Typhoon Fury (Oregon Files 12)

Over his shoulder, Munson suddenly said, “Of course I know how to park. We’re docked, aren’t we?”

Beth looked in amazement from Munson to Raven. “How could he hear that?”

“I don’t know. But something’s not right here.” Beth noticed that Raven’s hand hovered near her holstered weapon.

Munson waved for them to enter the ship’s interior, and once they were inside, Beth could understand why the Filipino had been so sick. A foul smell greeted them, and it only got worse as they entered a small office that reeked like an overflowing dumpster. The major source of the rancid odor seemed to be a connected bathroom. Before Munson closed the lavatory door, Beth got a glimpse of a level of filth that would give her nightmares.

A familiar voice behind them surprised Beth. “Hey there. Looks like you found us.”

She whipped around to see Max Hanley in the doorway.

“Juan,” he said, looking at the wizened captain, “we’re unloading the Powered Investigator Ground now.”

Beth turned and stared in astonishment at the man calling himself Munson. But when he replied, Juan’s strong baritone came out.

“Good. Send Eddie up. I’ll get changed while you ready the PIG.”

“Do you have to call it that?” Max said.

“You designed it, so you got to pick the name. You should have realized what was going to happen.”

“Acronyms. Everyone around here has to use acronyms.” Max continued to grumble as he walked away.

“Sorry about deceiving you ladies,” Juan said as he pulled off his bald cap and glued-on sideburns, “but I couldn’t reveal myself out on the wharf where prying eyes might have seen me.”

“Then this is the Oregon?” Raven asked matter-of-factly.

Juan grinned as he removed his prosthetic nose and fake belly. “You don’t seem very surprised.”

“Norego. Oregon. It adds up now. But that’s a good disguise. I’m not fooled easily.”

“I noticed. We do it to get in and out of ports without much attention. None of the harbormasters like to spend more time on board than they have to, and I get to remain incognito. Well, Beth, are you ready for a little road trip?”

Beth shut her mouth, which had been gaping open at Juan’s transformation. “I’m just a bit confused right now. What’s the PIG?”

“That’s our transportation for today. Here’s Eddie now. He’ll show it to you while I get out of these brown contacts and change clothes.”

A lean Chinese man appeared where Max had been. Juan introduced him as Eddie Seng, chief of shore operations.

“What does that mean?” Beth asked.

“I’m in charge of any excursions we take off the ship,” Eddie said.

“But I’m coming along, too,” Juan said. “I’ll meet you down there.”

As he ducked out of the office, Eddie said, “Why don’t we get some fresh air.”

“Yes, please,” Beth said.

When they got outside, Beth couldn’t believe how good the oily seawater of the dock area smelled. She inhaled in relief like she’d just been released from prison.

One of the ship’s deck cranes was hauling a boxy-looking truck from the hold. With oversized tires and a stout cab on the front, it must have been formidable in its day, but now it looked as decrepit as the ship it had emerged from. The crane’s motor whined in protest at the load, but the truck swung smoothly over the pier and settled onto the dock as lightly as a feather.

“We’re going in that?” Beth said, pointing at the truck as they walked down the gangway. “Why don’t we just rent an SUV?”

“The PIG may not look pretty, but I think you’ll be comfortable.” He noticed another Filipino man walking around the truck. “Just a moment. I need to take care of the inspector.”

When the PIG was unlatched from the crane, Eddie opened the back doors, which, like the sides, featured the faded logo of an oil exploration company. The cargo area was full of metal drums. “Spare fuel,” Beth heard Eddie say to the inspector, who nodded. He made a few notes on a clipboard, and Eddie signed it. Beth caught him slipping a few American hundred-dollar bills under the paper.