Chapter 31
El Salvador
The Oregon was anchored a mile offshore from the Port of Acajutla.
The capitán de puerto—the harbormaster—had denied her entrance.
At first, Cabrillo assumed his cover had been blown, but a few quick questions and a consult with a commercial vessel tracking system confirmed that the busy port was, indeed, suffering a logjam.
Though highly efficient and flexible, the small port only had three piers and eight berths, and accommodated everything from container ships to cruise ships.
President Olmedo’s reforms had transformed El Salvador into a minor economic miracle in short order.
There were big plans for a significant expansion, but for now Acajutla Port was more crowded than a Costco parking lot on Christmas Eve.
Cabrillo graciously informed the capitán de puerto that his schedule was a bit flexible, and the grateful harbormaster promised swift service as soon as a dock became available.
In truth, Cabrillo was grateful for the mix-up. It wasn’t actually necessary for the Oregon to dock in order to gain access to the port or their target, the Golden Lotus.
The other advantage to the change in plan was practical. Since Raven and Linc hadn’t called in for an exfil, Juan authorized Gomez to make the short hop in the tilt-rotor to pick up Murphy and his friend Linlin Zhang from the San Salvador airport and ferry them to the Oregon.
Juan was deeply conflicted. On the one hand, he was thrilled Murph and his friend had escaped the assassination attempt in Thailand and had made it all the way back to San Salvador in one piece.
Murphy had called Juan from the Oregon’s Gulfstream on a secure line while still en route over the Pacific and filled him in on the details of the Thailand attack.
Murph was no fool—he would never put the Oregon’s security at risk.
The talented weapons officer made a compelling case that Linlin’s life was in danger and she had no other alternatives.
But Cabrillo wasn’t accustomed to strangers coming on board the Oregon unless they had been thoroughly vetted, and he didn’t consider Murph’s history of tickling tonsils with his former girlfriend a proper background investigation.
Cabrillo believed Murphy, but that didn’t change the fact she was an unknown quantity.
He offered an awkward compromise Murph readily accepted.
Cabrillo also ordered the special effects crew to “dirty up” the Oregon just enough to keep Linlin in the dark regarding the ship’s true capacities.
Gomez landed the thundering AW tilt-rotor aircraft with feathery grace and cycled down the engines. Murphy and Linlin hopped onto the Oregon’s main deck, ducking low beneath the slowing carbon-fiber blades circling overhead, their backpacks in hand.
Murphy led her toward the door of the soaring superstructure perched on the Oregon’s aft end.
The two of them stepped over loose cables, past dented and rusty oil drums, and through the doorway flaked with peeling paint.
Once inside, Linlin’s nose curled at the overwhelming smell of Pine-Sol.
The potent aromatic embellishment was the finishing touch on the Magic Shop’s “trashy Oregon” set design.
Murph drew her by the hand down the long, narrow corridor of faded and cracked linoleum and into the galley—a mass of clean but scratched and marred stainless steel benches. The order window’s rolling shutter was bolted closed.
Juan greeted the two of them with a welcoming smile, wearing his customary linen slacks, leather loafers, and silky tropical shirt.
Eddie Seng, Juan’s director of shore operations and head of the Gundogs, stood next to him. The former CIA undercover had spent years in China. The wiry close-quarters combat specialist wore his hair long and his beard thick.
Murphy stumbled over and Juan bear-hugged him.
“Now you’re safe,” Cabrillo said. He turned and faced Linlin, thrusting out his hand. “Juan Cabrillo.”
Linlin took his hand gratefully. Her slim, unmanicured fingers offered a firm grip.
“I can’t thank you enough, Captain.”
“Chairman,” Murph corrected.
“My apologies—”
“Juan is fine. Welcome aboard the Agua Linda.” He turned to Eddie. “My navigator, Eddie Seng.”
“Nǐ hǎo,” Eddie said, using his most pronounced American inflection. As an undercover he mastered the Chinese mainland accent and various Mandarin dialects, but he didn’t want Linlin to suspect he’d ever been there.
It must have worked. She fought back a grin, no doubt amused by his unusual perversion of her mother tongue.
Seng waited until Linlin offered her hand first, out of courtesy.
He was careful not to stare daggers through her lest he be perceived as aggressive or rude, but his trained eye took in every possible detail.
He had only survived his years in a low-trust, high-surveillance culture like Communist China by being able to read people instantaneously.
“Nǐ hǎo.” The brief handshake ended with a slight nod of their heads, a sign of mutual respect. Linlin turned to her faultless English. “Where did you learn to speak Chinese?”
“I was born in New York City. Chinatown, technically.”
“I’ve never been there.”
“I think you would enjoy it. If you ever go, I will give you my parents’ phone number. They would be happy to host you.”
“That’s very nice of you to offer.”
Eddie’s high-alert sensors dropped a few degrees. Linlin was completely charming. Still, he couldn’t escape the feeling that he was the one being interrogated.
“You look utterly exhausted,” Juan said.
“I didn’t sleep much on the plane,” Murph said. “Too jacked up on adrenaline and coffee.”
Cabrillo nodded. “Long plane flights are the worst.”
“I appreciate you letting me take shelter with you,” Linlin said. “When Murph said he knew a safe location, I had no idea he was referring to a cargo ship at sea.”
