Final Option (Oregon Files 14)

Eddie refocused the binoculars on the other ship. “I don’t see any—”

A massive fireball erupted from the center of the Portland, engulfing the few people on deck and tossing huge sections of the vessel high into the air. A few seconds later, the blast wave reached Eddie and Linc, battering their eardrums.

“Whoa!” Linc said.

“That’s an understatement.”

“I bet something set off the ammo magazine.”

“I bet you’re right.”

The explosion finished what the Oregon had started and split the Portland in two. Each half rolled away from the cliff and listed over until both abruptly capsized. Soon, the sections would be lying at the bottom of the fjord.

The Oregon would quickly follow them. Nothing could stop that now. Her entire bow had been sheared off by the immense explosion, which also pushed her toward the center of the fjord, where she had drifted to a stop.

“Come on, Chairman,” Linc said. “Get out of there.”

* * *

—

Juan’s eyes blinked open, and he found himself lying on the landing of the stairwell with a painful welt on his head. He’d been thrown down the steps by some kind of blast. Since he wasn’t dead, it had to have come from the Portland.

He picked himself up, regained his senses, and continued up the stairs until he emerged onto the deck and into the bracing cold. He had come out on the starboard side just forward of the superstructure.

He looked toward the Oregon’s bow and saw that it wasn’t there anymore. All that remained was a ragged tear in the deck, which was now beginning to tilt downward. Farther over toward the side of the fjord were the two halves of the now overturned Portland. The bow end gurgled as it was claimed by the sea. The stern went vertical and then plunged straight down like a rocket aimed at the ocean’s floor.

No matter how much Juan hated the thought, the Oregon was going to suffer the same fate. He went to the nearest life raft canister. He grabbed the nylon rope and yanked on the quick-release chain. The cylindrical canister rolled overboard and landed in the water. He pulled on the cord until it activated the CO2 cartridge. Its clamshell case popped open, the raft inflated.

He was about to jump over the railing when gunfire peppered the raft with holes. Juan threw himself on the deck as bullets ricocheted around him. He felt one of the rounds tear into his left arm. A chillingly familiar voice called out to taunt him.

“Hey, Juan!” Tate shouted with undisguised glee. “Don’t you know the captain is supposed to go down with his ship?”

71

Did you see where that came from?” Linc asked.

Eddie, searching the deck for the source of the bullets that shredded the life raft, couldn’t see who was responsible.

“No, but Juan is still alive,” Eddie said.

“He was. Is there any blood on the deck?”

“Not that I can see, though it’s hard to tell from this far away.” Then Eddie saw Juan push himself up to his hands and knees. “Wait, he’s moving. He’s sitting up, against a bollard.”

“We need to find whoever is hunting him.”

“Hold it, I just saw the guy’s leg. He’s retreating behind the superstructure. You see it?”

“Got him,” Linc said. “But I don’t have a shot. How did he get on board?”

“I have no idea. Juan was the first person I saw set foot on the Oregon’s deck.”

“Can you get him from here?” Eddie asked.

“If he comes into view and then stays put for a few seconds. The difference in wind speeds between up here and down there will be tricky to compensate for . . . Still nothing on the comms?”

“No.” It was frustrating to see Juan yet not be able to talk to him.