“Tell Eric to set course for Denpasar. And ask Lang to have a CIA vetted doctor, a private ambulance, and a security team waiting for us at the dock to take Oliver Muñoz and the others to a hospital. He can tell the Senators to meet their families there.”
“What should I tell Mr. Overholt about the status of Mr. Muñoz?” Hali asked.
“That he’s in the best care known to medicine, and Julia thinks he’s going to make it.”
“Aye, Chairman.”
He hung up and saw Gomez exit the tiltrotor as the roof above them closed.
“Thanks for the assist, Chairman.”
“I didn’t want to lose you on our first mission.”
“Me neither. There’s no damage to my new baby, but it’s a bloody mess in there,” Gomez said. “We’re going to have to do a biohazard cleanup.” Gomez headed off to get the supplies while technicians secured the aircraft.
Both Eddie and Linc wore dour expressions, and their clothes were still wet.
“I hope Muñoz is going to be okay,” Linc said.
“Me, too,” Eddie added. “I wish we could have gotten them out of the park before the mortar shells came down.”
“If it wasn’t for you,” Juan said, “all four of them would be dead, along with possibly dozens of other Ocean Land guests. Speaking of, where are they and MacD?”
“MacD took them to get some drinks and fresh clothes,” Linc said. “They’re pretty freaked out by the whole thing, especia
lly Muñoz’s daughter.”
“I thought it was better that they get them off the deck,” Eddie said. “If Kyle Schmidt saw the tiltrotor descend into a hidden compartment on the Oregon, he would have been posting about it on social media the moment he got his phone back.”
“Good thought,” Juan said. “Come on. Let’s get you into dry clothes before the debriefing. While you’re doing that, I’ll go find MacD and the others in the mess to give them an update on Oliver Muñoz.”
As they walked to the tram, Linc said, “So far, I like the new ship, especially that laser. Came in handy.”
“So did the rail gun,” Juan said. “We used it to take out the fishing boat that was firing the mortars, although it looks like Max has to work out the bugs with some of the other new equipment. By the way, your new Harley made it into the hold before we set sail.”
Although they hadn’t lost any crew members when the previous ship sank in a Chilean fjord, many of their personal effects went down with it, including Linc’s beloved custom motorcycle.
“Can’t wait to see it,” Linc said. “As soon as we get back to Malaysia, I’m going for a ride. I’m meeting an old Navy buddy in Penang for Christmas.” The Oregon was scheduled to be back in dry dock two days before the holiday.
They got on the next tram and headed back toward the crew quarters at the stern section of the ship.
“Wish I could have been there for the renaming ceremony,” Eddie said. This Oregon was rebuilt from the frame of a break bulk cargo ship headed to the scrapyard, so they carried out the customary ritual for christening a ship with a new name.
“It was a little rushed because of Raven’s call about the potential hijacking, but the Dom Pérignon went down well while we burned the old logbook. Just remember never to mention the Oregon’s previous name again. We don’t want any bad luck.” Juan knew that sailors tended to be a superstitious bunch and didn’t want to anger the sea gods.
When they reached the crew quarters, Eddie and Linc headed to their cabins, and Juan walked toward the phony mess hall, which was distinct from the actual dining room for the crew. The Oregon had a portion of the ship meant to be seen by harbormasters, inspectors, and anyone else that needed to tour the ship. Those areas could be dressed up or made completely disgusting as the mission required.
But the hidden sections of the ship where the crew lived and worked were as elegant and luxurious as a five-star cruise ship. Since crew members spent most of the time on the Oregon, they were given allowances to decorate and furnish their cabins any way they liked. And the public areas were just as inviting. The dining service would have been Michelin rated if it were a restaurant, and the hallway Juan was walking through was appointed with plush carpeting, soft lighting, and original artwork rotated out from bank vaults where the Corporation’s assets were held.
Juan reached the end of the corridor. To exit the ship’s hidden inner sanctum, Juan pulled on the handle, and the door swung open to reveal a janitor’s closet. When he closed it behind him, there was nothing to indicate that it was anything other than a wall with shelves of cleaning supplies. To open it back up, all Juan would have to do was press his hand against the white board next to the sink, and the palm print reader would automatically open it for him, as it would for any other authorized crew member.
He checked a camera view to make sure no one was outside and exited the closet into a hallway that was like any other generic cargo ship interior, with fluorescent lighting, whitewashed walls, and linoleum floors. If they wanted to make the environment less appealing to get visiting officials off the ship quickly, they could change the color of the wall paint. To make the illusion more convincing, the lights could be made to flicker, and a putrid smell could be pumped through the ventilation system.
Juan entered the public mess hall and saw MacD, dressed in a sweatshirt and shorts, talking to Emily Schmidt, who had her arms around her son Kyle and Elena Muñoz.
Juan went up to them and said, “I’m David Irving, captain of the Norego. I’m sorry we had to meet under such terrible circumstances, but we intend to get you back to Denpasar soon.”
Elena looked up at him, tears in her eyes. “How is my father? Is he going to live?”