Pandemic Page 82

She blinked. Her words played back in her head. Her face flushed red. Everyone was staring at her. She slowly sat back down.

Clarence turned to face Murray’s screen.

“Director Longworth, Doctor Montoya is under considerable stress.”

Murray nodded. He looked less than pleased.

“I can see that,” he said. “Doctor Montoya, get some rest. Doctor Cheng, assign more people to look at that stem cell therapy, as Doctor Montoya requested.”

Cheng couldn’t hide his smirk. He stared right at her.

“Of course, Director Longworth,” he said.

“Good,” Murray said. “That will be all.”

His side of the screen blanked out, leaving just Cheng’s face.

“Good day, Doctor Montoya,” he said. “Enjoy your time away.”

“Go fuck yourself,” Margaret said, then she stormed out of the mission module.

PORT

Cooper and José worked to tie the Mary Ellen Moffett to the long pier. Jeff was in the pilothouse, managing the fine maneuvering that brought the ship into place.

Waiting at their slip were three vehicles: a white van, a long, black limo and a pickup truck. Four Chinese men stood outside the white van. They wore jeans and sweatshirts, very nondescript, but Cooper wouldn’t have wanted to bump into any of them in a bar. Hands in pockets, shoulders shrugged against the cold — they clearly hadn’t understood that the temperature at the docks was usually the same as the temperature out on the water. Maybe they were here to help Steve and Bo Pan?

The pickup truck’s doors opened and two men — properly dressed against the cold in work jackets and insulated pants — stepped out. They had the burly look of dockworkers. They approached the Mary Ellen. Cooper had no idea who these men were, either. He noticed that when the dockworkers came forward, the Chinese men shrank back, just a little bit.

The limo was the most interesting of all: a man in a chauffeur suit — the driver, obviously — stood in front of it, a drop-dead-gorgeous woman on each arm. The women were laughing and smiling, but also shivering beneath thick fur coats. Past the hem of their coats, Cooper saw sparkly dresses and high heels.

The hanging bumpers on the Mary Ellen’s port side ground against the seawall.

Cooper was about to greet the two approaching men when a voice called out from behind him.

“Wait!”

He turned to see a bundled-up Steve Stanton rushing out of the cabin door. Steve ran across the deck, two overstuffed laptop bags strung around his shoulders. And not far behind Steve, Cooper saw Jeff descending from the bridge.

Steve slid to a stop, pointed at the dockworkers. “I hired these men,” he said in a rush. “And a bonus for you!” He pointed to the limo. Or maybe at the girls, Cooper wasn’t sure.

“A bonus?”

Steve nodded hard. “Yes! For such a good job. I have two nights at the Trump Tower for everyone! All paid for. The limo will take us there.”

Jeff joined them, a wide smile on his face.

“Stop the presses,” he said. “Did I hear you say you bought us two nights at the Trump Tower, and a limo ride with some girlies?”

Steve nodded furiously. He seemed overly hyped up. Stressed, maybe? His eyes kept darting to the cabin door. Was he waiting for Bo Pan?

“My way of saying thanks,” he said. “And maybe we can all get a beer after we check in?”

Cooper frowned. “You’re there, too?” Cooper just wanted to be rid of the guy who bothered Jeff so much. Although at the moment, Jeff couldn’t stop smiling, couldn’t quit looking at the girls.

Again Steve’s eyes flicked to the door. He looked at Cooper, forced a smile.

“I need a break, too,” Steve said. “If I can hang out with you guys tonight, I’ll pay for one more day at our agreed rate. I really think I should, uh, be around you for a while.”

Cooper started to say no — he’d had his fill of Steve Stanton and this weird job — but Jeff put an arm around Steve’s shoulders and gave the smaller man a friendly, solid shake.

“Hell yes, you can hang out with us,” Jeff said. “Thanks for the gift, Steve! We appreciate it. Coop and I will show you all the good spots in town. Won’t we, Coop?”

Hours earlier, Jeff had wanted to get as far away from Steve Stanton as possible, and now he wanted to be the kid’s best friend? A couple of nights in a five-star hotel — and a limo loaded with some high-class ladies — could have that effect.

“Sure,” Cooper said. Cooper pointed up to the two dockworkers, who were standing at the edge of the pier, waiting for instructions. “Steve also hired these guys to help us unload.”

Jeff slapped Steve’s back, then invited the dockworkers aboard. He led them to the crane and gave them the rundown on how they’d off-load Steve’s crates.

Steve glanced to the cabin door again, and this time he froze. Cooper looked as well — Bo Pan was quickly approaching, a duffel bag over his shoulder. Inside of it, Cooper knew, was the case recovered from the lake bottom. Bo Pan looked like he was trying to control his temper.

“Steve,” the old man said, “what is going on?”

Steve took a step away.

“I hired help for unloading,” he said.

Bo Pan looked to the dock, saw the white van, pointed at it. “We have help.”

“They’re not union,” Steve said. “We have to hire union labor in Chicago, right, Cooper?”

Chapter end