Final Option (Oregon Files 14)

When they reached the Zodiacs, they hustled the boats into the water and started the motors. Since Bradley didn’t have a weapon, Juan gave the controls to him while he, Linc, and Eddie aimed at the sky. MacD and Raven were doing the same thing in their boat while Murph drove.

The river here wasn’t very broad, only a few dozen yards across. The Oregon was anchored at a fork two miles away. At max speed, it would take less than four minutes to reach it.

“Stay close to the bank,” Juan said to Bradley. Then he called Max on his comm link. “Max, we’re taking fire out here.”

“Gunfire in the jungle?”

“No, a chopper. Tate is dropping bombs on us. No casualties, but they’re getting closer. Can you get a lock on it?”

“It’s not on our radar. It must be hugging the trees.”

“We’re bringing it to you.”

“We’ll be ready,” Max said.

Juan heard the chopper coming from the direction of the U-boat. The helicopter, the Agusta, flashed from one side to the other and disappeared again. For a split second, Juan saw Tate’s smug face smiling down at them from the open door.

“They’ll be coming around now that they know where we are!” Juan shouted. “Get to the other side of the river!”

Both Zodiacs veered across the water until they were next to the opposite bank. At the same time, the Agusta appeared out of the trees. Tate tossed a C-4 packet down where they would have been seconds before and it exploded almost the moment it touched the water. The resulting geyser drenched the boats but wasn’t close enough to damage them.

Juan had them slow down to mess up Tate’s timing again, and when the chopper came around for the next pass, Juan and the rest of them fired their weapons as it crossed the river. The submachine guns were designed for short range in tight quarters. It was unlikely the rounds hit anyone, but it would give Tate something to think about before the next bombing run.

By now, Juan recognized where they were. If they could get around the next bend, the Oregon would have a clear shot at the helicopter.

“Max, we’re about to lure Tate into the open. Prepare to fire.”

“Aster ready,” Max replied. The anti-aircraft missile was radar guided, so as soon as the Agusta was in the Oregon’s sights, it would transfer the target lock to the weapon.

The next time the helicopter flew over, Tate dumped the C-4 right behind Juan’s Zodiac. The explosion tossed the boat into the air, which luckily landed upright instead of capsizing. Juan’s teeth rattled from the impact, but he was able to stay in the Zodiac, as were Eddie and Bradley. Linc, however, was thrown overboard into the water.

“Keep going!” Juan ordered the other boat while Bradley circled around. Linc grabbed the side of the Zodiac, and Juan and Eddie hauled him in.

“Go! Go!”

Raven, MacD, and Murph were now two hundred yards ahead and past the bend in the river and in full view of the Oregon. Bradley raced toward it, and the helicopter emerged from the trees and hovered over the water behind them.

Tate stared at them. The Agusta didn’t move.

The Zodiac reached the bend, and Juan saw the Oregon, its missile battery ready to launch.

The helicopter stayed where it was.

Juan told Bradley to slow down, then turned back to Tate. Juan waved his arm, trying to goad his nemesis into following them.

Tate cocked his head, which was followed by a huge grin. He wagged his finger at Juan and spoke into his headset. The Agusta turned and flew away along the path of the river.

“He knew the Oregon was waiting,” Eddie said.

Juan thought about that wagging, scolding finger. He should have known taking Tate down wouldn’t be all that easy.

“Don’t worry,” he said as he watched the Agusta vanish behind the trees. “We’ll get another chance.”

47

THE SOUTH PACIFIC

A sailor opened the hatch in the deck of the Chinese Wuzong, and, for the first time in two weeks, Admiral Yu Jiang smelled that salty tang of the ocean. He climbed the ladder until he was standing on the observation platform and took a deep breath, happy to be free of the body odor and diesel fumes that permeated the sub despite its air filters. He raised his binoculars and scanned the horizon. The only vessel visible in any direction was a Panamanian-flagged fuel tanker called the Diamond Wave that was idling five hundred yards dead ahead.