Richard Johnson - Deadly Cargo - A Chilling Naval Terrorism Thriller

“Promise,” Josh whispered. “Can I have that pizza now?”

Nurse Devon smiled and shook her head. “I’ll have something sent up, but don’t be too disappointed if it isn’t pizza.”

“Hospital patient food? I’d almost rather starve.”

“You need some nourishment. This IV drip isn’t much of a meal,” Curt said. “I know. I’ve eaten it before. Even the hospital food is better.”

Josh heaved a sigh. “Okay. But make it a double. I’m hungry.”

“That’s a good sign,” the nurse said as she left the room and shut the door behind her.

With the door closed, Curt pulled a chair close to the head of the bed so they could talk in hushed voices. “That was a close one, my friend,” Curt said. “We almost lost you this time.”

“All I remember is going over the rail, hitting the water and watching Husam al Din disappear below me with a dagger through his heart.”

“Yeah, that’s pretty much how Emile Nunez described it. He was sitting about thirty feet down when the flashlight device hit the water. Initially, he went after it, trying to catch it with the Needlefish’s grab tool before it sank out of sight. Then he saw the two of you hit the water. He could tell that you were not in good shape. Basically, you were unconscious and bleeding badly. He looked at the flashlight disappearing below him, then looked at you and made a choice.”

“I’m glad he made the right one,” Josh chuckled.

“Actually, he got fired over it.”

“You’re kidding!”

“Hey, that weapon was important to us. National security and all.” Curt looked serious, then slowly a smile replaced the straight face. “Nah, I’m joking. Actually, he’s up for commendation for saving your life.”

“Well, I’m putting the man on my Christmas card list. How’d he do it?”

“He’s good with that Needlefish. He just came up below you and maneuvered so you were lying across the hull like a wet rag. Then he surfaced and called for a chopper.”

“And the device?”

“Gone. The water’s more than eleven hundred fathoms deep over a silt bottom where it went down, and the current was running. By the time it hit the bottom, it could have been anywhere, and it’s too deep to go looking for that needle in a haystack.”

“So we’re just going to leave a bio-weapon lying on the bottom of the ocean?”

“Afraid so. We can hope that the pressure at that depth doesn’t cause the thing to release the toxin. Or if it does, that the salt water will deactivate it. Or that the cold at that depth will kill the bacteria. Or that—”

“Yeah, you can stop now. I get the picture.”

Curt shrugged. “I don’t know what else to tell you.”

“What about the Plover family? What happened to them?”

“In their ditch bag they had a personal locator beacon with a built-in GPS that gave their exact location. The navy sent a boat to pick them up and bring them to the carrier. They needed some time to rest before we started our debriefing, so they stayed on the ship for two days. Then they were delivered back to their catamaran, and they promptly turned her around and headed for the San Blas Islands. Said they’ve got friends there they want to get back to.”

“How did they handle all the trauma?”

“They handled it better than I expected. But it’s still going to take some time for the emotional healing to happen. From what they told me about their friends in San Blas, I think that’s the best place they can be right now.”

“You met them?”

“Oh yeah. I debriefed them. When Nunez brought you up, I caught an F-14 hop to the carrier.”

“Huh,” Josh grunted, “I didn’t know you cared.”

“Don’t get a big head. I didn’t want anybody to talk with you until I had a chance to debrief you.”

“Oh, thanks a lot, my pal. Can’t trust me to keep my mouth shut?”

Curt grinned, and Josh knew he’d been had again.

A knock came at the door, and Curt pushed the chair back, drew the curtain around the bed and went to answer. The door clicked open, and Josh heard him say, “Come on in. I’ll leave you two alone for a few minutes.” Then he went out.

When Susan pushed back the curtain, Josh smiled weakly and blinked his uncovered eye. “That was a wink, in case you missed it.” He pointed to his face. “You’re sure a sight for sore eye.”

“You, too.” She smiled. “Always the tease. But I like your humor.”

“Hey, that’s cute,” – Josh pointed at her – “we have nearly matching face wardrobes. You don’t mind if I call you Patch, do you?”

Susan bent over his hospital bed, cradled his face in her hands and moved in as if she were about to give him a kiss. He wetted his lips, closed his good eye and puckered up. She stopped six inches short, grabbed his nose and whispered, “You might think you’ve faced death before, buster, but keep it up and I’ll show you what real suffering is.”

“Okay, I’ll be good,” he promised and she released his nose and stepped back. He massaged his nose, pretending it hurt, then smiled at her, cleared his throat and softened his voice. “I have been wanting to ask you a question.”

Her face brightened. “I’m listening.”

“Would you…” his words caught in this throat and he choked.

“Would I what?”

He grinned. “Would you sneak me a pizza?”

“What?” she almost yelled, then caught herself. “What kind of question is that?”

Josh grinned. “Nah, actually, I had another question in mind. But you know what they say about the way to a man’s heart.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ve heard. So what’s your real question, Mr Adams?”

“Well, if pizza is out, would you, uh…” he stammered, “would you dance with me?”

She stepped back with surprise. “Dance with you?”

“Yeah,” he choked again. “Would you dance with me at our wedding? Please say you will. I love you, Susan.”

Her lips softened and a warm smile slowly spread across her face. She bent and hugged him, then kissed him tenderly. “Mr Adams, what am I going to do with you?” When she straightened up, he noticed a tear on her cheek. She grabbed a tissue from the bedside box and said, “I’ll be right back.”

As she walked away, he half sat up, but was too weak and plopped back on his pillow. “Where are you going? Don’t leave me now. I want another one of those kisses.”

She reached for the door handle, turned to face him and smiled. “I’ll be back. I’m going after that pizza.”

Bill Martin turned away from the computer screen, rubbed his eyes and looked at Fenster Roberts, his partner in the Molly B treasure-hunting boat. “I think we’re searching in the wrong place. We’ve been over this grid a hundred times. If Captain Guillermo Ascente’s account of the Tesoro do Rei is right, that ship should be on the bottom, right out there.” He pointed out the cabin window at the wide Caribbean Sea. “But it isn’t.”

“So where is it?” Roberts barked his frustration. He jumped up from the table and strode out the cabin door, turning to shout over his shoulder. “Where do we go from here? We’ve tied up six years, not to mention a lot of money.”

Martin sank back in the seat and sighed. “I know. But I’ve got a hunch. I’ve been studying these NOAA current charts, and I think I know what happened. We’ve got to head north. Follow the path a wounded Tesoro do Rei would take if she were driven before a hurricane. She might have stayed afloat after Ascente abandoned her, then gone down later. I’m betting she’s on the bottom, somewhere between here and here.” He poked his finger at the chart and moved it between two spots.