The Emperor's Revenge (Oregon Files 11)

suit over the same black combat gear they all wore, MacD unleashed his syrupy Louisiana drawl on Murph. “Ah know these guys like their funny names, but what in the world does Whyvern mean?”

“A wyvern is a type of dragon,” Murph replied. “It has two forelegs, and a snake’s body, and probably came from the—”

“Ah know what a wyvern is, but why is this guy called Whyvern. He got no legs?” Then MacD saw Juan pulling his drysuit over his combat leg and winced at the question.

Juan smiled. “Don’t worry, MacD. I’m sure Whyvern makes do fine with just a tail.”

Gretchen chuckled at that. She knew about his missing leg. Not only had she been amazed that she hadn’t noticed any difference in his gait, but she’d been fascinated by the hidden compartments in the titanium-reinforced prosthesis, which had room for a .45 caliber ACP Colt Defender, a ceramic knife, and a wad of plastic explosive and a detonator no bigger than a deck of cards. A single .44 caliber slug could be fired from the heel.

“Remember,” Juan said, mainly for the benefit of Gretchen, who wasn’t accustomed to their routines and coordination, “this is a quick snatch-and-go, so we’ll avoid engaging Simaku’s men, unless it’s absolutely necessary. Eddie’s ready at the post-extraction rendezvous, so let’s get going.”

The plan was to get into the castle silently, abduct Erion Kula, and go out through the front gate using one of Simaku’s own cars, dropping spike strips behind them. The sharp prongs would puncture the tires of any pursuing cars, giving them time to escape with Eddie’s team on the RHIB.

Juan opened the air lock hatch and gestured for Gretchen to enter. “Ladies first.”

“Chivalrous as always,” she said, and climbed inside the cramped confines.

Juan squeezed in with her, holding his helmet so that he wouldn’t have to clamp it onto his suit until the last possible moment. The drysuits were clumsy, but they would keep their clothes from getting soaked. Wetsuits would leave telltale trails of water during their infiltration.

With their bodies pressed together and facing eye to eye, the awkwardness came back. Juan could tell Gretchen felt it as well, but both of them were too professional to say anything. They had a job to do.

Juan reached for the valve that would flood the air lock. “Ready? This is your last chance to bail out if you’re having second thoughts.”

She tilted her head at him as if to say Really? and clamped the helmet to her suit. “Do it.”

Juan opened the valve and water rose from the floor. The drysuit kept the cold at bay. He attached his own helmet while watching Gretchen. She had her eyes closed in a meditative state, and he could feel a slight press of her body with each deep breath she inhaled.

Juan shook his head and focused on the mission. When the readout indicated that the pressure was equalized with the water outside, he opened the hatch. He swam up, and pulled the packs behind him, before helping Gretchen out. They crouched on the deck of the sub, the ocean surface just ten feet above them, as they waited for Murph and MacD to complete the same process.

When everyone was out and the sub was sealed again, they swam for the cliff face, which plunged down from the castle into the water like a rocky wall. There was just enough room to pull themselves onto a small ledge they’d identified in their reconnaissance. No one on the wall would see anything amiss unless they happened to be looking straight down.

They quickly stripped off their drysuits, and Juan shoved them into a container that was attached to a nylon line leading back to the sub. The rest of them retrieved their equipment and weapons from the drybags.

“Our feet are dry,” Juan said to Max over the comm link. “Reel it in.”

“Starting the winch,” Max replied. “See you soon.”

The container slipped into the water and was pulled back to the sub. No sense in leaving the expensive drysuits behind.

MacD withdrew a crossbow from his pack and loaded it with a rubberized three-pronged hook connected to a rope that disappeared into the bag. He nodded at Juan.

Juan keyed the radio linked to his throat mic. “Do you read me, Hali?”

“Loud and clear, Chairman.”

“We’re in position.”

“Roger. Gomez spotted you from the drone as soon as you climbed out of the water. Pretty eerie.”

“I bet. Any guards up above?”

“They just finished their quarter-hour sweep. You have fourteen minutes until the next one. No one is in sight on the wall.”

“Good. Keep us posted if you spot anyone.”

“Absolutely.”

Juan looked at MacD. “Let’s make like Spider-Man.”