The Emperor's Revenge (Oregon Files 11)

“There isn’t. You would have to get another copy of her program.”

“How can we do that? Do you know someplace online where we can find it?”

“No,” Antonovich said. “You won’t be able to get it. There’s only one place she would keep a backup of that file.”

Murph wanted to shake the answer out of him. “Where?”

Antonovich shook his head in hopelessness. “In her cabin on the Achilles.”

SIXTY-TWO

Juan had his phone on speaker while he quickly donned his wetsuit and slung a Heckler & Koch MP5 over his shoulder. Next to the Oregon’s moon pool, Eric, MacD, and Gretchen were doing the same.

“I’ve got the Achilles in sight,” Max said over the phone. “We’re two minutes out.”

“Take your time,” Juan said.

“Not up to me. Hali’s got Murph on the line for you.”

“Chairman, we’ve got a big problem,” Murph said. “The Control Hub’s system is locked up. Ivana Semova, aka ShadowFoe, designed a program that is the only way to unlock it quickly, but her laptop with the program was destroyed. They’ve got calls in to reset the breakers manually at each station, but that could take hours.”

“Where is she?”

“Dead, along with the rest of her accomplices. And here’s something we didn’t know. She’s Sergey Golov’s daughter.”

That information might be useful, Juan thought. “Tell Max to share that news with Golov when the time is right. He’ll know the moment. What about Antonovich? Is he dead, too?”

“No, he’s alive and mostly well. According to him, he’s a victim in all this. We’re inclined to believe him because Ivana tried to kill hi

m. He says the only other existing copy of the program we need is on his yacht in Ivana’s cabin.”

Juan shot a look at Gretchen. “We might be able to help you out, then. We’re about to board the Achilles. Which one is her cabin?” He had memorized the layout of the Achilles, thanks to the blueprints they’d obtained in Vladivostok.

There was a pause before Murph responded. “He says it’s on deck four, the same level as the main lounge. Third door on the right as you exit the lounge toward the bow.”

Eric, who’d been listening to the conversation, said, “But even if we get there, she’ll have it password-protected, won’t she? I’m good, but I can’t crack it that fast.”

“You don’t need to,” Murph said. “Eddie retrieved her phone and unlocked it with her thumbprint. It has a password manager on it. It’s got to be one of those passwords. If you can get into her computer and send the program to me, I can load it onto a computer here and reactivate the circuit breakers.”

“We’ll call you when we’ve got it,” Juan said.

“Okay.” Murph was gone.

Juan could feel the Oregon slowing as it approached the Achilles. Eric had just a minute to instruct Juan, MacD, and Gretchen on the use of the Jetlev-Flyers. If they were going to get onto the Achilles to find ShadowFoe’s circuit breaker program and disable its railgun, they’d have to be fast. Climbing up a conventional rope ladder wouldn’t work. They’d be picked off long before they could get aboard. The water-powered jetpacks gave them their only chance.

Like the gas-powered jetpack Juan had used once on a mission in China, the Jetlev-Flyers were mounted on a backpack with two nozzles pointed downward. Arm braces controlled the angle of the water jets, and a motorcycle-style throttle at the right hand determined how much pressure shot from the nozzles.

For recreational use, the pressurized water for the jets was supplied by a small surface vessel with a four-stroke marine engine, which would follow them around while they performed aerial maneuvers. But for this mission, technicians had linked together as much fire hose as they could so that the water could be pumped directly from inside the moon pool chamber.

They put on the jetpacks and climbed into the pool. Each of them did a brief test to make sure they could propel themselves both in and above the water.

There was no room to wear scuba tanks along with the jetpacks, so they had to use miniature tanks connected to regulator mouthpieces, rigs that were normally used in emergencies by divers and kayakers.

“Remember,” Juan said to the others, “we’ll only get about thirty breaths once we go under, which gives us three minutes at most.”

They all nodded. Gretchen was the least experienced diver among them, but Juan detected no apprehension in her face, only nervous energy.

They donned their masks as they bobbed in the moon pool waiting for the signal from Max that the ship was in position. After a short delay, a technician said, “We’re a go.”