Final Option (Oregon Files 14)

“Then let’s wait—”

Tate slammed his palm against the screen. “No! We don’t know how long it will take for Juan to make repairs or if he’s called someone to come help him. We have to find him now.”

Ballard shook her head at the map. The intricate web of channels, fjords, and coves provided too many places for the Oregon to hide.

“But the Abtao is gone. Even with the Wuzong coming, our advantage is cut by a third. We can retreat and try this again another time.”

Tate rounded on her, enraged. “Are you insane or just stupid? We hit the Oregon three separate times with torpedoes and missiles. And we have a Chinese diesel-electric sub on our side. We’ll never get another chance like this. You haven’t shown a lack of nerve before. Don’t start now.”

Ballard looked around the op center to see Farouk and Li giving her embarrassed sideways glances, then she turned back to Tate and glared at him. Tate didn’t care. She needed to grow a pair.

Finally, Ballard put up her hands in surrender.

“Fine. What’s your plan?”

“Good. Nice to see you’re back on the team.” Tate calmed himself and turned back to the map. “Now, even though we’re looking at a maze of channels in here, as far as I can see there are only two ways out. One here in the north, the other here in the south. We’ll direct the Wuzong to enter from the north, we’ll come in from the south. If we conduct our searches methodically, we’ll run across the Oregon or the Deepwater eventually. When either is found, it’s game over.”

Ballard nodded. Tate could tell she liked his plan.

“We either sink the Oregon and then find the Deepwater at our leisure and dispose of the witnesses,” she said, “or we take the Deepwater crew captive, like we originally wanted to, and force the Oregon to come to their rescue.”

“Right. And with the Oregon damaged, we’ll have the upper hand in any fight. If Juan wants to battle toe to toe, we’ll be able to outlast him. In fact, I’d welcome—”

Farouk interrupted him.

“Commander, we’re getting another call from Juan Cabrillo.”

Tate smiled at Ballard. “Maybe he’s calling to surrender.”

“From what I’ve seen of this guy,” Ballard said, “I highly doubt that.”

“Come on,” Tate said as he took his command chair. “You don’t have to harsh my buzz.”

He looked at Farouk. “Put Juan on-screen, deepfake us as usual.”

After a moment, Cabrillo appeared, and he was more composed than the last time they spoke.

“Hello, Juan. You’re looking good. I don’t see any broken blood vessels in your face, like I thought I would, after your blowup during our previous talk. You do seem a bit stressed, though.”

“I’ve had a lot on my mind the last few hours, Tate.”

“I bet. But I’m glad to see you’re still afloat. I wouldn’t want you to sink before I found you and take all the fun out of it.”

“You won’t find us,” Cabrillo said. “Look at your map of the region.”

“I have. Yes, it’s a complicated mess of islands and straits, but I think we’ll run into each other sooner or later.”

“Maybe you should get out of here while you have the chance.”

Tate laughed. “I saw what happened to the Oregon, Juan. Even though things look hunky-dory in your op center, I’d guess you have damage control crews working double time all over the ship.”

“A few minor dings,” Cabrillo said. “Nothing that won’t buff out.”

“You are such a good liar. No wonder you had such an illustrious career in the CIA.”

“The CIA is the reason I called. They know.”

“Know what?”