Plague Ship

ended if not for the plague that wiped out half of Europe and ushered in a new era of prosperity.

He was pretty sure it wasn’t as simple as that, but he wondered how today’s world of twenty-four-hour information and high-speed travel would react. Fifty years after the pandemic, populations would have shifted to fill the gaps left by the reduced number of people, and the world very well might be a better place.

But it was no place Max wanted to be a part of. In his mind, Cooper, Severance, and Kovac had no more right to decide what was best for humanity than Larry, Moe, and Curly.

He wanted to rush from the bathroom and take them on single-handedly. He thought he might get five, maybe six, paces before Kovac gunned him down. By force of will alone, Max made his body relax.

There would be another opportunity. He would just need to be patient.

After the three men had left, Max slunk out of the suite and holed up in the closet of one of the unused hotel-style rooms, reasonably confident that he was safe for the time being. As much as his brain wanted to focus on the hell Severance and his band were about to unleash, Max concentrated on how they were going to pull it off.

They had mentioned a transmitter. They were going to coordinate the release of the virus by transmitting some sort of activation code. Max saw the flaw immediately. An aerial broadcast, even on shortwave, couldn’t encompass the entire world with any measure of reliability. There were too many variables, from atmospheric conditions to sunspot activity, that could cause a signal failure.

Not shortwave, he thought.

He recalled the tunnel at the subbasement level and the coils of thick copper wire, as well as the excess power-generating capacity, the Responsivists had installed.

“It’s a bloody ELF antenna,” he whispered, and knew exactly how he was going to warn Juan.

He waited until after Kovac had run their test before sneaking into what he had first thought was the communications room. It took him nearly twenty nerve-racking minutes to figure out how to operate the ELF transmitter. He fine-tuned the frequency and sent his message: OREGON ITS MAX BUG ATTACK 50 CRUISE SHIPS NOT KILL WORSE ELF IS KEY

NUKE IT >72 HRS

He would have loved to add the location of the transmitter, but he had no idea where he was. He would just have to trust that Hali would be able to trace back the source of the signal. He had also used the word nuke deliberately because he felt this was an impregnable bunker and could only hope Juan would figure out a way to destroy it.

He returned to his hidey-hole in the closet, after helping himself to a couple of protein bars and a beer from the minibar. He was certain that with the day of their attack fast approaching, Severance would have Kovac station guards near the exit, so Max knew he wouldn’t be leaving that way. Wth no intention of sacrificing himself, he had less than three days to find another way out.

THOM SEVERANCE WAS in his office, chatting with Lydell Cooper, when someone knocked. He looked up from his desk and hastily whipped off the glasses he had been recently forced to use. Zelimir Kovac stood just inside his door. The normally dour Serb looked downright morose. Whatever had happened, Severance knew it couldn’t be good.

“What’s the matter?” he asked.

“It was just on the news, a death on a cruise ship in Istanbul. It was one of our people on the Golden Sky, Zach Raymond.”

“He was heading the cell we put aboard her, wasn’t he?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Do we have any details?” Cooper asked

“Apparently, he fell from the balcony of the ship’s atrium and was killed instantly.”

“So it was an accident?”

“That’s what the news is saying, but I don’t believe it. It is too much of a coincidence that our team leader died.”

“You think that whoever was behind Kyle Hanley’s abduction has people on the Golden Sky?” Severance asked with obvious sarcasm. “Don’t be ridiculous. There is no way that anyone could make that connection.”

“There’s more. I just received word from our team in the Philippines. They said that two men arrived at the abandoned virus factory and discovered the old Japanese catacombs. The two men were buried inside following an explosion, but the very fact that they were there is troubling.” Severance steepled his fingers under his cosmetically cleft chin. “If someone did a little digging, they would know we had a facility in the Philippines. I don’t know how they knew about the abandoned Japanese tunnel system. Maybe they did more than a little digging. Either way, it doesn’t matter, because they’re dead, and we left nothing behind that could incriminate us.”

“I don’t like this, Thom,” Cooper said, leaning forward. “There is too much at stake to risk exposure now, and I don’t believe in coincidences. I could discount the idea of a threat to our operation if we only had the Hanley kid’s abduction to consider. But now there are two separate incidents: the incursion in the Philippines and Zach Raymond’s death. Someone is on to us.”

“If that were the case, the FBI would have raided our California headquarters by now, and put enough pressure on Athens to do the same in Greece.”

The Responsivist founder didn’t have an argument for that.

“What if it’s the company Hanley hired to get his son back?” Kovac suggested. “They could still be operating under their original instructions and are probing our defenses, trying to find a way to rescue both the boy and his father.”

Cooper jumped at that idea. “It makes perfect sense.”

“So you don’t think they know about our plan?” Severance asked.

“It’s probable that they don’t,” Kovac replied. “But if they had time to interrogate Zach Raymond, then the raid Thom mentioned could be in the planning stages as we speak.”

“Do you have any suggestions?”

“Yes, sir. I need to get to the Golden Sky to make certain the virus isn’t discovered. If it has been and is turned over to the authorities, it would give them a tremendous advantage to develop a cure before people start showing symptoms. I would also suggest that there be a complete communications blackout of the ship. No passengers should be allowed to use the Internet or make ship-to-shore calls. This way, the operatives on board won’t be able to contact their superiors.”

“Where is the ship heading now?”

“It’s en route from Istanbul to Iraklion, Crete. I could easily meet it as it comes down through the Greek islands.”

Few people outside of the organization were aware that the owner of Golden Lines, the company that operated the Golden Sky and her ill-fated sister ship, the Golden Dawn, was a Responsivist. He had come to the group because he and his wife were unable to have children, and Lydell Cooper’s teachings made them come to accept that fact and even celebrate it. Although he made substantial contributions to the cause and allowed them to use his boats for their Sea Retreats at a deep discount, the shipping mogul wasn’t part of the inner circle that had conceived the plan to use ocean liners to spread the genetically modified virus.

“You can call the president of the line,” Kovac continued, “and explain that the same group who targeted the Dawn might be planning something similar for the Golden Sky. Let me on board, and keep the ship at sea until after the virus is released. That way, even if they discover it they can’t warn anybody about it.”

“If that’s the case, he will want to cancel the cruise entirely.”

“Tell him to do it as a favor, then. There are fifty Responsivists on that ship as part of a Sea Retreat.

Most of them have no idea what’s about to happen, but that gives me more than enough people to search for anyone acting suspiciously.”

Severance looked over to Lydell Cooper. The former researcher may owe his youthful appearance to surgery after surgery, but the fire burning behind his eyes was his own. It was the flame of utter conviction and total dedication to a belief.

“Thom,” Cooper said, “our species is teetering on the brink of disaster. There are too many mouths to feed,