A moment later, a boat sped out of a gap in the ship’s hull.
It wouldn’t take long for the Marsh Flyer’s rescuers to realize Polk was involved in the attack. He turned the chopper sharply and flew for cover into the nearby cloud bank.
As he flew toward the airport, he called ahead to the pilot to make sure he was ready to take off the moment Polk arrived. Then he phoned his wife.
“How did it go?” she asked. “Are you on your way?”
“I’m on my way, but we’ve got a big problem,” Polk said, fuming about the debacle he had just witnessed. “Our operation has been compromised.”
“Compromised? By whom?”
“That, my dear, is the right question.”
THIRTY-THREE
Despite his injured hand, Bob Parsons didn’t need any help getting into the Oregon’s rigid-hull inflatable boat. He stepped over the gunwale easily from the top of the sinking Marsh Flyer. MacD, Linda, Eddie, and Linc were right behind him, followed by Juan, who was the last off. As Raven steered the RHIB back to the ship, the giant hovercraft turned turtle with a huge splash and disappeared into the depths.
Parsons gave the Flyer a crisp salute, then watched the crane sleeve on the Oregon return into place, covering the Kashtan Gatling guns. He was equally interested in the gap in the hull of the ship where the RHIB had emerged. The boat garage was located at the waterline and contained all their surface craft, including Zodiacs, Jet Skis, and the special operations boat they were now on.
“I know my U.S. Navy ships,” Parsons said, “and that isn’t one of them. I’d say you’ve got yourself a Q-ship.”
Q-ships, warship
s disguised as tramp steamers, were most frequently used against U-boats during World War II. They would act as decoys to lure submarines to the surface where they were vulnerable to the hidden armaments.
“You’re looking at the Oregon,” Juan said, “and I’m her captain. As you’ve already seen, she has a few hidden tricks.”
“You work for the Americans?”
“Mostly. This job, however, has a more personal aspect. Your employers injured one of my crewmen, and I want to know why.”
“How did you know they were going to kill me?”
“We didn’t. We just happened to be in the right place at the right time to give you a hand. No pun intended.”
“No worries,” Parsons said with a chuckle. “If it hadn’t been for you, I would be part of the factory wreckage.”
“Do you know what they were doing in there?”
“I wish I could tell you. They were pretty tight about security, although I did catch a few bits and pieces from some of the workers there.”
“Like what?”
“I transported a load of ammonium perchlorate to the factory. I looked it up. It’s mainly used to make rocket propellant.”
“How much?”
“I don’t know. A lot.”
“Anything else?” Juan asked.
Parsons shrugged. “Just that some of the people working in there were biochemists, although I don’t know what that would have to do with rockets.”
“Who did you work for?”
“A guy that called himself Miller, although that wasn’t his real name. That was the one who was about to have me wasted. He worked with his wife or girlfriend, but I never got her name. I think she was a ship’s captain like you.”
“Why?”