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“Take him down,” Eddie said.
Linc pulled the trigger.
72
The Oregon shuddered, just a minor slip downward, as some interior spaces filled with water. It was enough to save Tate’s life.
Something sliced along his cheek, and he flinched as if he’d been slapped. Then he heard the crack of a rifle from somewhere high above and realized that Juan had placed a sniper on the mountain overlooking the fjord. Cabrillo had deliberately coaxed him from his hiding spot just to blow his brains out. It almost worked.
Tate emptied his magazine in Juan’s direction. He ducked back into his hiding spot just in time to avoid two more rounds that dug craters in the deck right where he’d been standing. When he was protected by the safety of the superstructure, he ejected the mag from his rifle and slapped a new one in. Blood dribbled down his chin and onto his shirt, but Tate felt no pain. He was jacked from the adrenaline surging through his veins.
“That was smart!” he called out. “You nearly got me. But your own ship let you down.”
No answer.
“You still out there, Juan? I didn’t hear a splash.”
“Time to make this a fair fight, Tate!” Cabrillo shouted back.
Tate heard the sound of a bulkhead door slamming closed.
Fair fight? To make it a fair fight, Cabrillo would need an assault rifle of his own.
He headed to the armory, just two decks below. Instead of Tate worrying about Juan getting a weapon to take him on in a gun battle, he was elated by the gift.
He risked a peek around the superstructure and saw fog blanketing the mountain. The sniper was now blind.
Tate ran for the door, one of the hidden ones that led into the secret areas of the ship. In his haste to get to the armory, Cabrillo had left it ajar.
Tate threw it open and followed Cabrillo into the bowels of the sinking Oregon.
* * *
—
Juan didn’t dwell on his bad luck as he ran down the stairs. Linc’s shot was right on the mark. It was the ship that moved Tate out of the bullet’s path.
It didn’t take long for Juan to settle on a new strategy. The fog that rolled in and took Linc out of the equation forced him to consider a Plan C. Or maybe he was up to Plan F, at this point. It didn’t help that the ship was rapidly sinking. Juan knew that he had only a few minutes left before she went under.
He’d told Max that he didn’t want to die, and that still held true. But Tate wasn’t going to let him off the Oregon alive. And Juan didn’t have another gun in his combat leg.
It was something that Tate had said up on deck that made him think of this new tactic. Tate said he knew the Oregon as well as Juan did.
But Tate didn’t. Only a member of the Corporation knew the ship as intimately as Juan. There were things on board that he had modified since the Oregon was first designed and built. Changes that wouldn’t have been in the original plans Tate had stolen to construct the Portland. Minor alterations that made the Oregon absolutely unique despite her doppelgänger.
The armory had one of those modifications.
He just hoped that Tate took the bait and followed him.
73
Tate took the stairs down two at a time. He was racing to reach the armory before Cabrillo could come out with a weapon. If Tate caught him while he was still in the armory, he could lock Juan inside. Then the captain really would go down with his ship.
Two levels down, Tate sprinted along the hallway until he reached the door of the shooting range. Drops of fresh blood on the elegant carpeting ended there.
Tate knelt and pulled the door of the range open slowly in case Juan was plotting an ambush. Tate swept the interior of the firing range with his rifle, but it was clear. The blood drips continued to the armory.
Cabrillo was still in there.
