He removed one, thinking it would do the trick and slow down his heart rate once he was up and moving. His job was stressful and intense while the ship was underway, but one pill should see him through until his watch was over.
He stashed the bag under the mattress. Looking at the small "energizer" in his palm, he was tempted to just "pop" it, but crush and sniff had a more lasting, potent effect. He grabbed his "douche" kit, towel, and shower shoes from his locker, then he took off.
After a quick, military-type wash down in the "rain locker," he waited just long enough until a few other sailors left. Standing by a sink closest to a bulkhead, trying to give himself some privacy, he removed a plastic pill crusher from the kit. Seconds later he dumped the powder on the back of his hand, looked quickly over his shoulder, then sniffed the substance with two quick breaths. He was good to go.
Dressed and ready for duty, Worster started hurrying down the darkened passageway, twenty minutes ahead of his scheduled watch. But something wasn't right. His energy started waning rapidly, with his body beginning to feel cold, clammy. Just as he neared the ladder, he stumbled. He tried reaching for the rail, but he didn't have the strength or coordination. A second later, he collapsed, unconscious. By the time a corpsman arrived, Petty Officer Worster was dead.
By 0700, four sailors were in sickbay, unconscious, in critical condition. Eight others were dead.
Chapter 2
A blue pennant with two white stars flew over the USS Preston's masthead of the aftermost mast, the flag of Rear Admiral John Torrinson. Under normal circumstances he'd be on board his flagship only to see the task force through its current mission, patrolling the Indian Ocean. But normal circumstances no longer existed.
Sitting at a round table in the Wardroom, he swiveled back and forth in a black leather chair, ready for the meeting to begin. Joining him were:
Captain Jim Conklin; former commander of a carrier strike group in San Diego; F-14 pilot;
Commander Carl Justine; XO; former F-14 pilot; stationed aboard the Preston 18 months;
Commander Mark Stetson; CAG (Commander Air Group); former Blue Angels pilot, flew Slot #3, Left Wing;
Commander Lou Unger; Air Boss; former A6 Intruder pilot;
NIS special agent Sid Edmunds; Agent Afloat for three months; former sergeant with the Norfolk, Virginia, police.
Torrinson rolled his chair away from the table, got up, and slowly started pacing the room, not even trying to hide his concern from the men watching him.
Captain Conklin directed his question to Stetson. "Mark, are all 'birds' back on deck?"
"Yes, sir. There's a COD from Cubi (Coo-by) due tomorrow. Should I have it delayed?" (NAS Cubi Point was built at the edge of Subic Bay Naval Base.)
Conklin glanced at Torrinson. "What do you think, Admiral?"
"In my opinion, I'd say no. That plane's probably delivering mail. Let's continue 'life as usual' as much as we can for the time being. Morale is going to be an issue, wouldn't you all agree?"
"Yes, sir," the officers answered, or simply nodded in agreement.
Torrinson glanced at his watch before asking, "Jim, have any similar incidents been reported from the task force?"
Conklin shook his head. "Negative. All captains have instructions to contact us immediately if anything remotely similar happens."
Torrinson then turned to Sid Edmunds. "Sid."
"Yes, Admiral?"
"Have you come to any conclusions?"
Edmonds ran a hand over the top of his thick brown hair, his expression obviously showing frustration. "As I indicated earlier, Admiral, I'm positive every incident is drug-related. The men in sickbay haven't been able to offer any information. They've been unconscious since being brought in. But what I can tell you — and Doc Palmer will confirm this — is these just weren't cases of overdoses."
"Are you saying they were … what? Poisoned?!" Torrinson was more concerned then ever.
"I don't know if I'd choose the word 'poisoned' just yet. If it's any type of stimulant, it wouldn't surprise me in the least if the stuff's been used ever since we arrived in this part of the world. But something changed to make all these incidents suddenly happen, and to so many. Either the dosage was more than normal, or something extra may have been added. I'm waiting for final analysis from the small stash I found under Petty Officer Worster's mattress, hidden in a tin."
"Jesus! How the hell is it possible?! Why and who would want to?!" Torrinson's voice reverberated in the room, but no one could answer his questions.
Conklin finally broke the silence and shifted his eyes to Edmonds. "Any idea where or how they got the drugs?"
Edmonds shook his head. "I've run some inquiries but my best guesstimate is they came in on the last COD flight, because if those drugs were carried on board when we arrived in Subic, this disaster probably would've happened a helluva lot sooner."
"So, we've got a dealer or dealers on board," Torrinson commented, disgustedly.
Conklin folded his hands together, tapping them quietly on top of the table. "Just to be on the safe side, Admiral, I'll notify Cubi and have the next COD thoroughly searched before it lifts off."
XO Carl Justine commented, "So, until we know what the drug is, we won't know where it's being 'cooked.'"
"That's right," Edmunds replied. "As soon as we're through here, I'll contact NIS and the DEA and see if they can give us any leads. Maybe they've run into similar incidents."
"I hope," Torrinson began, "that the lockdown for the entire fleet will help until we can get a handle on this."
"It probably will, Admiral, but there's no way in hell scuttlebutt hasn't already filtered throughout the ship."
"I'm sure it has," Torrinson responded.
"I guess we also have to consider the possibility users could be dumping any evidence," Air Boss Unger suggested.
"Maybe that won't be such a bad thing, Lou," Torrinson commented.
Conklin made a suggestion. "Maybe we need to specifically describe the drug. It might bring somebody forward, somebody who may have seen it, or heard about it in passing. And maybe we'd better inform all chiefs and officers on what symptoms to look for, or doesn't it matter, Sid?"
Edmunds ran a hand over his chin. "From what's happened to those men, Captain, once the drug is taken, I don't think anything could prevent the damage."
"You still need to pass the information to the fleet, Jim," Torrinson said. "And one other suggestion. Contact the CO at Subic. Maybe he can start an investigation before NIS sends assistance. There's gotta be somebody on that base who's involved — military or civilian."
"I'll take care of it, sir."
Torrinson turned his attention to Edmunds. "Sid, what happens to users if their supply is cut off?"
"I'm guessing they'd experience reactions just like any other drug user going through withdrawal. But from what we've seen so far, this batch has got to be different from what's been used before. These were intended to be destructive, Admiral."
A quiet fell over the room, until Conklin spoke. "I have a suggestion, Admiral." Torrinson nodded. "We might consider offering therapy sessions. If any of these kids are 'hooked' on this drug, they might be heading for more serious trouble. And us too."
"You mean like 'AA' meetings?"
"Yes, sir."
"I agree with Captain Conklin's suggestion, Admiral," Air Boss Unger said. "We have to consider ourselves extremely lucky that there weren't any accidents during last night's flight ops."