by Robin Cook
Certain that they had long since passed the limits of the MTIC-Arolen compound, Adam began to aim the Hobie Cat toward land. In the past fifteen minutes or so he’d begun to see occasional lights along the shore. He now could hear the waves pounding on the beach. He tried not to think about what that might mean.
A scream shattered the silence. All at once Alan grabbed his head with both hands and shrieked into the night. Adam was caught totally off guard. A large bolus of adrenaline shot into his system.
Alan’s screams increased to full lung capacity, and he tried to stand up, straining against the rope that secured him to the mast. He began to throw himself from side to side, threatening to capsize the boat. Adam abandoned the tiller and the mainsail sheet and tried to restrain the crazed man. The boat immediately fell off the wind and the mainsail luffed.
“Alan!” yelled Adam above the sound of the wind. “What’s the matter?” He grabbed Alan by the shoulders and shook him as hard as he could. Alan was still clasping his head with his hands with such force that his face was distorted. His shrieks came amid gasps for breath.
“What’s the matter?” shouted Adam again.
Alan let go of his head, and for a second Adam could see his face. The man’s previously blank expression had twisted into one of pain and rage. Like a mad dog, Alan lunged for Adam’s throat.
Shocked at Alan’s strength, Adam tried to scramble out of his reach, but there was little room on the Hobie Cat’s trampoline. Alan twisted within his bonds and flailed his arms, catching Adam in the face with a forceful punch. Screaming himself, Adam teetered on the edge of the Hobie Cat, his hands frantically grabbing for a purchase. His fingers found the uncoiled mainsail halyard, but it did not provide any support. In a kind of agonizing slow motion Adam toppled into the forbidding ocean.
He plunged beneath the surface of the icy water. Desperately clawing at the water, Adam fought back up to the air, terrified that at any moment he would be bitten by a sea monster. His leg brushed the rope in his hand and he screamed.
Although the sails were luffing, the strong trade wind continued to push the boat through the water. Adam held on to the mainsail halyard and was dragged behind like bait on the end of a fish line. He could feel his right eyelid swelling, but worst of all, there was trailing warmth from his nose, which he guessed was blood. He expected his legs to be snapped off at any moment. Hand over hand, he frantically pulled himself back to the boat. On the trampoline Alan was still shrieking in pain. Adam grabbed a pontoon and started to scramble out of the water.
The snapping of the uncleated mainsail sounded like rifle shots. The boat had rotated to windward, and suddenly the boom wildly traversed the back of the boat, slamming into the side of Alan’s head and pitching him face downward onto the trampoline.
Adam hauled himself out of the water and, watching out for the swinging boom, approached the man uneasily, half expecting him to explode anew. But Alan was unconscious and breathing deeply. Steadying himself on the bobbing boat, Adam felt Alan’s head for a fracture. All he found was an actively swelling egg-shaped lump.
Carefully Adam rolled Alan over, wondering what had possessed the man. He’d been so peaceful until that terrifying moment. Adam noticed that one of the sutured incisions had pulled open, and suddenly he guessed what might have happened.
Scrambling back to the stern, Adam grabbed the tiller and then pulled in on the mainsail tackle. The boat responded and the sails filled. Falling off the wind, Adam headed for the shore. He now had another, unanticipated problem. He had no idea what Alan could be made to do. Adam shivered, more from fear than from the chill of his damp clothes.
• • •
Edgar Hofstra glanced up at Dr. Nachman, whose eyes had become blood red. The man’s lower lids hung away from his globes while he bent over Hofstra’s shoulder, staring at the computer screen.
“I can’t be one hundred percent sure that the electrodes responded,” said Hofstra, “but that was the strongest signal I could send at the moment. If you give me a couple of hours, I will be able to increase the power.”
“Well, see if you can speed things up,” said Dr. Nachman. “And maybe you can remember if any of our early experiments with monkeys gave us clues as to how the subject will respond.”
“I hate to tell you,” said Mitchell, “but in addition to destroying everything around them, the monkeys in such situations ended up killing themselves.”