“I don’t know your situation exactly,” Juan said, “but whoever’s looking for you will be hard-pressed to find you here. Have you ever been on a working cargo vessel before?”
“No, I haven’t. I’m intrigued. I would think it a very romantic life.”
“Hardly. It’s pretty boring stuff. We’re like a giant delivery truck. Having said that, I’m going to restrict you to your private quarters while you’re on board. The decks can be very dangerous. Lots of heavy equipment. It’s for your safety.”
“I understand.”
Cabrillo noted Linlin’s eyes narrowing slightly.
The rolling shutter suddenly opened with a stuttering racket.
One of the Oregon’s sous-chefs, dressed down in working utilities rather than the customary Cordon Bleu–styled jacket, stood grimly behind the counter, a smoldering cigarette dangling from her lower lip—fully in character.
Juan picked her for this assignment because she’d spent a year acting in Off-Broadway productions before heading to cooking school.
She relished the chance to play the role of the grumpy ship’s cook while secretly keeping watch over the stranger.
“I’m sure you guys are starving.” Juan waved a hand at the counter as he turned toward Linlin. “Cookie there will whip you up anything you want, so long as its eggs, bacon, or hamburger.” He leaned in close. “She doesn’t have much of a repertoire, but it’s still pretty good.”
Linlin began to demur, but she suddenly realized Cabrillo wanted to speak with Murph privately.
“Thank you. I am rather famished.” She smiled and made a beeline for the stainless steel counter.
As soon as Linlin was out of earshot, Juan pulled Murph aside by the elbow. He kept an eye on her as he spoke with Murphy in whispered tones.
“So what does she know about us?”
“Only that we are a cargo vessel hauling on a contract basis. I told her she’d be safe here.”
“And she is. But she’s not an idiot, is she?”
“One of the best computer scientists I ever studied with.”
“And what does she think you do on this ship being perhaps an even better computer scientist? Clean the bilges?”
“I told her I ran comms and maintained the electronics because I needed a career change, and the only computer stuff I do anymore is gaming.”
“And she believed you?”
Murph grinned, and pointed at his wrinkled concert T-shirt. “Do I look like a weapons officer on the world’s most advanced espionage ship? Or a goofy gamer?”
Juan shook his head. Hard to argue with that.
“And what’s her story?”
“She works at a German computing firm and the MSS thinks she’s a traitor, so they tried to kill her—me, too, by the way.”
“Why did they think she was a traitor?”
“She was explaining it to me when the bad guys started cutting loose with their gats.”
“ ‘Gats’? What are you, Dashiell Hammett now?”
Murph shrugged. “Been watching a lot of noir detective movies lately.”
Juan sighed through his nose, thinking. Something wasn’t quite right, but he couldn’t put his finger on it.
“You trust her?”
“Totally. Question is, do you trust me?”
“Of course I do. But the truth of the matter is she doesn’t have security clearance.
Neither does my sweet ninety-two-year-old abuela, and I wouldn’t grant her access to the lower decks, either.
So just like we agreed, she can stay on board, but only up here.
By the way, did you confiscate her phone? ”
“Soon as we got on the plane. I told her it was for her own protection. She didn’t have a problem with it. I already ran a diagnostic on it while she slept. It’s clean.” Murphy pulled her phone from his pocket and handed it to Cabrillo.
“I’ll hold on to this for the duration. Go grab some grub, and take her to the guest cabin. It’s already been made up. Does she need anything else?”
“She hardly packed anything. Maybe some clothes?”
“If some of our ladies can’t find a wardrobe for her, I’ll have Nixon put something together.”
“That’s more than I could ask for.”
“She’ll be confined to her cabin, even her meals. Understood?”
“Perfectly.”
“How long do you think she’ll be with us?”
“Depends on how soon she can find a place to hide. She has to be careful how she reaches out. The MSS will be monitoring all of her known contacts. It will be a few days at least. Is that a problem?”
“I briefed you on the Golden Lotus—and you know about Linc and Raven. I’m not expecting any serious problems, but if things get kinetic, she’s exposed up here. She can’t know what we’re doing, but her life is technically at risk. Are you willing to take responsibility for that?”
“She’s safer here than anywhere else. So yeah, I’m comfortable with that.”
“Then she can stay however long it takes—but the sooner she’s off this ship, the better. She’s already seen the tilt-rotor. She doesn’t need to know about the rest of our toys.”
“Agreed.”
“In the meantime, I need you to get back to work. You read the two after-action reports I sent you?”
“Yeah. Crazy stuff. I’ve got a few ideas about that cloaking device I want to check out.”
“Good. After you get your girlfriend squared away, come find me in the conference room. We’ve got a mission to plan.” Juan sniffed the air. “After you take a shower.”
Murph smiled. “Aye.” He headed for the serving window.
Juan turned to Eddie, lowering his voice.
“Thoughts?”
“Cute girl.”
“Besides the obvious.”
“Not sure. I usually read people as friend or foe.”
“And?”
Eddie glanced at Murph and Linlin laughing and chatting like they were still lovers in university together.
“I don’t know yet.”
“When you have some time, see what you can find out about Murph’s pretty little birdie—but don’t let Murph know. I’ll send you what I have.”
“You got it, boss.”