by Alan May
Phillip saw that he had run out of options. Pulling his gun from the inside pocket of his jacket, he said, “I’m sorry, Doctor. I can’t allow you to do that. You are going to do whatever you have to do to save Stefano’s life. You’re going to do it right now. Your life is in the balance. So what’s your plan?”
Doctors are trained to remain calm in panic situations. His first duty, Williams thought, was to the students on the Inspiration. One wrong move on his part would endanger them all. His second duty was to do the best he could to save this man Stefano, whoever he was. Performing surgery on his own with inadequate training and supplies would have to do.
“I don’t understand what’s happening here and maybe I don’t want to, but I’ve got a ship full of students that I’m responsible for and I can’t do anything to put them at risk. What happens to the Inspiration and the crew when it’s over? You’ve got to guarantee they won’t come to any harm.”
“Doctor, you are in no position to negotiate. I have no idea what will happen to your boat if you pull Stefano through. What I do know is that if you refuse to treat him, you’ll be feeding the fish. So let’s go one step at a time, and let’s start right now.”
“All right. I’ll give Stefano a shot of antibiotics. But we would be much better off doing the surgery on the Inspiration; she’s much bigger and much more stable than this boat. I’m going to need all the help I can get. Can we at least move him to my first aid room?”
Phillip hadn’t bargained on this. He would have preferred keeping the whole operation right there on the Coincidence, not getting the other boat involved at all. Just a quick patch-up from the doctor and they’d be on their way again, no one the wiser, that was the idea. And how did he know this doctor wouldn’t try something heroic as soon as he was back on the Inspiration?
Still, if Stefano’s chances were better on the more stable boat, how could he refuse? And the doctor did seem anxious about the kids—damn! Why did there have to be that complication? The only doctor in this part of the entire ocean, and he had to come with a boat full of kids.
Yet maybe they could be an asset, after all, these kids. Phillip considered himself a pretty good judge of character. The doctor wasn’t going to take any chances where the kids were concerned, he was sure of that. In fact, it was a sure bet that nobody could stomach the thought of any harm coming to kids. Well, nobody except Juan, maybe.
“Okay,” he said. “Give him the shot and then we’ll go to the bridge and you can radio your captain.”
Dr. Williams radioed the captain while Phillip told the others of the plan. They were to arm themselves with handguns but keep them out of sight. When the boats were tied together, he told them, he wanted them all to go onboard the Inspiration. They were to keep their mouths shut, stay alert, and not make any trouble—but if trouble came, they were to be ready to shoot.
Juan was beginning to boil over at the way Phillip had suddenly become the self-appointed leader of the team; he was getting way too cocky for his own good. He still said nothing, though. He’d take care of the little bastard later.
Henry and several Floaties put fenders on the port side of the Inspiration and made ready to take the lines of the Coincidence. Polo and Esteban put fenders on the starboard side of the Coincidence; Severo manned the docking lines. Phillip quickly maneuvered the boat alongside. The lines were made fast, with the Zodiac still tied to the transom.
Phillip and the doctor climbed aboard the Inspiration. Most of the Floaties were finished with classes for the afternoon, and had come on deck to see what was going on.
“Must be something really serious with the guy in this boat,” Pierre said to Melissa. He had never seen the doctor looking so grave.
The students watched as Phillip, Dr. Williams, and Captain Marzynski conferred for a moment, then strode toward the captain’s quarters. But they were soon distracted as Henry lowered a stretcher and Stefano was hauled up. He was strapped in securely, but was pitching himself around with such force it was all they could do to keep hold of the stretcher.
Pierre and Evan helped carry him to the first aid room. When Dr. Williams came in he asked them to leave, which they were glad to do. The man smelled awful.
“Do you suppose it’s something terribly contagious and that’s why everyone’s looking so grim and acting so weird?” Melissa asked.
