Plague Ship (18 page)

twenty-seven

When Carolyn returned, David
was at b
edside, taking his sleeping daughter’s pulse. Kit looked even worse, with a deeply flushed face and raspy respirations. She seemed to be growing sicker by the m
inute.

“Her heart is racing at 120 beats per minute,” David said softly. “And she’s having occasional extra beats.”

“Should I get the EKG machine?” Carolyn asked.

David shook his head. “It won’t help her or me. If she were to develop an arrhythmia, there are no drugs in the sick bay to treat it.”

Carolyn watched David lean over and kiss Kit’s forehead. “Still hot?”

“Burning up, despite the Tylenol I gave her an hour ago.” He took Carolyn’s arm and guided her into the sitting room. Keeping his voice low, he asked, “Were you able to find some oxygen tanks?”

“Yes and no,” Carolyn replied.

“What the hell does that mean?”

“It means there weren’t any in the sick bay, but I found a row of tanks in the storage space you told me about.”

David glanced around. “So where are they?”

“Robbie saw me in the passageway with the tanks and refused to let me have them,” Carolyn explained. “He said we needed Richard Scott’s approval. But I think he was just being mean and nasty and trying to show who was boss.”

“I’ll go talk to him,” David said at once and started for the door.

Carolyn grabbed his arm. “It won’t help. They will make you beg but still refuse to give up the oxygen tanks.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Because they’d like for Kit to stay really sick. That way you’ll have to stay with her and be out of their hair.”

“You’re probably right,” David agreed reluctantly. “But I have to somehow get those tanks for Kit.”

“I was thinking the same thing, but I don’t know how to do it.”

“Neither do I,” he had to admit.

“But you’ll come up with a way, won’t you?” Carolyn said and stepped in to hug him. As she pressed up against him, she winced in pain. “Ah!”

“What?” David asked immediately.

“My chest.”

“What about your chest?”

Carolyn took a deep breath and rubbed involuntarily at the tender spot. “When Robbie stopped me, he decided he wanted to fool around. I told him to get lost, so he got angry and reached out for me. Before I could move away, he squeezed my breast really hard.”

David quickly unbuttoned the top of her blouse and saw a large black and blue bruise across the upper part of her left breast. His eyes suddenly went stone-cold. “That son of a bitch!”

“And some,” Carolyn added. “He may also be a sadist. I think he actually enjoyed doing it.”

“He won’t enjoy what he’s about to get in return,” David said icily.

“Don’t do anything rash, David. They’re just waiting for you to make a stupid move, so they can turn Choi loose on you.”

“I won’t do anything rash.”

“Promise?”

“Promise,” David said as he remembered the words of a tough Special Forces instructor.
Rash and stupid gets you killed. Smart and controlled gets the other guy killed
. “I won’t act out of anger, and that’s a double promise.”

“Good,” Carolyn said. “Now, what about getting an oxygen tank for Kit?”

“Let me think on it,” David told her, but a plan was already forming in his mind. It was based on two assumptions. First, Robbie wasn’t nearly as bright as he thought he was. And second, like most not very bright people, Robbie was a creature of habit. Those two flaws could get Kit a tank of oxygen and cost Robbie his life. All David needed was a few more details. “Are there any other developments I should know about?”

Carolyn pondered the question at length before saying, “A fair number of the passengers are starting to panic. Some are totally out of control. I didn’t think it would happen to so many so soon.”

“And it’ll get worse,” David said, nodding. “When people see death at a distance, it’s only interesting. When it gets up close, it scares the hell out of them. They’ll do just about anything to survive.”

“Including pillaging a sick bay until there’s nothing left but trash on the floor.”

David nodded again. “Wait until the grand finale. When land is sighted, the passengers will rush for the lifeboats, which will quickly fill up. And more people will pile in until the boats are so overloaded they begin to sink. Then you’ll see real panic.”

“Do you think Scott will allow that to happen?”

“He wants it to happen. The more people and boats in the water, the greater the distraction.”

“So he and his pals can slip ashore more easily.”

“Exactly. And if some of the passengers drown, that’ll be okay with Scott too.”

Carolyn shuddered to herself. “That’s cold!”

“And clever.”

Kit let out a loud cough, then another, longer and louder yet. Seconds ticked by and the silence returned.

“That was a strong one,” Carolyn noted.

“Sometimes she seems to be clearing her lungs, other times not,” David said, glancing back to the bedroom. “Unfortunately, the weak ones outnumber the good ones.”

“Maybe she’ll start having more good coughs,” Carolyn hoped.

