Sea of Fire (12 page)

“Then frankly, the peremptory issue is one of summum bonum, the supreme good,” Coffey said. “Will the public welfare benefit from taking reasonable security measures? The only guidelines that apply are whether there is just cause for the pursuit of the information and, if so, that the questioning be done in a humane manner, without coercion or threats.”

“I’d say a radioactive man is reason enough to infer the presence of dangerous nuclear material,” Jelbart said.

“And you do have the weight of at least one other nation behind your decision,” Coffey said, nodding toward Loh.

“Whoa. Just one?” Ellsworth asked him.

“Officially, yes,” Coffey said.

“Will the United States back whatever decision we make, emphasis on the
we?”
Ellsworth pressed.

“You’ve got sound legal grounds, and my office agrees that there are real security concerns,” Coffey said. “That’s as close to a yes as this attorney can give you right now.”

Dr. Lansing looked from Coffey to the others. He shook his head unhappily. “Attempting to wake this man may kill him. You understand that?”

“We do,” Loh said.

“I’m absolutely opposed to it,” Lansing said. “I want that known.”

“Noted,” Ellsworth said.

“I also want to tell you, not as a doctor but as an interested observer, that the one man to whom this matters most can’t say a bloody word! I don’t think that’s right.”

“Why do you assume he would be opposed?” Coffey asked.

“Good point!” Jelbart said. “Maybe he would want us to snatch whoever did this.”

Lansing looked from Ellsworth to Jelbart. “I have other patients. Which of you two is going to sign the consent form?”

There was a long moment of silence. Jelbart turned to Ellsworth. “Is this going to be a military or government matter?” the warrant officer asked.

That is a good question,
Coffey thought. If this were classified as a military issue, the armed forces would have a legal leg up to launch a military response. The transport of nuclear material would automatically be classified as a security threat and not simply illegal traffic. If Ellsworth signed, Canberra would be obligated though not bound to pursue a diplomatic resolution.

Coffey was not surprised when Jelbart answered his own question a moment later.

“I’ll sign the form,” the warrant officer said. “Let’s see what our guest can tell us.”

Dr. Lansing summoned a nurse. He turned Jelbart over to her while he went to the medical supply closet on the opposite side of the corridor. Officer Loh went silently into the hospital room.

“Thank you, Lowell,” Ellsworth said.

“You’re welcome, Brian,” Coffey replied.

The government official looked pale. He went to the water cooler on the opposite wall.

“Would you like some?” Ellsworth asked as he filled a cup.

“No, thanks,” Coffey said.

Ellsworth drained the cup and refilled it. He drained that, too, then crumpled the paper cone and tossed it in the trash.

“Is there anything you haven’t told me?” Coffey pressed.

Ellsworth shook his head.

“Is there anything else I can do?” Coffey asked.

“Yes. Would you mind sticking around?” Ellsworth asked. “I know you have that convention in Sydney. But we really could use a third-party voice.”

“What would you have done if I had gone against you?” Coffey asked.

“I didn’t think you would have,” Ellsworth replied, sounding somewhat defensive. “I feel that we have the jurisdiction to do this.”

“You didn’t answer me. What would you have done?” Coffey asked.

“We would have done exactly what we are doing,” Ellsworth admitted. “We don’t have a choice. This is a scary business, Lowell. It has to be dealt with aggressively.” He looked at Coffey and smiled slightly. “But it’s good to have you on our side.”

Coffey smiled. It was strange to hear Ellsworth talk about dealing with things aggressively. Just a minute ago he had frozen when it came to taking responsibility for drugging their guest. What the chief solicitor meant, of course, was that he must aggressively authorize others to take action and responsibility. It was a strange new world for people like Brian Ellsworth. Men who enjoyed the perks of power without the shoulder-bending weight of liability.

In the meantime, though, Lowell Coffey found himself in agreement with Ellsworth on one point, at least.

This was a scary business. And he had a feeling it would get a lot more terrifying before it was through.

