Chapter 14: Oceans Apart

The S.S. Aldenburg pulled slowly away from the two tugs that had pushed it from the wharf at the end of 24^th Street. In another twenty nautical miles it would clear the last official portion of the harbor and Capt. Eichmann would put the harbor pilot back on his boat, taking command his ship. Of course he understood the logic, yet it always irritated him that he was trusted with ten million dollars of cargo and three million dollars of cargo vessel across the toughest oceans of the world, yet when he came to even the most hospitable harbor he had to relinquish command to the local boy.

Down below the Selby family was getting squared away in their staterooms. On the one hand, they had been given the best rooms on the ship that weren’t reserved for the ship’s officers. On the other hand, it was a fruit boat.

“Is this really my bed? Cool!” said Bayne.

“Really,” said Hank. “Really? This is what we’re sleeping on. Really? Was everyone a miget when this ship was built?”

“You should be grateful to be sleeping the way the elite did in the 19^th century,” said a voice from behind them. “A real Merchant Marine today would be sleeping in half the space you have. Quit complaining or I’ll ask the Captain to see if he can find you some quarters with the rest of the crew.”

Mama never sugar coated it. Hank, now the dour teenager, simply scowled and jumped on the bunk.

“We’ve prepared an ‘office’ for you Col. Selby,” said Capt. Eichmann. “Follow me.”

They went down the companionway , through a couple of watertight hatches and then made a quick left into a compartment. Inside the room was more electronic equipment than was present on the bridge. Selby whistled under his breath.

“Ja, I was pretty impressed too. Maybe if we complete this “favor” for you guys, some of this stuff can remain with the Aldenburg, vielleicht.”

“I am to convey our government’s sincere thanks for this ride. I’m sure they will show their appreciation. Is it okay if I do a little work right now?”

“Ja. Ja wohl. You and Mrs. Selby and the boys will dine with me at the Captain’s table tonight at eighteen hundred.”

“We’ll be there. Thanks.”

Capt. Eichmann spun on his heel and exited. Selby turned back to the equipment and began a quick survey – radios, facsimile, and in the corner even the latest Microcomputer. Good grief he thought to himself, they can now make these less than six feet tall and able to fit in a corner. Where will it end?

He pulled a sheet of paper out of his jacket pocket, quickly decoded some numbers, then punched a frequency into the VHF omnidirectional device. He then punched the communication frequency and fired it up.

“Trophy boat, this is Dorado. Trophy boat, this is Dorado”.

He waited a few seconds. Nothing.

“Trophy boat, this is Dorado.”

Suddenly the radio gave out a burst of static.

“Dorado. This is Trophy Boat. Stand by.”

After about 30 seconds the radio crackled again.

“Well, well, well. Selby, that you?”

“Sure is. Good to hear your voice, Stephen.”

Chapter 13: Rabbit

--"Rabbit. That’s what we called him when he was a teenager,” President Douglas mused, staring down at his hands. “He was relatively normal until around his sixteenth birthday. Oh Billy," he sighed quietly. "Oh, Billy Rowe. Rabbit." He suddenly looked very tired.

Marilyn remained silent, wondering if the President would continue to share at this intimate level. After all, Senator James was still in the Oval Office. This unusual openness could have unintended consequences in the infinite complexity of politics.

--“They started giving him this drug.” He paused. “What was that stuff?"

--“Mellaril,” his secretary murmured, not knowing if the President really wanted an answer.

--“Yeah. Thioridazine, that was it. I’ll never forget the label on that bottle. After they started that stuff his mouth and lips would twitch just like a rabbit. Weird. Looked just like a rabbit. Kept him sort of straight, though."

Harold James cleared his throat and the President looked up. Their eyes locked, and two things were immediately clear. First, the President was assured that James would not use this information as political leverage. Secondly, James knew that his own sexual orientation would also be off-limits. Marilyn had seen this sort of non-verbal communication for her entire life in Washington. It still astounded her.

James nodded respectfully to the President and left the room. Marilyn picked up the receiver of the black phone and rapidly dialed a series of numbers. She handed the receiver to the President.

--“This is Henry Douglas,” he said. Pull out all the stops. Get him back using any means necessary.”

