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"Is it all right to come in?" Stacy asked.
"Do you know Mr. Knox?"
"We're friends from the same British survey ship," answered Salazar. "How is he?"
"Resting comfortably," said Deerfield, but the expression in his face suggested anything but a fast recovery.
"Are you a doctor?"
"Pediatrics actually. I took a six-week hiatus to help Owen Murphy sail his boat from the builder to San Diego." He turned to Knox. "You up to some visitors, Jimmy?"
Knox, pale and still, lifted the fingers of one hand in the affirmative. His face was swollen and blistered, but his eyes looked strong, and they brightened noticeably when he recognized Stacy and Salazar. "Bless the Lord you made it safely," he rasped. "I never thought I'd see the two of you again. Where's that mad Plunkett?"
"He'll be along soon," said Stacy, giving Salazar a keep-quiet look. "What happened, Jimmy? What happened to the Invincible?"
Knox weakly shook his head. "I don't know. I think there was some kind of explosion. One minute I was talking to you over the underwater phone, the next the whole ship was ripped apart and burning. I remember trying to raise you, but there was no response. And then I was climbing over debris and dead bodies as the ship sank under me."
"Gone?" Salazar muttered, refusing to accept what he heard. "The ship sunk and our crew gone?"
Knox gave an imperceptible nod. "I watched her go to the bottom. I shouted and kept a constant lookout for the others who might have survived. The sea was empty. I don't know how long I floated or how far before Mr. Murphy and his crew spotted me and picked me up. They searched the immediate area but found nothing. They said I must be the only survivor."
"But what of the two ships that were nearby when we began our dive?" asked Stacy.
"I saw no sign of them. They had vanished too.
Knox's voice died to a whisper, and it was obvious he was losing a battle to keep from slipping into unconsciousness. The will was there but the body was exhausted. His eyes closed and his head rolled slightly to one side.
Dr. Deerfield motioned Stacy and Salazar toward the door. "You can talk again later, after he's rested."
"He will recover?" asked Stacy softly.
"I can't say," Deerfield hedged in good medical tradition.
"What exactly is wrong with him?"
"Two or more cracked ribs as fa
r as I can tell without an X ray. Swollen ankle, either a sprain or a fracture. Contusions, first-degree burns. Those are injuries I can cope with. The rest of his symptoms are not what I'd expect from a man who survived a shipwreck."
"What are you talking about?" Salazar asked.
"Fever, arterial hypotension, a fancy name for low blood pressure, severe erythema, stomach cramps, strange blistering."
"And the cause?"
"Not exactly my field," Deerfield said heavily. "I've only read a couple of articles in medical journals.
But I believe I'm safe in saying Jimmy's most serious condition was caused by exposure to a supralethal dose of radiation."
Stacy was silent a moment, then, "Nuclear radiation?"
Deerfield nodded. "I wish I was wrong, but the facts bear me out."
"Surely you can do something to save him?"
Deerfield gestured around the cabin. "Look around you," he said sourly. "Does this look like a hospital? I came on this cruise as a deckhand. My medical kit contains only pills and bandages for emergency treatment. He can't be airlifted by helicopter until we're closer to land. And even then I doubt whether he can be saved with the therapeutic treatments currently available."
"Hang them!" Knox cried, startling everyone. His eyes blinked open suddenly, gazing through the people in the cabin at some unknown image beyond the bulkhead. "Hang the murdering bastards!"
