Wednesday
2:30 p.m.
Captain McGregor yawned, stretched and opened his eyes. For an instant he panicked, wondering where he was, and why he could not feel the rhythmic rise and fall of the Sea Dancer underneath him. But then the memories of yesterday's events swept over him in quick succession and he recognised the room around him.
Rising slowly to his feet, he opened the heavy, thick curtains that shrouded his palatial suite from the outside world, and he blinked, stepping quickly back, blinded by the bright sunshine outside.
"How many bells is it?" he asked himself, wondering how long he had slept. Slowly he adjusted to the light outside, and scanned the sky for the sun, immediately surprised to discover how far advanced the day already was.
He had slept for almost ten hours.
Yawning again, he walked to the chamber where water flowed from the ceiling in curtains of rain. Already naked, Rob walked into the small room and rotated the dial on the wall. Immediately the rain cascaded down on top of him and Rob realised that he had just discovered one of the true pleasures in life. The cold water was both refreshing and stimulating, and it reminded him of the day he had washed under the waterfall in Trinidad, after hiking through the jungle and escaping from the pursuing English infantrymen who had been sent ashore in hot pursuit of him and his crew.
Yet, although he truly enjoyed standing in the falling water curtain, the hunger gnawed within him, and he knew he had to find food.
Leaving the waterfall behind, he toweled himself down in one of the red rugs that hung on the wall beside the shower, and seemed so perfect for the task, and then crossed his living quarters until he found the small white humming box.
Opening its door, he marveled again at the cold air and the temperature within. Plunging both hands inside he let his fingers explore the cold that was somehow locked within the white box. Outside, where he stood, the room was warm, but inside, the box was cold. So cold in fact, that he found a tray of small, cold, transparent pieces of ice. Picking the tray up he discovered that it bent within his hands, and that the pieces of ice popped out easily into his palms. Popping one of the ice pieces into his mouth, he rolled another around on his forehead, enjoying the soothing sensation it produced.
He understood then what the white box was for: it was a safe-box in which to keep the cold ice. The value that these small blocks of ice had must be immense. The ability to keep ice frozen even in the heat of the Caribbean was a trick that had immeasurable value. Anyone who owned a white box such as this would therefore have to be a great or very rich person indeed!
Inside the white box Rob found some little colored packets which Miss Sally had assured him contained some food to eat which she called 'snacks'.
Unable to find a way to open the sealed packets, he fetched his dirk and used the blade to cut them open. Inside there were little oval pellets, which when popped into Rob's mouth were salty and crunchy.
Examining the packaging in which the food had come, he was able to read the words 'Salted Peanuts'.
"Hmmm..." Captain Rob said to himself, as he cut open the second packet and gorged on its contents.
On top of a table in the chamber near the humming white safe-box in which the ice had been hidden, he found a bowl full of fruits. He devoured them all.
He was just finishing them when he heard someone knocking on the entrance door.
"Come!" he shouted.
More knocking.
"Come!" he shouted again.
But no one came.
More knocking.
Rob hurried to the door and twisted the handle down and pulled it back towards him, opening the door wide.
In the open doorway stood Miss Sally.
"Good afternoon," she said smiling behind her face mask, glancing slowly downwards at Rob's naked body, from his chest down to his toes, with a small visual rest around the groin area, before continuing very slowly back upwards. "It is certainly very nice to see you again Captain Rob. Very nice indeed..." and she coughed, then blushed. "I was beginning to get worried that you had perhaps succumbed to the plague, and I decided to come and rescue you! Shall I come in, or would you prefer me to wait while you find some clothes to put on?"
Captain Rob glanced down at his own nakedness, almost as if he did not remember that he had no clothes on.
"Oh," was all he said, before disappearing back into his room. A second later he appeared back in the doorway, one of the thick red rugs from the waterfall room now wrapped around his waist.
"My apologies, Miss Sally, for I was not in the correct attire to receive such a lady as yourself. But please, do now come into my palace."
Sally followed him in.
"Please, excuse me, and I shall dress," Rob said, then disappeared for a few minutes before returning, having donned his breeches, shoes and the long white tunic which he tucked into his breeches as he stood before her.
His shirt was open, exposing the top of his chest, his hair still wet, his beard now several days old.
Sally looked at him and felt something stir within herself: the Captain looked rough, inviting and more beautiful than any man Sally had known for several years.
Perhaps it was not such a good idea to be so alone in a room with a rough, handsome pirate who had been at sea for months and had had no women for weeks or months.
Sally shuddered.
"Shall we go?" the Captain asked. "I should like to see my men in the hospital and then again visit those who are confined to quarters."
Sally agreed, and together they left the room. As the Captain stood aside in the doorway and allowed her to pass through first, she felt a twinge of disappointment.
A disappointment which she buried deep within herself as soon as she felt it.
Nothing good could come from falling for the Captain.
--------------------
Operation Cutlass Incident Room
Police Headquarters
San Juan
Puerto Rico
Wednesday 5 p.m.
