“It isn’t exactly skittles and beer now.”
“As the saying goes, ‘You ain’t seen nothing yet.’ ”
TWENTY-SEVEN
Major Espinoza laid the weather report back on Luis Laretta’s desk. The small office, with its obligatory picture of Generalissimo Ernesto Corazón on one wall and a poster of a scantily clad girl on the other, was thick with their cigar smoke.
“This storm would be perfect cover for an American Special Force strike. They’ll be expecting us to sit down here all snug in our bunks while they sneak around and place explosives all over the camp.” He brooded for a moment. “I’m going to push out the perimeter patrols another couple of miles. If they’re here, they would have parachuted in well back from the coast and would need to come overland.”
“Surely you don’t think they’ll attack,” Laretta said, waving his Cohiba airily.
Espinoza stared at him flatly. “I am paid to be prepared, if they do. I don’t have the luxury of opining.”
“We each have our jobs,” the facility director replied, thinking it was better the soldiers freeze out there than his people.
There came a knock on the door.
“Come,” Laretta bellowed.
In walked Lee Fong, the head of the Chinese search team. He was grinning ear to ear.
“Fong, how are you?” Luis greeted.
“Most excellent. We found the Silent Sea.”
The director came halfway out of his chair. “So soon? That’s wonderful. Here, have one of my cigars.” When he sat back down, he retrieved a bottle of brandy and some paper cups from his bottom drawer.
“I don’t normally smoke,” the soft-spoken engineer said, “but under the circumstances . . .”
“Are you sure about your find?”
Lee pulled out his PDA and clicked through to a picture. He handed the small device to Espinoza. “After we got a solid sonar return, I sent down a camera. I admit the resolution is poor, but you are looking at the stern of one of the biggest junks ever built.”
To Jorge, the picture just looked like a dark blur. “I’ll have to take your word for it.”
“Trust me. It’s the Silent Sea. Tomorrow we will dive on the wreck and bring back irrefutable proof. I tried to report this when we were out there and have you send a boat with divers right away, but we couldn’t seem to transmit.” He accepted a drink from Laretta.
Espinoza declined. “I’m on duty.”
“Your loss.” The director saluted him, then toasted Lee Fong. “Congratulations. From this moment, there can be no questioning our rights to this land and the riches off her coast. I’ve got to be honest with you guys. Ever since we started construction, I’ve always been afraid our operation would be discovered and we’d be booted out. Well, no more. We are here to stay.”
“Have you contacted you superiors?” Espinoza asked Lee.
“Yes, just now. They are most pleased,” he beamed. “My immediate boss says I will be awarded a medal and that our company will be guaranteed a lifetime of government contracts.”
“Hold out for a big raise,” Laretta told him, pouring more brandy into his glass. “Make them know you’re worth it.”
“I might just do that. Oh, I forgot. The ship on the beach.”
“What about it,” Espinoza asked sharply. He’d been suspicious about that boat, and even seeing with his own eyes that she was a derelict didn’t allay his concerns.
“She’s off the beach and starting to float away.”
“You didn’t see any engine smoke?”
“Oh, no. And she’s leaning heavily to one side. I think she will flip over soon.”
Espinoza was regretting his moment of earlier charity. He should have let Sergeant Lugones lay some charges and blow her to pieces. It wasn’t too late. He could ask the captain of the Guillermo Brown to sink the old scow with a missile, but he could think of no valid reason why the Navy would waste such expensive munitions on his paranoia. With any luck, the storm would either sink her or blow her so far away that he wouldn’t have to worry about her presence any longer.