Deadly Passage

by Lawrence Gold

  ‘‘The situation has become more complicated.’’

  ‘‘Complicated?’’

  ‘‘We finally know what Jorge was hiding. The virus is smallpox. The terrorists have the full-blown disease, and our men were exposed. Faul II is on her way back to Santiago de Cuba for quarantine.’’

  ‘‘Is that advisable?’’

  ‘‘What would you have us do, Presidente, sink them, too?’’

  ‘‘That was uncalled for, Colonel.’’

  ‘‘I apologize.’’

  ‘‘The Americans attacked our ship,’’ Castro said. ‘‘I’ll make sure they’ll live to regret it.’’

  Ochoa shook his head, giving thanks that he was on the phone. ‘‘Sir, I advised you against…’’

  ‘‘Don’t be stupid, Colonel,’’ Castro said. ‘‘We’re in this together. We chose the lesser of evils by trying to remove the terrorists.’’

  ‘‘Take the advice of an old warrior, Mr. President. I can only imagine what the CIA is thinking about Cuba’s role in this fiasco. If they decide to keep their mouths shut, then we should, too.’’

  Inside the oval office, the President sat with Preston Harding and the USCG’s Admiral Byron Pitts.

  ‘‘Barney Adams is all over my case, Mr. President,’’ Pitts said.

  ‘‘About what?’’ Harding asked.

  ‘‘Barney’s chafing at the bit to get Prophecy to safety in the face of Hurricane Agnes.’’

  The President sneered, ‘‘Who’s in command, Admiral?’’

  ‘‘Barney’s a captain in the USCG. He’s been with us for 34 years, and has the respect of officers and enlisted men. If you disregard his advice, or order him to act against his best judgment, then he’s going to resign, and I guarantee it won’t be a silent resignation. After that, we can expect to see him on the Sunday talk shows. That’s the last thing you want, Mr. President.’’

  ‘‘This is crap. He’s prepared to substitute his judgment for that of his Commander-in-Chief, and all his advisors who love their country as much as he does?’’

  ‘‘You don’t give a man like Barney Adams orders placing Americans in danger. You explain the situation, and solicit his advice and cooperation. Of all things, Captain Adams is a man of reason, and a patriot.’’

  At USCG headquarters, Rear Admiral Pitts knew he couldn’t bullshit a pro like Barney, so he just brought him up to date with the Oval Office’s thinking. ‘‘Listen, Barney, their best experts don’t know for sure what this smallpox is all about.’’

  ‘‘I understand, but we have well-established techniques to deal with infections like smallpox. I will agree with most anything, but leaving Prophecy at sea in the path of a hurricane…’’

  ‘‘For the moment, Captain, that’s exactly what you’ll do.’’

  ‘‘Byron, for Christ’s sake,’’ Barney cried, ‘‘I made them a promise. I gave my word.’’

  ‘‘Do your job, Captain, and follow your orders. We have a chain of command because individuals don’t often have the whole picture. You’re a high-ranking officer. You understand.’’

  ‘‘I’m not okay with this, Admiral.’’

  ‘‘I can replace you.’’

  Adams stood to attention. ‘‘Go ahead, but, sir, I’d advise against that decision. The United States Coast Guard has a tradition established and protected for more than 200 years. We cannot throw our honor overboard for political expediency. I can assure you that there will be a steep price to pay if you do that, and,’’ he hesitated, ‘‘I’ll make sure the bill comes directly to you, Admiral, and directly to the Oval Office.’’

  ‘‘For Christ’s sake, Barney, take it easy. You’re a real pain in my ass. I promise you one thing: I’ll do the best I can with the powers that be.’’

  In his office at the CEF, Miguel Garcia’s receptionist entered, and said, ‘‘I have a reporter from el Nuevo Herald on the line.’’

  ‘‘What does he want?’’

  ‘‘She, Señor. It’s a woman.’’

  The reporter introduced herself. ‘‘We have indications of unrest in Cuba, Señor.’’

  ‘‘I’m sorry,’’ Miguel said. ‘‘I don’t know what you mean.’’

  ‘‘We have contacts among members of the CDR. They report the presence of Islamists in Cuba who’ve attracted the interest of internal security. We even have reports that the government is holding one in prison outside Havana. Do you have any comments?’’

  Miguel laughed. ‘‘If I had a nickel for every rumor I had from Cuba, I’d be a rich man.’’

