The Emperor's Revenge (Oregon Files 11)

“Antonovich’s yacht is called the Achilles.”

Why did that name sound familiar to Juan? Then he realized where he’d heard it recently.

“Monaco,” he said.

Gretchen looked at Juan with wide eyes. “That’s the yacht where the president of Credit Condamine was last seen before his wild ride.”

“Right on both counts,” Murph said.

“Is the yacht still docked at Malta?” Juan asked.

“Negative. It set sail soon after the warehouse mess. Must have passed right by us. And, so far, the Malta police have no suspects, which is great for you guys, but doesn’t help us finger Golov for the break-in. Apparently, you were the only ones to see his girlfriend take the director’s keycard.”

“That means that Interpol doesn’t have enough even to question Antonovich and his crew,” Gretchen said, “let alone pin the bank heist on him.”

“Then we have to track down the yacht ourselves and do a little covert investigation.”

“Now that we think the Achilles is the boat we’re looking for,” Murph said, “are you guys going to abort the Vladivostok mission?”

Juan shook his head. “I want to know exactly how the Achilles was modified before we attempt to infiltrate it. If we can find the plans, it might tell us the best way in.” Max was in command of the Oregon until he returned.

“Murph,” Gretchen said, “we have another question for you.”

“Shoot.”

“Do you have access to the list of items being sold in the auction?”

He tapped on his keyboard. “Pulling it up now.”

“We’re looking for something listed as CJ.”

“There can’t be too many of those,” he replied, and typed again. After a pause, he said, “Actually, there are none of those.”

“What about abbreviations or acronyms?” Juan asked.

“Nope. Nothing that even comes close.”

“Wait a minute,” Gretchen said. “Weren’t there some items given to the museum by the donor that weren’t included in the auction?”

“You’re right,” Juan said. “Murph, check any references to new pieces the museum acquired.”

“My fingers are flying.” He took a little longer this time, then said, “Oh.”

“What?”

“There is one piece that comes close. But it’s called the Jaffa Column. JC, not CJ.”

“Colonne Jaffa,” Gretchen said. “That’s how it would be written in French. We found it!”

Murph scratched his head and grimaced. “Well, we almost found it.”

Juan knew that expression and it wasn’t good. “Why?”

“Because the museum just reported that it’s gone missing.”

TWENTY-SIX

PARIS