Marauder (Oregon Files 15)

Polk shrugged. “Doubtful. I set the computer servers to overwrite the drives, but I didn’t have time to see if they took any with them.”

“This is potentially damaging.”

Polk nodded. “I wasn’t expecting last minute visitors. I had to blow the factory as soon as possible in case another team showed up.”

“Who could possibly know?”

“Hard to say. Perhaps there’s a leak with Lu’s people,” Polk said.

“He may have made a mistake somewhere along the way that led these people to us. So what do we do?”

“We try to find them.”

“How?”

“Where would they go next?” he asked rhetorically. “The logical place to start is with our cargo ship. But they would know it as the Shepparton. They have no idea its real name is the Centaurus. I’m confident our shipment is safe.”

“Yes, I think so, too,” Jin said.

“The most damaging info that they could have gotten from the computer files is about the Enervum and its antidote.”

“If they learn that the

re is an antidote, they’ll need the nut oil to make it.”

“Since there are only two places in the world to obtain those nuts,” Polk said, “I could take a strike team to destroy the existing supply. I’ll go to Jakarta first.”

“That’s a good idea,” Jin said. “But what about the archaeological dig Lu sent us to?”

“It’s so remote, I never thought anyone would find it.”

“We can’t make that assumption anymore. I’ll take the Marauder there. Since it’s closer than the original nut source, the people on that spy ship—the Norego—might send someone to check it out or the whole ship might go. Maybe I’ll come across them on the way there. If not, I’ll be waiting to eliminate them.”

“I want you to be careful,” Polk said, taking Jin in his arms. “That Gatling gun I saw them use was pretty powerful.”

“Maybe. But we’ve got some weapons of our own.”

THIRTY-NINE

THE ORD RIVER ESTUARY, WESTERN AUSTRALIA

Juan had the Oregon anchor in the wide Cambridge Gulf, bordered on the west by high sandstone hills and on the east by mudflats and thick mangrove colonies. The northern part of the gulf let out into the Timor Sea, while the southern end was dominated by Adolphus Island. It was bounded by arms of the Ord River, now swollen to more than a mile in width by the heavy seasonal monsoons.

Juan piloted the RHIB up the eastern arm of the river, while Eric guided him toward the GPS coordinates that they’d obtained from the factory computer. Since Juan didn’t expect any trouble on this expedition, Sylvia had joined them, holding a camera that linked back to Murph on the Oregon so he could participate. Juan also asked Bob Parsons to come along since he was familiar with the outback flora and fauna as well as its geography. Julia Huxley rounded out the team. If they found any clues about the antidote, Juan wanted her there to work through the formula.

Even this early in the morning, the summer heat and humidity were oppressive. The breeze as the RHIB motored along the river helped, but Juan’s shirt was still soaked with sweat.

Sylvia leaned over the gunwale for a better view to show Murph the scenery, and Parsons tapped her on the shoulder.

“I wouldn’t be doing that if I were you,” he said.

“Taking video?”

“Putting yourself out over the water. You make a tempting meal.”

He pointed at the river. What looked at first like drifting logs were actually massive crocodiles.

Sylvia leaped back from the edge, nearly dropping the camera. Eric reached out to steady her and then self-consciously pulled his hands away when he saw that Juan noticed his protective gesture.