Plague Ship (A Ballineau/Ross Medical Thriller)

by Goldberg, Leonard

  David nodded. The mutineers knew he was the group’s leader, and if he was captured, the others would quickly surrender. But, on the other hand, David needed to talk with the CDC. It could be their only way out. He hurried to the door and yelled, “What do they want?”

  “They didn’t say,” came the answer.

  “Then ask them,” David said, buying himself time. “I want specifics.”

  There was only silence outside the door now.

  David rushed back to the others and asked the chief radio officer, “Do they know how to use the ship-to-shore radio?”

  “For sure,” the radio officer said. “Some of the crewmen who work with me are experts in communications.”

  “It could still be a trap,” Chandler advised. “After what you did to Choi, they’d happily tear you apart.”

  Carolyn asked anxiously, “Is there any way to determine if it’s a trap?”

  “First, let’s see if the CDC really wants to talk with me,” David said. “And about what. It could be vitally important.”

  “Important enough to risk your life?” Carolyn asked.

  David nodded. “About five hours ago, before we started our survey, I contacted the CDC and told them my preliminary findings. I wanted them to find out which of the passengers had taken the various flu vaccines and which hadn’t.”

  “How in the world could they do that?” Carolyn pondered. “They’d have to track down hundreds of family members and hope the family members knew who their relative’s doctors were, and then hope the doctor kept accurate records of the flu shots their nurses probably gave. It’s an impossible task that would take forever to do.”

  “I know,” David said dispiritedly, realizing the odds were stacked against him. “But I had to try.”

  “It’s a very long shot,” Carolyn said candidly.

  “But that’s better than no shot at all.”

  There was another loud rap in the large metal door, followed by a booming voice. “They need to talk with you about the vaccine. They say it’s really important for you to give them more information.”

  David took a deep breath and squared his shoulders. “I’ve got to go.”

  “Don’t!” Carolyn implored. “Once you’ve spoken with the CDC, they’ll never let you come back onto the bridge. They’ll have you as a hostage, and we’ll be goners.”

  “Maybe not,” David said. “Particularly if I give them a good reason to allow me to return.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like this,” David said and turned to Locke, then gestured to the rows of electronic equipment on the bridge. “Can you disrupt all the navigational systems that are essential to guide the Grand Atlantic?”

  Locke thought for a moment. “Yes, I guess I could, but I won’t.”

  “What if your life depended on it?” David pressed.

  “Tell me what you’ve got in mind.”

  “I’m going to threaten the mutineers,” David told him. “And I’ll do it by saying the following: If I’m not back on the bridge within twenty minutes, you will proceed to destroy all the essential navigational instruments. Then the Grand Atlantic can float around in circles until it runs out of fuel or the next big hurricane comes along.”

  “That will scare the bejesus out of them,” Locke agreed, nodding firmly. “Without guidance, they couldn’t run the ship aground anywhere near shore.”

  “Exactly,” David said. “Now I want you to name all the important navigational instruments for me, so I can sound like an authority on the subject.”

  Locke slowly reeled off a short list of the critical instruments, giving David ample time to memorize each. “Even the dumbest seaman will recognize those.”

  “Good,” David said and headed for the door. He handed Chandler the shotguns. “If they try to burst in, aim for the leader’s head and blow it off.”

  “Gotcha!”

  “Be careful, David!” Carolyn cried out after him.

  David quickly opened the large metal door and moved back. He was now face to face with Poston, the deckhand whose genitals he had threatened to cut off. David hastily glanced around the entrance. There were two crewmen behind Poston, none to the sides.

  David stepped out and saw a malevolent glint in Poston’s eyes. “I see something in your eyes I don’t like.”

  “Yeah?” Poston challenged. “Tell me what you see.”

  “A plan to take me hostage once I’ve spoken with the CDC.”

  Poston smiled thinly. “That crossed my mind.”

  “Well, you’d better uncross it,” David said brusquely. “Because if I’m not back on that bridge in twenty minutes, the captain is going to use my hatchet to disrupt the entire navigational system of the Grand Atlantic. I’m talking about the fiber-optic gyrocompass, the self-tuning autopilot, and all the radar screens and electronic displays. Then you and your mates can paddle this goddamn ship to shore.”

  The smile left Poston’s face.

  They walked down a short passageway and entered the communications room. Two more crewmen, with hard looks on their faces, and a junior radio officer were waiting for them. The crewmen blocked David’s way, and only moved aside when Poston ordered them to do so with a gesture of his head. So Poston was now the leader of the mutiny, David thought, and probably the most dangerous. David hurriedly envisioned the fastest way to kill Poston if trouble broke out. A chop to the larynx, he decided. Then he could deal with the other two crewmen.

  “You shouldn’t have done what you did to Barrick,” Poston said, and the other crewmen in the room nodded their agreement. “That’s a fact.”

  “What I should have done was rip his head off and thrown it overboard,” David said gruffly.

  “Barrick is going to kill you the first chance he gets.”

  “Yeah? How is he going to do that? Paw me to death?”

  Poston gave David a long stare. “Your time will come.”

