The Emperor's Revenge (Oregon Files 11)

“It doesn’t have enough portals or balconies for a cruise ship.”

Before they realized it, she was even with the Narwhal, racing past as if she were a cigarette boat.

Bodeker furrowed his brow. “How is that possible?”

“What do you mean?” Visser asked.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say she was doing fifty knots.”

Visser squinted at the odd ship. Without a reference point, it was difficult for him to tell speed at sea.

“Are you sure it’s not just an optical illusion?”

Bodeker blinked twice. “Must be,” he muttered.

The yacht turned smartly and sped away on a perpendicular course.

Bodeker shrugged. “You’ll soon learn that you see all kinds of strange things on the ocean, Visser.”

He went back to work, and Visser followed him as they moved toward the bow, but the younger man couldn’t take his eyes off the bizarre vessel until it was no more than a dot disappearing into the gathering storm clouds.

Then a bright light flashed above the yacht.

“Looks like it got hit by lightning,” Visser said.

“Then let’s get out of the weather as quick as we can,” Bodeker replied.

Visser nodded, his eyes on the aft superstructure, where the dry and warm crew quarters were. He spotted the captain on the top-level bridge, watching the approaching storm with his binoculars. “Okay, but when we eat lunch, I’m going to ask the captain what—”

His next words were drowned out by a massive explosion on the Narwhal’s bridge. The windows burst outward, and a section of the roof panel, along with the antennas, flew into the air. Fire and smoke belched from the remains. Bodeker and Visser were thrown to the deck.

“What the hell happened?” Bodeker yelled.

Visser felt himself shaking uncontrollably. “It just blew up.”

A moment later, an enormous boom nearly deafened them, like a gigantic thunderclap from a lightning strike right next to them.

“Heaven help us!” Visser screamed, terror gripping him.

Bodeker could only shake his head, the whites of his eyes huge.

Then another explosion took out the lower part of the superstructure. Every crewman inside had to be dead. The blast was followed a few seconds later by a second thunderclap.

A third explosion in front of the superstructure blasted six of the forty-foot containers off the starboard side of the ship like they were aluminum cans. The explosion after that impacted the hull at the waterline, throwing a geyser into the air.

Visser and Bodeker watched the carnage in silent awe, frozen in place. It was clear that they were under attack, but from where? Sabotage was the first thought that came to Visser’s mind. Someone had planted explosives all over the ship.

Explosions and thunderclaps came in rapid succession, each getting c

loser to the bow where they were standing.

Visser and Bodeker looked at each other. They realized there was no choice. The lifeboats were destroyed, and they didn’t even have time to find life jackets.

By unspoken agreement, they both leaped overboard.

Visser surfaced and panicked when he didn’t spot his crewmate in the churning waves. He swiveled around until he saw Bodeker twenty feet away, swimming for his life. Visser didn’t need to be told to do the same.

Visser lost count of the explosions and didn’t stop to turn around. Bodeker was the first to halt, and he treaded water while he looked back.