  ‘‘Don’t dismiss me, Señor. We know something’s going on. What do the names Jorge Lopez, and Dr. Fernando Baños mean to you?’’

  Mierda, Miguel thought. What a story I could give her.

  ‘‘I’m sorry, Senorita, but I don’t recognize those names.’’

  ‘‘I’m sorry, too,’’ she said. ‘‘I thought the CEF was still relevant in Cuban politics. I guess I was misinformed.’’

  ‘‘Besame el culo,’’ he said. ‘‘Kiss my ass.’’

  The Tropical Prediction Unit was on full alert. They’d issued Hurricane Agnes warnings from the Keys to the entire west coast of Florida.

  Peter Blaire and Sandy Howard were exhausted, but they were too energized to sleep. For both meteorologists, especially Sandy, hurricanes were the name of the game.

  Sandy pointed to the computer screen. ‘‘I think Agnes will make landfall in 48 to 72 hours.’’

  ‘‘What about the track models?’’ Peter asked.

  ‘‘There’s a technical term to describe the models… they suck.’’

  ‘‘I know, but they’re the only game in town. What’s the most likely landfall?’’

  ‘‘The Ft. Myers area, which will be bad enough,’’ Sandy said. ‘‘But, if it stays south, it will put a good part of the keys in the dangerous semicircle where the storm speed and the cyclonic movement combine to produce maximum winds and damage.’’

  ‘‘The Gulfstream IV will be up again in two hours. Once they’re above Agnes, they can map the steering currents, and we can feed their data into our models.’’

  Peter looked at Sandy. ‘‘We’re both beat. This storm isn’t going away. Let’s catch some sleep before we lose what’s left of our analytic skills.’’

  ‘‘You know what I’m going to be dreaming about,’’ Sandy said.

  ‘‘Yeah, me, too.’’

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  The next morning, Jesse shook her head in disgust as she left the portside cabin. ‘‘That’s it. If Nicole needs nursing, you’ll have to do it. I can’t go in there, anymore. The stench is killing me.’’

  ‘‘How is she?’’ Andy asked.

  ‘‘The rash is everywhere, but strangely, they’re not draining. I would have thought by now that they would be.’’

  ‘‘Who knows with this strain, whatever it is.’’

  Jesse stared at Andy. ‘‘I can’t stand the thought of Rachel winding up this way.’’

  ‘‘I’ll do anything to prevent that. How is Rachel this morning?’’

  ‘‘Achy and feverish. I’m keeping her well hydrated and putting any food she’ll eat into her.’’

  Andy went back into the cockpit. He turned back from the helm. The skies were black, with winds coming from behind at 25 knots. The huge seas pursued them, and threatened to poop, or overtake the stern of the boat with crashing waves. Each time Prophecy’s stern rose to greet the menacing wave, the boat slid forward for a last second reprieve.

  Andy thought of their exhilarating times at sea, and the joy of surfing down the waves. Now, all he could visualize was disaster.

  As Andy returned his protective gear to the portside cabin, the SSB radio sounded. ‘‘Prophecy… Prophecy, this is USCG Miami. Do you read?’’

  ‘‘This is Prophecy; we read you loud and clear. Is that you, Barney?’’

  ‘‘Right on, Skipper.’’

  ‘‘Give us some good news, Captain,’’ Andy said,
‘‘like Agnes is heading away from Florida.’’

  ‘‘Sorry, Skipper. What’s your position?’’

  Andy gave his longitude and latitude.

  ‘‘You’re making good time. We should get together by tomorrow afternoon. How is your patient?’’

  ‘‘We’re getting her ready for a burial at sea.’’

  ‘‘What have you done, Andy?’’

  ‘‘Nothing yet, Barney, but if Nicole dies, we’ll sent her to the bottom of the sea with her brother, Ryan.’’

  ‘‘I’m not giving you permission for that, Andy.’’

  ‘‘I know this isn’t the way you like to be addressed, Captain Adams, but screw you… sir.’’

  Barney laughed. ‘‘It’s great to hear straight talk.’’

  ‘‘Barney,’’ Andy said with a controlled voice, ‘‘If you liked that, you’re going to love this.’’

  ‘‘Andy?’’

  ‘‘Unless you guarantee our passage into Florida, I’m altering our course directly for Marco Island, or Everglades City. I know neither offers great hurricane protection, but anything’s better than being out here in a hurricane. Excuse me, Barney, but that’s how this whole thing reads.’’

