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Max shook his head. “The tracker still has him in the same building in Buenos Aires.”
“Then we still have time.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Intercepting the right phone calls was a challenge because Cabrillo is a fairly common name in Argentina, but I was able to find out from my NSA contact that Juan is scheduled to be moved tomorrow.”
“Did you get any specific intel about the move?” Max asked. He wasn’t surprised that Overholt had been able to acquire the necessary intelligence so quickly. The CIA officer had been one of the most well-connected people in Washington for decades and he would still have friends there even if he was under suspicion of treason.
“He’s being held by rogue elements of the Argentine Army. Th
ey plan to transfer him to a prison near Las Armas tomorrow morning by truck convoy.”
Max had Murph plot the most likely routes the convoy would take from Buenos Aires to Las Armas, which was located two hundred miles south of the capital.
“Luckily, there’s only one obvious route for the convoy to take,” Murph said, tracing a highway through Argentina’s coastal lowlands. “Any other option would take them far out of the way.”
“Expect the escort to be well armed and ready to fight,” Overholt said. “My contact claims that they are under the command of a Colonel Sánchez. For the transfer mission, he’s using handpicked mercenaries who are disgraced former soldiers. They plan to throw Juan into a cell under a false name. There would be no way to get him out without a full-scale assault on the prison.”
“Then the best option for springing him would be to intercept them en route,” Max said.
“That’s what I would advise,” Overholt said. “Do you have the capability for such a scenario?”
Max thought about it as he inspected the map. Then he pointed to a port just seventy miles south of Las Armas called Mar del Plata.
“We can dock there to unload,” Max said.
“Unload what?” Overholt asked.
“The PIG,” Eddie said.
Max nodded and said to Overholt, “We’ve got a truck of our own with a few hidden surprises.” He turned back to Eddie. “What would you say about taking Linc and Raven on a road trip?”
33
ARGENTINA
The next morning at the port of Mar del Plata, Eddie stood on the dock as the Oregon’s lone functional crane lowered a truck taken out of the ship’s cargo hold. The boxy-looking vehicle with the large four-person cab and oversized tires looked as rusted and junky as the vessel it was removed from. Its side bore the faded words VERTEGAS OIL EXPLORATION. The PIG, which stood for “Powered Investigator, Ground,” looked completely unremarkable, just as intended.
The customs inspector watched it coming down with a faintly repulsed expression.
“This thing actually is working?” he asked in heavily accented English as he checked his clipboard.
Eddie nodded. “You’d be surprised.”
“I am surprised. Show me.”
When it reached the ground, Raven and Linc detached the cables while Eddie took the inspector on a quick tour of the truck. He opened the rear doors and revealed that the cargo bay was stacked floor to ceiling with six steel drums.
“What are these?” the inspector asked.
“Spare fuel,” Eddie replied. “We plan to be exploring some remote regions in the south.”
The inspector knocked on one of the barrels and heard the distinctive sound of a full container of liquid echoing back.
“If you want, I can take one out for you to look inside,” Eddie offered.
The inspector thought about it, then glanced at his watch.