That would explain a lot, the Floaties agreed. But then why wasn’t he wearing a mask? And why would the doctor have allowed anyone close to him?
The doctor, meanwhile, cut off Stefano’s pants and took a closer look at the wound. The Inspiration’s first aid room was well stocked for any of the complaints likely to befall healthy people on a long ocean voyage—seasickness, of course, plus colds, cuts, splinters, bruises, scrapes, strains, sprains, and even a simple broken bone. But it was not intended to be a floating hospital, and it had none of the heavy-duty anesthetics needed for surgery.
Dr. Williams had no way to put Stefano to sleep. He could freeze the wound itself, but that would require putting a needle into the infected area, which would risk spreading the infection.
He went to the drug cabinet in the hope of finding something that he could use to dull the man’s pain. It was a shame the BWA’s zero-tolerance rule on alcohol precluded the professional staff from having any booze onboard; he couldn’t even give Stefano a stiff drink to take the edge off while he extracted the bullet. Unless … unless maybe Mac had a wee flask stashed somewhere in his locker. He wouldn’t be surprised if he did.
But what was this? Reaching into the far back of the meds cabinet, he pulled out a bottle of Diprivan, a fairly new anesthetic often used in outpatient procedures because of its tendency to wear off quickly. According to the instructions, he’d need to supplement it with an intravenous analgesic agent. He rummaged through the cabinet and finally came up with a container of Etomidate. That would do. It would have to.
Normally, at least three people would be involved in this kind of operation: a surgeon, a nurse, and an anesthetist. Dr. Williams was going to have to do everything himself, with Phillip as his only assistant. Phillip had insisted on staying in the room the entire time, and would allow no one else in, even though both the captain and Henry had at least some medical training and Phillip had none. If he was assisting, he’d have to put the gun down, and that would be a plus.
“All right, let’s get started,” Dr. Williams said. He spoke directly to Stefano, although he hadn’t much hope the man could understand what he was saying. At least he was quieter now.
“I’m going to put a butterfly valve in your wrist so that I can start a saline drip. I’ll also use it to administer an anesthetic called Diprivan. That will put you to sleep.”
The doctor set up the IV pole. He scrubbed his hands, pulled on pair of latex gloves, then nodded to Phillip to do the same.
“While you’re out, I’ll use a small pair of forceps to remove the bullet and then flush out the wound with a saline solution to try and remove any debris left behind. When that’s done, I’ll insert a small catheter to allow the wound to drain, apply a dressing, and that’s it, we’re done. Within a couple of hours you should be awake and on the way to recovery.”
He glanced over at Phillip, then continued.
“That’s assuming that everything goes well. You’ve got to remember I’ve never done this before. I’m not trained to do it, but I’ll do my best for you.”
While the doctor was operating, the captain called all of the staff and students to a meeting in the mess hall. Polo and Severo stood silently on two sides of the room, their eyes roaming over the crowd, looking for the slightest hint of trouble. Esteban was keeping watch near the first aid room.
Captain Marzynski looked out at his crew and his students and listened as words he had never imagined having to utter came, somehow, from his mouth.
The men onboard, he said, were armed. Every command they made was to be carried out. Without question. The injured man was undergoing an operation. Whe
n it was over, they would, he hoped, return to their own boat and let the Inspiration resume its course to Easter Island. In the meantime, he was asking for—no, he was commanding—everyone’s complete cooperation. Under no circumstances was anyone to try to be a hero.
There was stunned silence for a few seconds, then a buzz of voices as they all struggled to come to grips with what was happening. Armed men? Operation? So there was no deadly tropical contagion, then, after all, to put their lives in danger. Oh—but their lives were still very much in danger.
They lined up, the students first, then the teachers, then the crew, as Polo took their names and cabin numbers. From that point on, everyone onboard ship was to be accounted for at all times.
