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As he entered the superstructure, he heard gales of laughter coming from the stairwell. On his way down he met Eddie, Linc, Raven, and MacD going up. Eddie and Linc had a large cooler slung between them.
“Where are you cackling crows going?” Juan asked.
“To the bridge,” Eddie said. “We’re the phantom crew today.”
Since the Oregon was actually operated from the op center, no one was needed on the bridge when they left port, but it would look awfully odd to observers in the harbor if it were empty.
“We thought we’d consume some refreshing beverages while we’re there,” Linc said.
“Raven was just telling us about the time she was in a bar outside of Fort Bragg,” MacD said. “Ah wish Ah could have seen those good ole boys’ faces when you whaled on them out of nowhere.”
“Apparently, they’d never met a military policewoman before,” Raven said. “After that, they never wanted to again.”
That brought a new round of laughs, and Juan waved them on their way. He went down and entered the hidden portion of the ship.
Julia nearly bumped into him as she rounded a corner, her eyes intent on her phone screen.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” she said, startled.
“No problem,” Juan said. “Engrossing read?”
“It’s an email from Leonard Thurman at the Royal Darwin Hospital. Everyone afflicted by the Enervum has made a full recovery.”
“That’s good news.”
“And he says that the nut extract might have other interesting medicinal uses. Several research studies are underway.”
“At least Murph and the others didn’t go through all that for nothing.”
“And can you please get through today without sending me any new patients?”
He smiled at her. “We’re just leaving port, but no promises.”
She chuffed at him and went back to her reading. Juan continued on to find Max waiting for him at the door to the boardroom. He held out a card to Juan.
“This was forwarded to us courtesy of Langston Overholt,” Max said.
It was a postcard with a picture of a red crab on the front. Juan flipped it over. The caption said, “Christmas Island, Australia.” The card was addressed to Captain Juan Cabrillo at the Pentagon.
Dear Juan,
I hate using email, and I remembered you were a Navy man, so I thought the Navy would get to you eventually. Just wanted to let you know Renee and I are happily reacquainted. Don’t know what you’re doing, but it can’t be as good as where I am right now. Thanks for saving my life and giving me a new start.
Take care,
Bob Parsons
“You never told him you weren’t actually a Navy vet?” Max said.
“I didn’t see a reason to spoil things by saying I used to be a CIA operative,” Juan said. “Is this why you asked me down here?”
“Nope. In here.”
He ushered Juan into the boardroom. There was a black silk cloth draped over something on the wall next to the plaque honoring the Oregon’s fallen crew members.
“You’ve been decorating?” Juan said.
“I wanted to surprise you.” Max whisked away the cloth to reveal a shiny golden aquila. The eagle with its wings spread was identical to the one they’d recovered from the Roman bireme.
