Final Option (Oregon Files 14)

Forty-eight hours later, Juan lounged on the rear seat of a speedboat as if he were completely at ease. His arms were spread, and he had a pleasant grin on his face. His relaxed posture didn’t betray the usual mission-induced adrenaline surging through his veins. His eyes flicked over the two guards stoically watching him from the front of the boat, pistols bulging underneath suit jackets. They were no threat. Not yet. As he went over the operational details in his mind, he gave every appearance that he was taking in Rio’s spectacular sights.

They were cruising on Guanabara Bay, the one-hundred-sixty-square-mile harbor serving Brazil’s second-largest city. To his right in the distance was the giant statue of Christ the Redeemer spreading its arms atop Corvocado Mountain. Closer was Sugarloaf, a monolithic granite peak towering thirteen hundred feet above the entrance to the bay and the tiny Ilha da Laje, an abandoned island fort dating from the seventeenth century. Juan was also able to see three different naval stations and the Rio–Niterói Bridge stretching eight miles across the harbor. Their destination was a giant luxury yacht called the Dragão anchored between them and the bridge.

“Looks like the party is well under way, mi amigo,” Juan said in a thick Spanish accent to Eddie Seng, the Chinese-American sitting next to him. He pointed at the crowd of bikini- and Speedo-clad guests dancing on the two-hundred-foot-long yacht’s sprawling aft deck.

Eddie nodded and replied, “Too bad we can’t join the fun.” Although he spoke in English, any listener would believe Mandarin was his native language based on his pronunciation. In reality, Eddie was born and raised in Manhattan’s Chinatown.

Both of them were in disguise. With brown contacts, darkened hair, and a fake bulbous nose, Juan was unrecognizable. Shorter and more wiry than Juan, Eddie was also a former CIA officer, with years spent undercover in China. He sported a temporary scar slashed across one eyebrow and a trim goatee.

“I forgot to bring my swim trunks,” Juan sai

d. Like Eddie, he was dressed in a sharp tailored suit instead of beachwear. Even with the breeze, he was sweltering as the blazing midafternoon sun made the day hot and muggy.

“I was thinking of a cool, alcoholic beverage,” Eddie said. “I could use a caipirinha right about now.”

“I’ll buy you one later.”

Brazil’s national drink wasn’t in the cards for either of them at the moment. Not when they were about to meet one of the most powerful arms dealers in South America.

He and Eddie hadn’t been allowed any bodyguards or assistants on this visit. It was just the two of them at the orders of the Dragão’s owner, Ricardo Ferreira.

The speedboat pulled up next to the aft platform. Juan and Eddie stepped onto the yacht, where they were greeted by a Brazilian dressed in khakis, sandals, and an unbuttoned silk shirt that showed off a flat stomach and hairless chest. The man looked at the guards, who nodded, confirming that the two guests had been thoroughly searched not only for weapons but for any listening devices. Their phones had been confiscated at the dock.

Ricardo Ferreira smiled at Juan and Eddie. “Gentlemen,” he said in excellent English, “I wasn’t expecting you for another half hour. But we had a break in our appointments, so I’m happy to fit you in.”

They took turns shaking hands, and Juan said, “Mr. Ferreira, it’s a pleasure to finally meet you. My friends in Colombia are intrigued by your invitation.” Juan was playing the part of Jorge González, a representative of the Bocas Cartel that was one of the biggest cocaine suppliers in the world.

“As are my friends in Shanghai,” Eddie added. “The amount of product we need to ship is increasing exponentially. I hope you can help us solve our transportation problems.” He was acting as Chen Lu, the envoy for one of the biggest heroin smugglers in Asia.

“I think I have just the thing for both of you,” Ferreira said, beaming. “I will tell you now that the price for what I’m offering won’t be cheap, but when you see it, I’m sure you’ll agree that it will be worth every dollar. Follow me.”

Ferreira watched Juan as they climbed the stairs. “You walk remarkably well for someone with a prosthetic leg. I don’t see any limp. Which leg is it?”

Juan stopped and lifted his right pant leg to show the plastic calf. The guards who discovered it during the dockside frisking must have told Ferreira about it.

“Goes up to the knee,” he said. “Your men made me take it off to confirm it was real.”

“A necessary precaution,” Ferreira said apologetically. “How did you lose it?”

“Motorcycle accident,” Juan lied.

Ferreira nodded. “A dangerous hobby. The risks I enjoy are more business-oriented.”

Juan was relieved that the intel he’d been given was correct. Ferreira might have seen a photo of Jorge González, but the two of them had never met. Otherwise, he’d know that the real González still had both legs intact. González was scheduled to arrive at the Dragão in thirty minutes with the actual Chen Lu, so Juan and Eddie had only until then to complete their mission.

The two of them were Alpha team, responsible for getting the first agent out. After they had successfully taken Luis Machado, Juan would signal the Oregon’s Beta team at Maracanã Stadium and the Gamma team on Sugarloaf that they were clear to extract the other two agents, López and Belasco.

Ferreira led Juan and Eddie through the crowd of partiers on the afterdeck, stopping every few feet to hug friends and exchange a few laughing words. When they went inside, he took them downstairs.

As they walked, Ferreira said, “I understand the two of you have a mutually beneficial arrangement.”

Juan nodded. “We’re both interested in investing in lucrative new markets. The price for our product has dropped in the U.S., while the price for Mr. Chen’s product has skyrocketed because of the opioid crisis.”

“And with the wealth in my country exploding,” Eddie said, “the demand for cocaine by the upper classes has increased exponentially. At the same time, there is not much of a market for heroin, so we are looking for new opportunities. Our main problem is shipment. Both the U.S. and China have instituted major crackdowns on drug smuggling.”

“We’re losing tens of millions every month in confiscated shipments,” Juan said.

“Then you’ve come to the right place,” Ferreira replied with a huge smile. “Your worries are over.”