Chapter 12: Running Deep

The Lockheed P-3 sub hunters had given the all clear for the northwest coastal Pacific waters and returned to their base on Whidbey Island. The sub moved silently down the well traveled route from Puget Sound towards Pearl Harbor. They were due west of the Oregon-California border and about 300 nautical miles offshore. The initial rendezvous would take place in less than six hours. At that time they would pick up the necessary equipment, receive updated orders, and set a new course, the one not towards Pearl Harbor.

Waterson understood it was an extraction, but puzzled over the timing. It wasn’t like this had to be done yesterday, but it wasn’t routine either. And yet they were sending a sub on a long trip to Central America. And then his boat would end up on the wrong side of the country! He had heard the action was near La Ceiba, on the Caribbean side, but they certainly didn’t have time to get around the horn. And going through the canal, well, this was supposed to be a secret mission, wasn’t it? He wondered what the 2^nd fleet was doing and why they hadn’t been given this mission. The 3^rd fleet, of which he was a part, took the central and eastern Pacific, but the 2^nd fleet usually took care of the Caribbean.

He broke out of his reverie and returned to pricking the charts on his table. All was in order. They would surface, meet the refitted sub tender carrying a little more than the usual stuff, load up and be on their way. He was unclear on whether they would add any personnel.

The course he had plotted from the rendezvous point to their final destination was unexciting. He had estimated three days, pushing the ship to the max. Then came the fun part. Submarines weren’t meant to have helicopters land on them. They also weren’t designed to beach themselves like some kind of whale with nematodes in its ear. Yet those were the two options for the extraction.

There wasn’t much of a shelf along the Pacific side of Central America; that’s what made it a surfer’s paradise. Only the surfers didn’t know it yet. They were only now really investigating Hawaii, and it would be years before Costa Rica or Nicaragua would become playground for adventurous Americans. But the lack of a shelf could allow a sub to approach much closer to shore without any real danger of hull damage. Waterson smiled to himself. He was pretty sure they’d end up using the helicopter, but damn, he’d love to tell stories of the time he ran his boat up on the beach!

Chapter 11: New Orleans

It was a straight and long drive from Knoxville to New Orleans. The children were happy in their new station wagon, joining with their parents singing road songs along the six-hundred mile route. With such a late start, they spent a night in Chattanooga before heading out early the next morning. Gadsden, Birmingham, Tuscaloosa, Meridian, Hattiesburg: the towns of colorful names in the deep South swept by. Outside the car were seemingly endless fields of cotton, tobacco, and peanuts. They saw no evidence of “Freedom Riders” that Bill had warned them about.

Once, near Slidell and only an hour from New Orleans, Selby became concerned about a truck following too closely. His hand strayed from the steering wheel to a red lever protruding from under the dash. The children were ignorant of its implications, but Jane had heard the briefing regarding the car’s “goodies”. Her jaws clenched, but she trained her eyes on the road ahead, unwilling to risk even the slightest indication of alarm. The truck pulled off at a Sinclair gas station, however, and John relaxed.

Even so, he found a mom-and-pop motel and decided to stop for the night. He wanted to have his wits about him for the next step. The motel was actually a series of small cottages which delighted the children. Shortly after their arrival, a rusty pickup truck came to pick up their luggage.

________

The SS Aldenburg at Pier 7 was to weigh at ten in the morning. Dunnage stowed the night before gave the children a chance to enjoy sleeping in their clothes instead of pajamas.

Pier 7 was actually a wharf near the French Quarter, and this had given the family a chance to stop at Café du Monde for beignets and coffee. In a nod to his surroundings, John ordered café au lait, but Jane couldn’t deviate from her usual cup of strong, black coffee. Beka was trying to put powdered sugar on Bayne’s nose when a man behind the counter discreetly motioned toward the table.

--“Watch the kids for a minute honey, I need to be excused.”

The man slid from behind the counter and spoke rapidly, in hushed tones.

--“Selby?”

--“Yes. I was told I might be contacted here.”

--“Well, you fit the description. I’ve got an envelope. Unopened of course. Do you need a private place to look at it? The office is open.”

--“Thanks, I’ll only be a minute. And can you refill this please, that’s good coffee.”

--“Milk?”

--“No, just black please.”

