The Emperor's Revenge (Oregon Files 11)

“Oh, I’m sure the rehab nurses at Bethesda thought the same thing when they taught me how to use it. By the way, I’m supposed to pass compliments on to Julia Huxley from the surgeons there. They commented several times on what an excellent job she did realigning my fractured pelvis.”

That was high praise coming from doctors at Bethesda Naval Hospital, one of the best in the world. Juan had taken Gretchen there personally after her injury and spent several days with her before returning to the Oregon.

“You can tell her yourself tonight over dinner,” Juan said. “Chef has put together a banquet fit for a queen.”

“I just wish I could have been there for Mike Trono’s wake. I imagine it was quite the party.”

“You will definit

ely hear stories about it. Ask MacD about his impromptu karaoke serenade.”

“Can’t wait. How are he and Eric doing?”

“Eric’s still in a cast, but he loves whizzing down the halls on his scooter. MacD’s shoulder didn’t sustain any structural damage, and he’s already bragged about showing off his nice new scar to the ladies.”

“As if he needs more help in that department.” Instead of going inside, Gretchen steered them toward the railing. “I want to take in this view.”

They leaned against the railing for a few silent moments. Gretchen’s eyes reflected the sunlight as she inhaled the sea breeze.

Maurice appeared seemingly out of nowhere, carrying a tray holding two glasses.

“A refreshment after your trip, Ms. Wagner. It’s an elderflower cordial, a local Danish concoction.”

“Thank you, Maurice.”

“I’ll take your luggage to your cabin.” The octogenarian steward retreated with her bag just as quietly as he had arrived.

“How does he do that?” she asked Juan as she sipped her drink.

“My theory is that he was trained by ninjas.” He paused to take a sip, then said, “I’m sorry I couldn’t have stayed longer with you at the hospital.”

She waved off the apology. “Don’t worry about it. I know you had a lot to do back here. The ship looks as awful as usual, by the way.”

Juan smiled. “Why, thank you. We do make an effort.”

“Did it take long to fix?”

“A couple of weeks in port after we returned the Jaffa Column to the Maltese Oceanic Museum. Of course, we couldn’t return to Vladivostok after what happened there, but we have a few other options around the world for repairs.”

“The less I know, the better.”

“It sounds like the Oregon isn’t in your future.”

“According to the doctors, fieldwork isn’t in my future after this.” She pointed at her hip. “But the CIA has given me a promotion, heading up a new financial analysis department. I start as soon as I get back.”

Juan clinked glasses with her. “I’m happy for you. But they didn’t give it to you. You earned it.”

Neither had brought up their night together in Lithuania, and Juan didn’t think there was any point now, despite how he felt about her. It was clear their paths had intersected only briefly and were now diverging again. Their time with each other would have to remain a wonderful memory.

To avoid the subject, Juan filled her in about the aftermath of the attack on the electrical grid and banking system. Although Gretchen had seen news updates from her hospital bed, she hadn’t yet heard some of the most important details.

Before Juan could tear Eric away from ShadowFoe’s computer, Eric had initiated an upload of all its contents to the Oregon’s servers. Most of the files were transferred before the Achilles was destroyed and they provided a wealth of knowledge about Ivana Semova’s hacking activities.

Using the data that Eric and Murph gleaned, they were able to unlock the Credit Condamine computer system and restore all of the funds, including the Corporation’s. In addition, they learned about ShadowFoe’s unusual coding technique, which had its roots in a radical mathematical concept previously hidden for two hundred years.

Maxim Antonovich—whose captivity and innocence in the entire affair had been confirmed by three crewmen who confessed after being saved from the wreckage of the Achilles—had purchased several rare documents, most of which had been in the yacht’s safe when it went down. But prior to that, they’d all been scanned into ShadowFoe’s computer. One of those documents was a centuries-old mathematical treatise by a Russian named Alexei Polichev, who was an instructor at Moscow State University at the time of Napoleon’s invasion. His revolutionary algorithms were lost during the war—or so it was thought. But two copies had survived, the one that Antonovich ended up buying and a second set whisked away by Napoleon’s soldiers, along with the rest of the treasure. That copy was damaged beyond repair when it went into the Neris River inside the trunk that Trono tried to save. ShadowFoe had based her unique computer viruses on Polichev’s formulas.

After reverse engineering Ivana’s programs, Eric and Murph consulted with the banks to recover the stolen funds, collecting a tidy reward in the process, enough to not only refit and rearm the Oregon but also to install a few upgrades. The Corporation then turned Polichev’s equations over to the CIA for use in the government’s various counter-cyberwarfare operations.