“Jesus!” Carolyn breathed. “Will they know you did it?”
“In all likelihood,” David replied. “When they see his broken neck, they’ll figure only one person could have done that. And that person is me.”
“Because you were in Special Forces?”
David shook his head. “They think I was an MP. But when you put that together with what I did to Choi, it doesn’t take much imagination to conclude I know how to snap a neck.”
“So they’ll come after you.”
“Full force.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Stay on the move and keep in touch with you by room phone,” David said and handed her the small tank of oxygen. “It’s the only one I could find.”
“Let’s hope it helps.”
They hurried into the bedroom and set up an oxygen delivery system for Kit. The child was sleeping, but her respirations were raspy and rapid. At the foot of the bed was a temperature chart that Carolyn had constructed on a sheet of the ship’s stationery. It showed that Kit’s temperature had remained at 102º throughout the morning.
David sighed sadly and said, “I’d love to see her temperature come down, if only a little.”
“That may be starting to happen,” Carolyn informed. “I haven’t given her any Tylenol for hours, and she’s had no fever spikes.”
“But her face is still flushed,” David noted, then added, “I guess we should be thankful it hasn’t turned that awful blue color.”
Kit coughed in her sleep. Sputum rattled in her chest and throat, yet it didn’t seem to interfere with her breathing. She coughed once more and tried to clear her lungs, but was only partially successful.
“I think her cough is stronger,” Carolyn observed.
“I don’t see much improvement,” David said.
Juanita turned to him in her bed. “That is because you haven’t been listening closely. The Little One has become stronger.”
David smiled briefly. “That is your clinical opinion, eh?”
“It is the opinion of someone who is experienced when it comes to the breathing of children,” Juanita said firmly.
“Then I’ll have to take your word for it,” David said, and again realized how fortunate he was to have a nanny like Juanita to help him look after Kit through all the years. He watched the woman try to raise herself off the bed, only to plop back down. “You should continue to rest.”
“I will continue to rest,” Juanita told him. “And while I continue to rest, I will continue to keep an eye on the Little One.”
“Good. We’ll be back shortly.”
Taking Carolyn’s hand, they moved quickly through the sitting room to the cabin door. He paused and listened for sounds outside. There were no voices or footsteps. Cautiously he opened the door and peered out to make certain there were no guards in the vicinity. Then they dashed down the empty passageway and into their cabin. David rapidly began stripping off all of his clothes and handing them to Carolyn.
“Don’t let them touch the floor and leave behind a lemon scent,” he instructed. “I don’t want them to know I was here.”
“Right,” Carolyn said and tossed his wallet back to him. “What should I do with your clothes?”
“Throw everything into the ocean.”
David dashed into the bathroom and turned the shower on full blast. He soaked himself under the steady stream of water, then soaped and re-soaped his body, ridding it of its lemon aroma. But the stench of death and decay was still in his nostrils. And the smell was sure to intensify as the number of dead aboard the Grand Atlantic increased. To make matters even worse, they had run out of body bags again. The last bag was the one he’d used on Robbie’s—
Christ! David groaned to himself. I didn’t put Robbie’s body into the plastic bag. There wasn’t time because the mutineers were approaching. He’d left the damn thing on the floor, directly beneath the shelf that held Robbie’s body. They’d find it, and now Richard Scott would be absolutely certain that David had killed his half-brother. David switched the faucet to cold and let the icy water stream onto his face, his mind still on Richard Scott. The investment banker would search high and low for David, wanting him dead before leaving the Grand Atlantic. David turned off the shower and reminded himself that Scott wasn’t the problem. Choi was. Choi would be the one assigned to kill him.
As he stepped out of the shower, Carolyn handed him a thick white towel. “Take a whiff and tell me what you smell,” he requested.
Carolyn stepped in close and inhaled deeply. “No lemon scent.”
“Good,” David said and began toweling off. “Now listen up because there’s a bunch of things you need to know. First, the acting captain, Jonathan Locke, is the inside man. He helped Richard Scott and his men pull off the mutiny. He’s a full-blown traitor.”
“How did you find out?” Carolyn asked.
“I heard Choi telling another mutineer about Locke. Nice, eh?”
“Bastard!”
“Yeah,” David agreed, shaking the water out of his hair. “And you’ll never guess who has decided to jump into the first lifeboat, along with the mutineers.”
“Karen Kellerman,” Carolyn answered at once.
David grinned without humor. “How did you know?”
“She’s a me-first kind of woman,” Carolyn told him. “She can only think of herself.”
“I suppose,” David said. “But it still caught me by surprise.”
“It shouldn’t have,” Carolyn said. “You should have been able to predict it from past experience.”
“It’s just I expected more from a physician.”
“Titles don’t change the person.”
David nodded, thinking about Karen’s duplicity in the past and her self-serving behavior now. She hadn’t changed a bit, not one iota. He rapidly brought his mind back to the problems aboard the Grand Atlantic. “In less than twenty-four hours, we’ll reach Nassau, where they’ve arranged for the ship to be refueled. That’s when Richard Scott and the mutineers and the passengers will crowd into the lifeboats and head for shore. Some will be sick, some not so sick, some asymptomatic. But most will be carrying the virus. And that’s where and when the pandemic starts.”
