Gus shook off his chill. He unfolded his phone at his ear.
"Felix, where are you, amigo?"
"On Ninth, heading downtown. Whassup?"
"Nothing. Just get here pronto. I've done something I need to forget about."
Isolation Ward, Jamaica Hospital Medical Center
EPH ARRIVED AT the Jamaica Hospitel Medical Center, fuming. "What do you mean they're gone?"
"Dr. Goodweather," said the administrator, "there was nothing we could do to compel them to remain here."
"I told you to post a guard to keep that Bolivar character's slimy lawyer out."
"We did post a guard. An actual police officer. He looked at the legal order and told us there was nothing he could do. And-it wasn't the rock star's lawyer. It was Mrs. Luss the lawyer. Her firm. They went right over my head, right to the hospital board."
"Then why wasn't I told this?"
"We tried to get in touch with you. We called your contact."
Eph whipped around. Jim Kent was standing with Nora. He looked stricken. He pulled out his phone and thumbed back through his calls. "I don't see..." He looked up apologetically. "Maybe it was those sunspots from the eclipse, or something. I never got the calls."
"I got your voice mail," said the administrator.
He checked again. "Wait...there were some calls I might have missed." He looked up at Eph. "With so much going on, Eph-I'm afraid I dropped the ball."
This news hollowed out Eph's rage. It was not at all like Jim to make any mistake whatsoever, especially at such a critical time. Eph stared at his trusted associate, his anger fizzling out into deep disappointment. "My four best shots at solving this thing just walked out that door."
"Not four," said the administrator, behind him. "Only three."
Eph turned back to her. "What do you mean?"
Inside the isolation ward, Captain Doyle Redfern sat on his bed, inside the plastic curtains. He looked haggard; his pale arms were resting on a pillow in his lap. The nurse said that he had declined all food, claiming stiffness in his throat and persistent nausea, and had rejected even tiny sips of water. The IV in his arm was keeping him hydrated.
Eph and Nora stood with him, masked and gloved, eschewing full barrier protection.
"My union wants me out of here," said Redfern. "The airline industry policy is, 'Always blame pilot error.' Never the airline's fault, over-scheduling, maintenance cutbacks. They're going to go after Captain Moldes on this one, no matter what. And me, maybe. But-something doesn't feel right. Inside. I don't feel like myself."
Eph said, "Your cooperation is critical. I can't thank you enough for staying, except to say that we'll do everything in our power to get you healthy again."
Redfern nodded, and Eph could tell that his neck was stiff. He probed the underside of his jaw, feeling for his lymph nodes, which were quite swollen. The pilot was definitely fighting off something. Something related to the airplane deaths-or merely something he had picked up over the course of his travels?
Redfern said, "Such a young aircraft, and an all-around beautiful machine. I just can't see it shutting down so completely. It's got to be sabotage."
"We've tested the oxygen mix and the water tanks, and both came back clean. Nothing to indicate why people died or why the plane went dark." Eph massaged the pilot's armpits, finding more jelly-bean-size lymph nodes there. "You still remember nothing about the landing?"
"Nothing. It's driving me crazy."
"Can you think of any reason the cockpit door would be unlocked?"
"None. Completely against FAA regulations."
Nora said, "Did you happen to spend any time up in the crew rest area?"
"The bunk?" Redfern said. "I did, yeah. Caught a few z's over the Atlantic."
"Do you remember if you put the seat backs down?"
"They were already down. You need the leg room if you're stretching out up there. Why?"
Eph said, "You didn't see anything out of the ordinary?"
"Up there? Not a thing. What's to see?"
Eph stood back. "Do you know anything about a large cabinet loaded into the cargo area?"
Captain Redfern shook his head, trying to puzzle it out. "No idea. But it sounds like you're on to something."
"Not really. Still as baffled as you are." Eph crossed his arms. Nora had switched on her Luma light and was going over Redfern's arms with it. "Which is why your agreeing to stay is so critical right now. I want to run a full battery of tests on you."
Captain Redfern watched the indigo light shine over his flesh. "If you think you can figure out what happened, I'll be your guinea pig."
Eph nodded their appreciation.
"When did you get this scar?" asked Nora.
"What scar?"
She was looking at his neck, the front of his throat. He tipped his head back so that she could touch the fine line that showed up deep blue under her Luma. "Looks almost like a surgical incision."
Redfern felt for it himself. "There's nothing."
Indeed, when she switched off the lamp, the line was all but invisible. She turned it back on and Eph examined the line. Maybe a half inch across, a few millimeters thick. The tissue growth over the wound appeared quite recent.
"We'll do some imaging later tonight. MRI should show us something."
Redfern nodded, and Nora turned off her light wand. "You know...there is one other thing." Redfern hesitated, his airline pilot's confidence fading for a moment. "I do remember something, but it won't be of any use to you, I don't think..."
Eph shrugged almost imperceptibly. "We'll take anything you can give us."
"Well, when I blacked out...I dreamed of something-something very old..." The captain looked around, almost ashamedly, then started talking in a very low voice. "When I was a kid...at night...I used to sleep in this big bed in my grandmother's home. And every night, at midnight, as the bells chimed in the church nearby, I used to see a thing come out from behind a big old armoire. Every night, without fail-it would poke out its black head and long arms and bony shoulders...and stare at me..."
"Stare?" asked Eph.
"It had a jagged mouth, with thin, black lips...and it would look at me, and just...smile."
Eph and Nora were both transfixed, the intimacy of the confession and its dreamlike tone both unexpected.
"And then I would start screaming, and my grandmother would turn on the light and take me to her bed. It went on for years. I called him Mr. Leech. Because his skin...that black skin looked just like the engorged leeches we used to pick up in a nearby stream. Child psychiatrists looked at me and talked to me and called it 'night terrors' and gave me reasons not to believe in him, but...every night he came back. Every night I would sink under my pillows, hiding from him-but it was useless. I knew he was there, in the room..." Redfern grimaced. "We moved out some years later and my grandmother sold the armoire and I never saw it again. Never dreamed of it again."