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The truck lurched forward, but not before the rear door to the factory burst open. Juan and the others immediately cut down the first two guards through, but a third managed to get off a volley before he was shot.

The guard’s bullets raked the back of the truck. As it sped around the building, Juan yelled, “Anyone hurt?” It was only then that he saw a round dent in one of the boxes holding the dynamite and realized they were lucky it hadn’t penetrated and set off one of the sticks.

All the answers were no except Parsons, who was cradling his right hand, blood oozing through his fingers. He looked more annoyed than hurt.

“Look at this mess. I’ll need help piloting the Flyer now.”

Linda took a field dressing out of her med kit and wrapped it around the wound.

“Never mind me,” Parsons said. “Take care of him.” He was pointing at Juan’s right leg.

Juan looked down and saw a bullet hole in his pants below the knee.

“It’s all right,” Juan said, lifting the pant leg to show off his combat prosthesis, which now had a slug embedded in it. “Remember, I’m a vet like you.”

The truck rounded the building. Scattered gunshots peppered the side of the truck as it accelerated across the concrete. When they had a view of the building from the rear bed, Juan and his team opened fire, holding back the few guards who had come out this way.

The truck passed the row of Qingdaos, then flew up the rear ramp and onto the car deck of the Marsh Flyer. It screeched to a halt, and when Juan jumped out, he saw that Linc had stopped mere inches from one of the other two trucks.

“Linc, you take the right passenger compartment. Eddie, the left. MacD and Linda, stay on the car deck. I’ll help Parsons fly this thing.”

“What’s your name again?” Parsons asked as he climbed the ladder to the cockpit.

“Juan Cabrillo.”

“I can’t wait to hear how you ended up in this place.”

“A story for another time,” Juan said, following him up.

He could already hear sporadic gunfire and the sound of the small hovercraft outside starting up.

* * *


Angry about the last-minute incursion on the factory, Polk ordered his men to go after the intruders and kill every last one of them, including Parsons. He didn’t bother going back to his office. Now nobody would believe the evidence he’d carefully arranged to be planted around the building. It was more important to destroy the facility and its contents and get out of there as soon as possible.

He went back to the truck with the detonator and reset it to two minutes. Then he sprinted for the helicopter.

While in Australia’s Special Operations Command, Polk had taken rotary wing flight training, so the Bell JetRanger was a cinch for him to fly. He jumped in and started up the engine without even going through the checklist.

At the same time his overhead rotor began spinning, so did the giant propellers on the Marsh Flyer.

“Do not let them leave,” he ordered into his radio.

One of the Qingdao hovercraft with four men aboard rose up on its skirt and hurtled across the tarmac. Bullets sparked off the fuselage, and one guard went down, but not before the craft was able to shoot up the rear ramp of the Marsh Flyer and onto the car deck.

A second Qingdao was only moments behind, but the giant hovercraft was lifted up by its own skirt, causing the temporary ramp to slide off. The second Qingdao bounced off the rubber without going in. Instead, it flipped over, crushing the guards on board.

The Marsh Flyer accelerated off the concrete and over the swamp, but Polk could see the flash of gunfire through the open rear clamshell doors. The four remaining Qingdaos, now holding the only surviving guards, took off after it.

With his rotor at max speed, Polk lifted the chopper off at full throttle so he could quickly gain speed and altitude and put some distance between him and the factory.

He checked his watch, which was counting down in sync with the timer on the detonator.

. . . three . . . two . . . one . . .

The first load of dynamite went off right on time, blowing a hole through the roof of the Enervum factory. It was followed in quick succession by a series of gigantic blasts that rippled across the building until it was one huge fireball. The shock wave tossed the JetRanger around, but Polk was able to get it under control.


Tags: Clive Cussler Oregon Files Thriller