Skeleton Coast (The Oregon Files)
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The author of the bestselling NUMA(r) and Dirk Pitt(r) series continues the adventure and intrigue featuring his unbeatable hero of the high seas: Captain Juan Cabrillo...
fighters,” Cabrillo told him. He then explained the situation. Ndebele listened wordlessly, although Sloane gasped when he described a hurricane laden with poison bearing down on the United States, most likely gunning for her native Florida. “My people are willing to sacrifice themselves for their children and the future of our country,” Ndebele said when Juan had finished. “You are asking me to send them into a battle for which they reap nothing and risk all. For what you have done for me I
will achieve and they will do it for you, for your country, and, most important, for themselves.” Ndebele said nothing for a few moments as he looked into Cabrillo’s eyes. “I will take this to an indaba, a council of my men.” He waved at the closed bedroom door. “And I will let them decide.” “I can ask for nothing more,” Juan said and shook Ndebele’s hand again. He withdrew a pouch from his pocket and turned Ndebele’s hand flat. Onto his open palm he poured the rough diamonds they had received
minutes. He raced in, his H&K’s laser sight sweeping the massive space. Lined up in a row on concrete and steel supports were the three General Electric jet engines, their intakes fed air through gleaming ducts, their exhaust vented out the back of the building through conduits blackened by the tremendous heat. Only one of the engines was in operation. Max had explained during their briefing that a facility like this would alternate between two of the engines and have a third as backup for times
temperatures at that altitude or having to breathe off a supplemental oxygen system, the drone of the two Pratt & Whitney radial engines made conversation next to impossible. Cabrillo studied the faces of his men as he leaned against a bulkhead to take some of his parachute pack’s weight off his shoulders. Eddie Seng noted Juan’s scrutiny and shot him a cocky grin. Mike Trono and his teammate, Jerry Pulaski, sat side by side playing rock, paper, scissors. It was a ritual of theirs, but not a
appeared between the guard’s shoulders he fired one-handed, forgetting the weapon was on full auto. It didn’t matter that his second, third, and fourth rounds went wild. The first one drilled the guard exactly where he’d aimed. He crashed into the pile of loose stones and lay still. Cabrillo reloaded the rocket launcher a fifth time, taking a new position to better center the door. A solid sheet of lead rose from the angered soldiers and seemed to fill the sky where he’d been standing moments