Inside the envelope was a small roll of dictaphone tape. It was inserted quickly into a portable recorder. Then, a quick turn away from the noisy patrons; deft placement of an earpiece into position:

“As usual, this will degrade within 4 hours, but please dispose of it carefully. I think you have an inkling of the main mission, but we’ve just learned something else, something we need some extra talent to handle. There is a biochemical element to this and we may need some immediate field analysis from an expert like you. A portable lab with all necessary supplies will be made available. The message we got was garbled, but it appears there is either a new biological weapon in the making, or possibly a cure for a biological weapon. Or maybe something entirely different. Sorry for the limited intel, but that’s all we have. If the target is carrying something and the extraction is successful, we need you to give a quick analysis. Glad you’re along for this mission. Good luck!”

Breathing a deep sigh, Selby glanced back out to the kids and her husband. She allowed herself a private smile: to think this all started with analyzing milk . . . a part time biochemical job at American Smelting and Refining in Baltimore . . . World War II . . . college tuition. She wondered how much John knew.

The Possibilities of Epidemics and Pandemics

The human immune system is astonishing. As an oversimplified explanation, populations are exposed to many harmful biological factors, but the body responds by recognizing the threat and mounting a response or building a “resistance”. Some die, but those who survive are immune. This immunity is particularly visible in isolated populations.

Imagine a mysterious bacteria recently arrived from outer space. The initial result would be devastating. No one’s body would be prepared for the exact nature of the insult. Over time, however, and assuming the entire human race did not die, resistance would develop among the survivors. If then a similar bacterium arrived the next year, the surviving humans would have a much higher survival rate. Ultimately the insult would become a common disease, but one with which we could live.

Important examples of this insult and occasional immunity occur throughout history. They can be seen in the rapid decline, and sometimes total decimation, of indigenous populations in the “new world” after the arrival of Europeans. Diseases that were fairly standard to European populations had catastrophic effects on new populations. The Native American tribes in the Pacific Northwest had 11,000 fatalities in the 1770’s out of a population of 37,000 when smallpox appeared, probably courtesy of early trappers. Ultimately the tribe reached a low point of about 9,000 survivors after other diseases including measles and influenza also took their toll. The Sewee Indians of modern day South Carolina lost huge numbers to smallpox and other viruses. In 1701 John Lawson wrote of the effect of smallpox on the Sewee:

“These Sewees have been formerly a large Nation, though now very much decreas’d since the English hath seated their Land, and all other Nations of Indians are observ’d to partake of the same fate, where the Europeans come, the Indians being a People very apt to catch any Distemper they are afflicted withal; the Small-Pox has destroy’d many thousands of the Natives, who no sooner than they are attack’d with the violent Fevers and the Burning …by which Means Death most commonly ensues”.

A more devastating example may be the Yamani population of Tierra del Fuego. They had managed to live in the harshest conditions for many centuries. They wore no clothes, keeping fires going constantly, even in their canoes (hence the name “Land of Fire”). The women would dive in to the harsh Southern ocean to retrieve mussels for food. Surely these were hardy people. When the Rev. Thomas Bridges, one of the early missionaries, arrived in South America in the late 1800’s, he was so taken with their culture that he translated their entire language. Sadly, it is a book that will no longer be read except by linguistic scholars. Diseases familiar to the Europeans, but completely unknown to the Yamani, ultimately wiped out the entire population.

We are not really expecting an unknown disease from outer space, but the possibility of devastating agents exist closer to home. Consider the smallpox again, a disease we have eradicated. It killed many in its history, but many lived as well. It has been many years since any living human has been exposed to the smallpox virus; indeed, we no longer vaccinate for it. But it’s gone isn’t it? Eradicated from the face of the earth?

Not exactly. It is an established, and not very well hidden fact, that small vials exist in a top security biolab of the British, at a Soviet facility in Siberia, and at the Centers for Disease Control in Atlanta. The rationale for keeping a specimen is, well, there are reasons. But if it ever got loose …

Again, past history did not involve premeditated military applications (Although Lord Jeffrey Amherst, commanding general of British force in America during the French and Indian War, 1756-1763, did distribute blankets from smallpox victims to crush an Indian uprising). And there are certainly other viruses, bacteria, rickettsia, deformed self replicating proteins, etc, that exist somewhere on the earth, currently in a caged environment of nature’s own making. They may be trapped in glacier that is now melting. They may be carried by a little known or unknown animal species that we are about to come in contact with through the encroachment of civilization. At any rate, the possibility exists that such biologic agents are already on Earth. And further, that they could appear without warning. With all our scientific advances since the days of the Yamani, we would still be helpless against such a novel threat.

