Piranha (Oregon Files 10)

Juan knotted the rope around the road grader’s suspension so he could control his descent. It unspooled all the way to the opposite side of the hold. Eddie was able to put a hand on it and let go of the axle.

Juan kept his speed in check as he made his way down to Eddie. As he neared Eddie, he slowed more than he expected. But it wasn’t him. It was the ship.

The speed of the tilt’s correction had drastically accelerated. By the time he was under the truck adjacent to Eddie, the ship was undergoing a radical shift to starboard.

“I think we’re—” was all Juan got out before bullets caromed off the truck’s chassis and he had to take cover behind the wheel. Two of Dominguez’s men had crawled under the equipment to get him in their sights.

The ship would be at a level beam in seconds and that meant there was an immediate threat more dangerous than the men shooting at them.

As soon as the sudden shift occurred, Maria knew what was coming. She told Linc and MacD to climb into the nearest SUV. All of the vehicles on the ship were unlocked, with the keys inside, for quick removal during unloading.

The wave of water rushing toward them was only four feet high, but it would be strong enough to knock them off their feet and send them flying if they didn’t get out of the way.

They dived into the SUV and slammed the doors as the water enveloped it. For the moment, they were unscathed, but Maria’s bigger fear was that the weight transfer would tip the ship over.

She held her breath as the water coursed down the loading ramp and settled against the starboard side. The list was only ten degrees—for now. Although the rapid shift had ceased, she could feel the Ciudad Bolívar continue to slowly roll. There must have been a sudden bulkhead failure on a lower level, but the ballast tanks were plainly unaffected and continuing to drain.

The right side of their truck was now submerged in water that was beginning to seep in. Linc turned the ignition key and unrolled the windows on the left side. They slithered out and stood on the hood of the adjacent SUV.

“This way,” Linc said, and they made their way to the port side by hopping across the hoods of the row of trucks parked fender to fender.

In two minutes they were jumping onto the deck next to the stairwell that led to the engine room. The stairs were easier to take while the list was less pronounced, but the steps were dripping and slick from the water that had immersed them only a few minutes before. The lights had shorted out, so Linc and MacD flicked on flashlights for the short walk down.

When they opened the watertight door, their ears were assaulted by the roar of still-running engines. They stopped on the catwalk overlooking the two huge engines that drove the ship’s screw and provided electrical power. The space occupied four stories and was crisscrossed by stairs, pipes, and ventilation ducts. Normally, the equipment was showroom clean, but rings of oil and grease were visible where the water had pooled and splashed before settling to the bottom. Obviously, a large amount of water had flooded into the engine room before it was evacuated and sealed from the bridge.

“Where’s the engineering station?” Linc asked.

Maria pointed at the enclosed room at the stern.

MacD stared down at the water, which had to be at least seven feet deep. “Any way around that?”

Maria shook her head. “We’re going for a swim.”

Something floating in the water caught her eye. It was partially hidden in the shadow of the starboard engine on the far side. She held her hand out to MacD. “Can I borrow your flashlight?”

He shrugged and handed it to her.

She clicked the switch and pointed it at the object.

It was a foot.

Maria gasped and panned the light across the body, which was floating facedown. When the beam reached the holstered pistol, all three of them knew it wasn’t a stranded crew member.

Linc shoved her down behind a vent at the same time MacD opened fire at a hidden figure. Bullets whistling past in response confirmed that they weren’t the first to reach the engine room.

—

Juan’s warning about the wave had come in time for Eddie to use his cat quickness to leap onto the dump truck cab’s ladder and scale it before he was hit by the water. But because he was completely underneath his own truck, all Juan had time to do was loop the rope around the axle and wrap it around his wrist. He held his breath and rode out the rush of water like a fish hooked on a lure.

When the water had flowed to the other side, he could see that the two gunmen who’d been firing at him were bobbing on the water, limp and motionless. The one face he could see was caved in where it had met a metal protrusion.

Eddie called out. “Chairman, are you all right?”

Juan unwrapped the rope from his wrist and crawled out from underneath the truck beside Eddie. “I’m okay, but I have more sympathy for a marlin now. Dominguez is down at least three men. Do you see where he is?”

“I lost him.”

“Don’t worry. He’ll find us.”