Piranha by Clive Cussler Read Free Book Online

in the shed for tonight’s use.
    Juan spotted discarded food wrappers in the corner. Food used to be Kevin’s Achilles’ heel. At one point, he weighed almost two hundred and seventy-five pounds, but successful stomach bypass surgery and a special diet prepared by
Oregon
’s gourmet chef brought his now solid frame down to a slender one eighty-five.
    â€œI hope you’ve been careful with the local cuisine,” Juan said to Kevin. “Nothing like Montezuma’s revenge to make a sea voyage unpleasant.”
    â€œTell me about it,” Linc said, rubbing his belly. “I hope I never go back to Mozambique.”
    â€œNothing but bottled water and prepackaged food for me,” Kevin replied. “Now, let’s get you in the chair. We have some work to do.”
    Part of Linc’s time in Venezuela the previous week had been spent observing the suspected warehouse from afar. Covered wide-load trucks went into the facility night and day—presumably with armaments on them—through a razor-wired security fence and a well-guarded gatehouse before disappearing into the building. Sentries walked the perimeter on random schedules, and cameras monitored both the dock and the fence, ruling out stealthy infiltration.
    The only other option was to go through the front gate. Twice Linc noticed the same captain going into the facility. The long-lens photos were sent to the CIA, where he was identified as Captain Carlos Ortega. He spent most of his time at the main naval base in Puerto Cabello, where he was now. Although Ortega was similar to Juan in height and build, they looked nothing alike. Whereas Juan was fair-haired and clean-shaven, Ortega was swarthier, with dark hair, bushy eyebrows, brown eyes, a trim mustache, and a nose that looked as if it had been broken.
    That’s where Kevin came in. He had several of Linc’s photos of Ortega taped to the mirror. He would transform Juan into the Venezuelan Navy captain.
    Juan dried off and sat in the chair while Linc went over the Humvee to make sure it was in good running order. They’d need to depend on it to get back to the
Oregon
in a hurry once their reconnaissance was complete.
    Normally, Kevin would put on laid-back alt-rock music while he worked, but the unusual location demanded quiet so as not to attract attention. With an expert touch, he applied the glue for the latex nose, weaved on a thatchy set of eyebrows, and dusted Juan’s face with makeup. The final touches were the black wig and colored contacts. When Kevin was finished, Juan felt the odd sensation that a stranger was staring back at him from the mirror.
    â€œExcellent work as usual, Kevin,” Juan said. “I can’t recognize myself.”
    Linc, who was already in his Navy kit, complete with sidearm and FN FAL assault rifle slung across his shoulder, clapped Kevin on the shoulder. “Wow! I don’t know whether to salute him or recommend a plastic surgeon for that ugly mug.”
    â€œDon’t listen to him,” Kevin said. “You look perfect, if I do say so myself. Try on the uniform.”
    Juan put on the tailored outfit, including the cap. When he was fully dressed, Linc and Kevin appraised him.
    â€œI’d say you’re an inch or two taller than Ortega,” Linc said, “but I doubt anyone will notice.”
    â€œThen we’re set,” Juan said. “You’ve outdone yourself again, Kevin.”
    â€œIt looks like my work is finished here,” Kevin said, and started packing up his cosmetic supplies. “I’ll head back to the
Oregon
as soon as you go.”
    He’d leave the less portable items behind and walk to the
Oregon
. Though the Venezuelans were watching for anyone leaving the ship, they wouldn’t stop Kevin from getting on, especially because he had all the proper documentation to rejoin the crew.
    Since Linc was playing the lower-ranking officer, he would act as the driver.