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“She was cuffed.”
“She could have turned her head at the last second.” Julia looked at the body sadly. “For all we know maybe she did it again and again until she got her courage up for a final attempt.”
Cabrillo didn’t say anything for a moment. He was remembering the boat chase in Sandwich Bay after he and Sloane had found Papa Heinrick murdered. The driver he’d been following had intentionally crashed his boat into the shore rather than risk capture. He had thought maybe it was out of fear, that he didn’t want to face an African prison, but the truth was the guy had sacrificed himself for the cause. Just like Susan Donleavy.
“No,” he said with certainty. “She did it right the first time.”
“You’ve reviewed the security tapes from her cell?”
He turned to face her. “Don’t need to. I know the type.”
“Fanatic.”
“Yup. Biting off the tongue was an acceptable alternative to hara-kiri for captured Japanese soldiers during World War Two.”
“I’m sorry, Juan. Scuttlebutt around the ship is that she migh
t have known some more useful information.”
“She did.” He looked at Julia. “And I think Geoff Merrick knows it, too. I need you to wake him.”
“Forget it. His blood pressure’s still too low. I’ve barely checked his wound for fragments and am only now getting his infection under control. I admit his coma’s much shallower, but his body’s refusing to come around.”
“Julia, I don’t have a choice. Singer ordered the raid this morning at a specific time because he’s got something else planned. He kidnapped Merrick because he wanted him to see what it was. When Linda interviewed Susan she said that Singer spent a few hours at the Devil’s Oasis talking with Merrick. I am willing to bet he spilled the whole thing then.”
“Are you willing to bet his life?”
“Yes,” Juan said without hesitation. “Whatever Singer’s up to is likely to involve a hurricane. I think he’s devised a way to shape them somehow. Do you need me to lay out what that means? You took leave to volunteer in New Orleans after Katrina.”
“I was born there.”
“We can stop another city from suffering the same fate. Julia, you have full autonomy over medical decisions on this ship but only because I say you do. If you would prefer me to give you an order, I will.”
She hesitated, then said, “I’ll do it.
Juan knew he should ask Linda to conduct the interview, it was her area of expertise, but he wasn’t extracting information from a reluctant captive, only talking to a half-conscious victim. “Let’s go.”
Hux grabbed some supplies from the OR and led Cabrillo through to the recovery rooms. Where once Geoffrey Merrick had a room to himself, he now shared the space with three wounded Africans. His sunburned face was covered in gel to help his skin heal, but beneath it Juan could see the scientist remained pale. After checking his vital signs Julia injected a stimulant into his IV drip.
Merrick came around slowly. At first his eyes remained closed and the only sign of movement was his tongue attempting to lick his dry lips. Julia moistened them with a wet cloth. Then his eyes fluttered and opened. His looked from Julia to Juan and back to the doctor again, obviously disorientated.
“Dr. Merrick, my name is Juan Cabrillo. You’re safe now. You were rescued from the people who kidnapped you and are now in the sick bay of my ship.”
Before Merrick could reply, Julia asked, “How are you feeling?”
“Thirsty,” he rasped.
She tipped a glass of water with a straw to his mouth and he took several grateful sips. “How’s your chest?”
He thought about his answer for a moment. “Numb.”
“You were shot,” Juan told him.
“I don’t remember.”
“Susan Donleavy shot you during the rescue.”
“She wasn’t beat up,” Merrick said as a fragment of the memory came back. “I thought they had tortured her, but it was all faked with makeup.”
