Medusa

“Aye, aye, sir. What are you going to do in the meantime?”

Austin rose from his chair and headed for the door.

“Take that long, hot shower I talked about.”

CHAPTER 49

BONEFISH KEY, FIVE WEEKS LATER

SONG LEE WAS SITTING ON THE SUNLIT PATIO IN FRONT OF the lodge going over some notes when she heard the drone of an outboard motor echoing through the mangroves. Recognizing the sound of Dooley’s boat, she looked up and smiled at his impending arrival.

Dooley had been her main contact with the outside world since she had returned to the island to work on her medical text on ocean biomedicine. Returning to Bonefish Key had required determination. But the lab had been at the forefront of a science whose roots went back to the ancient culture of Nan Madol and the Micronesian islands, and it was the most compelling place for her to write.

Lee could not yet muster the courage to visit the barrier beach. She had no desire to see the cove where she had killed a man or to revisit the burned-out hulk of the cabin cruiser that had nearly been her funeral pyre. She still kayaked but stayed closer to the island. She went to bed early and was up with the sun, tapping at her laptop computer in the lab’s research library for hours on end.

The island was practically deserted. With the project at an end, Dr. Mayhew had returned to academia, and his team had scattered to the four winds. A small cadre stayed behind to tend to the specimen tanks, but the guards who had put in double duty as support staff had left. Dr. Lee enjoyed the camaraderie of a handful of technicians as they prepared their own meals.

Dr. Kane had visited the lab once. He had breezed in with a camera crew to film the lodge and lab buildings before he swept out again as if carried on the wind.

Although the governments of China and the United States were still nervous about telling the whole story of their secretive collaboration in stopping the near pandemic, the Herculean effort to stop the virus was big news around the world. Kane basked in his celebrity, flying from interview to interview, consulting with health experts and politicians around the globe. He was using his status as pandemic guru to pry money from Congress to support the type of ocean biomedicine research that had saved the world.

Song Lee had been content to labor in anonymity, but the remoteness of the island had started to get to her and she had been thinking of finishing her book back in China. She often thought of the NUMA people who had swooped in to save her and the world. She missed the Trouts and Joe Zavala, but most of all she missed Kurt Austin. A few weeks after she had arrived on the island, he had called her on one of the lab’s radiophones. He was on Pohnpei, still helping with the recovery of Davy Jones’s Locker, and would be in Micronesia longer than anticipated.

The drone of the marine motor grew louder, and seconds later Dooley’s double-hulled boat rounded the corner of a mangrove island and coasted up to the dock. There were two people in the boat: Dooley, who was at the wheel, and, beside him, a broad-shouldered man wearing a Hawaiian shirt. As they approached the dock, the broad-shouldered man removed the baseball hat from his head, revealing a thick mane of steel-gray hair. Song was already up and ru

Dooley tossed her the bow line as the boat bumped up against a piling.

“Brought you some company, Dr. Lee,” he said.

Song barely heard him. Her eyes were fixed on Kurt, who had a wide grin on his bronzed face. The grin grew even wider when he climbed out of the boat and Song threw her arms around him. He returned her embrace with enthusiasm. She planted a kiss on his lips that was warm and long, and might have gone on forever if Dooley hadn’t cleared his throat.

“Pardon me, folks, but I’ve got to get back to the mainland.” He extended his hand. “Nice to meet you, Kurt. Call when you want to go back to Pine Island.”

“Thanks for the ride, Dooley,” Austin said. He asked Dooley to toss him his small rucksack.

As the boat disappeared into mangroves, Austin said, “I got back to Washington a few days ago and thought I would hop down here to say hello.”

Lee hooked her arm in Austin’s and led the way toward the lodge.

“I’m glad you did,” she said. “How are Joe and the Trouts?”

“They’re fine. Zavala has found true love with a NUMA cartographer, and the Trouts just got back from New Bedford. The city’s whaling museum was dedicating a room for Caleb Nye’s diorama. It’s part of a special exhibition on the strange voyage of the Princess.”

“And a very strange voyage it was,” Lee said. “I start off my book with their experience on Trouble Island.”

“How is the book coming?”

“I’ve finished the outline and I’m doing supplemental research. I think the findings will revolutionize our understanding of viral immunology, particularly inoculation. But we have just scratched the surface of wonder drugs that will come from the ocean. It’s ironic that the vaccine might never have been developed without the threat of the Triad’s epidemic.”

“A classic case of yin and yang?” he asked.

“I hate to think that the opposing forces of good and evil were bound together in this case,” she said, “but without one, the other would not have produced a benefit to the world.”

“More than one,” he said. “China and U.S. relations have never been warmer. And the Triad is no longer with us. Yin and yang on hormones.”

They had climbed the hill to the patio and settled into a couple of chairs that faced the waterfront and the mangroves beyond.

“I have a tough question to ask,” Austin said. “Dr. Huang’s role as an informant enabled the Triad to pursue its evil goals. After he tipped off the Triad about the lab, they eavesdropped on Doc Kane and pinpointed its location. What should we do about him?”

“I don’t know,” Lee said. “He is a mouse and frightens easily, but he’s a brilliant doctor. I would hate to turn him over to the government. They would execute him.” She looked off at a snowy egret gliding over the water, and when she turned back to Austin a smile lit up her face. “This is what I propose for Dr. Huang.”

She explained her idea to send Huang to take her place as a country doctor. Austin threw his head back and let out a hearty laugh.

“A solution that is perfect in its symmetry. Now it’s my turn to make a proposal.”

He zipped open his rucksack and pulled out a bottle and two shot glasses. He poured each glass half full and offered one to Song.

“This is the Micronesian sakau I promised you. It’s made from a pepper plant and is slightly narcotic, so it is best taken in small doses.”

They raised their glasses, and, after a moment of thought, Song said, “Here’s to warm relations between China and America.”

They clinked glasses. She made a sour face and put her glass down on the table.

“It’s an acquired taste, which is probably a good thing,” Austin said with a smile. “As I recall, I also promised you a di

“Maybe not,” Song said. “One of the lab techs caught some fresh redfish this morning, and we will be grilling them for di

Austin accepted the invitation, and they sat on the patio talking until the di