Final Option (Oregon Files 14)

Linc, an African-American, and Raven, a Native American, blended in easily with the multicultural audience. In addition, their clothes, similar to the gear worn by the thousands of other Mexican fans around them, ensured that they didn’t stand out.

“I don’t know,” Linc answered. “But if Gomez had to take over for Linda, it can’t be good.”

Raven nodded at López and his two companions. “You still thinking the bathroom is the way to go?”

Linc nodded. “Those two have been swilling beers since they got here,” Linc said. “They’ll definitely make a pit stop at halftime.”

“At least López has been smart enough to lay off. He’s drunk half a bottle at most.”

Raven used to be an Army Military Police investigator, and nothing escaped her observation. Since she’d joined the Corporation, she’d proven herself the equal of any Special Forces veteran on the Oregon. She was also the fastest runner on the ship, and a dead shot with every weapon they had in their arsenal.

Unfortunately, neither of them was armed, since they couldn’t get guns past stadium security. On the other hand, Linc was sure the two men with López were packing heat. The baggy shirts they wore concealed the bulges of pistols tucked into waistbands. No doubt they bribed someone to bring them in undetected.

As a former Navy SEAL, Linc was an expert at assessing threats, evac routes, and possible hiccups in mission planning. This situation was rich with both problems and opportunities because of the massive crowd. Lots of witnesses, which could be either good or bad depending on how this went down. But also the ability to get lost in the scrum as people swarmed the food and drink vendors and the bathrooms at halftime.

Linc was sure there were more of the cartel’s people in the stadium watching López. He was still proving himself to the cartel as a banker who could launder dirty billions. They weren’t going to let him out of their sight.

Linc looked at the clock. Two minutes left in regular time. He estimated there were four minutes to be played in stoppage time. As soon as the men started to leave, he and Raven would follow them out. Raven would isolate one man and take him out on the concourse while Linc followed López and the other cartel guy into the bathroom, knock the cartel guy out, place him in one of the stalls, and whisk López away before anyone knew what had happened.

That plan sounded great until one of the men jerked his thumb over his shoulder and walked up the aisle.

“Guess he couldn’t wait to go,” Raven said.

“That might cause problems. Think you could get rid of him now?”

“You read my mind.”

Raven waited for him to pass, then followed him to the concourse exit.

Time to let López know what was coming. Linc picke

d up the beer by his feet and stumbled down the aisle as if he were drunk.

He plopped into the seat vacated by the cartel henchman.

López, who had thin lips and a Roman nose, looked at him in surprise and spoke in Spanish. Linc didn’t speak the language, so he slurred his words in English.

“Who are you guys? Where’s my wife?” He took a big gulp of the beer, which by now was warm and flat.

“Get out of here, hombre,” López said. “This isn’t your seat.”

“Hombre? Hey! You must be Mexican! Just like my wife!” He patted López on the shoulder.

The man next to López sneered at Linc. “Listen to him, gringo. Go away now or we’ll make you go away.”

Linc put up his hands in surrender. “Hey, man, I’m sorry. I thought this was my seat.” He looked intently at the bottle in his hand. “What do they put in these beers anyway? Must be tangerine liqueur from Madagascar. I’ve only had eight of them and I’m already feeling a buzz.”

López stared at him with barely concealed surprise. “Tangerine liqueur from Madagascar” was his blown cover code phrase. Linc briefly narrowed his eyes at López to make it clear he wasn’t really drunk.

The cartel assassin didn’t notice the look. “I said go,” he repeated. “Now!”

Linc went back into his drunk mode and lurched to his feet. “I’m going, I’m going!” He hiccupped. “Maybe I should go to the bathroom before I hurl right here. Adios, muchachos!”

The disgusted cartel man had turned back to watch the game, so Linc gave López one last look. López nodded ever so slightly.

He understood Linc. He was in mortal danger. And the only way out was through the stadium restroom.

Linc staggered back up the aisle to get set for the coming fight.