The orders were to surreptitiously obtain an array of scientific equipment that was baffling to Bazin. Under the Doctor’s guidance and with the help of engineers and technicians, Bazin went about building a secret facility that seemed to have no useful purpose. Only when it finally went into operation did Bazin understand the true scope of the Doctor’s vision. He shared the breathtaking details with Bazin, making it clear that if the Haitian stuck with him, he would have more wealth and power than he ever dreamed.

The exploitation of the Colombian drug lords was merely a means to an end. Although the drone sale had been lucrative and had supplied the funds to put Phase 1 of the operation into motion, the Doctor needed millions more to bring his ultimate plan to fruition and the cocaine cartels supplied the money. After Bazin, who had since earned the Doctor’s trust, had heard where Phase 2 would lead, he gladly agreed to be a part of it.

The only thing that seemed to stand in their way was the crew of the Oregon.

Bazin drove into Montego Bay and left the pickup in an abandoned lot. By now his clothes were dry. He hailed a taxi to take him to the airport’s private jet facility, where he breezed through immigration and boarded the Gulfstream.

The only one of his men inside the cabin was David Pasquet, a former Haitian National Police SWAT officer and the sniper who’d been sent to take down Eric Stone and Mark Murphy.

“Where is everyone else?” Bazin asked him.

Pasquet solemnly shook his head. “No one else is coming.”

Bazin stared at him in disbelief. “Dead?”

“According to the police reports I’m hearing. I barely made it here myself.”

Bazin poked his head into the cockpit and barked at the pilot to take off as soon as he had clearance.

“What happened?” Bazin snapped as he changed into fresh clothes.

“I can only speculate,” Pasquet began, “but I think at least one of the women at the spa survived the attack and warned the rest of them. By the time I was set to take my shot, my targets were taking cover. I believe I clipped one of them, but the police arrived before I could finish them off. The Oregon left the harbor over an hour ago.”

Bazin told him about his sea battle with Juan Cabrillo.

“Including the two who came with me, that’s nine men lost today.” Bazin shook his head in disgust. They weren’t his best, but they were the best available on short notice. “This crew is formidable even when they don’t have their magic ship. We’ve gotten complacent with our surveillance advantage.”

“Do you think this jeopardizes the plan?” Pasquet asked.

“That’s up to the Doctor.”

Once the jet took off, Bazin braced himself for the phone call he had to make. It wasn’t going to be pleasant.

When the Doctor answered, he was his usual curt self. “Well?”

“They got away.”

“How many of them?”

Bazin grimaced. “All of them.”

There was silence on the phone for a gut-churning moment. “I give you literally the best intelligence money can buy and you let them escape?”

“The plans were put together at short notice,” Bazin said, a defense he knew was lame.

“You know we’re only four days away from the drone intercept mission. We can’t afford to commit unforced errors.”

“I can assure you this won’t happen again.”

“If the U.S. military finds out that their Piranha drones were not only stolen but also put to active use, it could eventually lead back to you and me. If that happens before the mission, the whole plan could fall apart. Do you understand?”

“Should we warn the Venezuelans that their operations may be compromised?”

“No. I kept a back door into the code controlling the drones. Once they’ve done their work today, I’ll set them to self-destruct. They’ll sink, and that will be the last anyone hears of them.”

“What about Admiral Ruiz?”

“What about her? The drones have done the job for her. Besides, this is her fault. If she hadn’t let the Oregon go, we wouldn’t be in this mess.”

“And the Oregon?”

“I’ll keep tabs on her just in case.”

“They’ve left Montego Bay. They must be near where I had to abandon my pursuit of Juan Cabrillo’s fishing boat.”

“I can’t surveil them unless I know exactly where they are. Have the jet circle the area and tell me the coordinates.”

“They couldn’t have gotten far in the time it took me to get to the airport,” Bazin said. “We’ll find them for you.”

Bazin told the pilot where to fly, tracing the route the Oceanaire had taken from Montego Bay Harbor to the fishing grounds and then adding on the distance the ship had time to travel since it left. The cloud cover was low, under three thousand feet, so the pilot had to dip below it to search for the ship.

They descended from the clouds, and Bazin was ready to transmit the GPS coordinates to the Doctor as soon as he spotted the ship. But when they reached clear sky, all they saw was an expansive carpet of blue stretching in all directions from the Jamaican coastline. The only visible vessel was a cruise ship on the distant horizon. Otherwise, the sea was unbroken. There wasn’t even a sign of the Cast Away, which presumably meant it was now sitting on the bottom of the ocean. As for the freighter, Bazin was mystified.

The Oregon was gone.

Thirty miles east of Jamaica

Juan was sure the Jamaican authorities were asking a lot of questions about why dead men were cropping up all over the island and two charter fishing boats had disappeared. He didn’t want to risk returning to Montego Bay.

Instead of repairing Craig Reed’s fishing boat and returning it to Montego Bay without him aboard, they used one of the Oregon’s cranes to hoist it into the largest hold, where technicians would fix the engines and patch up the damage free of charge for all the trouble they’d caused.

As soon as the Cast Away had been secured, Juan ordered the Oregon at full speed to get out of the area as fast as they could in case their attackers had something more up their sleeve. Three hours later, they had Eddie, Linc, and his motorcycle on board via a side trip from one of the Oregon’s high-powered lifeboats into Ocho Rios. The local Harley shop would have to send someone to retrieve Eddie’s rental.

Once Juan had his crew back together and they were sailing out into blue water, he went to visit the medical bay. He entered to find Julia writing some notes on her tablet.

“How’s our guest doing?” he asked.

She tossed the tablet on her desk and leaned back, running her fingers through her hair. Except for a slight weariness around the eyes, she showed no sign of the stress she’d been through. “The surgery went well. Internal bleeding was causing a pressure buildup around his pleural sac. I’ve removed the bullet, put in a chest tube, and sutured the wounds. He should be up and about in a few days. Six weeks for a full recovery.”

“That’s good to hear. Is he awake?”

“No. I’ll let you know when he’s up for visitors.”

“Thanks. When he comes to, let him know that his boat is well taken care of.”

“I will.”

“What’s the diagnosis for our daring skateboarder?”

“A few stitches and a walking cast. He’ll have a nice scar to impress the ladies.”

“He’s cleared for duty?”

“He can certainly sit at his post in the op center, but I wouldn’t make him run laps.”