  “So will yours,” David said evenly. “Now let’s stop wasting time and get down to business.”

  The junior radio officer called out, “I’ve got Dr. Lindberg from the CDC on the line!”

  David sat at the small conference table and, clearing his throat, spoke into the speakerphone. “David Ballineau here. What information do you need from me?”

  “The health status of 220 passengers,” Lindberg answered. “That’s how many we know for sure did or didn’t take the vaccines.”

  David’s brow went up. He brought his chair in closer and hunched over the speakerphone. “You were able to track down the vaccine history of 220 people in under six hours? Is that what you’re saying?”

  “That’s what I’m saying.”

  “How in the world did you do it?”

  “We had some help from the ship’s company,” Lindberg explained. “They gave us the passenger manifest on the Grand Atlantic, which of course contained the people’s names and who to call in case of an emergency. Luckily for us, they also required the passengers to list their doctor’s name and phone number. I guess they did this because so many of the passengers were elderly. In any event, it was the big break we needed. So we immediately put twenty of our investigators at the CDC on twenty different phone lines and began the calls. There were more than a few doctors we either couldn’t reach or didn’t have the information we wanted. But we finally collected 220 verifiable vaccination histories, and we figured that was enough.”

  “Damn right it was!” David said excitedly.

  “Now here’s how we’ll determine the effectiveness of vaccines,” Lindberg went on. “We’ll read from our list, one by one, calling out each passenger’s name. You will check your list and tell us the health status of that particular passenger. Then we’ll tell you whether or not they received the two vaccines. Is that clear?”

  “Perfectly. I’m going to put you on hold.” David
quickly pressed the hold button and looked over to the junior radio officer. “Connect me to the bridge. I need to speak with Carolyn.”

  Poston stepped in closer to the conference table and asked harshly. “What the hell is this all about?”

  “Saving a lot of lives, if we’re lucky,” David said.

  “With a vaccine?”

  “With a vaccine.”

  The junior radio officer snapped his fingers. “She’s on line two.”

  David pushed a button on the speakerphone and said, “Carolyn, I want you to come in here and bring all the patient survey data with you. All of it, yours and mine.”

  “Are—are you sure?” Carolyn asked hesitantly. “Are you positive, Dr. Balli-not?”

  David smiled to himself. Carolyn was using the code word, his mispronounced last name, to determine if the mutineers were forcing him to make the call. “Everything is fine and may get even better. Now get a move on.”

  “I’m on my way.”

  David leaned back and thought hurriedly about Lindberg’s plan to find out if the vaccines were effective. It had one big flaw. Lindberg’s list of passengers, which he would call out first, was probably in no particular order. David’s list went by cabin number. It could take hours and hours to match up names since there were sure to be some passengers on Lindberg’s list that David and Carolyn hadn’t seen in their survey. They would have to go down a long list of passengers, over and over again, looking for matching names. But David saw a way around that.

  The door opened and Carolyn rushed in, carrying a stack of sheets from their survey. She quickly drew up a chair and sat beside David.

  “What’s going on?” she asked.

  “Maybe the end of this nightmare,” David told her, then gave her the details of his conversation with Lindberg at the CDC. He saved the best for last. “So we have the vaccine histories on 220 passengers.”

  “What a stroke of luck!” Carolyn breathed.

  “Only if it works out for us,” David said and reached for the hold button on the speakerphone. “Lindberg?”

  “Here.”

  “We’re going to do things a little differently,” David proposed, “because your way will take too long. Your list may be in no particular order, while ours is by cabin number. So we could be here all day matching up names. I suggest we give you the passenger’s name and health status first, then you inform us if he or she received the vaccines.”

  “Good,” Lindberg agreed immediately. “Give me a second to get the names up on my computer screen.”

  Carolyn bowed her head and mouthed a silent prayer as David arranged the survey sheets by cabin number.

  “Go!” Lindberg said.

  David began without looking at the survey sheets. “Will Harrison—dead.”

  Seconds later, Lindberg reported, “No vaccine.”

  “Sol Wyman—dead.”

  After a long pause, Lindberg said, “No vaccine.”

  “Marilyn Wyman—mild disease.”

  Another long pause. “Received both seasonal and swine flu vaccines.”

  David and Carolyn nodded and smiled to each other.

  David went back to his survey list. The next two names were the HIV-positive passengers he’d seen at the very beginning of the outbreak. “Thomas Berns—dead.”

  There was static on the line as seconds passed by. “He received both flu vaccines.”

  “Ralph Oliveri—dead.”

  Another delay before Lindberg reported, “Received both vaccines.”

  David gazed down at the next two names on his list. They were the dead, decaying old couple he’d see in bed, still holding hands. “George Davenport—dead.”

  More static and prolonged pause. “Both vaccines.”

  “Rose Davenport—dead.”

  “Both vaccines.”

  David’s spirits began to sink. Four passengers in a row had received both vaccines and all had died. At first glance, the vaccines were looking less and less effective. “William Rutherford—dead.”

  A long pause. “Received only the seasonal flu shot.”