FNO Loh stood between Warrant Officer Jelbart and Dr. Lansing. The three wore rubber gloves and surgical masks. The Singaporean naval officer watched dispassionately as the physician injected a clear solution into the patient’s intravenous needle. He had already turned off a valve to the drip in the patient’s thin but sinewy left arm. Brian Ellsworth and Lowell Coffey stood behind the lead-lined screen near the doorway.

The balding physician shook his head. “This poor chap is going to get a double dose of wake up,” Lansing said.

“How so?” Jelbart asked.

“I’ve had to shut off the flow of painkillers. Morphine inhibits the uptake of norepinephrine,” the doctor informed him. “In a perverse way, though, that may help to save him. I’m giving him a moderate dosage of levarterenol. I’m hoping that the combination of pain and stimulant will be enough to wake him without damaging him.”

“Why would he be damaged? What does this norepinephrine do?” Jelbart asked.

“It is an energizer,” Lansing told him. “This patient is suffering from hypotension.”

“Shock,” Jelbart said.

“That’s right,” Lansing replied. “The sudden jump from systemic underactivity to overactivity could easily drive him to cardiac arrest.”

“I see,” Jelbart said. “What about the radioactivity? How has that affected him?”

“It’s too early to say,” the doctor replied. “There would not be many symptoms this early, and we still don’t know what the original exposure levels were.”

“Then how can you treat him?” Jelbart asked.

“He’s still alive,” the doctor said dryly. “So we can infer that the dose was not lethal.”

“True,” Jelbart said.

“There are standard responses, regardless of the exposure,” Lansing went on. “I’ve given him Melbrosin pollen, a natural radiation-sickness therapy. We can treat the results, the nausea and weakness. But this boosts the capability of the bone marrow to produce red and white blood cells. It won’t affect the pharmacological treatments he’s receiving for his wounds. If there is good news in any of this, it is that the burns appear to have been caused in the explosion, not as a result of the radiation.”

“How can you tell?” Jelbart asked.

“The body responds differently,” the doctor replied. “You see a more extensive form of blistering with radioactive burns.”

“What about the levels of radiation the patient himself is generating?” Jelbart asked.

“They are extremely low,” Lansing assured him. “We won’t be contaminated in any way if we stay for less than a half hour or so. And we will be here for far less than that, I assure you. That lead screen is primarily for the nurses who walk by all day.”

The man in the bed began to moan as the drugs entered his system. FNO Loh leaned toward him.

“Don’t bother talking to him yet,” Lansing cautioned. “He won’t hear you. This is only the pain talking. You’ll know he’s conscious when you see his eyes begin to move under the lids.”

Loh stood up again. She tugged on the hem of her jacket and absently ran a hand down the front.

The room was warm, and there was the faint odor of antiseptic. It smelled sanitary rather than fresh. To FNO Loh, dirty mop water on the deck of a patrol ship smelled fresh. Salty sea air, rich with fuel from the engine room, smelled fresh. This smell was void of life, of character.

The young woman looked at the patient. He was starting to breathe more rapidly. She felt a pinch of sadness. It took suffering and horror to put him in what was probably the cleanest bed he had ever been in. Whatever his nationality, there were thousands of other young Asian men and women just like him. Maybe he was running from something. Maybe he did not want to be like his father. Perhaps he was running to something. Perhaps he had seen European or American movies or television shows and wanted to live like that.

The officer felt compassion for him, but she also felt contempt. It was not a crime to want to escape from terrible oppression and poverty. To desire money and freedom. Yet there were other ways to earn money. Legal, honorable ways. Service in the military was one. Working on a farm was another. Apprenticeship in a trade was yet another. People like him were devious rather than smart, indignant rather than industrious, violent rather than strong. They deserved the disaster they ultimately brought on themselves.

The patient’s eyes opened slightly. They crinkled with discomfort. His dry lips parted and moved wordlessly. He began to shift about, then started thrashing weakly as he moaned. Loh leaned close to his ear. She lightly touched his unbandaged cheek and forehead.

“Don’t move,” Loh said softly in Malay. She repeated it in Chinese and then in English.

“Who—?” he said in Malay.

“You are safe,” she said. “I am Monica. You are in a medical facility. Where are you from?”