David shook his head sadly. “It will only become worse and worse. And before long, her airflow will diminish to the point where there’s obvious oxygen deprivation.”

“Then get those oxygen tanks!” Carolyn demanded.

“Wait,” David said patiently.

“For what?”

“A little more time to pass.”

“What happens then?”

“Then people’s body clocks reset, and their eyelids become heavy.”

Carolyn smiled. “And their reflexes slow.”

“Among other things.”

“How long will—”

There was a loud knock on the door.

“Jesus!” Carolyn moaned. “Who can that be at this hour?”

“Maybe Karen,” David said, then called out, “Who is it?”

“Robbie,” came the rough reply. “Open the damn door!”

“What do you think he wants?” Carolyn whispered.

“I don’t know,” David whispered back. “But stay behind me. Whatever happens, stay behind me.”

“Open it!” Robbie barked.

David approached the door carefully. It had a peephole, but he had learned long ago never to use one. It could mean certain death if the person on the other side had a gun. All the shooter had to do was wait for the peephole to darken, then fire a shot through it. The bullet would go through the eye, into the brain, and out the back of the skull in a tenth of a second.

David opened the door. Robbie stood square in the center of the passageway, with his shotgun pointed into the cabin. Choi was off to the side, his thick, hairless hand on the hilt of his knife.

“What do you want?” David asked.

“You’re to come with us,” Robbie ordered.

“I can’t,” David said firmly. “My daughter is very ill and I have to remain at her bedside.”

“This isn’t a request,” Robbie snapped.

“And this isn’t a polite refusal,” David retorted. “I stay. You move
on.”

“We figured you’d play it this way.”

“Who’s
we
? The two brain cells you have inside your head?”

Robbie poked his shotgun into David’s ribs. “It’d be real easy to blow you to hell and back.”

“But you won’t,” David said, unconcerned. “Because you’re just following orders. You’re not smart enough to give them.”

“Not smart enough, eh?” Robbie snarled. “Well, let’s try this on for size. I’m going to persuade you to come with us and it’s going to be easy. Let me tell you how I’ll do it. Rather than have Choi slice you up, I’ll have him pick up your daughter and carry her down to the elevator. I’ll bet you’ll follow us there. And I’ll bet you do it really peaceful too.”

David’s temper began to flare, but he pushed it aside and quickly assessed his situation. He could deflect the muzzle of the shotgun away from his ribs, but Robbie would still pull the trigger. The shot would spray all over the cabin and might hit Carolyn. And then there was Choi and his knife to deal with. That would be far too risky. David sighed and turned back to Carolyn. “You stay with Kit. I’ll return as soon as possible.”

“Good boy,” Robbie said derisively.

“Let me just check on my daughter before we leave,” David said in a submissive voice.

“Make it quick,” Robbie growled.

David hurried into the bedroom and glanced over his shoulder to make certain no one was watching.
They might frisk me
, he thought hastily.
And then I’d lose the only advantage I have.
He quickly removed the hatchet from the back of his belt and placed it under Kit’s pillow. She groaned weakly, but remained asleep. David came back into the sitting room and said to Carolyn, “Keep a close eye on her.”

Robbie shoved David into the passageway and kept the shotgun pointed at him.

“Where are we headed?” David asked.

“You’ll see,” Robbie said and poked the muzzle of his shotgun into David’s ribs. “I just hope you make a dumb move and give me a reason to pull the trigger of this fine Browning.”

Don’t worry
, David thought to himself.
I won’t make a dumb move. When the time comes, I’ll make a smart move you won’t see. You won’t even feel it. Because dead men can’t feel.

twenty-eight

Carolyn was wrong on
all counts. Robbie hadn’t confiscated the oxygen tanks on some sadistic impulse or to show he was boss or to demonstrate how mean and nasty he could be. He was ordered to do it, so the tanks would be available for Richard Scott’s flu-stricken girlfriend. David looked down at Deedee Anderson and saw death coming.

“What do you think?” Scott asked.

“It’s bad,” David said frankly. “Very bad.”

Deedee’s face was colored a deep blue from lack of oxygen, and her respirations were so weak they resembled squeaks more than breaths. And most of her beauty had disappeared. Her blond hair was a messy tangle, and what little makeup she had on was smudged. She was wearing a scant, silk nightie, but all of her sexuality was long gone.

“Can you do anything for her?” Scott queried.

“Some oxygen might help.”

“Then give her some,” Scott directed, and pointed to a small tank on the floor near the head of the bed.