Everyone onboard ship, that is. Dave Cameron looked at the crew as they stood at the end of the line, waiting to give Polo their information. And again, just in case he had miscounted. No. Everyone onboard was supposed to be at the meeting; the captain’s orders had been clear. But someone was not there.
Where was Mac?
18
Dave Cameron’s mind was racing. If Mac wasn’t with the rest of them in the mess, where was he? Did he even know what was going on? Did anyone else realize he was missing? Surely the captain or Henry would have noticed. Their captors could not have known, of that he was pretty certain. They’d have no way of knowing who was supposed to be aboard until they finished taking down the names and cabin numbers. And would the hijackers know of the bosun’s locker?
Assuming no one else had noticed Mac’s absence yet, what were the chances that it would stay a secret until he could warn them all how important it was to keep it that way? Because, it occurred to him, a secret person onboard could be a valuable thing. Extremely valuable.
It seemed to be taking a ridiculously long time for the man to take down their names. The other guy, Phillip, the one who’d done all of the talking, must be the brains behind the operation, Dave thought. The others did whatever he told them, and didn’t seem to speak much English.
Finally, all of the students had given the skinny guy their information. One by one they left the mess. Outside on deck they walked alone or in small huddled groups, saying little. Melissa held Pierre’s hand as if she intended never to let it out of her grip again.
The teachers and crew stood solemnly as well, most looking down or at the wall or anywhere except at one another, as they waited their turns. Dave kept trying to catch the captain’s eye, but he, too, was looking stonily ahead. At last Dave reached the head of the line, mumbled his name and cabin number, then turned to go. He brushed the captain’s arm on the way out, hoping he wouldn’t be blown away by a bullet for the gesture. Captain Marzynski, last in the line, looked at him sharply. Dave signaled as best he could, with a subtle nod, that he would meet him outside.
When the captain emerged, they fell into step wordlessly, walking toward the bridge. Severo headed them off as they approached with a furious shaking of his head, his gun in his hand. Phillip had given him orders: No one was to be allowed on the bridge.
They turned and headed for the bow. As soon as they were out of earshot, Dave asked Captain Marzynski about Mac. As Dave had suspected, the captain had realized that Mac was absent, too. He agreed with Dave that this might be their one hope for escaping with their lives. For after all, no matter what Phillip had said about not wanting anyone to get hurt, how could the hijackers just let them go now? They had too much at stake. They had, as far as the captain could see, practically no choice but to kill everyone onboard the Inspiration. If they did not, they risked being charged with piracy, on top of whatever else it was they were up to. Which was—what?
“Drugs, most likely,” the captain said. “Their boat is probably stolen, too. Did you notice the sides of the cabin? It’s not blue paint but some sort of stick-on material. They’ve gone to a lot of trouble to disguise the boat. They probably have drugs onboard. And Dr. W. thinks the injured man has been shot.”
Dave tried to get his mind in gear. Surely there was something they could do. And wasn’t he the guy who came to the rescue, time after time? But those times, he’d acted on instinct; there was something to be done, he’d done it, he was a hero. And he’d had only himself to think for, if he’d been thinking at all. Now it wasn’t just his own neck he’d be risking.
If only he could think of a plan. There were far more of them than there were hijackers …
The captain had been thinking along the same lines.
“We ought to be able to overpower them somehow. We have the numbers. But they have the weapons. No. We can’t take the chance. Not with the kids onboard.”
“But maybe,” Dave said, “maybe, with the element of surprise—”
“Which Mac might provide,” the captain said. “The first thing we have to do is find Mac.”
Dave went off to search, glad to be on the move, doing something. The captain stayed on deck, keeping his eyes on the hijackers. He walked, in what he hoped would be construed as a casual manner, over to the teachers, who were standing together near the rail trying to make sense of the situation. Most of all, they wanted to keep the students occupied, both to try to keep their minds off the danger as far as possible and to keep any of them from attempting, with adolescent bravado, something foolish.
