Piranha

“You said the first step is to shoot down Air Force Two. How, exactly?”

Kensit manipulated the controls so that the telescope descended on Tyndall Air Force Base in Florida until he had the orange-tipped QF-16 drones on the screen. Then he switched to the drone pilots’ control room.

“Those are modified F-16s, with all the same performance capabilities of the actual fighter jets. I did a test a few days ago. I could take over any of the planes’ command streams by mimicking the encrypted frequencies that the satellites use to co

“You can fly those drones?”

Kensit nodded. “And they won’t even be missed, because I can spoof the video feed and data relays. Air Force Two is currently sitting on the tarmac in Rio de Janeiro, having taken the VP there for a South American trade conference. In two days it will take off for its return flight to Washington. At the same time, this flight of six QF-16s will be flying toward the UNITAS exercise in the Bahamas for a demonstration. I will commandeer control of those planes and intercept Air Force Two when it’s over Haiti.”

Washburn leaned in, now more fascinated by than appalled at the prospect of killing to reach his goals. “I get it. You’re going to use the drones’ missiles to shoot it down.”

“No, of course not,” Kensit said, pausing for effect. “The drones don’t carry any missiles. I’m going to fly them right into Vice President Sandecker’s plane.”

It was nearly midnight when Juan and Eric rendezvoused with the Oregon in San Juan, Puerto Rico. Juan felt proud of his quick-thinking crew as he read the after-action report about the events at Saint-Pierre. The Oregon had sailed from Martinique after Max and the crew gave statements to the local authorities, corroborated by the submarine passengers, that the ship’s crew were simply i

He and the rest of the senior officers had slept during their respective journeys, so he called a late-night meeting in the boardroom to plan their next move. Along the way, he stopped by Maria Sandoval’s cabin. She answered the door wearing a pair of silk pajamas that Julia Huxley had loaned her. Juan thought they suited her well, but he made no comment.

“Thanks for seeing me, Captain Cabrillo.”

Juan leaned against the door, creating the unspoken impression that this would be a short visit. “Are you being treated all right?”

“Every amenity I could ask for. Your facilities are marvelous. I wish we had them on my ship.”

“The benefits of our chosen profession.” He left it at that to keep up the appearances that they were simply smugglers. “I understand you called your company and your friends to let them know you’re alive and safe.”

“Yes, thanks for letting me do that.”

“There was no point in holding back the news any longer. Your survival of the shipwreck is known to the conspirators by now.” He didn’t add how he came by that knowledge. “You’re still free to go at any time, of course, but your life might be in danger until we resolve our current situation.”

“I will have to go soon. My company is demanding to debrief me.”

“I’m hoping we can get some more evidence that Admiral Ruiz was behind the attacks in a few more days. That should clear your name completely with your company.”

“The admiral is why I wanted to speak with you. The shipping industry captains in my country are tightly co

“What was she doing in Carúpano?”

“He didn’t know, but she was boarding a small cargo ship. She wasn’t wearing her uniform. It was the government-issue car that drew his attention.”

“Any idea what the cargo was?”

She shook her head. “Nothing but a stack of shipping containers.”

“I appreciate the information. It’s probably something to do with her smuggling operation. I’ll let you know if we learn anything else about it.”

Juan said good night and continued on to the boardroom. When he entered, Murph was recounting the events of the sub encounter to Eric.

“That’s when I drove Little Geek under the falling girders on the Roraima,” Murph said, his hands behind his head. “It destroyed the ROV, of course, but I didn’t have a choice.”

Eddie took up the story. “Although Little Geek kept me from getting crushed, I was still pi

“I just wish I had gotten us fully behind that piece of coral before the bomb went off,” Linc said, munching on an apple. “Doc said you won’t be going into the water for a few weeks.” The only injury among them was a perforated eardrum Eddie suffered.

Juan took his seat at the head of the table. “Good job, everyone. I’m going to have to stop taking excursions like this or you’ll start thinking you can get along without me.”

“Not a chance,” Max said. “I was sweating fifty-caliber hollow points the whole time.”

“That was a tough call to keep your plan a secret, but I would have done the same thing. Where are we with the fruits of your labor?”

“Kevin Nixon worked with the techs in the lab to open the tin,” Linda said. “It was lined with zinc and sealed with paraffin, so it hadn’t rusted through and water hadn’t penetrated the gaps. We found four photo plates inside.”

She removed a cloth covering a white canvas sheet on which lay the five four-and-a-half- by six-and-a-half-inch glass plates. The silver bromide emulsion had been perfectly preserved. Two of the plates had cracks down the center, but the others were completely intact.

“You can look at these originals, if you want,” Linda said, “but I wouldn’t handle them. Not only are they delicate but we found traces of radioactivity on them.” When she saw Hali edge away, she added, “Not enough to be dangerous, but it doesn’t hurt to be careful. They were transferred to digital so we can see them in more detail.”

She lowered the screen and turned on the overhead projector. The first image showed a man standing on a dock in a dark coat and trousers, boots, and a wide-brimmed hat. He wore a serious expression, but his eyes shone with an intensity visible even in the old photo. The Roraima’s name was stenciled on the hull of a ship behind him.

“He’s a happy-looking guy,” Murph said. He looked at Eric. “Is that Gunther Lutzen?”

“I don’t know. We never found a photo of him.”

“It’s probably him,” Linda continued, “but there’s no way to be sure. I’m showing these photos in reverse order to try to backtrack his travel from the time he reached the Roraima. As you can see, the numbers of the photo plates are noted on the bottom right corner. Unfortunately, there aren’t any indications where this photo was taken. There’s nothing distinguishing the port.”