Plague Ship - Cussler Clive - Страница 51

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“Good.”

“How’s everything on the Oregon?”

“I just got off the phone with Langston. I think I need Julia to install a colostomy bag, because he ripped me a new one for driving the ship through the Corinth Canal.”

“Little angry, was he?”

“Oh, my friend, angry was not the word. Through back channels, he’s trying to convince the Greeks it wasn’t some terrorist plot to destroy the canal. They want to call out NATO, for heaven’s sake.” Max winced. “What did I tell you about you and your damned plan Cs.” Juan chuckled. "If any future operation requires a plan C, you can have my resignation.”

“I heard that, and Eddie’s my witness.”

Cabrillo turned serious. “How’s Kyle doing?”

“He’ll be coming out of the drugs pretty soon. We’ll know then.”

“You’ve got a whole boatload of people pulling for the both of you.”

“This has been tough,” Max admitted. “A lot tougher than I had realized.”

“He’s your son. Even if you two aren’t close, you still love him. Nothing changes that.”

“It’s just that I’m so angry.”

“No, Max, you’re guilty. Two separate things, and you’ve got to get over it or you won’t be able to help him. Life happens the way it happens. Some things we can change and some things we can’t. You just have to be smart enough to know the difference and act accordingly.”

“I feel like I let him down, you know?”

“And there isn’t a parent in the world who doesn’t feel that way about their kids at some point in time.

That’s all part of the process.”

Max digested what Cabrillo said and nodded. Realizing Juan couldn’t see the gesture, he grudgingly said,

“You have a point. It’s just . . .”

“Tough. I know. Max, when we’re on an op, we plan out every detail, every possible contingency, so we’re never surprised. And, even then, we get thrown curves. Think about trying to do that in the other parts of our lives. It’s impossible. You’re doing what any good parent does. You’re there for Kyle now.

You can’t say that this would or wouldn’t have happened if you’d been around when he was growing up.

Just deal with the here and now. Okay?”

“You’re going to make a hell of a father someday.”

“Are you kidding me?” Juan laughed. “I know how rotten the world is. I wouldn’t let a kid out of his bedroom until he was at least thirty, and even then I’d only let him go as far as the fenced-in yard.”

“Where are you guys now?”

“Almost due south of you. We’ll hit the Riviera late tomorrow night and have full surveillance of the arms dealer in place by the following morning.”

“I should be with you.”

“You should be with Kyle. Don’t worry about anything. Take all the time you need. Okay?”

“Okay.” Eddie gestured for the phone. “Hold on, Eddie wants to talk to you.”

“Juan, I was talking with Jenner, and he mentioned the Responsivists have hired cruise ships in the past.”

“And?”

“Could be a wild-goose chase, but it wouldn’t hurt to have Eric and Mark cross-reference those voyages to see if anything weird went down.”

“Not a bad idea. Anything else?”

“He said there are rumors they are building a new retreat in the Philippines. If there was something like four hundred Responsivists on the Dawn when she sank, I think they’re further along in construction than Dr. Jenner knows. Might be worth checking out.”

“Two for two,” Cabrillo remarked.

Jenner stepped out of the bedroom, closing the door behind him. In a stage whisper, he said, “Kyle’s coming awake. I think it’s best if you two leave us for a while.” He went to his medical bag and withdrew a cylindrical object about the size of a soup can. “This is a locking device that goes over the suite’s doorknob so it can’t be opened from the inside.”

“Juan, we have to go,” Eddie said into the phone and cut the connection.

Max was on his feet. “For how long?”

“Give me your cell phone number and I will call you. Probably an hour or two. Kyle and I will talk some, and then I will administer a sedative.”

Max looked at the closed bedroom door and at Jenner, conflicted about what was right.

“Trust me, Mr. Hanley. I know what I’m doing.”

“Okay.” Max jotted down his number on a piece of hotel stationery. He let Eddie lead him out of the suite and into the richly paneled elevator vestibule. Eddie could see the concern in Hanley’s face even in the distorted reflection of the polished brass doors. Behind them, they heard Jenner slipping the clamshell lock over the doorknob.

“Come on, I’ll buy you dinner.”

“I think I’m in the mood for Italian,” Max quipped, to show he wasn’t totally out of it.

“Sorry, mate. Chinese food or nothing.”

CHAPTER 18

AS THE OREGON DROVE THROUGH THE DARK WATERS of the Mediterranean at a little over twenty knots, far below her true capabilities because there were dozens of other vessels plying the shipping routes, there was almost no sensation of movement in her tastefully appointed dining room. If not for the background hum of her magnetohydrodynamic engines and her pump jets, Cabrillo felt like he could be sitting at a five-star restaurant on some fashionable boulevard in Paris.

Juan wore a summer-weight sports jacket over a custom dress shirt open at the collar. His cuff links were tiny compasses and his shoes were Italian leather. Across from him, Linda Ross wore cargo pants and a black T-shirt, and, even without makeup, her skin glowed by the candlelight, highlighting the dusting of freckles across her cheeks and nose.

Juan twirled the stem of his wineglass and took an appreciative sip. “If Maurice is going to have his staff prepare a special dinner, the least you could do is dress for the occasion.” Linda slathered a piece of still-warm bread with unsalted butter. “I had brothers growing up. I learned to eat fast and as often as there was food around. Otherwise, I’d go hungry.”

“That bad, huh?”

“Ever watch one of those nature shows when sharks are in a feeding frenzy or a pack of wolves have taken down a deer? My oldest brother, Tony, would sometimes even growl at us.” She smiled at the memory.

“My parents insisted on table manners at all times,” Juan said. “I’d get grounded for putting my elbows on the table.”

“Our only rule was, utensils had to be used on the food and not each other.”

“Are you sure about tomorrow?” Juan asked, turning the conversation back to work. Even in these sumptuous surroundings, the specter of their chosen profession was never far off.

“I’ve been cramming all day. I might not be ready to lead a Responsivist revival, but I can more than hold my own in a conversation with one of them. I have to admit that the more I learn about them, the weirder it gets. How anyone can believe that an alien intelligence from a parallel universe can control your life is beyond me.”

“It takes all kinds, I suppose,” Juan said. He’d always believed that as long as it didn’t hurt others, people’s belief systems were their own individual choice, and he wasn’t one to judge. “You know that after what we did to them, their security is going to be on heightened alert.” She nodded. “I know. They may not even let me in, but it’s worth the risk.” Juan was about to respond when four people appeared at the dining room’s double-door entrance. Julia Huxley wore her lab coat, as always, while, flanking her, Mark Murphy and Eric Stone had cleaned themselves up. Both sported jackets and ties, although the tails of Mark’s shirt were sticking out. Eric’s naval background had given him a sense of deportment, but he was clearly uncomfortable in his clothes.

Or perhaps it was the fourth in their party that made him uneasy.

Julia untied the scarf from around Jannike Dahl’s eyes that had kept her from seeing any part of the ship, other than medical, and now the mess. Juan had relented, giving her a temporary reprieve from the infirmary, but had insisted on the blindfold. Janni wore a borrowed dress from Kevin Nixon’s Magic Shop, and, despite her weakened condition, Juan could understand how young Masters Stone and Murphy could be so vexed. She was a lovely, delicate woman who could leave even the most cynical player tongue-tied. Now that she had lost her pallor from being ill for so long, her normally dusky complexion had returned. Her hair was an obsidian wave that swept off her head and across one bare shoulder.

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