Marauder (Oregon Files 15)

“He probably won’t even have a hangover,” Max said enviously. He turned to Juan and furrowed his brow. “I know that look. You’ve got an idea.”

“We’ve been looking for a way into that factory,” Juan said. “Parsons is taking his giant hovercraft over there in the morning. The Marsh Flyer seems pretty roomy. Why don’t we just hitch a ride?”

TWENTY-SEVEN

It was three in the morning when the operation began. Max, Hali, Eric, and Murph were in the Oregon’s op center watching the hovercraft on the large screen at the front of the room. The Marsh Flyer sat in the center of the concrete apron abutting the defunct aluminum refinery, a hundred yards of open space on all sides. One guard was posted at the bow while two other guards circled it on patrol.

“They’re well trained,” Murph said with his artificial voice. He was now out of his hospital clothes and wearing jeans and a black T-shirt that said “I can explain it to you, but I can’t understand it for you.”

“Their pattern is random and properly spaced,” he continued. “No way to get past them without being seen.”

“Where is the team?” Max asked from the command chair.

Hali was on the radio with Raven. “She says they’re in position.”

Raven, still mending from her shoulder wound, had taken a rigid-hull inflatable boat through the harbor to the opposite side of the tarmac where she ran it ashore out of sight of the guards. Juan, Eddie, Linc, Linda, and MacD were prepared to dash to the hovercraft, but they needed a distraction to get across the open ground.

“All right, Murph,” Max said, “lock on target with the laser.”

Eric cleared his throat. Max was so used to Murph at the weapons station, he’d spoken without thinking.

“Sorry, Murph,” he said. “Eric, you ready?”

Eric zoomed in the view on the main screen until they could see a patch of grass growing out of a crack in the concrete. “Locked on.”

“Fire.”

In an instant, the grass erupted in a blaze of light, ignited by the laser’s invisible but intense beam.

The guard at the front of the hovercraft jerked his head around at the small fire and got on his radio. The other two guards came running. He sent them over to check it out, and they approached the flare-up cautiously.

Murph switched his voice to make it sound like a curious teenager. “How did this fire start way out here with not a soul in sight? Strange.”

“Tell Juan they’re clear,” Max told Hali.

Hali relayed the message, and Eric split the screen so it showed five black-clad figures sprinting toward the hovercraft. They disappeared behind it and a minute later reappeared atop the fuselage, dwarfed by the giant propellers. One of them eased open the external door to the cockpit, and they all quickly went through it into the darkened craft.

The guards lost interest in the smoldering grass and continued their patrols, none the wiser that they’d just failed at their jobs.

* * *

—

Juan was the last one through the door and closed it behind him. The cockpit was too cramped for all of them to fit, so Linda and MacD were already down the ladder leading to the car deck. There were two pilot seats, but only the one on the left showed wear. Touch screens surrounded the flight controls, making it look like the interior of a new airliner.

The windows gave a three-hundred-and-sixty-degree view, but the cockpit was situated well back from the sides of the hovercraft, so the guards next to it were out of sight.

“Hali, we’re in,” Juan said into his molar mic. “Let us know if anyone is coming on board.”

“Roger that, Chairman.”

He followed Eddie and Linc quietly down the ladder. The car deck was pitch black, so he flipped on his night vision goggles. The clamshell doors at the stern were closed. The guards outside almost certainly couldn’t hear them, but Juan kept his sound-suppressed MP5 submachine gun ready just the same. Although this was a recon mission, all of them were fully armed. In addition to his MP5, MacD also carried his trusty crossbow.

The deck contained twenty two-axle box trucks, the kind used to deliver packages or carry small loads of freight. They were all facing the rear doors. Even with that cargo, the space was so cavernous that it was only half full.

“If the cargo ship is gone,” Linda asked in a whisper, “what are these trucks going back to the factory for?”

“Good question,” Juan said. “Raising the doors will make too much noise right now. We’ll find out when we get there.”