The blinds covering all the windows of the Incident Room for Operation Cutlass had just been drawn, and everyone else had been asked to leave the room until recalled, only the Governor and the Superintendent remained.
In five minutes they were going to hold a joint conference call with the President of the United States of America, and with the Head of the World Health Organisation.
Only two hours ago, the President himself had made a private phone conversation to the Governor of the Island, explaining to him the existence of the Piras Plan, and that Stage One and Stage Two of the plan had already been implemented. Two N-648 devices were now in Puerto Rico but Stage Three had not yet been agreed. Although it was ultimately the President's decision, he wished to discuss the matter with the Governor and the Superintendent, in his joint role of Puerto Rico Commissioner of Safety and Public Protection.
While the Governor was quickly coming to terms with the implications of this plan, the President had then explained to him that Stage Three would involve a parachute controlled release of a single weapon from an aircraft flying over the Blue Emerald Bay Resort, with a subsequent detonation of the N-648 Nuclear Incendiary Device ninety feet above sea-level.
Everything within one quarter mile of the detonation center would be obliterated, only ashes and rubble remaining. The N-648 was an extremely precise weapon, designed for this exact purpose. Reassuringly, they had worked out exactly where the weapon should be detonated to ensure that only those within the complex would be killed, with no real danger to the military or police outside the complex walls, so long as they were ordered to withdraw to two miles, just prior to detonation.
Whilst the Governor was still dumbstruck, the President had pointed out that the public reaction to such a colossal explosion and the significant death toll would be easily controllable: the truth need never be told. No mention of the plague would ever need to be given. All blame would be put with the terrorists, who had exploded a thermo-nuclear
device in the worst terrorist act that anyone had seen since 2001. In actual fact, a positive feature of the plan was that the U.S. Administration would once again be able to fan the public fear of terrorism, and in future obtaining more funding for anti-terrorist actions would be much easier. Perhaps, in the wake of the Puerto Rico Bomb, they would finally find the courage to face Iran and those who ran the new terrorist camps in Syria and Libya.
"But it would destroy tourism in Puerto Rico for months to come!" the Governor had finally protested.
"Not half as much as the plague will do, if it escapes the resort," the President had easily countered. "The plague will kill you all!"
The call with the President had shocked the Governor. At some level, he knew that the Piras Plan made sense: kill hundreds, save millions.
But a thermonuclear device in Puerto Rico? It just seemed so unreal. So extreme. Yet, what could they do?
The President had made it clear that he would like the Governor and the Superintendent to be involved in the decision to take Piras to Stage Three, if indeed, that was what was going to happen. Hence, that was why they were now sitting waiting for the conference call to take place. But the Governor had suggested to his friend Walter that perhaps they should talk about this between themselves before the call started, and the Superintendent had agreed. They both knew what was now on each other’s minds.
“A thermonuclear incendiary device that wipes out EVERYTHING within a restricted blast area? On land and at sea…?”
“Including three hundred year old wooden ships that are full of gold and silver and diamonds?”
“What exactly happens during a ‘thermonuclear incendiary blast'? Does everything just disappear, get vaporized? Or melt?”
“I have no idea, Walter. I have no idea. But, it concerns me a lot. For obvious reasons. Reasons which I think we are both considering just now. Truth be told, I have thought about little else since the President shared with us this wonderful plan of his.”
“Me too.”
“Listen, we haven’t got much time, and we’ve both known each other for a long time, and shared past ‘adventures’ with each other before, which have been mutually beneficial to us both, so let's speak plainly. The fact is, the arrival of this treasure in the Blue Emerald seems like far too good an opportunity for us to simply pass up. Only a few people know about its existence. A few. Certainly, no one will have counted it, or have any idea of its value in today’s world. Except that, from what we have seen, we know it will be vast. With any luck, the pirates are all going to die from this plague. And even if they don’t, I personally would not be happy to allow them to keep their stolen goods. I feel strongly that it is our duty to confiscate whatever valuables they have so obviously come by illegally. And before it’s all counted and documented, I feel it my duty to suggest a secure storage facility.”
“Exactly. And we of course must ensure that none of the treasure would be lost en route to your storage facility…”
“…Lest it fall into the wrong hands?”
“That would be terrible.”
“Agreed.”
They both smiled.
“Which, however, then leaves us with the one problem: how do we prevent the President from vaporizing it later today?”
They both looked at each other, hoping the other would have the answer.
Neither did.
The Superintendent switched on the conferencing screen and settled back in his chair. A moment later the images of the President of the United States of America and the Head of the World Health Organisation appeared on the screens.
The President greeted them all, introduced Dr Anton Lebsky, Director-General of the World Health Organisation in Switzerland and welcomed the Governor and the Superintendent to the meeting.
“Let’s not beat around the bush here Gentlemen. We all know why we are on the call just now. It’s to discuss whether or not we move the Piras Plan to Stage Three. Now, according to the Plan itself, if we follow it to the letter, we should be exploding the incendiary device or devices in the infected zone within twenty-four hours of the plan being initiated. Which means later this evening, or early tomorrow morning, if we cut ourselves a little slack...”