Dr. Nachman got up and stretched. “Listen, that may be the good news.”
“I’ll have to take the whole system off line while we work on it,” said Hofstra.
“That’s OK,” said Dr. Nachman. “At this hour I can’t imagine anybody wanting to send instructions to any of the ‘controlled’ doctors.”
“Too bad the patient hadn’t at least been conditioned for the self-destruct mode,” said Dr. Mitchell.
“Yeah, too bad,” agreed Dr. Nachman.
• • •
By the time Adam got within a hundred feet of shore, the night had become significantly darker. He turned the boat to the west and paralleled the island while he listened carefully to the waves crashing on the shore. He hoped that the type of sound would enable him to guess the composition of the beach. With the heavy surf, he was afraid of coral.
Alan had moaned a few times but had not tried to get up. Adam thought that he was either still unconscious from the blow to his head or in some kind of post-ictic state from what had been a seizure of sorts. In any case, Adam hoped that he’d stay quiet until they reached the shore.
The sound of a dog barking against the noise of the ocean caught Adam’s attention, and he strained his eyes shoreward. He could make out, nestled among the graceful trunks of a forest of coconut palms, a group of dark houses. Thinking that they were a good indication of a sand beach, Adam shoved the tiller over, ducked under the jibing mainsail, and headed the boat toward land.
Although Adam let the sail out and was spilling the wind, the boat seemed to be flying. Holding the tiller with his leg, he reached up and let loose the jib, which began to flap angrily in the wind. Ahead, he could see where the waves were cresting, a white line of foam against the blackness of the island.
The closer they got, the louder was the noise of the breakers pounding the shoreline. Adam prayed silently for a sand beach, although at that speed even sand would be trouble. A huge wave passed under the boat, then a larger one built behind. The Hobi rode up the face of the wave, and with terror, Adam thought they were about to flip end over end. But the boat righted itself as the wave rolled under. Looking behind again, Adam saw another wave bearing down on them. It looked as big as a house. Its upper edge feathered against the sky, suggesting it was about to break. Adam saw the top begin to curl. Holding the tiller with one hand and the side of the trampoline with the other, he closed his eyes and braced himself for submersion.
But the tons of water that Adam expected didn’t come. Instead, the Hobie Cat shot forward with an exhilarating burst of speed. Adam opened his eyes and saw that they were racing toward shore in front of the torrent of white water.
Before he knew what was happening, the speeding boat hit the backwash of the previous wave and bounced into the air, throwing him over the side into the water. He came up sputtering, but happily surprised that the water was only waist deep. Alan had remained on the boat’s trampoline, secured by the line around his chest, but he had rotated around the mast and his legs dangled over the side. Adam grabbed the boat and pulled it toward shore, straining against the undertow. The pontoons finally hit the bottom, and Adam waited for the next wave before running the boat up onto dry land.
He immediately collapsed onto the sand to catch his breath, then fished out his glasses and slipped them on. Looking around, he saw that they had landed on a narrow and rather steep sand beach that was strewn with all sorts of debris. A number of old wood-planked boats were drawn up from the water’s edge and secured around the trunks of nearby coconut palms. Within the darkness
of the trees was a village of ramshackle houses.
A welcoming committee of two scraggy dogs appeared at the edge of the beach and began to bark loudly. A light went on in the nearest house. When Adam struggled to his feet, the dogs dashed out of sight for a moment, only to reappear and bark more insistently. Adam ignored them. He untied Alan and got the man standing.
Alan held his head as Adam led him up the beach. Just within the shelter of the palms, they came upon a ramshackle house with a beaten-up half-ton pickup parked outside. Adam peered hungrily inside the cab. No keys were dangling from the ignition. He decided to knock on the door of the house and take his chances. The dogs were barking wildly now, nipping at his legs.
As he walked up the steps, a light went on and a face appeared at the window. Adam checked his back pocket to make sure his wallet was safe. A moment later the door opened. The man who opened it was stripped to the waist and barefoot. He had a gun in his hand, an old revolver with a mother-of-pearl handle.
