Shadow Tyrants (Oregon Files 13)

Murph interrupted them. “We’re getting another message.”

“What’s it say?” Max asked.

Murph looked up at Max. “Our mystery guest just received another text. It’s giving coordinates and says ‘Launch is a go.’”

“Launch? What launch?”

“There’s a satellite launch by Orbital Ocean scheduled right now in the Arabian Sea,” Eric said, “but that’s over six hundred miles away. I don’t see how it could have anything to do with us.” After a pause while he tapped on his computer, Eric added, “And no other satellite launches are scheduled for today anywhere else in the world.”

“Maybe it’s telling the guy on the Triton Star to launch his operation,” Linda said.

“Or someone is launching something at us.” Max turned to Murph. “What are the coordinates referring to?”

“On-screen.”

A map appeared on the main viewscreen. It zoomed in until the crosshairs were directly over Diego Garcia.

* * *

—

Juan was heading toward the stern of the Triton Star with Eddie and Tao to check out the second container when he heard the news from Max.

“Any idea what we’re looking for?” Juan asked.

“The message didn’t have any specifics,” Max replied. “You think they’re talking about the Novichok nerve agent?”

“Could be something coordinated with an attack on Diego Garcia.” Juan had heard about the communications failure at the U.S. base and didn’t like coincidences any more than Max did.

“I’ll let you know if Murph and Eric can pinpoint the stowaway’s location.”

“Thanks. We’ll keep searching. Keep me posted.”

The two Corporation operatives who’d brought the rest of the Triton Star men over from the Oregon exited the superstructure. Each of them was carrying two FN P90 compact assault rifles, an unusual bullpup design with the ammo magazine on top of the gun and the spent casings ejected through the handle at the bottom to keep them out of the line of sight of the shooter. They walked over and handed the extra weapons to Juan and Eddie.

The first Oregon crew member was a muscular African-American with a shaved head who was built like a linebacker but was as light on his feet as a gymnast. He was a Detroit native and former Navy SEAL by the name of Franklin Lincoln. Linc had masqueraded as the Goreno’s chief engineer during the hijacking operation. When they’d gotten the call about this mission, he’d been riding around the capital of the Maldives on his custom Harley that he kept aboard the Oregon. As one of the Gundogs—Max’s nickname for the shore operations team—Linc’s biggest claim to fame was being the best sniper on the crew.

“Chairman,” Linc said, “all of the Triton Star crew are secured in the mess with MacD. You should have seen the looks on their faces when Raven appeared with a P90 in her hands.”

Linc nodded to the woman next to him. Raven Malloy was the newest member of the crew, and a member of the shore operations team. With straight jet-black hair, caramel skin, and a tall, athletic frame, she was often mistaken for a Latina, Southeast Asian, or Arab, though she was actually Native American of Cherokee and Sioux heritage. Raised as an Army brat by adoptive parents, she had attended West Point, where she studied psychology and learned Arabic and Farsi. Upon graduation, she served as a Military Police officer and gained a reputation as a dogged investigator before becoming frustrated with the bureaucracy and leaving to work in private security. During a joint operation with the Corporation taking on communist rebels in the Philippines, she’d meshed well with the crew and performed admirably under dire circumstances, so Juan had offered h

er a spot on the Oregon.

“I think they were just surprised to see a woman at all,” Raven said. “Shocked might be a better word.” Then with some satisfaction, “Maybe a little scared, too. Like him.” She focused on Tao, who stared at her with wide eyes.

Juan wasn’t surprised that she drew that reaction. Raven was a very attractive woman who could fix a man with a glare icy enough to freeze lava.

“Can’t wait to hear all about it,” he said, “but right now we’ve got a problem.” He told them about the messages referencing an upcoming launch.

“We’ll take the port side. You two search the starboard side. Look for anything unusual. Since you don’t have time to change into NBC suits, call me and Eddie if you see anything like a gas canister. Then back away.”

“Sounds good to me,” Raven said.

“You don’t have to tell us twice,” Linc added.

They headed toward starboard, while Juan and Eddie pushed Tao farther aft.

“Who was that?” he asked in wonder.