Marauder (Oregon Files 15)

If there was no one there, she would simply lie in wait for the Norego to arrive and blow it out of the water. And if neither of those happened in the next couple of days, they could be confident that the site hadn’t been compromised.

Jin consulted the depth charts for the Cambridge Gulf and saw nothing unusual. Still, she might as well take advantage of the ship that sailed these waters on a regular basis.

“Follow the Thai Navigator,” she ordered her helmsman.

It wouldn’t take more than an hour to reach the southern end of the gulf.

* * *

—

Sylvia was honored that Juan Cabrillo trusted her enough to let her into the inner sanctum of the Oregon’s op center while they monitored Nomad’s mission on the Ord. She was seated next to Murph, who was grunting in frustration instead of using his voice box.

“What’s the matter?” she asked.

“I should be out there,” he said. “Little Geek is my toy.”

“I’m sure Eric won’t break it. You’ll be back out in the field in no time.”

The big view screen showed a shot from Nomad, which was cruising on the surface as it approached the Ord. Black clouds loomed in the background.

Linda, who was sitting in the command chair, asked Hali, “What’s the weather forecast?”

“It looks like there is a

squall line coming in,” Hali said. “Intermittent periods of heavy rain.”

“That shouldn’t affect the dive.”

“I do have some ship traffic to the north on radar.”

“Identity?”

“According to her AIS signal, it’s an ore carrier called the Thai Navigator. She’s gotta be bound for Wyndham and is about fifteen miles out.”

Hali switched the screen to a camera on the Oregon. The oncoming freighter was nothing more than a dot on the horizon.

Sylvia leaned over to Murph. “What’s AIS?”

“Automatic Identification System,” Murph said. “It’s a transponder signal that all commercial cargo ships transmit. We change ours as necessary for the mission. The Thai Navigator is reading us as the Norego right now.”

“We’re anchored far out of the shipping lane,” Linda said. “It shouldn’t be a problem.”

FORTY-THREE

Careful not to ground the sub on the riverbed, Max drove Nomad back and forth over the site of the GPS coordinates from the archaeologist’s diary and used the side-scan sonar to verify that the wreck was indeed under the water. They all crouched around Eric’s screen, watching for any sign of the bireme.

“There it is,” Juan said, nearly an hour after they’d left the Oregon.

Out of the irregular river bottom, he could make out the defined shape of a boat. The top deck had eroded away, exposing the cargo holds underneath. Most of the wreckage had been excavated from the riverbank, and at the center of the vessel were dozens of objects that looked like flower vases.

“Those are the amphorae,” Eric said.

“Looks like we may have to go through a bunch of them,” Linc said.

“Then we better get started,” Juan said. “Let’s suit up.”

While they put on their shark suits, MacD and Raven, both dressed in rain gear, climbed through the upper hatch with their weapons. Steamy air washed through the air-conditioned cabin until the hatch was closed again.