Page 152 of Clive Cussler Ghost Soldier
“You won’t be laughing inside of a CIA black-site prison.”
The Vendor closed his eyes, smiling.
“No prison for me,baka. I’m going to my reward.”
The Vendor opened his mouth wide, then snapped it shut hard, cracking his teeth together. The poison capsule released into his mouth. The Vendor’s body began convulsing violently and frothing bubbles oozed over his lips.
Ten seconds later, he was dead, his body knotted like a pretzel and his fingers curled like bird’s claws.
Linc burst through the door, his P90 at the ready. He saw the Vendor’s body on the floor.
“What happened to him?”
Cabrillo cradled his busted rib cage with one arm as he refitted his dangling earpiece with the other.
“He punched his own ticket.”
“Looks like he had some help.”
“What about that sub?”
“No clue.”
“Oregon?”
“No comms with her down here.”
“Casualties?”
“Three wounded. Two noncritical. And you.”
Cabrillo limped through the doorway, his hand jammed against his earpiece.
“Callie? Callie? Do you copy?”
?
Aboard theOregon, the grim op center crew tracked the progress of the Mark 46 torpedo on the big wall monitor as it streaked toward theSpook Fish.
“Ten seconds to impact,” Linda said to no one.
Callie’s voice crackled on the speakers.
“Linda? You copy?”
“We copy.”
“Tell Juan…Tell Juan I—”
A muffled explosion cut her short.
Callie screamed until her comms went out.
78
Aboard theSpook Fish
Callie’s own sonar was tracking theOregon’s incoming torpedo, its pinging increasing each passing second. She turned off the sound. It only worsened her fear.