“No hablo much español,” said Adam, trying to smile. The man did not smile back.
“Me puede dar un ride al aeropuerto,” said Adam, turning slightly and pointing toward the truck.
The man looked at Adam as if he were crazy. Then he made a waving motion of dismissal with the pistol and started to close the door.
“Por favor,” pleaded Adam. Then, in a combination of Spanish and English, he rapidly tried to explain how he’d been lost at sea on a sailboat with a sick friend and that they had to get to the airport immediately. Pulling out his wallet, he began counting out soggy bills. That finally perked the man’s interest. He put the gun into his pocket and allowed Adam to lead him down to the beach.
In the midst of his frantic attempts to capture the man’s interest, Adam had had an idea. When he got to the beach, he picked up the bowline of the Hobie Cat and put it into the Puerto Rican’s hand. At the same time he struggled to explain to the man that the boat was his if he took them to the airport.
The Puerto Rican finally seemed to comprehend. A broad smile appeared on his face. Gleefully, he pulled the boat higher on the beach and lashed it to one of the coconut palms. Then he went back to the house, presumably to dress.
Adam lost no time in getting Alan into the cab of the truck. Almost immediately the Puerto Rican reappeared, swinging his keys. He started up the truck, glancing warily at Alan, who was slumped in his seat, and at the point of drifting off to sleep again. Adam tried to explain that his friend was sick, but he soon gave up, deciding it was easier to pretend that he, too, had fallen asleep. He sat with his eyes closed until they reached the airport. Indicating that he wanted to be dropped at the Eastern departure area, he began to worry how on earth he could explain Alan’s and his appearance to the ticket clerk.
The truck came to a stop, and Adam touched Alan’s shoulder. This time it was easier to wake him up.
“Muchas gracias,” Adam said as they got out.
“De nada,” called the driver, and roared away.
“OK,” said Adam, taking Alan by the arm. “This is the last lap.” He walked into the almost empty terminal. A few taxis and an ambulance idled by the entrance, but it was too early for many departing tourists. Adam surveyed the old-fashioned building and seated Alan at an empty shoeshine stand. Then he went over to the ticket counter.
Looking up at the schedule, he saw that the next Eastern flight to Miami was in two hours. A small sign said “For After Hours, Use Phone.” Adam picked up the receiver next to the sign. When the agent answered, he told Adam that he’d be right out. Sure enough, by the time Adam hung up, a man in a clean and pressed brown uniform emerged from a door behind the counter. When he saw Adam, his smile faltered.
Adam was acutely conscious of his ragged appearance. The ride in the truck had almost dried his clothes, but seeing the agent’s reaction, he decided he’d better come up with a good story. Hesitating only a moment, he launched into a long explanation that featured an end-of-vacation party with lots of booze and a last-minute sail. He and his friend had washed up on a beach miles from their hotel and then had hitched a ride to the airport. Adam said they had to be at work the next day and that their luggage would follow when the rest of their group flew back.
“It’s been a hell of a vacation,” he added.
The agent nodded as if he understood and said there was plenty of space available. Adam asked if there were any earlier flights to the States and was told that Delta had a flight to Atlanta in an hour.
As far as Adam was concerned, the sooner they got off the island the better. He asked for directions to Delta and was told to go to the next building. Deciding Alan was best off where he was, Adam hurried to the next terminal, where there were a number of travelers waiting to check in.
Adam joined the end of the line. When he got to the counter, the agent eyed him uneasily, but Adam repeated his now practiced story. Again, the agent seemed to believe him.
“First-class or coach?” he asked.
Adam looked at the man, wondering if he were trying to be funny. But then, remembering that Arolen paid his Visa card charges, he said, “First-class, of course.”
Adam scanned the terminal nervously as the man wrote up the tickets, but he didn’t spot anyone who appeared to have been sent by MTIC.
When the agent had finished, Adam said, “We could use a wheelchair. My friend really got banged up when we tipped over in the surf.”
“Oh my gosh,” said the agent. “I’ll see what I can do.”
In less than five minutes he was back with the wheelchair.
