Shadow Tyrants (Oregon Files 13)

“All right. But don’t take too long. Oh, and one more thing. I did a little digging when Romir Mallik’s name popped up. He tends to do most of his work from a huge condo building that he owns in Mumbai.”

Juan knew Overholt well. He was bringing this up for a reason, so Juan went along with it. “Might be a good place to find some information if someone could get inside and tap into his computer system.”

“As it happens, he’s having a charity gala there two nights from now,” Overholt said, seeming to toss off this tidbit of info. “It’s in all of the Mumbai papers. One of the biggest social events of the year. Thought you might like to know.”

“Thanks for the tip,” Juan said.

It looked like the Corporation was going to have to get an invitation to the party.

THIRTY-ONE

After ending the call with Overholt, Juan left the hidden section of the Oregon and headed up to the fake mess hall. It was decorated like the rest of the external parts of the ship, with flickering fluorescent lights, peeling paint, chipped linoleum tables, and battered metal chairs.

From what Juan could tell when he entered, the prisoners didn’t seem to mind. Many of them were talking to his crew, at ease now that they were free of Jhootha Island. Some of them were even laughing. All of them had changed out of their jumpsuits and into shirts and pants provided to them.

Julia Huxley greeted him at the door as she was walking out. Normally, the Oregon’s chief medical officer would be wearing scrubs when she was in the ship’s hospital-grade trauma center, but here she was dressed in a pressed shirt and pants, her hair tied back in a ponytail. Though she was trained by the Navy, she didn’t carry herself like an officer or a surgeon. She wouldn’t have seemed out of place caring for families in a small-town clinic, down to the black medical bag she was holding.

“How are they?” Juan asked.

Julia surveyed the room with her dark, sympathetic eyes, and then turned back to Juan.

“Surprisingly healthy, given what they’ve been through,” she said. “Physically, that is. I’d advise good therapists for all of them once they get home. Being freed from eighteen months in captivity is going to take a long time to process. None of them thought they’d ever leave.”

“They almost didn’t.”

“They’re very grateful to you for rescuing them.” Julia’s face morphed into a scolding expression. “Especially the woman who shot you. When were you going to tell me about that?”

“You had more important things to take care of.”

“Lyla said it was right about here that she got you,” Julia said, reaching out toward Juan’s chest. He deftly sidestepped the informal exam.

“It’s all right. Just a bruise.”

“Why don’t you let your doctor make that determination? I’ll expect to see you in the medical bay for X-rays after you’re done here.”

“Yes, Doctor,” he said as Julia left, knowing that she would hound him if he didn’t. She’d been the one who saved his life when his leg was severed and had kept a close eye on him ever since.

Juan found Lyla at a table with Kevin Nixon, who was holding a sketch pad. He was making quick strokes with a pencil, only stopping to ask questions and scratch his thick beard. Kevin had worked in Hollywood for many years as a makeup artist and props master, winning several major awards for his work. After his sister was killed during the attacks on 9/11, he’d left the industry and was offering to bring his skills to the CIA when Juan got wind of his abilities and asked him to join the Corporation. Kevin’s job on board the Oregon wasn’t the most active, and he constantly battled to keep his substantial waistline in check. A donut that was only half eaten sat on the table in front of him, so at least he was trying to make progress in his diet.

Juan walked up behind him and saw that he was nearly done sketching the face of a woman in her thirties. She was attractive, with high cheekbones and almond-shaped eyes.

“Who is that?” Juan asked.

“Lyla was just describing the woman she saw when they first landed on the island,” Kevin said.

“You mean, the woman who killed all those passengers?” Lyla said. “The woman who was responsible for holding us hostage all this time? I’ll never forget her face.”

“I’m sorry,” Kevin said. “I know it’s been hard for you to relive this.”

“I just hope you can find her and make her pay for what she’s done.”

“With your help, I’m sure she’ll be brought to justice.” Kevin got up and looked at Juan. “I’m done here if you want to take my seat. This should be a good enough likeness to work with.”

“Thanks,” Juan said. “And I’ve got another job for you after I see Hux.”

“Color me intrigued,” Kevin said, then looked at Lyla and pointed to a pencil and sheet of paper next to her plate. “I’ll leave those with you in case you want to add anything.” He started to walk away, then turned back and grabbed the other half of the donut to take with him. The battle continues, Juan thought.

He sat next to Lyla.