The Emperor's Revenge (Oregon Files 11)

“It would be complete anarchy,” Juan said with grim understanding. “Millions could be starving within weeks without food shipments.”

“I have to warn my superiors at Interpol,” Gretchen said. “Get them to stop the tour.”

“You can try. But based on what evidence? This is all a hunch, though it’s one I happen to believe.”

“Then postpone it at least.”

“Give it a shot,” Juan said. “But I’m not putting my eggs all in that basket. Billionaires are hard to say no to.”

“You want to stop them ourselves.”

“I’m not going to sit on my hands while Antonovich and Golov bring Europe to its knees. If there are two prongs to their attack on the electrical grid—the Control Hub and the transformer station—then we have to take on both prongs. Eddie, take Linc and Murph to the Netherlands and meet with the relatives of the Dijkstras. I want you on that tour with them in case ShadowFoe tries anything.”

“Sure,” Eddie said, “but how do we convince them to take us along?”

“I’m going to send them the video of the Achilles destroying the Narwhal. That should be enough to give them doubts about their fathers’ business partner.”

“Where will I be?” Gretchen asked.

“With me right here on the Oregon,” he said. “I don’t think a coastal transformer station was chosen randomly. I bet Golov is going to use Antonovich’s yacht to destroy it and I want you there with the full force of Interpol when we capture the Achilles.”

FIFTY-SEVEN

MAASTRICHT, THE NETHERLANDS

At nine a.m. the next morning, Eddie, Linc, and Murph checked in at the reception desk of Dijkstra Industries, headquartered in a stately Gothic stone building in the center of town. As they were escorted to the CEO’s office, Eddie noticed that the Dijkstras had spared no expense on the antiques lining the halls. It was decorated like an elegant royal palace and, as far as Eddie knew, it might have been one.

The CEO’s office was even more ornately furnished. A reed-thin man in his late twenties leaned on the desk, talking on his phone. He waved them in with two fingers. The three of them stood as they waited for his call to finish. After a few more words in Dutch, the man hung up the phone.

“Gustaaf Dijkstra,” he said in a regal tone as he stood and shook their hands. “Oskar Dijkstra was my father. You are Edward Seng, Franklin Lincoln, and Mark Murphy, is that correct?”

“Yes, sir,” Eddie said. “We’re very sorry for your loss.”

“Yes, it’s been difficult for all of us. My cousin Niels is sorry he couldn’t be here, but he’s in Singapore negotiating a large shipping contract. He threw himself back into work after the funeral of my uncle Lars.” Gustaaf paused to shake his head slowly. “So, you think Maxim Antonovich had my father killed?”

“We don’t have any conclusive evidence that he was responsible,” Murph said, “but we’re sure his people did it.”

“What makes you so sure?”

“According to the forensic team analyzing the wreckage,” Linc said, “there’s evidence that the plane’s wing was heated from the outside before it caught fire. A high-powered laser would leave that exact signature.”

Gustaaf frowned. “I thought the crash was suspicious, but a laser?”

“You saw the video we sent of the Achilles,” Eddie said. “I’m guessing we wouldn’t be here if you hadn’t. Antonovich’s yacht brought down your father’s plane with the same laser that was used in the video of the Narwhal’s sinking.”

“I don’t know where you got that video, but all I saw were missiles exploding in midair. I couldn’t tell why.”

“Then why are you helping us?” asked Linc.

“Beca

use I very clearly saw the Achilles destroy the Narwhal. I have no idea why Antonovich would want to kill my father and sink one of our ships. Ownership of the joint venture remains fifty-fifty even with my father’s and uncle’s deaths, so assassination makes no sense for Antonovich. However, I do know that I don’t trust him.”

“But you trust us?”

“As your chairman suggested, I called the Kuwaiti emir, who is a friend of our family. He was very impressed with the job your company did for him and recommended your services very highly. If he trusts you, I trust you. And if Antonovich is behind my father’s death, he might be coming after me and Niels next. I’m not about to sit back and wait for that to happen.”

There was a knock at the office door and a young woman entered, carrying a roll of blueprints.