Captain Nordstrom shrugged. “We get our paychecks on time. It’s a bit boring running the same route over and over, and socializing with this crew has its limitations.”
“Don’t you get to meet the passengers?” asked Adam.
“Never,” said Captain Nordstrom. “MTIC is strict about keeping the passengers and the ship’s crew from fraternizing. You’re the first person I’ve had on the bridge in a long time. We’ve had some unfortunate experiences with the passengers getting drunk.”
Adam nodded. If the amount of alcohol that the doctors had consumed tonight was any indication, he wasn’t surprised.
Away from the sea breeze, the pitching of the ship began to bother Adam again, and he decided to say good-bye.
“José, accompany Dr. Smyth back to the passenger section,” said Captain Nordstrom.
José moved quickly, preceding Adam out the door. He went down the steep ladder, oblivious to the movement of the ship. Adam followed but much more cautiously.
“In a day or so you’ll have your sea legs,” said José with a laugh.
Adam wondered.
As they walked aft, José offered some technical details about the ship. Adam nodded dutifully, but most of the terms went over his head. When they got to the barrier, José hesitated, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. In the better light Adam could see the man’s face, which was dominated by a luxurious mustache.
“Dr. Smyth…” began José. “I was wondering if you would do me a favor.”
“What do you have in mind?” asked Adam suspiciously. From what the captain had said, crew and passengers were not supposed to mix, and Adam was not interested in any trouble. On the other hand, the idea of having a friend among the crew was appealing and could come in handy.
“They sell cigarettes in the ship’s store,” said José. “If I gave you the money, would you buy some for me?”
“Why don’t you get them yourself?” asked Adam.
“We’re not allowed beyond this door.”
Adam considered the request. It seemed sufficiently innocuous. “How many packs do you want?”
“As many as you can get for this.” José reached into his pocket and pulled out a fifty-dollar bill.
Adam had the feeling that José’s request wasn’t so innocent after all. José was probably running a little shipboard black market.
“Let me start with ten dollars’ worth,” said Adam.
José quickly substituted a ten for the fifty.
Adam took the money and told José that he’d meet him at the same location the next day at eleven. He remembered from the lecture schedule there was a coffee break scheduled at that time. José smiled broadly, his teeth startlingly white against his mustache.
Taking a few deep breaths of sea air, Adam went inside and headed for his stateroom.
CHAPTER 13
Adam heard the voice calling Dr. Smyth but ignored it. The name had nothing to do with him, and he preferred remaining immobile. Then someone grasped his arm and with great effort he opened his eyes.
“My glasses,” said Adam, surprised to find he was slurring his words.
Slowly and carefully he swung his feet over the side of the bunk and groped around on the night table. His hand hit the glasses and knocked them on the floor. Reaching over to pick them up, he suddenly remembered he was Dr. Smyth.
The steward handed him a glass of water.
“Thank you,” said Adam, puzzled.
Then the steward held out another one of the yellow capsules. Without hesitating, Adam took it and put it into his mouth. But as he had done the day before, he didn’t swallow it, taking a little water instead.
Satisfied, the steward took the glass into the bathroom. Adam slipped the capsule from his mouth.
“Excuse me,” he said, his words much clearer. “What are these yellow pills?”
“They are to relax you,” the steward said in his oddly mechanical voice.
“Hey,” said Adam. “I am relaxed. A little seasick maybe, but relaxed. Wouldn’t it be better if you gave me something for my stomach?”
“The yellow pills are to make you more relaxed and receptive,” the steward said, opening the door.
“Receptive to what?” called Adam.
“To instructions,” said the steward as he pulled the door closed.
Adam got up feeling unusually tired and weak. He’d had no idea that seasickness could be so debilitating. Forcing himself into the bathroom, he showered and dressed, still puzzling over the steward’s comment.
On his way to breakfast, he decided to see if Alan were up. This time, instead of knocking, he just turned the knob and the door swung open.
Alan was still stretched out on the bed, his eyes closed, his breathing deep and even.
“Alan,” called Adam. Slowly the man’s eyes fluttered open, only to close again. Adam bent down and gently lifted Alan’s eyelids. At first, all he saw was sclera, but then the corneas descended and seemed to focus.
“Wake up,” said Adam. He took his hands from Alan’s eyes and, grabbing his shoulders, pulled him into a sitting position.
“What’s the matter with you?” he asked.
“Nothing,” said Alan in a flat voice that reminded Adam of the steward’s. “I’m just tired. Let me sleep.” He started to sag backward, but Adam caught him.
“Tell me,” demanded Adam. “What is your name?”
“Alan Jackson.”
“Where are you?” asked Adam.
“I’m on an Arolen cruise.” Alan spoke with no inflection whatsoever.
“What month is this?”
“June,” said Alan.
“Raise your right hand,” said Adam.
Dutifully, Alan raised his right hand. He was like an automaton or a patient under heavy sedation. In fact, he reminded Adam of his patient with tardive dyskinesia. When the man had first come into the hospital, he’d been so heavily medicated that he’d slept around the clock, although if aroused he’d been oriented to time and place.
Adam allowed Alan to slump back onto his bed. After watching him for a moment or two, he returned to his own stateroom. Closing the door, Adam felt really afraid for the first time. Alan had been drugged. There was little doubt of that.
Obviously, the yellow pills were some kind of tranquilizer. All at once Adam recalled how drowsy he’d felt when the steward had awakened him. He had attributed his condition to the aftermath of seasickness, but maybe he, too, had been drugged. Yet how could that have happened? He hadn’t taken the yellow pills and what little dinner he’d eaten he’d vomited almost immediately. Maybe it was the water.
Adam went into the bathroom and filled his glass. It had no smell. Gingerly, he tasted it. It had a chemical flavor, but that could be from chlorination. Dumping it down the drain, Adam decided to go to breakfast.
The dining room held no trace of last night’s raucous party. A buffet had been set up in the center of the room with an impressive array of food. People were lined up, patiently awaiting their turn. Adam strolled among the tables and looked for Ned and Clair but didn’t see them.
His stomach not only felt better, he was actually hungry. The only trouble was, now that he had an appetite, he was terrified to eat. He eyed the buffet. There was the usual selection of scrambled eggs, bacon, sausage, and Danish. Then Adam saw something even better: a large bowl of fruit.
Thinking that unpeeled fruit had to be safe, he took several bananas, two oranges, and a grapefruit and made his way to an empty table. Just as he sat down, Ned and Clair appeared. Adam called out to them, and they came over to his table. They said they would join him.
Adam watched them go through the buffet line. They seemed tired, and when they came and sat down, Adam noticed that they hadn’t taken much food. He was puzzled. If the drug were in the food and water, why weren’t they and the other doctors in the room knocked out like Alan? Maybe it was the yellow pill. Maybe it was only given to guests on their second cruise. Maybe it was the combination of the capsule and whatever was put in the food…