Page 41 of Wild Fever
She climbed off the bed and approached the hatch. She cracked it open. "Thank you. You've been very kind to me. You didn't have to help me. Quite frankly, I'm not sure why you did. I put a terrible burden on you. You’ve risked your job, and I’ve made you a target. I’d say I won't forget that, but in a few days…” Her eyes filled, and she choked up.
"In a few days, you're going to be just fine. We'll figure this thing out. Then you can owe me one.”
She wiped the tears away and extended her hand. "Deal.”
We shook on it.
"Now get some sleep, stay hydrated, and think positive."
She laughed. "Positive. Right.” A grim frown pulled her face. "I'm working on that part.”
"Work harder.”
She chuckled again and gave me a mock salute. “Aye-aye, sir.”
“Oh, one more thing. When you left Mr. Yan’s cabana, how did you exit?”
“Through the sliding glass door. Why?”
“Did you see anyone else on your way out?”
“There was a couple on the beach making out. But I don’t think they paid any attention to me.”
I bit my tongue, said good night, then headed up to my stateroom. Her statement somewhat corroborated Doug’s story.At this point, I was pretty well convinced Kara was playing it straight with me. There was another killer.
I brushed my teeth, pulled off my clothes, and slipped into bed. I flipped on the TV to catch up on the news. The anchor said, "Futures plummet as international tensions continue to rise."
I turned off the TV as quickly as I had turned it on. I didn’t need more bad news to close out the day.
But the bad news kept coming. It was a little after 2:00 AM when the sheriff called.
25
We met Daniels at the station and hopped aboard his patrol boat. I cast off the lines while he took the helm and fired up the twin outboards. Joined by the medical examiner and the forensic team, the sheriff idled us out of the marina. He brought the boat on plane once we passed the breakwater and crashed into the inky swells. The Defender-class patrol boat sliced through the water, heading into the abyss.
The moon glowed overhead, and the stars flickered above. It was a nice night. Wind swirled briny air across the bow, and the engines howled, spitting a frothy wake.
It took about 45 minutes to get to Horizon Cay. It was a small private island that was purchased by a biotech firm a number of years ago. Another patrol boat had already arrived, and the uniformed deputy stood on the dock waiting for us.
We pulled up, and I hopped out of the patrol boat and tied off. The sheriff killed the engines and joined me with the rest of the crew.
Deputy Slater said, "You’re not gonna believe this.”
Daniels cringed.
We followed him down a lush path through dense foliage to the main building. It was a futuristic-looking structure with clean lines, large glass windows, and a minimal design. The lobby was clean, antiseptic, with comfy couches and chairs. Flatscreen displays were blank now. During the day, I suspected they looped promos of the facility’s features.
Slater continued to lead us down the hallway, past patient rooms and offices. The entourage moved past a café and a lounge area. We stepped outside into a courtyard, which provided a tranquil escape with tall trees and greenery. On a cool day, you could sit on one of the benches, sip coffee, or chow down on a sandwich.
We all marched across the small courtyard to the building where all the magic happened. The secure door had been propped open with a rock for easy access. By the door was a numeric keypad along with a palm scanner.
We stepped inside and followed Slater down the hallway. The building rumbled with the hum of high-tech machinery—cooling units and supercomputers.
The team marched into the heart of the operation—a temperature-controlled chamber with two dozen cryogenic stasis pods. Forged from a composite alloy and engineered to rigid specifications, each unit stood about 8 feet tall. A clear curved window offered a head and shoulders view of the occupant. A screen on each unit displayed vital diagnostics—core temperature, metabolic suppression, and system integrity. An otherworldly luminous glow enveloped the subjects as they slumbered in stasis.
A web of cables and tubes snaked from each pod, connecting them to support and monitoring systems. They looked like something out of a sci-fi movie—colonists ready to travel through space to another world. But these patients weren’t traveling through space. They were traveling through time, so to speak.
Solid green lights illuminated the displays of all the cryo tubes except for two. Those flashed red. Never a good sign.