Pure Research, often funded by government grants, frequently comes under fire for its lack of direct utility and immediate application. Yet one should consider the vast array of antigenics and antibiotics that have emerged from such enterprises.

Today, an estimated 33 million people are living with, and dying from, AIDS. There is no antigen.

Chapter 10: Back To Earth

Julio Martinez was alive, with a bullet in his knee, and tangled in the canopy deep within the Honduran rain forest. A quick self-assessment revealed the knee as his only injury. But the vial, the precious vial that he had only barely snatched from its cabinet in the lab was safe!

Martinez was Catracho, a native Honduran. Educated in the United States at Austin, then later at Cal Tech, he was an excellent biomedical researcher. He had returned to his own country after being awarded a number of advanced degrees. He loved Honduras, and was fond of the buen dicho: “¡No hay pueblo mas macho que el pueblo catracho!” (“There’s nothing more macho than a Catracho town!”).

During his time at Cal Tech he was intrigued by early research of Dr. Moritz Kapozi. Dr. Kapozi, a Hungarian-born doctor, worked at the University of Vienna back in the late 1870’s. It was his research, Martinez firmly believed, that first pointed to an understanding of viruses and their potential for mutation. Kapozi, according to Martinez, was an unsung hero of virology. Martinez now specialized in oncovirus transmission.

He mused that it was Kapozi’s fault, therefore, that he was now in the treetops, injured, and cradling a vial containing a liquid only recently titrated. Martinez mulled over the strange twists of history that connected these disparate events, then began to formulate a plan for his next move. First, he had to get out of the trees. Second, he had to figure out who was pursuing him. And why.

He had sent a carefully coded dispatch telling of his formulation (by way of Hondutel, the nationalized telegraph network) to NIH at Bethesda only a week earlier. Could it have been intercepted? By whom? Besides, his discovery was not a weapon. It was life-giving, not life-taking. Who would want to kill him for this?

There were trailing vines stringing down from his canopy, and Julio Martinez began to descend on a particularly stout liana. Howler monkeys kept him company as he willed the pain in his knee to remain localized. Within an hour he was back on terra firma. If he followed the Cangrejal, keeping Pico Bonito to the west, he could make it to La Ceiba within days.

Chapter 9: East Meets West

Waterson was relaxing at his desk in his ready-room, going over the usual post-departure paperwork when there was a knock at his door. Out of the corner of his eye he saw that it was the new ensign again. Was this guy going to be a pain in the ass?

--“Enter!”

--“Sir, I was just going over the course the OIC set and, well, I know I don’t know for sure where we’re going, but a rendezvous in the Sea of Japan seemed, well, something I should probably report.”

Waterson glanced at the nametag out of the corner of his eye. Rowe. Hmmm, didn’t ring any bells. He thought of a number of things to say, none of them very nice, but finally just sighed.

--“Look Ensign Rowe, you are correct you don’t know where we’re going because you’re NOT SUPPOSED TO KNOW! The Officer In Charge, does! Second, we are not going to the Sea of Japan. I have no idea where you got that idea. Third, I believe your job on this ship is to make sure all messages get to me pronto and that all my messages get out. Any questions?”

--“No sir! I mean, but, no. No sir.”

Ensign Rowe spun on his heel and was about to leave when Waterson motioned him to stop. He had been about to let this unpleasantness pass quickly, but something about the look in the Ensign’s eye made him reconsider.

--“Tell me again why you were thinking we might be going to the Sea of Japan, young man. Perhaps we need to give you some remedial navigation training.”

--“Here, sir.”

He handed the XO a sheaf of papers including a few folded charts. Stephen began going over them, quickly at first, then slowly, then he came to a dead stop. He could feel his temperature rising.

135 degrees East? Who had botched this up? He’d find out, and quickly, hoping it was a stupid mistake and not something more sinister. Years of training and exposure to a great number of tense situations allowed him to regain control almost instantly.

--“Thank you, Ensign. I believe there may be an issue here but I will take care of it. I do appreciate your bringing this to my attention. You certainly had scant clues to make you wonder about this course. Mind telling me what you know?”

--“Don’t know anything, sir. But I have always had a knack for putting two and two together it seems, even when I didn’t even know the numbers were two and two. My dad always used to call me little Sherlock Holmes. And, well, I overheard one or two things, saw one or two things, and then we this came out …”. He trailed off with his hands up in the air in an “I don’t know” gesture.