David quickly started Deedee on oxygen, using a plastic, transparent mask to deliver it. He adjusted the flow to two liters per minute. Casually glancing around, he searched for other tanks, but saw none. So Scott had only one tank in the cabin, David thought, and Carolyn had used the plural
tanks
when describing her encounter with Robbie. That being the case, where were the other tanks? Probably still down in storage, in a secure place.

“I hear your daughter is sick,” Scott said, breaking the silence. His voice was matter-of-fact and showed no concern. “Right?”

“Yes,” David said.

“Is she as sick as Deedee?”

“Almost.”

Scott nodded slowly to himself. “You’ve got to be thinking about getting her ashore.”

“It crossed my mind,” David said honestly.

“You could come with us,” Scott offered. “I’d see to it you were in the front of the line to the lifeboats.”

Oh yes
, David thought, not trusting Scott for a half-second.
We’d board well after you and the other mutineers were already in the water and heading for shore. And we’d be in an overcrowded lifeboat, with chaos all around, and no guarantee of ever reaching land
. Yet still, it was a chance to get Kit ashore. But to what? An isolated island or one with second-rate medical facilities at best.

“Well?” Scott pressed.

“I’ll pass,” David said. “I’m not going to start a pandemic, which will kill millions upon millions, just to save my own skin.”

“What about your daughter’s skin?” Scott asked cruelly. “Are you just going to let her die on this ship?”

David looked away and tried not to second-guess himself.

There was a loud knock on the door. Scott and another mutineer named Tommy aimed their shotguns at the entryway.

“Yes?” Scott shouted.

“Choi,” a voice shouted back.

“Come in!”

Choi hurried into the room. Ignoring the mutineers, he gave David a
I can’t wait to cut your heart out
stare. The glare lasted for a full five seconds before Choi turned to Scott. “Important news! Hurricane pass over Cuba and go to Gulf of Mexico. All clear by thirty-six hours. We now head for port. Yes?”

“Yes,” Scott said promptly. “Find Robbie and bring him to me.”

“I look,” Choi said in broken English. “No see.”

“He’s guarding the storage area.”

Great!
David wanted to yell. The not-too-bright creature of habit Robbie was guarding the oxygen tanks, all by himself.

“Tell him to meet me on the bridge,” Scott commanded. “You stand guard in Robbie’s place.”

Shit!
David’s spirits suddenly sank. Choi would be a lot harder to deal with. And a lot harder to kill.

“I need keep eye on crew,” Choi said and raised his right hand. Several knuckles were bruised and bloody. “Make sure they stay in line.”

“He’ll only be gone for a few hours.”

Choi gave some sort of salute and left.

“Tommy,” Scott went on, “take the doctor back to his cabin.”

“You want him to stay in there?” Tommy asked.

“For now.”

David quickly interceded. “I’ve got a lot of other patients to care for. Dr. Kellerman can’t look after all of them. She’s already worn to a frazzle.”

Scott studied him carefully, as if suspecting that something was amiss.

“There’s a big ex-marine in a cabin down the way,” David added. “His wife is sick as hell and he demands that she be seen frequently.”

“So?” Scott asked, unmoved.

“So I don’t think you want to piss him off,” David said. “But then, that’s your choice.”

Scott hesitated before nodding slowly. “Okay. But I want you back here in two hours to check on Deedee.”

“In two hours,” David repeated, like he was making a mental note.

Tommy escorted David back to his cabin, keeping the correct distance between them. Not up close, as Robbie had done, but rather eight feet or so behind. That gave Tommy plenty of time to squeeze off a round in the event David decided to make a sudden move. And Tommy made no attempt at conversation. He wasn’t going to be distracted.

At the entrance to the cabin, Tommy recited Scott’s orders. “You show up in Deedee’s room in two hours or I come looking for you.”

David closed the door, then put his ear to it. He heard footsteps fading into the distance. He waited another minute to make certain the mutineer wasn’t creeping back, then dashed into Kit’s bedroom.

She appeared even sicker. Her temperature was sky-high, her pulse racing. And her cough seemed weaker.

“Any change?” he asked Carolyn.

She shook her head. “Not really. Except the good coughs are fewer and fewer apart.”

“Shit,” David grumbled, feeling even more helpless than before.

“David, you’ve somehow got to get Kit more oxygen.”

“I plan to.”

“When?”

“In an hour or so. Maybe a little longer.”

“What are you waiting for?”

“A changing of the guard.”

