Final Option (Oregon Files 14)

That must have been what Machado went back to retrieve from his cabin.

“Don’t worry,” Juan said. “We’ll get him.”

Machado didn’t answer. His hand fell to his side. His eyes closed. He let out a death rattle and went still.

Eddie, who had some training as a medic, immediately began CPR. Even though they’d have Machado to the Oregon in minutes, Juan didn’t think it would do any good. The blood loss was too great.

Leaving Machado in Eddie’s care, Juan stood and handed the memory stick to Murph.

“When we get back to the Oregon, see what’s on there,” Juan said. “You memorized the password?”

Murph simply nodded.

Juan bent down to Linda’s side. She was awake but looked confused.

“How are you doing?” he asked.

“She can’t hear you,” Murph said with a hitch in his voice. “I threw a flashbang into the cockpit. It went off right behind her head. She’s completely deaf.”

“What? Why would you do that?”

“I don’t know.”

“It was both our faults, Chairman,” Gomez called back from the cockpit. “I knocked the grenade out of his hand for some reason.”

“We went crazy out of nowhere,” Murph said. “All three of us. I can’t explain it. It was sheer terror. I couldn’t control myself.”

“He’s right,” Gomez said. “Then suddenly it was gone, and we were back to our normal selves. Except for Linda, of course.”

What they were saying made no sense to Juan. Their reported behavior was the exact opposite of the controlled professionalism he’d come to expect from them.

“We’ll have Hux check all of you when the mission is over.” He looked at Eddie futilely performing CPR on Machado and seethed about the failure. “I want to know how this happened.”

“Two minutes out from the Oregon.”

“I want a fast turnaround. Have Eric Stone meet us at the moon pool. He and I will go back out with Gomez to rendezvous with the other teams.”

“What about the crack in the cupola window?” Gomez asked.

“We’ll duct-tape it,” Juan said. “The reason that Ferreira brought Machado into his organization is because the other two agents vouched for him. It’s only a matter of time before Ferreira figures out they must be spies as well and rats them out. Alert Beta and Gamma teams to initiate extraction missions immediately.”

11

The midfield seats were the best in Maracanã Stadium, but Franklin “Linc” Lincoln paid no attention to the tense soccer match between Peru and Mexico that was tied at one all. Instead, he was focused on the man two rows in front of him, Diego López. The CIA agent was cheering the players’ every move, along with the men on either side of him, both killers from the Juárez Cartel of Mexico.

The plan was to get López away from his companions long enough to escort him out of the stadium alive. At one time Maracanã was the biggest on the planet, capable of holding almost two hundred thousand spectators. Since renovations for the Olympics and World Cup, its capacity was down to seventy-eight thousand, but that was more than enough crowd to cover their exit at the end of the game.

“Beta, this is Omega,” Gomez said in Linc’s ear. “You have to move now.”

Linc glanced at the game clock. Three minutes to halftime. “The plan was to wait until the end of the game so we can lose ourselves in the crowd.”

“You don’t have time,” Gomez replied. “Alpha team’s mission went badly. You may be compromised soon. I’ll be calling Gamma next to tell them the same thing. Rendezvous is still as planned.”

“Understood.” The connection clicked off.

“Why was Gomez on the line?” asked Raven Malloy, who had been listening to the communication on her own molar mic. “Do you think something happened to Linda?”

Like Linc, she was dressed in a Mexican national team jersey, except on her it was tied at the waist and showed off her trim, athletic figure. On him it strained to contain his huge shoulders.