The patient writhed and opened his mouth in silent pain.

“Where are you from?” Loh repeated.

“Singapore,” he said.

“What is your name?” she asked.

“Name,” he said drowsily. “Lee.”

“Lee what?” she pressed.

“Tong,” he replied.

“Lee Tong, what were you doing at sea?” she asked.

“It hurts,” the patient said. He closed his eyes. Tears fell from the sides. “My skin, my feet . . . on fire.”

“We will make the pain stop when you answer my questions,” Loh said. She was glad the doctor could not understand her. He would only waste time with misguided pity. “What were you doing at sea?”

“They fired at us,” he said.

“Who did?” Loh asked.

“They saw in the dark,” he went on.

“The boat you were attacking?” she asked.

“Yes,” he replied. “They hit . . . plastique.”

“Your plastique?” she asked. “You had plastic explosives on board?”

He nodded.

“Lee Tong, were you trying to take something from the other vessel?” Loh asked.

He began to pant.

“Did you attack another vessel?” Loh demanded.

“It hurts . . . help me!”

“Did you attack another vessel?”
she shouted.

“Yes—”

Dr. Lansing was checking the heart monitor to the right of the bed. “Ms. Loh, his blood pressure is rising, two ten over sixty. His heart rate is two twenty.”

“Meaning what?” Jelbart asked.

“He’s approaching ventricular tachycardia,” the doctor said. “That can cause hemodynamic compromise—clots, air bubbles, death.”

“You’re saying you haven’t got much time,” Jelbart said.

“I’m saying
he
hasn’t got much time,” the doctor replied. “It’s time to stop this, Ms. Loh.”

Loh refused to move. “Lee Tong, what did you want from the vessel?” she demanded.

He did not answer. He simply moaned.

“Did you want to hijack it? Did you want to steal something?” the naval officer asked.

“Money,” he replied.

“You just wanted money?” she asked.

“Jewelry,” he said. “Goods.”

“What kind of goods?” she pressed.

“Electronic,” he replied.

“Nothing dangerous?” she asked. “No nuclear waste?”

He shook his head weakly.

They were just pirates, then,
she told herself. Pirates who picked the wrong vessel to try to board.

Lee Tong began to cry. He struggled against the straps that held him to the bed. A nurse came over to help restrain him.

“Officer Loh, this has got to stop,” Dr. Lansing said. “Nurse, he needs a beta-blocker to stabilize. Push more propranolol IV. The rest of you—out.”

Loh ignored the physician. “Lee Tong, were you in the Celebes Sea when this happened?”

“Yes,” he replied.

“Can you describe the vessel you attacked?” she asked.

“Too dark,” he said. He began to shiver and become more active. His eyes opened suddenly. He forced out a raw, hoarse, inarticulate scream.

“That’s enough!” the physician said.

Dr. Lansing moved in front of the woman. He turned the morphine drip on again. Almost at once the patient began to calm.

Loh maneuvered around the doctor. “Can you describe the boat?” she asked. “Did it sink?”

“Did not sink,” the man said as he drifted off. “Explosion . . . kept going . . .”

Lee Tong relaxed and sank back into the bed.

“Why did you do that?” Loh asked the doctor.

“Because his heart rate was approaching two hundred and thirty-five beats a minute,” the doctor said. “In his weakened condition, we could lose him. Now step aside, Ms. Loh. Let me do my job.”

The naval officer moved back. As the physician moved in with his nurse, Jelbart took FNO Loh by the arm. He walked her around the lead screen and into the corridor. The other men gathered around her.

“What did he tell you?” Ellsworth asked.

Loh looked at the others. She took a short breath. “His name is Lee Tong, and he is Singaporean. He was at sea with other pirates, and they attempted to rob a vessel at night. They only wanted those goods they could spend or fence. That is typical of the breed. Judging from the radioactivity, it appears they happened upon a vessel that was carrying nuclear waste.”

“What kind of ship?” Jelbart asked.

“I don’t know,” she said. “But these people do not routinely attack the kind of vessels that would transport nuclear materials.”