Page 111 of Casualties of War
“Man, could you do that? Your lungs burning, desperate for air? Could you make yourself slow down like that?”
“Don’t know, don’t care. I don’t plan on ever being down that deep without a tank.”
Parrisheard every comment. She held herself still, even as her heart picked up speed.
“And…heeeere he is,” Ramirez breathed.
Parris let herself look.
Adán broke the surface, his face turned up, exhaling heavily. He drew in a deep, deep breath. He gasped in more air, floating on his back. His chest rose and fell.
A dozen hands reached for him and drew him to the boat.
Parris sagged, her strengthrunning from her. She rested her head on her hand on the raised oar handle, shuddering.
Locke squeezed her shoulder. He bellowed. “Lift him into the boat. Then back around to the stern and we’ll tow you back to shore. Move it! We’ve been out here too long, waving lights and drawing attention.”
The boat rocked as the swimmers lifted Adán up and dumped him over the side.
“Ouch,” he gasped.
Odesky drew himself up and fell into the dinghy, too. “Wanna check him over, sir,” he told Parris.
Locke rested his hand briefly on Parris’ shoulder. “I’ll spell you at the oars, Captain.”
She nodded and made herself straighten and move over to the bow seat while Locke took her place.
Adán hauled himself up onto the narrow seat beside her. He sat with his head down, still breathing hard. Waterran from him in steady rivulets, adding to the brine at the bottom of the boat.
Odesky crouched between the front and back benches, digging in the backpack for his medical gear.
Locke turned the dinghy about and rowed for shore. He was hauling the men, so progress was slow.
“Whenever you’re ready to report,” Parris told Adán. “Take your time.”
“That was not a fun dive,” Adán said.
“No shit,”Locke replied.
Parris shuddered.
Adán reached for his shirt and with slow movements, put it back on.
Odesky grabbed his wrist and held it, his own wrist up to display his watch face. “Slower than I would have guessed it should be.” He sounded impressed. He lifted Adán’s chin and looked in his eyes. Then he pulled the lower lids down to look at the capillaries inside. “No ruptures.”
Adán reachedfor his jacket and with the same slow, drained movements, put it on. Parris squashed the impulse to help him.
“The cobalt core,” he said. “Was it in a square metal container? About this big?” He lifted his hands and spread them about a foot apart. “Heavy industrial steel, painted red, with the three-sided yellow radiation warnings all over it.”
Parris had seen the manufacturer’s brochure andspecs for the medical sterilizer in California. “That’s it,” she said heavily.
Adán shook his head. “The core isn’t there anymore. It was. The container is there, all busted open, but it’s empty. I had a look around the area. Only, the thickness of the steel on that thing…it wasn’t a curious whale that nosed it open.”
“If they’re taking it somewhere else, why haul fifty pounds of lead casingaround with it?” Odesky said, running his specialized scanner up and down Adán’s body. “They’d have been lethally exposed either way.” He sat back and stuffed the scanner back in his backpack. “He’s registering,” he told Parris, “only I’d show more on the dial after a dental x-ray than he is.”
“Then I won’t glow in the dark?” Adán asked.
“Sorry,” Odesky told him.
“Damn,” Adán muttered. “There’smy fifteen minutes of fame gone.”
Locke snorted his laughter, his hands slipping on the oars.
Parris couldn’t laugh. She stared at the black cliffs and the beach ahead, sliding back into the ready state that her work required of her with something close to relief. This reach for mental clarity was familiar. It was safe.
Where was the cobalt? What had the Insurrectos done with it?
