His legs had been set in plaster, still wet. There was strapping on much of the rest of his body too.

“Hey, McNair. How are you?”

“Lucya.” He spoke only in a whisper. “It’s not that bad, not really. It’s mostly just cuts and bruises.” He screwed up his face as he spoke.

“Really? Because I’ve never seen anyone folded into the position you were in. Well, there was this contortionist once, at the circus. Have you ever been to a Russian circus?”

“Funnily enough, no.”

“You really sh— It’s a shame you never had the chance.”

He smiled, kindly, letting the slip of the tongue pass. “Any news on this torpedo? Vardy isn’t saying much. Too busy with some new secret project.”

“You mean he hasn’t told you?”

“No, he hasn’t,” Vardy said behind her. “And now’s not the time. Miss Levin, if you don’t mind? We need to get you prepared.”

McNair rolled his eyes, and winked at Lucya. “See you later. Come and visit. Bring grapes.”

“Yeah, right!”

Vardy turned to the nurse. “Carrie, as soon as you’re done here, can you get down to the classroom? We need a continuous medical presence down there in case anything happens.”

The nurse nodded, and carried on fussing around the injured helmsman.

Lucya followed Vardy back to the outer of the two rooms. He indicated a chair; she sat. He closed the door, hanging a Closed sign outside.

“First things first. Are you absolutely sure you want to go through with this? You are aware of the risks?”

“Sure. I’m going to get the virus. I’ve had it before. Most of us have.”

“Not this variety you haven’t. I told you, it’s a killer. If Jake can’t find the Ambush and get the antidote, you will almost certainly die. I can start making more here, while you’re gone, but realistically there’s no chance of getting it ready before you’re killed.”

“Right. Giving it to me straight. That’s good, I appreciate it. Will the virus harm the children?”

“No. That I am absolutely sure of. I’ve run extensive tests using clean blood samples from ages four right up to seventeen. There is no risk. I know I’ve been wrong about this virus before, but I am positive they are in no danger. I wouldn’t even contemplate trying this if I wasn’t certain.”

“Great. So load me up with the antidote, and let’s get on with it. The clock is ticking.”

Vardy looked apprehensive. He stood up and turned away from her slightly, studying an almost entirely blank dry-wipe board. “It’s not the antidote. You remember how this works? I have to give you immunosuppressives. They’ll slow your immune system. It will slow down the virus, that’s all.”

“Yeah, sure, whatever. They stop me getting sick.”

“No! Quite the opposite.” He turned to face her, his expression grim. “They’ll stop the virus killing you, but they’ll also stop your body from attacking any other foreign agents. Any germs, bacteria, any kind of infection that might be lurking in that ventilation pipe, your body won’t be able to fight off as effectively as it should. If you so much as scratch yourself, you could catch God knows what.”

Lucya raised her eyebrows. “Okay. But I’m not going to die, am I? I mean, all those things can be treated, when I get out?”

The doctor sat down again, put his hands on her knees, then thought better of it and folded his arms across his chest instead. “Until the virus has been eradicated, we can’t risk any other treatments. And you should also know, these immunosuppresives? They carry a risk of bringing about cardiac arrest. Normally they’re used in conjunction with a cocktail of other drugs to stop that happening, but we don’t have time.”

“You used them on everyone a month ago.”

“We had no choice.”

“Nobody died of a heart attack, did they?”

“Officially, no. But I suspect they contributed to the death of one passenger.”

“I’ll take the odds.” She rolled up the sleeve on her left arm. “Come on, Doc, load me up.”

He sighed. “Just as long as you know this isn’t going to be an easy ride. In fact, I’d say you’re probably going to go through hell.”

Lucya said nothing, just thrust her bare arm under his nose and stared at him.

Twenty-Six

THE MAN CAME up close to the door. He brought a child with him, his insurance policy. Not Erica this time, but a boy. A damp stain had appeared on the child’s inside leg, and his eyes streamed with tears. Jake didn’t know his name, and his guilt was all the heavier for that fact.

“Give. Under door.” The man looked from the window to the floor, his eyes a poor substitute for a free hand. “See closer.”

Jake nodded. He understood. He took a step back and peeled the sheet of paper from the small square pane of glass set into the wooden door, then crouched and slipped it underneath, giving a push as he let go.

The Korean shot a look at his colleagues. None of them moved. He barked an order. Three men scrambled to their feet and pushed and shoved their way to the door. The first one there retrieved the page. All the time, the leader of the group kept his hand on the boy, the gun at his throat, and his eyes on the window.

The page was thrust under his nose, blocking his view of the door. More words were hurled at the subordinate. Jake suspected they were not the sort that would be used in polite company. One of the men who had failed to retrieve the paper stood up, took the boy, and took the gun. He turned to face Jake. His face didn’t convey the same level of conviction as the leader. Jake suspected that if it came to it, he would hesitate — perhaps fatally — before pulling the trigger. None of that mattered though, because nobody was going to try anything on. At least, not in the sense the Koreans feared.

The leader, now freed of hostage duties, took the page in hand and examined the photograph. He shuffled sideways to be better positioned under the light.

Behind his back, Jake crossed his fingers. Miss Matsuo had done the best she could in the time available. He thought the picture looked convincing, but she insisted with another ten minutes she could have done better. They didn’t have another ten minutes. He didn’t tell her why, and he didn’t tell her the full reason for the picture. There was no point in burdening someone else with the massive responsibility.

“How long?”

The words took Jake by surprise.

“Sorry?”

“How long to get Lance?”

“My men tell me it will be two and a half to three hours. You can see the current has carried her some way out. When they reach her, they will have to work out how to start the engine. An unfamiliar ship, strong currents; this is a big job.”

“Current carry ship, current carry raft. You have one more hour.”

“Impossible.” Jake kept his voice flat. Calm. Showed he wasn’t afraid. Demonstrated that he wasn’t going to be pushed around. “We cannot get the Lance here in an hour. You might as well start shooting children now if you’re not prepared to give us enough time. That will give my chief of security here the justification he so desperately wants to come in and kill you all.” He looked sideways at Max, who moved to make sure the Koreans could see him, and more importantly, the large automatic rifle he was carrying. “Max really likes shooting people. He doesn’t need much of an excuse.”

The man holding the young boy looked worried. It wasn’t clear to Jake if he understood English, and he even chanced a glance at his leader, who shouted something at him, bringing him back to attention.

“One hour half. One hour half then I kill boy. No, I kill girl.” He mumbled some words at the other men. They scurried around like mice, until one of them emerged from the pack, dragging Erica by her ear. “This one, yes?”