“Wo-won’t the authorities in Nassau try to stop them?” Carolyn stammered.
David shook his head. “They don’t know about the avian flu on this ship. All they’ll see is two dozen lifeboats in the water and figure the cruise ship is in some kind of distress. Hell! They’ll probably send out people to help them get ashore.”
“What about the Navy?”
“They won’t be anywhere around,” David said knowingly. “That would only raise suspicions. And even if they were nearby, what could the Navy do? Blow the lifeboats out of the water?”
“So the mutineers and passengers will get ashore and start a pandemic,” Carolyn said dispiritedly.
“Beyond any doubt.” David finished drying himself and hurriedly put on a new set of clothes. He carefully eased the hatchet under the rear of his belt and made certain it was secure.
“Maybe one of us should get into the boat with the others and warn the authorities when we reach shore,” Carolyn suggested.
“It wouldn’t matter,” David told her. “By the time we got to the authorities and they verified our story, the mutineers and passengers would disperse to every part of the island. And remember, these people are very well-to-do, with passports, cash, and credit cards galore. They’ll buy their way onto boats and planes and helicopters, and be in a half-dozen cities on the mainland before the authorities on Nassau begin to react.”
“And there’s no way to stop it. Is that what you’re saying?”
“That’s what I’m saying.” David took her hand and moved quickly into the sitting room. He gave her a peck on the lips and said, “I’ll call ever
y hour or so to check on Kit.”
Carolyn thought for a moment. “Scott may decide to put a guard in Kit’s cabin.”
“I doubt it,” David said. “They know Kit is sick with the bird flu. They won’t put anybody in a confined space with the virus.”
“Let’s hope you’re right.” Carolyn’s gaze went up to the ventilation duct that David had taped over to prevent the air from entering the cabin. “I should remove the tape from the duct in case we need to hide something in there.”
“Like what?”
“Like some additional tanks of oxygen, if you’re lucky enough to find them.”
“Good idea,” David said and reached for the door handle. He gave Carolyn a big wink as she mounted a chair beneath the
ventilation duct. David’s brow suddenly went up. In a matter of seconds, he had formulated a plan that would keep Richard Scott and the mutineers aboard the Grand Atlantic. Hastily he asked Carolyn, “Is there a stepladder of some sort down in the sick bay?”
“Not that I recall,” she replied.
“But some of those shelves were at least seven or eight feet up. How did you reach them?”
“I used one of the metal stools.”
“And how much extra height did it give you?”
“I’d say three feet or so.”
“Perfect!”
“For what?”
“For a—”
His answer was interrupted by a loud commotion in the passageway. Voices were yelling, footsteps stomping. It was impossible to tell how many people were out there. At least three, David estimated. Maybe four.
“I want him alive!” Richard Scott shrieked.
David rapidly backed away from the door and took out his hatchet. “It’s the mutineers! They’ve come for me!”
“What should we do?” Carolyn asked breathlessly.
“I want you to walk out into the passageway and go into Kit’s cabin,” David instructed, thinking quickly. “Leave this door open, as if you’re coming back.”
“For what reason?”
“Make up one,” David said in a low voice. “Now go!”
Squaring her shoulders, Carolyn opened the door and walked out into the passageway.
David slipped behind the open door and, raising his hatchet, readied himself to spring into action.
“Where’s Ballineau?” Scott demanded.
“He had to go to the sick bay,” Carolyn said evenly. “They have some kind of emergency down there.”
“Not in sick bay,” Choi interjected. “I already look.”
“Well, look again,” Carolyn insisted. “He left here just a few minutes ago.”
There was a pause while someone coughed loudly.
“How do I know you’re telling the truth?” Scott pressed.
“You don’t. But why would I lie?” Carolyn asked. “Now please move aside. I want to move Dr. Ballineau’s daughter into his cabin, where there is a larger balcony and better cross-ventilation. The child has a fever and it’ll be more comfortable for her in there.”
Smart, David thought, so damn smart. Carolyn explained the open door without being asked about it. That made her reason more believable.
“We are going to find your boyfriend,” Scott said menacingly. “And when we do, he’ll pay a very high price for killing my brother.”
“What are you talking about?” Carolyn asked, raising her voice an octave. “David hasn’t killed anyone.”
“Tell that to my brother Robbie, who is now cold as ice,” Scott said, then gave directions to the other mutineers. “Choi, I want you to check out the sick bay again. Tommy, you get some deckhands and start patrolling and searching the levels, one by one. Mac, you come with me while I think of a way to smoke that son of a bitch out.”
“If we find him, do you want him dead?” Tommy asked.
“I want him alive,” Scott growled. “I have special plans for him.”
And I have a special plan for you, David thought to himself. One that will ensure that you and your mutineers never leave the Grand Atlantic. You’ll scream and yell, but you’ll stay aboard because you’ll have no choice.
