The Emperor's Revenge (Oregon Files 11)

She tugged the goggles off in a surprised motion, ready to swear at the idiot who had interrupted her. When she saw it was her father, her expression changed to one of exasperation.

“I hate it when you do that,” she said, pulling the headphones down around her neck. Before she hit the MUTE button, Golov heard the thumping beat of electronic dance music popular in Europe.

“If you answered my texts, I wouldn’t have to.”

“I was working on that research you wanted me to do. I think I’ve found a spot.”

She handed him the goggles. Golov wasn’t a fan of these 3-D gadgets, so when he looked at it in distaste, she said, “Go on. It won’t kill you.”

He put them on, and instead of nighttime, it was suddenly a sunny daytime on the French Riviera. The pebbled beach stretched for miles ahead of him along a road lined with hotels, apartments, and restaurants.

“Go ahead and turn around,” Ivana said.

Golov did, and the scenery rotated with the motion of his head. He could see in every direction as if he were standing on the shore.

“Do you see that gray and white building?”

He swiveled his head until he saw the structure she was talking about. It was an eight-story building with balconies.

“I see it,” he said.

“That’s the Radisson Blu Hotel.”

“Why do you think this is the perfect location?”

“I haven’t shown you the rooftop deck yet,” she said with obvious delight.

Golov experienced a moment of disorientation as the view instantly switched. He was now standing atop the hotel. On one side was a restaurant with tables shaded by umbrellas. In the other direction was a pool surrounded on all sides by deck chairs.

He then focused on the surrounding buildings and saw why Ivana had chosen this location. A tall apartment building to the northeast was framed by the distant mountains.

“You’re right,” he said, taking off the goggles. “It’s perfect.”

“Did you find out the information you were looking for from Zakharin?” she asked as she nibbled on a triangle of pita.

“Yes. I got it all on a voice recording before the admiral tragically came to his end. The ship is called the Oregon.”

“Then he did modify another ship with weapons like ours.”

“Several others, but only the Oregon comes close to our capabilities. His predecessor did the work, but he knew enough of the specifications to be useful.”

He played the recording for her. Zakharin went into excruciating detail about the Oregon’s armaments, defensive capabilities, and special features, such as the moon pool from which she could launch submarines.

When the recording ended, Ivana said, “They’ve certainly disabled their own disarming code by now, if they hadn’t already.”

“If their captain is as good as Zakharin implied, he probably removed it years ago.” The image of his counterpart from the museum party in Malta came to mind. Golov had described him to Zakharin, who confirmed that he was the commander of the Oregon.

“Do you think they could raise the column from where the Narwhal sank?”

“Clever girl,” Golov replied. “That was my first thought as well. I’d say it’s easily within the realm of possibility, which means they could be there right now.”

“If they find the column, they could decipher the clues Napoleon left and find the treasure before we’re able to complete Dynamo, putting the whole operation in jeopardy.”

“Which is why we need to make sure they don’t find it before we can get to it.”

“Do you really think it’s still there? The treasure?”

“It has to be. We know Napoleon didn’t lead his abductors to it.”