Shadow Tyrants (Oregon Files 13)

“Somewhat. The Triton Star is supposed to be carrying one thousand two hundred and forty-seven containers from Nacala in Mozambique to Kochi, a port in southwest India.”

“Supposed to?”

“There’s a secret manifest I found hidden in their files,” Eric said, switching the screen. “This one lists one thousand two hundred forty-nine containers.”

“So we’ve got two extra, as expected. Can you tell which ones?”

Eric shook his head. “I wish it were that easy. I did a quick comparison of the data files, but they’ve disguised the containers well. I’m afraid we’re going to have to search them manually.”

“Or convince Captain Tao to tell us which ones they are.”

“When you’re questioning him, you might want to ask him one other thing.”

“What’s that?” Juan asked.

“Why they were planning to make an unscheduled stop before they reached Kochi.”

“Do you know where?”

“All it mentions is ‘J Island.’ But it looks like it’s somewhere in the Lakshadweep archipelago west of the Indian mainland. It matches up with the heading the Triton Star was on before they stopped to save us . . . I mean, our gold.”

The gold bar was part of the collateral the Corporation kept on board the Oregon if the need arose for bartering purposes or under-the-table purchasing of needed equipment. They also had several hundred thousand in cash in various currencies, a handful of untraceable diamonds, and a few dozen Krugerrands, but this was the only gold ingot. Juan had been right in thinking it would be a useful lure if Tao ignored the Law of the Sea and decided to bypass them.

At that moment, Eddie Seng appeared at the exterior door with a large duffel slung over his shoulder. Like Juan, the Oregon’s Chinese-American director of shore operations had been a CIA operative, spending a number of years embedded as a spy in Mainland China. He had a lean, sinewy build, and his brush cut would have been short enough to satisfy the Marine Corps.

“Chairman, we’ve accounted for all the crew members on the Triton Star. The ones that are on the Oregon have been disarmed and are under guard in the mess.”

“Then I think it’s time you and I had a talk with Mr. Tao,” Juan said before turning to Eric. “Good work, Stoney. After you get tied alongside the Oregon and the gangplank lowered, keep looking through the files to see if you can find those containers and figure out their destination.”

“Aye, Chairman. I’ll have them set up the decontamination station next to the gangplank.”

“Let’s hope we won’t need it,” Eddie said.

“Better safe than sorry,” Juan said. “Or in this case, better alive than dead.”

They left the bridge and made their way back down to the mess hall. They arrived to find Tao and eight of his men sitting with their wrists zip-tied behind their backs. Their dismantled weapons lay on a table in the corner.

Three armed Oregon crew members watched over them, led by Marion MacDougal “MacD” Lawless. A former Army Ranger from Louisiana, MacD looked like the Hollywood version of a Special Forces soldier, with a chiseled physique, square jaw, and blinding good looks.

“Any trouble corralling them?” Juan asked him.

MacD smiled and answered in a syrupy drawl as he nodded at one of the captives. “Their chief engineer was a tad reluctant to give up. He even took a potshot at me—can you believe that? But Ah convinced him to give up after Ah put a well-placed round past either ear and told him the next one would be smack-dab in the middle of the two.”

The engineer shivered while MacD recounted his story as if he could still hear the bullets whistling past inches from his head.

“Looks like they won’t be any more trouble,” Juan said. “Keep an eye on them while Eddie and I have a chat with the captain.”

Eddie hauled Tao to his feet and followed Juan into the adjacent rec room. He put the captain in one of the chairs and the duffel on the floor.

Juan sat across from Tao and locked eyes. Far from the cocky commander he’d been when he thought he had the upper hand, Tao now looked as nervous as a rabbit in a snare.

Juan stared at him for a moment, then said, “Where is the nerve agent?”

Tao blinked back at him but said nothing.

“I think he’s afraid of someone,” Eddie said.

“That someone should be me,” Juan replied. He leaned toward Tao. “You don’t know me. You may be scared of what your employer will do to you if you talk, but what you should be thinking about is whether I’m the type of guy who’ll toss you overboard in shark-infested waters if you don’t tell me what I want to hear.” He wasn’t that type, but it would be helpful for Tao to think so.