He heard the group of four stomp away and waited for the passageway to become dead quiet. Then he peeked around the door and, seeing no one, raced for the staircase.
thirty-four
David was curled up inside a giant dryer in the laundry room. He considered it to be an excellent hiding place. It was a brightly lighted area, right out in the open for everyone to see, yet chances were nobody would bother to search it. David knew that the clearly obvious would often be the most obscure, particularly when dealing with amateurs. He had learned that a long time ago in places like Mogadishu and Beirut.
With the door to the dryer cracked open, David could hear and see anything approaching. Over the past four hours, he had heard footsteps and voices only twice, both times passing by the laundry room but never entering. David had purposefully chosen a machine at the end of the row, which would give him more time to react to an intruder. He had also taken the precaution of unplugging the dryer he was in, just in case somebody decided to turn it on.
David checked his watch. It was 7 p.m. Darkness was setting in. Fourteen hours until landfall. Time to put the plan in motion. He eased himself out of the dryer and stretched his muscles, all the while listening for sounds. Everything was dead still. Silently he crept over to a phone on the wall and punched in Kit’s number.
Carolyn answered on the second ring. “Yes?”
“Is Dr. Balli-not there?” David asked, purposefully mispronouncing his last name. It was a code he and Carolyn had devised in case a mutineer was in the cabin. If one was, the response would be, “He’s in the sick bay.”
“No one is here,” Carolyn whispered. “But they’re checking both cabins on a frequent basis. It would be really dangerous for you to come back now.”
“I don’t plan to,” David whispered back. “How is Kit doing?”
“Better,” Carolyn reported. “Her fever is down to 101º and she’s taking fluids by mouth.”
“What about her cough?”
“It’s still there, but she’s getting a lot of yucky stuff up.”
“Oh Lord!” David breathed thankfully. “Don’t tell me we’re going to get lucky for once.”
“Keep your fingers crossed.”
“I will,” David said, keeping his voice very low. “Now listen carefully, beautiful. There are some things that I’m going to ask you to do that sound crazy. But just do exactly as I say. Okay?”
“Okay.”
“In the morning, when the passengers are lining up to get off the ship, I want you to wrap Kit up in a blanket and bring her to the lifeboat area. As soon as you see me, move to the front of the line.”
“What!”
“Just do as I say. And when you get there, don’t talk or utter a word. Simply stand in place.”
“Jesus, David! What’s this all about?”
“Saving a lot of lives.”
“Should I bring Juanita?”
“No.”
David heard faint footsteps and voices over the phone. The voices gradually grew louder. It had to be another cabin check by the mutineers.
“He’s in the sick bay,” Carolyn said curtly and hung up.
David moved quickly to the door of the laundry room and peeked out into the deserted passageway. He waited another thirty seconds to make certain no one was there, then sprinted down the corridor and to the staircase. Keeping his ears pricked, he went up the stairs on his tiptoes. So now, step one of the plan was in place. Step two would be far more difficult. It would require him to be out in the open again, which was very risky, with half the crew looking for him. But he had no choice.
He came to the level of the sick bay and cautiously cracked the door. The only
thing his senses detected was the stench of decay. The smell was so strong that David wondered if there was a cluster of bloated dead people lying about the area. Maybe some of the passengers couldn’t make it back to their cabins or maybe some had come down here to die. As he approached the spa, he heard a peculiar noise. It sounded like loud chirping mixed with a background hum. He glanced into the well-lighted spa and winced at the most gruesome sight he’d ever seen. Less than ten feet away, a decaying body was seated upright in a large, leatherbound chair. A pack of giant rats was feasting on the female corpse, while a swarm of flies flew overhead and waited their turn. David felt a surge of nausea and swallowed it back.
“So there you are,” a voice behind him said.
David spun around and reached back for his hatchet. But then he lowered his hand. It was Karen Kellerman.
“Everybody is looking for you, David,” Karen went on.
“Who is everybody?” David asked innocently.
“Mainly the crew and mutineers,” Karen replied. “And they seemed really angry. Did you do something to upset them?”
“They think I killed one of their men,” David said tonelessly.
“Did you?”
“Of course not,” David said, not trusting her. “But they’re convinced I did.”
“If I were you, I’d do everything possible to avoid them,” she warned.
“That’s my plan,” David said, then added, “and I’d appreciate you not mentioning that you’d seen me.”
“Why in the world would I do that?”
To secure your place in the first lifeboat, David wanted to say, but held his tongue. “I was just referring to loose talk that might get back to the mutineers.”
“I’d never do anything to hurt you, David.”
“I know,” David said, straight-faced, then watched her stifle a yawn. “You look beat.”
“Caring for a couple hundred sick patients will do that to you,” Karen said wearily and yawned again. “Particularly when you don’t have much to offer them. Damn! I’ve seen so many dead people.”
“Like the one next door?”
Karen nodded. “I almost threw up.”
Plague Ship (A Ballineau/Ross Medical Thriller) Page 24