“I think even the hijackers would have to see that it’s in their interests as well if the kids maintain their routine,” Anika was saying as Captain Marzynski joined them.
She was right, of course, they all agreed. And she, as shipboard director and lead teacher, volunteered to be the one to broach the subject with Phillip. And if he didn’t go for the idea—well, she didn’t care to think about what he’d do in that case. None of them did.
The teachers had been too distracted to notice that Mac was missing. Their eyes lit up when the captain told them; with Mac at large, unknown to the hijackers, they had a chance. And Mac, whatever you might say about him, was canny. There was practically nothing he couldn’t do, if he put his mind to it.
But it was essential to keep Mac’s existence a secret. Just one casual remark from just one student—one “Say, where’s Mac, anyway?” —within the hearing of the hijackers and the jig would be up. It was all the teachers could do to disband with no apparent haste, no apparent direction, when all they wanted to do was run to tell the kids before it was too late.
19
Mac heard nothing the first time Dave came to his locker to look for him. He hadn’t heard the captain’s announcement. He was sound asleep behind a screen of old sails, on a small shelf he’d rigged up for just this purpose. He was a hard worker and more than willing to do his share—hell, more than his share. He felt it was not in the least out of line for him to retreat, during the lull of the afternoons, to his locker for a wee tipple—the academy folk were great to work with, but this no-alcohol-for-anybody-onboard was just going too far—and a lie down.
The locker was the first place Dave thought to look. He strolled to the bow, his hands in his pockets, and looked out at the small rippling waves, forcing himself to stand and wait until he was sure he was not being observed. Where, he wondered, were those sickening rolls and lurches when you needed them? If only another nauseating round of turbulence would come along, sending the hijackers running for the rail, losing their guns along with their lunches over the side …
Once he was sure no one was in sight, Dave opened the hatch of the steel box that projected from the deck. He crawled in, closed the hatch behind him as quietly as he could, and began scuttling down the first of the steel rungs that led to the bosun’s locker.
“Mac?” he whispered. “Mac, you down here?”
No answer.
He peered down into the locker, some ten feet below him. The room was empty.
“Mac?” he called again, just in case.
No answer.
He heard footsteps above and froze for a moment, listening. He could hear muffled sobs, along with a soft murmur of voices making comforting sounds. He cla
mbered back up and popped his head out the hatch, taking a small cluster of Floaties by surprise. He hastened to warn them not to breathe a word about Mac.
The news that Mac might be able to help cheered the group considerably, and they set off in better spirits to start alerting the other kids to keep mum about the bosun’s existence. Dave refrained from mentioning that no one had any idea of the whereabouts of their hero-to-be.
He went below now, walking slowly along the corridors. Mac and Charlie, the bosun’s mate, shared a cabin, but neither was in it when Dave looked. He debated with himself about leaving a note somewhere inside—where? The head?—telling Mac to go under cover to his locker, and Charlie to act as bosun, but decided it would be too risky. He continued knocking on cabin doors, keeping a sharp eye out for any of the hijackers, searching for Mac in every niche remotely big enough for a human being to fit into. Had the man disappeared entirely?
Oh, dear God. What if he had run into one of the hijackers and told him, in his inimitable way, to bugger off, and had been pumped full of bullets and tossed overboard? Although he was the kindest of men in his heart of hearts, Mac wasn’t known for his tact. Or even his good sense when it came to matters of manly pride. In the rough Glasgow tenements where he had grown up, tact had not been the most useful commodity, especially for a boy of his short stature. He had found it more to his advantage to hone his scrawny body into wiry fleetness, and to mask his sensitive nature behind a tough façade. These tactics had enabled him to avoid most confrontations altogether, and to hold his own the rare times he could not. He was smart, he was sympathetic, he was as capable as they come, but he had been known to part company with common sense on occasion when someone got his goat. And what they were up against now was no mere squabble with rowdy pub-crawlers, but a group of ruthless drug dealers with their backs up against the wall.