“Which we should not,” the Director-General interrupted. “We have to be very strict and disciplined on this. I understand that no one wants to do this, but we have very little choice.”
“Or do we?” The President replied, catching everyone else by surprise.
“What do you mean?” the Director-General asked.
“I’ve been thinking about this a lot, Anton, and the more I think about it, the more uncomfortable I feel about it. The residents of the Blue Emerald Bay are almost all American citizens…”
“Which is neither here or there, Mr President. What we are concerned about are those that live outside the resort, which basically boils down to the rest of humanity.”
“I understand that. Believe me, I do. However, the bottom line is that I still feel uncomfortable about this.”
“Mr President, the Piras Plan is nothing more than a pre-emptive strike against an enemy that has the potential to wipe out your entire nation. The enemy might not wear a Russian or Chinese uniform, but its potential to devastate your country is just the same.”
“Excuse me, Dr Lebsky, but how can we be so sure that this pathogen is as deadly as you claim it to be? Perhaps I am a little jaded by the Swine Flu fiasco, and the ongoing prophecies of doom that Bird Flu continues to evoke, but the W.H.O. doesn’t exactly have the best track record in the world in getting it right, does it?”
The Director-General was visibly shocked and taken aback by the Governor’s words. The conference call was not exactly going as he had hoped for.
“Governor Rodriguez, the very fact that Bird Flu has not yet devastated the world is perhaps, I would certainly like to think, a direct result of the work that the W.H.O does. However, Bird Flu is but one of many potential threats that we monitor and fight and help protect the world from on an almost daily basis. The plague in the Blue Emerald resort is another. We have looked at it in detail, and it is our considered opinion that this has the potential to …”
“I know what you are going to say, Dr Lebsky, but perhaps it’s not ‘considered’ enough. This just all seems rather fast.”
“Which is exactly the point. We have to act fast, or it could be too late.”
“Let me ask you a question, Dr Lebsky,” the President rejoined the conversation. “Can you give us all a briefing on the latest infection and mortality rates?”
“Certainly. In all there are one hundred and twenty pirates that form the initial infection group. Of these, there are now seventy confirmed cases of infection, of which forty-six have died. Of the twenty-four still alive, ten are very seriously ill, and are unlikely to survive the evening.”
“Are any getting better or responding to drugs?” The Superintendent asked.
“A small number of the pirates seem to be responding very well to the new antibiotics and the new drug that we shipped over to them earlier this afternoon. This is a little promising, but the rest are not responding at all. So far we have not seen any cases amongst the secondary infection group, i.e. the residents of the resort and the employees.”
“What is the incubation period? Why have so many become sick today?”
“Those who have fallen ill today and yesterday were most likely infected before they got off their ship and arrived in the resort. They would already have been infected onboard by other crew members. The big question is whether or not we have been able to stop or slow down the spread of the disease between the pirates and the residents since they arrived in the resort, by treating everyone with antibiotics and separating them from each other. I would hope so, but I am concerned that a major period of transmission could have occurred when they were all first taken hostage and held together in the main restaurant within the resort. If we anticipate an incubation period of one to two days, I think we could ex
pect to see victims within the secondary infection group developing symptoms from today onwards. We may start seeing secondary transmission anytime from this point forward.”
“But, as you say, no one new, apart from the pirates, has got sick yet?”
“No…”
“So, how do we know that they will get ill. There is no evidence to suggest that the pirates will infect any of the others. Perhaps they will not become ill.”
“Unlikely. We have studied the pathogen that is causing this, and we have never seen anything like this before. We fully expect it to spread from the primary to secondary infection group, even though we have treated everyone else in the resort to reduce that risk.”
“But there is no evidence yet that it will?” The President asked.
“Not yet.”
“And yet, you are suggesting we wipe everyone out, before we have evidence to prove that it will indeed spread from the pirates to anyone else?”
“It hasn't yet, but it will.”
“How can you be so damn sure?” the Governor asked.
“Because we know how the plague spreads. We understand it. This is not the Middle Ages when no one understood what was going on. Gentlemen, time is of the essence here. The longer we wait, the greater the risk that somehow the infection will spread beyond the confines of the resort.”
The President of the United States had heard enough. He understood what Dr Lebsky was saying, and why he was saying it. It was his job to warn them and advise them of the risks. But since they had talked earlier in the day, other factors had come into play, behind the scenes. The President of the United States was under a lot of pressure not to act too hastily.
There was a risk. True. Undeniably. But it was the job of the President of the United States to make informed decisions that best represented those who had elected him, as well as the Government which he ran and served, …and right now, he was not certain that the Piras Plan was the best option. At least, not at this point in time.
Perhaps tomorrow, or the next day.
TIME SHIP (Book Two) - A Time Travel Romantic Adventure Page 17
