnel began. “The diesel generators are fully fueled and the batteries are at full capacity. Everything will be running for the operation in the morning.”

“After that, we’re going to close it up.”

“How long will it take to get Sentinel Two up and running?”

“The tests yesterday were successful, so I’d say it will take less than three months, once we’ve dug an access tunnel to the new cave. We’ll bring all of the engineers back, but this time they’re going to stay permanently.”

“And diggers?”

“You did well with the Haitians. I’m sure you can find plenty of Mexicans to do the same. Remember, keep Sentinel safe until nine a.m. tomorrow. That’s when the intercept mission takes place.” Air Force Two would be almost directly overhead when the drones brought it down in the morning.

“What’s the latest about Juan Cabrillo’s plans?”

“He’s making it look like he’s going to launch a direct assault, but I think he’s going to try to sneak in.”

“How?”

There was a slight pause. “I don’t know. They unloaded a truck that looks like a big fuel transport. It’s got an oil company logo on the side. I’ll send you a photo so you know what to be on the lookout for.”

“Where are they now?”

“I’m keeping an eye on Juan Cabrillo and the Oregon, so I lost track of the truck. There are only four crew members inside. They can’t be a big threat.”

Bazin had to bite his tongue. Kensit’s reliance on his superpower made him overconfident. Bazin knew better than to underestimate an enemy, especially one like the crew of the Oregon, which had already outwitted him and his men.

“I will let you know when Cabrillo launches his assault. In the meantime, prepare your men and your defenses.”

“Yes, sir. I have my own surprises, thanks to your friend Admiral Ruiz.”

“I’ll send you any updates by text. I won’t call again until my drone attack begins.” Kensit hung up.

Bazin stopped at the next building. The thick walls were built with cement from the factory’s own output. He stepped inside to check on the two mercenaries who were standing guard in the vestibule. He put his face to the window and saw the pitiful forms of Duval and the rest of the diggers. Even through the cracks in the door, the place reeked from the stench of body odor and waste buckets that were scattered around the room. The men were in desperate shape, given the barest minimum of food and water needed for survival the past few days. Even Duval could do nothing more than glare at him. It was a look Bazin remembered well from their childhood whenever Duval didn’t like something his younger housemate had done.

Bazin nodded in satisfaction. The deprivation had served its purpose. The men were no longer a threat, but they wouldn’t die before they could be herded into the tunnels and sealed inside when Sentinel was blown up. The diggers who had made this first version of the neutrino telescope possible would perish with it.

Bazin had one more stop to make before gathering his team to go over the defense plans. He entered a large shed where cement mixers had driven inside to load their cargo. The mixers were long gone, replaced by four South African Ratel light armored vehicles, veterans of the war in Angola. They had been procured by Kensit, courtesy of Admiral Dayana Ruiz and her smuggling operation. Each of the six-wheeled vehicles was armed with a rapid-fire 20mm cannon and two 7.62mm machine guns.