The Emperor's Revenge (Oregon Files 11)

“Greed is never sated,” Juan said as he kept riffling through the files.

“Oh, the admiral has been much naughtier than he was letting on. It looks like Zakharin’s been keeping a separate account on the Achilles job. Probably does it with all the work here. It looks like the figures he reports get cut by twenty percent when they go to his bosses.”

“They wouldn’t be happy to find that out. Corrupt officers hate getting fleeced out of their fair shares. Does the ledger detail what the money was spent on?”

She shook her head. “It has the same coded entries. For example, this item is referred to as LaWS.” She spelled out the acronym in the Latin alphabet.

“It’s not written in Cyrillic?”

“Most of them are, but not this one.”

It sounded familiar to Juan, but he couldn’t place it without context. She whistled. “I hope they got their money’s worth. They could have built another yacht, for what it cost.”

He was about to ask her to read out more when he came across the engineering specs for the Achilles.

“Bingo!” Juan said, pulling out the thick file.

Gretchen joined him by the cabinet. Juan flipped through the file, feeling the blood drain from his face as he read.

“Does it say what LaWS is?” she asked.

“Yes, it does. Now I remember what it stands for.”

“What?”

“Laser weapon system.”

Gretchen laughed. “You’re kidding.” When she saw his ashen face, she stopped. “You’re not kidding.”

“It gets worse,” Juan said as he kept reading. “Much worse.”

He pulled out his phone. No signal.

“We’ve got to warn Max. Now!”

Juan grabbed the file and raced for the door, but something in the pit of his stomach told him that he was already too late.

THIRTY-TWO

After pushing the engines to the limit so that the Oregon could catch up to the Narwhal, Max had been content to have the ship dawdle behind the Dutch cargo freighter as if it were heading for the same destination.

Then, out of nowhere, the Achilles appeared as if it had been waiting for them. It was still fifteen miles away, but the unique outline was unmistakable. Max had Linda put it on the main view screen, with the Narwhal inset beside it.

“What’s Antonovich doing?”

“You think he’s planning to take the column off the Narwhal before it reaches port?” Linda asked from her position at the radar and sonar.

“He can’t,” said Eric, who manned the helm. “No cranes on either ship.”

Murph, sitting at the weapons station, chimed in, “Looks like there’s a helicopter deck, but no way they’ve got a chopper that can lift thirty tons.”

“Maybe he just wants to board to get a look at the column,” Linda said.

Hali said, “But that wouldn’t keep us from taking a look at it once it reaches port.”

“Any radio communications between them?” Max asked.

Hali checked the radio for chatter, then shook his head. “Nada.”