  “Deedee Anderson—dead.”

  “No vaccines.”

  “Albert Murray—dead.”

  Thirty seconds passed before Lindberg reported, “Both vaccines.”

  David frowned. The numbers were again looking less and less promising. “Richard Scott.”

  Lindberg asked, “What’s his health status?”

  “He jumped overboard,” David said.

  “Suicide?”

  “Desperation.”

  “Should we list him as death by drowning?”

  David nodded to himself. That sounded better than death from a sharp propeller blade. “That’ll do.”

  “He received both vaccines.”

  “Arthur Maggi—” There was a loud burst of static that went on and on. David tried to speak above it, but with little success. Finally the line cleared. “This is taking far too long. At this rate, we’ll be here all day,” David groused.

  “Let’s simplify things,” Lindberg proposed.

  To speed up the process, it was decided that David would call out the passenger’s name and health status, but not wait for the CDC to respond with the passenger’s vaccination history. That correlation would be done after all the passengers’ names and health status were gathered. It took almost an hour for the exchange of information to be completed, then David leaned back and waited for the personnel at the CDC to double-check the numbers and complete the statistical analysis.

  David kept staring at the speakerphone as he thought about all the people who had died such a horrible death aboard the Grand Atlantic. Their faces began to flash in front of his mind’s eye. Will Harrison, Sol Wyman, William Rutherford, Deedee Anderson, and so many others. All had died because a thoughtful little boy had tried to help a bird. Despite his best intentions, Will had set loose a vicious virus that turned a billion-dollar luxury liner into a Third World country, with people fighting for survival any way they could. And that included himself and the savage acts he had committed. But he had no regrets for what he’d done, and he’d do it again without hesitation, particularly when Kit’s life was at stake.

  “This waiting is awful,” Carolyn whispered nervously.

  “It would be a lot more awful if my theory doesn’t hold up,” David whispered back as he envisioned the catastrophe that would occur if the combination of the vaccines didn’t work. Hundreds and hundreds of passengers would soon die, and they would be followed in death by hundreds of millions more once the virus reached land. And there was no question the virus would reach land. One way or another the mutineers would make it to shore and set off a monstrous pandemic, unlike anything the world had ever seen. It was doomsday, waiting to happen.

  “Here are the results,” Lindberg’s voice came over the speakerphone.

  David and Carolyn quickly leaned forward and held their breath. In the background they heard the sound of papers being shuffled, followed by a loud continuous burst of static. It seemed to take forever before Lindberg spoke again.

  “Two hundred names were matched,” Lindberg went on finally. “Of those, 102 received both vaccines, seventy-nine received only the seasonal flu vaccine, and nineteen got no vaccination. From a statistician’s standpoint, the numbers are ideal. Half got both vaccines, half either no vaccine or a single vaccine. The results are striking. Ninety percent of the passengers who received both vaccines survived and have no disease or moderate disease at the worst. In the group who got no or only one vaccine, 80 percent died with severe disease. Thus, the combination of vaccines worked beyond any doubt, and we can now make arrangements for the Grand Atlantic posthaste.”

  “Hallelujah!” Carolyn cried out.

  David breathed a long sigh of relief. “We’re home safe now.”

 
“Well done, Dr. Ballineau,” Lindberg congratulated before signing off. “Well done indeed.”

  Poston nervously looked at the other deckhands, then came back to David. “What does all this mean in plain English?”

  “Did you get both flu shots?” David asked.

  “Yeah. So what?”

  “That means you won’t get the disease.”

  Poston didn’t look relieved. “What happens now?”

  “In all likelihood, they’ll arrange for us to be transferred to a fully equipped hospital ship that will be manned by doctors and nurses who have been immunized with both vaccines,” David said, guessing that’s the plan the CDC would come up with. No one would be allowed ashore until it was certain they weren’t carrying the avian flu virus. “Then we’ll be checked and eventually released.”

  Poston swallowed hard. “I meant what happens to us? You know, the crew?”

  “Are you referring to the deckhands who took part in the mutiny?” David asked bluntly.

  “Yeah.”

  “Nothing I suspect,” David said. “The ship’s owners aren’t going to want a trial that would publicize there was a mutiny aboard the Grand Atlantic. That’s the last thing they would want.”

  Poston and the other deckhands smiled broadly.

  “But I can guarantee that you’ll never sail again on any ship,” David went on. “The owners of the Grand Atlantic will see to that.”

  The smiles left their faces.

  David came over to Carolyn and helped her up. “Let’s go get Kit and Juanita.”

  As they strolled back to the bridge, Carolyn rested her head on David’s shoulder. “So it’s really over.”

  “I guess,” David said and placed his arm around her waist. “But we were lucky, very lucky.”

  “Lucky!” Carolyn looked at him oddly. “Lucky, after what we’ve been through?”

  David nodded. “We were lucky that the combination of vaccines worked against the virus. We found that out by pure luck and happenstance.”

  Carolyn slowly nodded back. “And we’re lucky to have a potent vaccine if the virus decides to return.”

  “Don’t be so sure of that.”