Adam thanked him and set off for the other building to get Alan.
• • •
From a vantage point on the mezzanine overlooking the Delta ticket counter, two ambulance attendants dressed in white uniforms watched as Adam disappeared from sight. The fact that he was pushing a wheelchair suggested that Iseman could not be far away.
The two men quickly descended to the terminal floor and hurried outside to the ambulance, where they told the driver to radio Mr. Burkett that the subjects had been spotted. The taller of the attendants, a burly man with a blond crew cut, pulled two collapsible gurneys from the back of the ambulance, while his partner stuffed a number of syringes into a medical bag.
Back in the terminal, they checked the gate number for the Delta flight to Atlanta and set out for Concourse B.
When Adam got back to the shoeshine stand, he was horrified to find the bench empty. Frantically, he ran the wheelchair back toward the Eastern counter, where he spotted Alan trying to talk to the agent, who was telling him that he was in Puerto Rico, not Miami, but that he could give him a reservation to Miami if he wanted one.
“He’s with me,” explained Adam, helping Alan into the chair.
“The man thinks he’s in Miami,” said the agent.
“He’s been through a lot,” said Adam. “You know, the shipwreck . . .” He let his voice trail off and started back to Delta.
“What am I doing in Puerto Rico?” asked Alan. Although his diction was still slurred, he was the most alert he’d been since Adam had talked to him at the Fjord departure terminal.
With only twenty minutes before flight time, Adam pushed Alan at a rapid pace. A tour group with gaudy shirts was noisily assembled in front of the Delta counter. Having the people around gave Adam a sense of safety. Going through security before boarding the plane, Adam helped Alan out of the wheelchair so he could go through the metal detector. The guard eyed them suspiciously but didn’t say a word. Once they were through and on their way to the gate, Adam felt a growing sense of excitement. He’d done it. In a few hours they’d be landing in the States.
The floor of the concourse angled downward and Adam now had to restrain the wheelchair from rolling forward on its own accord. Ahead was a water fountain and rest rooms, and Adam considered stopping; they had nearly twenty minutes to spare. He noticed a small sign on the floor next to the men’s room door, indicating that the rest rooms were being cleaned.
Adam decided to do his drinking and peeing on the plane.
He had slowed to a normal walk and was about to continue on when out of the corner of his eye he caught a sudden movement. Just as he began to turn his head, someone grabbed him from behind, crushing his arms against his torso. Before Adam could respond, he was lifted off the floor.
Adam tried to twist as he cried out, but he was rammed directly against the closed door of the men’s room, hitting it with his chest and forehead. The impact threw open the door, and both Adam and his attacker fell headfirst onto the tile floor.
The force of the fall released the man’s stranglehold on Adam. Although dazed, Adam got his arms free and scrambled to his feet, only to be tripped again when the man grabbed him around the ankles. Again Adam fell, his head narrowly missing the edge of the sink, but this time his hands were free to cushion the fall.
Behind him, Adam was dimly aware of Alan in the wheelchair being propelled by a second man in white. Alan had been pushed against the men’s room door as Adam had, his head snapping forward on impact. When the door had opened, he was forcibly shoved forward, his head hyperextending. The unguided wheelchair now sped through, arcing to the left and then colliding with the bank of urinals, spilling Alan out of the chair.
The second man turned and locked the door behind him, then came to the aid of his partner. Together, the two men bore down on Adam, quickly overwhelming him and pinning him to the floor.
Marshaling his strength, Adam gave a powerful kick with his legs and succeeded in getting one arm free. Swinging widely, he connected with the lower jaw of the larger of his two attackers. The man cried out. His partner snapped back and, in a fit of anger, punched Adam solidly in the stomach.
Adam’s breath left him with an audible whoosh, making him gag and leaving him momentarily helpless. The two men held Adam on the floor with their combined weight. The smaller medic pulled a syringe from his pocket. Using his teeth, he removed the plastic cover from the needle. With one hand he smoothed out the cloth covering Adam’s thigh and then plunged the needle into Adam’s flesh, all the way to the hilt.