  ‘‘Don’t do it, Andy. I’m not a free agent, here. I’m under orders that go all the way to the top.’’

  ‘‘Remember your word, Barney. You gave me your word, but it didn’t mean shit, did it? So much for the honor of a captain in the United States Coast Guard.’’

  ‘‘I’m warning you, Andy.’’

  ‘‘You’re worse than the Cubans. At least they didn’t pretend to give a damn.’’

  ‘‘I’ve got a Catch-22 situation here, Andy. Why don’t you bear with me a little longer?’’

  ‘‘I’ll tell you why, Barney. Rachel’s sick with fever. It has to be early smallpox. I need to get her onto land, and treated as soon as possible. You do understand, don’t you?’’

  ‘‘Standby, Skipper.’’

  Jesse stared at Andy. ‘‘Ask Barney about getting us the VIG. I’m guessing it’s late, but we should do anything that might help Rachel.’’

  ‘‘Are you there, Andy?’’

  ‘‘Yes, Barney. We want to know if you have the VIG, Barney.’’

  ‘‘Yes.’’

  ‘‘Can you put it on a helicopter and drop it on deck?’’ Andy paused. ‘‘You asked that we bear with you, and the VIG would bring us a long way.’’

  ‘‘Sure, but how are the seas? Getting out to you and back will be the least of our problems.’’

  ‘‘We have swells to 18 feet, and the winds are steady at 40 knots with gusts up to 60. Can you do it?’’

  ‘‘Yes, but it’s gonna be tough, Andy. We can get above you, but we can’t drop a line on deck… it’s too dangerous for you, and for the helicopter, too. It’ll have to be a free drop on a moving target, and even if we can get the package on the deck, it’s going to be a hell of an impact. We’ll pack the VIG like the crown jewels, Andy.’’

  ‘‘Pack it up as you would your family jewels, and I’ll feel better.’’

  ‘‘Look for the helicopter in about an hour.’’

  Fifty minutes later, Andy stood on the bridgedeck, scanning what little he could see of the horizon to the north. The wind howled through the rigging as Prophecy rode the huge waves.

  Jesse stuck her head out from the companionway. ‘‘Anything, yet?’’

  ‘‘No. This is going to be one hell of a trick.’’

  ‘‘It’s getting late for the VIG, isn’t it?’’

  ‘‘Maybe, but it’s going to help, I know it.’’

  Suddenly the Coast Guard HH-65C was directly overhead, approximately 100 feet above the mast. The VHF radio sounded. ‘‘U.S. Coast Guard to the vessel Prophecy. Do you copy?’’

  ‘‘This is Prophecy. Go ahead.’’

  ‘‘I’m Lieutenant Collins. It’s hell up here, Skipper. How do you want to handle this?’’

  ‘‘You have to make the drop on the foredeck, or we’ll never recover it. I’m heading forward, and will signal when I’m ready.’’

  ‘‘Aye, aye, Skipper. We’re standing by.’’

  Andy leaned from the bridgedeck, and attached his tether to the starboard jack line. Jesse held his arm. ‘‘Be careful.’’

  Andy nodded, and crawled forward. The bow rose and fell with each passing wave. When Andy reached the foredeck, he attached one tether to the starboard rail, and the other to port. He kneeled, looked up at the helicopter, and then put the portable VHF to his lips. ‘‘Any time, Collins.’’

  The helicopter hovered over the foredeck as Andy swayed in its 200 mile per hour downdraft.

  A helicopter crewman slid the cabin door open, and hung a yellow package by a thick tether. The helicopter settled toward Prophecy, and as he closed, Prophecy’s bow lifted to a near collision, and the helicopter pulled away.

  ‘‘Sorry, Skipper. That was too damn close. I’ll try again.’’

  The helicopter settled again over the bow, and descended. Andy watched the crewman, and as Prophecy’s bow rose, Andy nodded.

  The yellow package plummeted toward the bow, and, at the last moment, struck the foredeck anchor, and bounced off. It was headed over the lifelines when Andy grabbed its tether, and brought it to his chest.

  Andy’s heart was pounding. ‘‘Got it, Lieutenant. Get the hell out of here, and thank Barney for us.’’

  ‘‘Good luck, Skipper.’’

  Andy crawled back into the cockpit.

