Page 154 of Clive Cussler's Quantum Tempest
Suárez killed the call.
Cabrillo was already sprinting toward theOregonwhen the GPS coordinates arrived on his phone five seconds later.
?
Cabrillo was shocked to find two dozen crew crowded into the op center, where Linda had played the live feed and then replayed the recording when the others arrived. Every face was tense with either fear or anger or both, none more so than Juan’s.
“So this mook, Suárez, blames you for his wife’s death?” Linda asked. “What happened?”
“No time to explain.”
No one paid attention to Eric tapping furiously on his computerkeyboard, searching for whatever intel he could find on Suárez and his wife.
“I’ve already loaded the coordinates into the AW’s nav computer,” Gomez said. “We need to get going.”
“Roger that.” Juan turned to Max. “You have the helm until I get back.”
Max could hardly speak. “Copy that.”
“We’re not going to let this guy get away with this are we?” Eddie Seng said. He and his Gundogs were ready to pounce.
“You heard the man. He’s got this thing wired shut.”
“There’s gotta be another option,” Linda said.
“Maybe there is but we don’t have the time to come up with it. Right now, this is my only play.”
The other crew began to protest, some even began to weep.
But Juan threw up his hands and said, “I need to get to my cabin to take care of some things. If you’re the praying type, I can use it—and so can those nuns. Otherwise, I’ll see you on the flip side.”
?
Cabrillo dashed into his cabin and ran straight to his biometric safe. He placed his hand on the lock and it popped open. He pulled out a manila envelope. Tucked inside was a newly drafted but unsigned will along with specific instructions. He’d been putting off signing it for weeks. If he really was going to die, the last thing he wanted to do was leave the Corporation in a state of legal and financial limbo.
Cabrillo pulled out the papers and grabbed a pen. Standing at his desk, he flipped pages as fast as he could, signing where he needed to. His door popped open. He glanced up.
“Kinda busy right now, Kevin.”
Nixon stood in the doorway, his hand gripping a canvas utility bag.
“Chairman—”
“Save your breath. You’re not stopping me and you’re not going with me. But I appreciate the gesture.”
“I just…”
Cabrillo signed the last page and tossed the pen aside.
“Do you remember what I told you when you joined the crew?”
“Yeah, I sure do. ‘We do what’s right, no matter the cost.’ ”
Cabrillo nodded. “That’s right. It’ll all work out. You watch.”
Kevin smiled. “You’re right. It will.”
?
