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The Emperor's Revenge (Oregon Files 11)

Page 22

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She tapped on her phone and the screen on Juan’s wall suddenly flickered to a view of the Monaco Grand Prix. They watched the recordings of the frenzy of destruction from multiple angles as Linda shared more of the details.

Juan shook his head. “It doesn’t make sense. I met the guy once and he seemed as mild-mannered as you’d expect a bank president to be. Do the police have a motive?”

“Not that we know of,” Max said, “but the investigation is just getting under way.”

“And what about our account? The message I got was that our money is gone. Don’t you mean ‘stolen’?”

Linda gave him a grim look. She and Juan shared the duties of keeping track of the Corporation’s finances. “The problem is that we don’t know. It looks as if Munier somehow disabled the accounts. The money could still be locked in there somewhere, the money might have been transferred, or he could have done something else to destroy the accounts. I’ve been putting together our files here, but even if we prove what was in there, it could take months for the money to be accessible again.”

Juan didn’t like the sound of that. Cash flow was always an imperative for the Corporation. Running a ship this size wasn’t cheap. The outlay for the latest operation had been substantial: weapons, chartering the cargo jet, buying and modifying the Scorpions and the Daedalus. A bonus was due for finding the WMDs, but it wouldn’t tide them over for long.

The Corporation was run like a partnership, with each crew member getting a share of the profits, which also meant that they would share in any losses. They were paid extremely well for the hardships and hazards they endured, but their income and retirement savings depended on a healthy and financially solvent Corporation. They needed to find out what happened in the bank attack and get their money back.

Juan’s phone rang. It was Langston Overholt IV, Juan’s former boss at the CIA and the person most responsible for encouraging him to found the Corporation. He put it on speaker.

“Juan here, Lang,” he said. “I’ve got you on speaker with Linda Ross and Max Hanley.”

“I hear you have some good news for me,” said the octogenarian in a gravelly voice.

“We recovered two cases from a B-47, serial number 52-534. Each of them contains a nuclear weapon core.”

“Are they still intact?”

“The cases are a little worse for wear, but no leakage that we could detect.”

“And Nazari?”

“Dead, along with his soldiers. We also got a few Libyan terrorists who came to the party.”

“Excellent work as usual,” Overholt said. There was some clicking of a keyboard on the line. “There’s a U.S. destroyer in your region, the Bainbridge. Can we set a rendezvous tonight to make the transfer?”

“Yes,” Juan replied. “How about near Sicily? We’re headed in that direction anyway.”

“Right. I know about your problem resulting from the bank heist in Monaco.”

Linda spoke. “We’ve already changed all of our accounts and passwords in case any of them were compromised in the incident. I’ve forwarded you our new information for payment.”

“Yes, I received it. Your fee will be sent by wire transfer once we have the cases. In fact, your situation with Credit Condamine has national security implications for us as well. That’s why I want you to team up with an analyst we have embedded with Interpol. She’s a forensic accountant based in Paris who’s been authorized to investigate the incident on our behalf. Since you’re intimately affected by the results and have expertise that might help her, I thought it would be a good match.” There was a slight hesitation before he continued. “Her name is Gretchen Wagner.”

Juan’s fork stopped halfway to his mouth, a green bean dangling in midair. He put the fork down and sat back, his eyes looking into the unfocused distance.

“Gretchen Wagner?” he said.

“Is that going to be a problem?” Overholt asked.

Juan composed himself after a second and said, “No. No problem at all. Linda and I will head to Monaco to meet her, once we get the cases squared away.”

“Good. I’ll have the Navy contact the Bainbridge’s captain. I’ll send you the coordinates in a few hours. And we’ve begun negotiations with the Algerian government to retrieve the remains of the Air Force pilot and search for the others. I’m sure their families will be gratef

ul for your discovery.”

He hung up.

Linda stared at Juan for a moment, but when she saw that further explanation wasn’t coming, she stood. “I’ll go make the arrangements to cast off and set course for the rendezvous.”

“Thanks, Linda,” Juan said. “Let’s book a flight out of Palermo to Monaco.”

“Got it.” She closed the door behind her.



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