  Jesse hugged the package. ‘‘Thank God… I thought he’d never do it.’’

  ‘‘Bring it below. I’ll give it to Rachel right away.’’

  Andy placed the package in the galley, and used a serrated steak knife to cut through the thick packing, the box, and the tape holding the edges of the Styrofoam insert. When he pulled the edges apart, he paled.

  ‘‘Andy, what’s wrong?’’

  Four plastic vials lay shattered in a brown gooey mass… the VIG. Andy looked up at Jesse, grim-faced, and slowly shook his head. ‘‘The impact destroyed it.’’

  Tears streamed down Jesse’s cheeks. ‘‘My God, Andy. What can we do?’’

  ‘‘Get Rachel to land before it’s too late.’’

  ‘‘Prophecy… Prophecy, this is the United States Coast Guard. Are you copying, Andy?’’

  Andy picked up the handset. ‘‘We’re here, Barney.’’

  ‘‘Did you get the VIG?’’

  Andy stared at the radio.

  ‘‘Andy… Andy… what’s wrong?’’

  ‘‘You, and especially Lieutenant Collins, did the best you could, but the impact destroyed the VIG.’’

  ‘‘Damn it… god damn it,’’ resounded over the radio.

  ‘‘If we didn’t have bad luck, we’d have no luck at all. We’re setting course for Everglades City. It’s a straight line, and the quickest way to get Rachel the care she needs.’’

  ‘‘Don’t, Andy. I have my orders.’’

  ‘‘Screw your orders.’’

  The radio remained silent.

  ‘‘If you’ll wait one damned second, Barney, how about a reality check?’’

  ‘‘Skipper?’’

  ‘‘Nicole has smallpox, but she doesn’t have open lesions. Ryan’s out of the picture, and it’s too early for Rachel to pose any danger. My opinion, as the physician on site, and an expert in infectious diseases, is that, with application of standard infection control principles, Prophecy poses little or no threat to the United States.’’

  ‘‘Some are going to say that those comments are a bit self-serving, Andy.’’

  ‘‘I don’t blame you for that thought. Don’t take my word for it. Ask any infectious disease expert whose future isn’t tied to a political objective, a promotion, and who’s willing to talk truth to power. You have a few of those left, don’t you, Barney?’’

  ‘‘Give me a little more time, please, Andy.’’

  ‘‘For what?’’


  ‘‘So I can find a way out of this that will satisfy my responsibilities as an officer, and allow me to keep my word to you.’’

  ‘‘Is that another promise, Captain Adams?’’

  Before Barney could answer, the radio sounded, ‘‘Prophecy, out.’’

  Afterward, Jesse put her hand on his shoulder. ‘‘Are you sure you know what you’re doing, sweetheart?’’

  ‘‘You mean when I married you?’’

  ‘‘Seriously. Do you think Barney would deliberately put us in harm’s way?’’

  ‘‘If his bosses told him to, he would. He wouldn’t like it, but he would.’’

  ‘‘What are you going to do when they try to stop us?’’

  ‘‘Well, we’ll call the United States Coast Guard, of course, what else?’’

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  Captain Adams turned to his aide. ‘‘Get the Director of the CDC on the phone.’’

  Barney’s mind whirled with conflicting ideas about duty, principles, and responsibility; concepts he’d struggled with and had put to rest many years ago.

  ‘‘She’s on the line, sir.’’

  ‘‘Captain,’’ she asked, ‘‘any news on our plague ship?’’

  ‘‘That’s why I’m calling you.’’

  ‘‘What is it?’’

  ‘‘I need to talk with an expert on smallpox, especially techniques for quarantine, and their effectiveness.’’

  ‘‘I’m your gal, Captain. If it’s research information you need, I can put you together with our best people.’’

  ‘‘No, that’s okay. First, Ryan had full-blown smallpox, but he’s dead and buried at sea.’’

  ‘‘Good.’’

  Adams paraphrased Andy’s observations and his opinion about the infectivity and the risk Prophecy posed to the United States.

  ‘‘I think he’s right, but little risk ain’t no risk.’’

  ‘‘Are you willing to say that to Preston Harding and to DHS?’’

  ‘‘Of course, but that doesn’t guarantee that they’ll listen.’’

  ‘‘I don’t know what you mean.’’

  ‘‘Listen Barney… can I call you Barney?’’

  ‘‘Sure. What is it?’’