Medusa

tarmac toward the Citation. Austin recognized Paul Trout’s tall, lanky form and Gamay’s red hair. The Asian woman walking by the Trouts’ side was a stranger to him.

Austin greeted the Trouts, and warned Paul to duck his head entering the cabin. He welcomed the Asian woman with a friendly smile.

“You must be Dr. Song Lee,” Austin said, offering his hand. “I’m Kurt Austin. This is Joe Zavala. We’re NUMA colleagues of the Trouts. Thank you for coming to Washington.”

“And thank you for sending Paul and Gamay to Bonefish Key, Mr. Austin,” Lee said. “I’d be dead if they hadn’t arrived when they did.”

Kurt’s eyes drank in Song’s flowerlike beauty.

“That would have been a shame, Dr. Lee,” he said. “Please have a seat. We don’t have much time. You must have many questions.”

Song Lee settled into the sofa and looked around in wonderment. With their imposing physical prowess, quiet competence, and easy banter in the face of danger, the Trouts had seemed larger than life. But this pale-haired man, with his broad shoulders and sculpted bronze profile, was even more intriguing. Austin’s courtly manner could not disguise the fearlessness and daring that she detected in his remarkable coral-blue eyes. And his dark- complexioned friend Zavala had the swashbuckling air of a pirate prince.

“The Trouts told me about the attack on the bathysphere,” Lee said. “Do you know where Dr. Kane is?”

“Safe in protective custody. I spoke to Kane last night, and he filled me in on the work at Bonefish Key and the undersea lab they called Davy Jones’s Locker.”

Lee’s jaw dropped.

“I was aware of the secret facility, of course,” she said, “but I had no idea it was under the sea!”

“The Pacific Ocean, to be exact. It was in Micronesian waters, three hundred feet below the surface.”

Lee had a dazed expression on her delicate features.

“I would expect Dr. Kane to be unconventional,” she said, “but I never dreamed it was anything like that.”

Austin went on.

“The lab’s work and location were tightly held secrets, but somehow it was hijacked along with the staff. Joe and I think that the lab’s disappearance, the bathysphere attack, and the attempt to kidnap you are all connected. Dr. Kane told me about the medusa project. What was the exact nature of your work at the Florida lab?”

“I’m a virologist trained in epidemiology,” Lee said. “I stayed on Bonefish Key to concentrate on the probable path an epidemic would take and how best to position our resources and the vaccine-production facilities.”

“That would make you an integral part of the project.”

“I like to think so. The vaccine would be useless without a strategy to deploy it. It would be as if a general sent his troops into battle without a plan.”

“What would have happened to the project if you had been kidnapped?”

“Not much,” she said with a shrug of the shoulders. “The plans are almost all in place, waiting for the cure to be synthesized into a viable vaccine. With the lab gone, there isn’t much chance of that happening.”

“Don’t give up hope, Dr. Lee. The lab is the object of a massive search. In fact, Joe and I are on our way to Micronesia to see if we can help the searchers.”

Lee dropped her gaze to the map lying on the table.

“You’re going to Pohnpei?” she asked.

“It looks that way,” Austin said. “Have you been there?”

“No, but the island was the epicenter of the deadly epidemic that struck the Pacific whaling fleet in the mid- 1800s. This is extremely significant.”

“In what way, Dr. Lee?”

“At Harvard Medical School, I did a paper for a Professor Codman that was based on an article I came across in an old medical journal. The doctor who wrote the article had compiled statistics about a group of New Bedford whaling men who had been virtually disease-free for much of their very long lives.”

Austin tried to glance at his watch without being obvious. He had little interest in oddball medical phenomena. The whine of the Citation’s engines warming up provided a convenient out.

“It has been a great pleasure meeting you,” he said. “We’re going to be taking off soon . . .”

“Hear me out, Mr. Austin,” Lee said, raising her voice above the engines.

Austin smiled at the unexpected firmness.

“Go on, Dr. Lee, but please keep it brief.”

She nodded.

“The men in the study group had all crewed aboard the whaling ship Princess. They became ill after the ship stopped in Pohnpei.”

“I still don’t see the connection to the lab . . .”

It was Song Lee’s turn to be impatient.

“It’s right there in front of you, Mr. Austin. The crew all survived! If that doesn’t get your attention, maybe this will. The symptoms of the disease were almost identical to those of this latest epidemic. The crewmen should have died, but instead they enjoyed robust health for the rest of their lives. Somehow, they were cured.”

“Are you saying that what cured the whalers might work for the new virus?” Austin asked.

“Precisely.”

Austin’s mental machinery kicked into gear. A bunch of whalers lived disease-free to a ripe old age after a trip to Micronesia, the same neighborhood where the blue medusa lives. He connected that to what Kane told him about the toxin keeping its prey healthy until the medusa made a meal of it. He glanced around at his colleagues.

“The log of the Princess for that expedition would make interesting reading,” Paul Trout commented.

“I tried to track the 1848 logbook down through Harvard’s Widener Library,” Lee said. “My research led me to New Bedford. A dealer in antique books named Brimmer said he might be able to locate the book, but I was about to leave for home and had to put the whole thing aside.”

The pilot’s voice called back from the cockpit.

“We’ve been cleared for early takeoff. Anytime you’re ready . . .”

“Thank you, Dr. Lee,” Austin said. “I apologize for cutting you short, but we’re really about to leave.”

“I want to come with you,” she said without thinking.

The statement had leaped from her mouth on its own, but then she punctuated it with a firm set of jaw.

“That’s not possible,” Austin said. “We’ll be on the move, and things could get rough. Joe has uncovered information that suggests a Chinese Triad named Pyramid is involved in all this.”

“A Triad?” She got over her surprise quickly. “Why would a Triad be interested in the search for an antiviral vaccine?”

Zavala answered the question.

“The Triad developed the virus as part of a scheme to destabilize the Chinese government,” he said. “Your vaccine would have spoiled their plans. They had to take control of the lab to prevent the antiviral from being used by others.”

“This is overwhelming,” Song Lee said, “but it makes sense. My government is deathly afraid of social unrest, which is why it clamps down so hard at any sign of organized protest. All the more reason to take me with you. I should be part of any attempt to stop something started by my countrymen. I’m intimately acquainted with the entire research program, and there may be something relevant on Pohnpei.”

Austin eyed Lee’s smoky-smelling T-shirt and shorts, apparently the same clothes she had been wearing on Bonefish Key.

“You’d be traveling pretty light, Dr. Lee. We can give you a toothbrush but not much else.”

“I’ll take that toothbrush, and I can buy clothes when we get there.”

Austin sat back and folded his arms. Despite his body language, he was enjoying Song Lee’s display of pluckiness.

“Go ahead, Dr. Lee. You’ve got thirty seconds to make your case.”

She nodded.

“I believe that the blue medusa jellyfish the lab was using in its research was part of native medicine used to cure the crew of the Princess. And if we can find the place where it happened, it might