———

David tiptoed down the staircase, barely making a sound. He kept his ears pricked and listened for any noise that would indicate he wasn’t alone. The stairwell remained dead quiet. He checked his watch. 4:40 a.m. An hour and a half had passed since he’d left Deedee’s cabin. That was enough time for Robbie to go to the bridge and ascertain that the captain was making the desired course correction, then return to his post on the storage level. David could only hope that Robbie had followed that time schedule. Because if Choi was still standing guard, it would greatly complicate matters. Again he listened for noises and heard none.

He altered the expression on his face to one of urgency and hurried out of the staircase and down a long passageway. The carpenter’s shop was dark, the laundry room well lighted but deserted. Ahead, David saw a figure with its back to him. He couldn’t tell if it was Robbie or Choi. It was too dim. Abruptly the figure spun around. It was Robbie. His shotgun came up quickly to waist level as he released the safety.

“What are you doing down here?” Robbie asked suspiciously.

“Scott sent me down,” David said in a rush. “Deedee needs more oxygen now!”

Robbie didn’t budge. “I just took up a tank.”

“Well, she needs more,” David urged. “She’s turning blue.”

Robbie still wasn’t convinced. “I’m not going to let you carry a tank out of here all by yourself.”

“You’d better check with Scott before he gets really mad,” David bluffed, and instantly regretted the suggestion. Robbie might use a phone. “Or better yet,” he went on hurriedly, “you can follow me and the tank up to Deedee’s room. Then you’ll be certain she receives the oxygen.”

“Yeah, we’ll go up to her room together,” Robbie said, like it was his idea.

“Where are the oxygen tanks?” David asked.

“Go straight ahead to the door on your right,” Robbie ordered. “And don’t try anything brave unless you want a load of buckshot up your ass.”

David raced down the passageway ahead of Robbie. But now Robbie stayed ten feet back and remained silent.
Maybe he was getting smarter
, David thought. But he still wasn’t very sharp. He’d already committed a bunch of mistakes.
If I had a weapon, he would have been dead a dozen times over
.

They came to a large door that led into the dark storage area. Stopping at the entrance, David asked, “Where is the light switch?”

“On the wall to your right,” Robbie answered.

“To the right, eh?” David queried, now sensing Robbie just behind him.

“Yeah.”

David stepped into the dimness, knowing that it would take approximately five seconds for his eyes to adapt to the dark. He would be virtually sightless during that time. And so would Robbie. “On the right, eh?” he asked again.

Before Robbie could answer, David cocked his elbow and smashed it full force into Robbie’s sternum. The sternum or breastbone consists of 1/4-inch of ossified calcium, and is so hard that cardiac surgeons have to use an electric saw to cut through it. Not that this mattered to Robbie. He was sprawled out on the floor, clutching his fractured sternum and grimacing at the terrible pain, totally unaware of what caused it.

David watched him for a moment before deciding how to kill him. He lifted Robbie up, and grabbing his head, powerfully jerked it around counterclockwise. There was a loud snap. David knew from the sound alone that the jerk had been a good one, with enough force to tear through the muscles and vertebrae in Robbie’s neck before shredding his spinal cord into a thousand miniscule fibers. Robbie suddenly stiffened in a giant spasm, then went limp. David noiselessly eased the body to the floor and checked for a carotid pulse. None was detectable.

David switched the lights on and waited for his eyes to accommodate to the brightness. Quickly he grabbed Robbie’s collar and dragged his body across four aisles to where the rugs were stored. He unrolled a long, fine Persian one and placed Robbie on the far edge. Then he rolled Robbie up inside the rug and hoisted it up onto a large shelf. But one of Robbie’s feet was sticking out. David added two more rolls of rug atop the stack. Now Robbie’s body was completely hidden.

David sprinted to the next aisle over and found the oxygen tanks and other medical equipment precisely where Carolyn had told him they would be. He stuffed his pockets with IV fluid bags and setups, then grabbed two small tanks of oxygen and dashed for the door.

He nearly stumbled over Robbie’s shotgun. David’s spirits soared.
Great! Now I can take out those bastards one at a time or as a group.
The mutiny on the
Grand Atlantic
had just ended. Dropping the tanks, he picked up the Browning shotgun and examined it for damage. None was noticeable except for a scratch here and there. Next he checked the chamber to see how many rounds it held. It was empty! The goddamn chamber was empty! It took a few seconds for his surprise to wear off, and another few seconds for him to list the reasons why the weapon was not loaded. Either it was always empty because Richard Scott trusted no one other than himself, or he demanded it be emptied after the fatal shooting of Arthur Maggio. Whatever the reason, David groused to himself, it was bad news. An empty shotgun was a worthless shotgun.

He picked up the small tanks of oxygen and, tucking the shotgun under his arm, ran for the stairs.