Waterson eyed him carefully for a few more seconds. Over the years he had developed a pretty good ability to read men quickly. This one was smart, possibly really smart. But there was something else. And that bothered him.

--“Okay, Ensign. Return to duty.”

Rowe left the office. As soon as he was gone Waterson got on the horn to the bridge. After he had chewed the CIO a new one, including giving him a quick course on the difference in East and West longitude, he turned to the cabinet and pulled the tea assortment down that had been a gift from Susan. Maybe she was right. Maybe it was time he cut down on the coffee. And tea seemed to be a nice methadone.

Billy Rowe sat down on his bunk. He held his head in his hands for a full minute before speaking. Then he glanced over to the figure crouched down in the corner.

--“That was close, Clint. I thought I was doing the right thing, but now, now I don’t know. Was I? Did I? I can’t remember. Was that part of OUR plan? Did I just screw things up?”

--“No”, said Clint calmly.

He was always the calm one. He saw the dangers ahead of time. He knew who the bad guys were. And he had never let Billy Rowe down.

--“You did the right thing, just like we talked about. It’s not time to head … over there. Right now we want this mission on track. A rendezvous off San Francisco is what they have planned and that’s what needs to happen. The silly young officer screwed things up by his dyslexia, east for west, west for east. How do they let those people through the Academy? No, we’re okay now. We just have to remember what were really here for.”

--“Right, right. But I know they’re everywhere. I’ve swept this little room five or six times and I still think there’s a bug in here. I think we need to move fast; move now!”

--All in good time, all in good time,” whispered Clint in his calming voice. “We’ll succeed. You just have to be vigilant. Staying close to the XO was the way to go. Don’t worry. We’ll stop this crazy plan the government has.”

Chapter 8: Out of the Valley of Death

-“A fruit boat? A fruit boat for heaven’s sake! You’ve got to be kidding me. Bill, I’ll give you that the cover is ironclad, but can we waste three days at a time like this?”

-“Look, John. The President has just announced another austerity program and besides, he wants to wipe out poverty in Eastern Kentucky. And everywhere else, come to think about it. Money has to come from somewhere and you know they won’t raise taxes. We’ve been told to cut back as long as we think we can still complete the mission. And they think we can.”

-“Great. It’s always good to know that ‘they’ are looking out for us. I guess this is the punishment for being good at what you do – they give you less the next time and still expect you to succeed. Sheesh, it’s amazing what trade-offs come between saving millions of lives and averting global crisis versus political whatever.”

It was amazing how seldom John Selby cursed. Few could remember a time when he flew off the handle, but rarely did that include using vulgarity. He could refocus on the job at hand quicker than most.

________

Hooded men, dressed only in black, made their way down to the wreckage of the Ford Wagon. Selby's limited view of the stealthy approach caused his Walther to appear almost magically in his right hand. It was no longer just his country that needed him: it was his family. A face appeared at the driver's window. Even through the mask Selby recognized something familiar. He relaxed and lapsed into unconsciousness.

A SpecOps team had shadowed the Ford wagon from the moment Selby had pulled out of the driveway. Even he didn’t know they were there. Yet despite their presence, they were not alert enough to save the family from the attack or mountainside crash. They were, however, able to render immediate first-aid and get the family to a safe house. Hank’s injuries looked the worst, but after cleaning and bandaging, the family was found to be remarkably well. From the safe house a secure line, a radiotelephone link this time, was established. Selby counted on the children’s innocence as the conversation continued.

________

-“We’ll need you in New Orleans within a day or two. We’ve upgraded your new wagon to a 450 with a few other goodies thrown in. Your cover remains the same. And don’t worry about speed: your license plate is green to go. Glad you drove the autobahn during that Berlin thing.”

-“Ok, that’s got me smiling again. Driving fast is always fun. Think there will ever come a time when the grandkids make fun of me for driving slow?”

-“Not you, John. Good luck! And remember to use those ham radio skills if there are any problems on the way down. We’ve heard there are some issues down in Mississippi and Alabama with people driving through.”

The children, as he had hoped, were not listening. He gave a knowing look to Jane, a cursory “adios” to Bill, and loaded the family into their new car. Its engine was powerful; the new "goodies" were dangerous.