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“Daniel Singer showed up one day when you were being held prisoner. Do you remember that?”
“I think so.”
“He did and you two spoke.”
“Where’s Susan now?” the scientist asked.
“She killed herself, Doctor.” Merrick stared at him. “She did that to prevent us from learning what Singer intends to do.”
“Oil rigs.” Merrick’s voice was fading to a whisper as his body fought the drugs in an attempt to return to unconsciousness.
“That’s right. He planned on attacking oil rigs off the coast of Angola and causing a huge slick. What else was he planning? Did he tell you?”
“You have to stop him. The oil is especially toxic.” His last words were slurred.
“We have,” Juan said. “His assault failed. The slick will be contained.”
“Ship,” he said dreamily.
“There was a ship at the terminal but it wasn’t attacked.”
“No. Singer has a ship.”
“What is he using it for?”
“It was Susan’s discovery. She took it to him. I thought it was only a test, but she had already perfected it.” His eyes closed.
“Perfected what, Geoff? What did Susan perfect? Dr. Merrick?”
“An organic gel that turns water into pudding.”
“Why?” Juan asked desperately, fearing Merrick was slipping away. “What is it used for?”
Merrick said nothing for nearly twenty seconds. “Heat,” he finally whispered. “It gives off a lot of heat.”
And there was the connection Cabrillo had been looking for. Hurricanes need heat and Singer was going to give one a boost. If he released the contents of a vessel laden with Susan Donleavy’s gel into the ocean, probably at the epicenter of a forming storm, the heat would give the weather system a kick start exactly when and where he wanted. That was how he knew when to attack the Petromax terminal. The prevailing winds would carry the oil vapors northward into the hurricane he had helped generate.
Juan knew the seas off Africa’s west coast were the logical place Singer would dump the gel, but the area was vast and there wasn’t enough time to conduct a search. He had to narrow the parameters. “What kind of ship is Singer using?” A tanker was the most likely candidate, but Juan wouldn’t lead the semiconscious man with his suspicions.
Merrick remained mute, his eyes closed and his lips slightly parted. Julia was watching his monitor, and Juan knew the look on her face. She didn’t like what she was seeing.
He shook Merrick’s shoulder. “Geoff, what kind of ship?”
“Juan,” Julia said in a warning tone.
Merrick’s head rolled to face him but he couldn’t open his eyes. “A tanker. He bought an oil tanker.”
The monitor started to wail as his heart rate slowed dangerously. Julia pushed Juan aside, shouting, “He’s crashing! Get the cart in here!” She threw aside the sheet covering his chest as one of her staff raced into the room with a portable defibrillator.
Through it all Merrick managed to open his eyes. They were clouded with pain. He reached out to clutch Cabrillo’s hand, his mouth forming three words he didn’t have the breath to say aloud.
The chirping alarm turned into a continuous tone.
“Clear,” Julia said, the paddles poised over Merrick’s naked torso. Juan took his hand away so Julia could apply the electrical impulse to restart Merrick’s heart. His body convulsed as the charge ran through him and the monitor showed a corresponding spike before returning to flat line.
“Eppy.” The orderly handed Julia a syringe full of epinephrine. The needle seemed impossibly long. She speared the area between two of Singer’s ribs and loaded the drug directly into his heart. “Up it to two hundred joules.”
“Charging, charging, charging,” the orderly said watching the machine. “Go.”
