"True," Jelbart said.

"There are standard responses, regardless of the exposure," Lansing went on. "I've given him Melbrosin pollen, a natural radiation-sickness therapy. We can treat the results, the nausea and weakness. But this boosts the capability of the bone marrow to produce red and white blood cells. It won't affect the pharmacological treatments he's receiving for his wounds. If there is good news in any of this, it is that the burns appear to have been caused in the explosion, not as a result of the radiation."

"How can you tell?" Jelbart asked.

"The body responds differently," the doctor replied. "You see a more extensive form of blistering with radioactive burns."

"What about the levels of radiation the patient himself is generating?" Jelbart asked.

"They are extremely low," Lansing a.s.sured him. "We won't be contaminated in any way if we stay for less than a half hour or so. And we will be here for far less than that, I a.s.sure you. That lead screen is primarily for the nurses who walk by all day."

The man in the bed began to moan as the drugs entered his system. FNO Loh leaned toward him.

"Don't bother talking to him yet," Lansing cautioned. "He won't hear you. This is only the pain talking. You'll know he's conscious when you see his eyes begin to move under the lids."

Loh stood up again. She tugged on the hem of her jacket and absently ran a hand down the front.

The room was warm, and there was the faint odor of antiseptic. It smelled sanitary rather than fresh. To FNO Loh, dirty mop water on the deck of a patrol ship smelled fresh. Salty sea air, rich with fuel from the engine room, smelled fresh. This smell was void of life, of character.

The young woman looked at the patient. He was starting to breathe more rapidly. She felt a pinch of sadness. It took suffering and horror to put him in what was probably the cleanest bed he had ever been in. Whatever his nationality, there were thousands of other young Asian men and women just like him. Maybe he was running from something. Maybe he did not want to be like his father. Perhaps he was running to something. Perhaps he had seen European or American movies or television shows and wanted to live like that.

The officer felt compa.s.sion for him, but she also felt contempt. It was not a crime to want to escape from terrible oppression and poverty. To desire money and freedom. Yet there were other ways to earn money. Legal, honorable ways. Service in the military was one. Working on a farm was another. Apprenticeship in a trade was yet another. People like him were devious rather than smart, indignant rather than industrious, violent rather than strong. They deserved the disaster they ultimately brought on themselves.

The patient's eyes opened slightly. They crinkled with discomfort. His dry lips parted and moved wordlessly. He began to shift about, then started thrashing weakly as he moaned. Loh leaned close to his ear. She lightly touched his unbandaged cheek and forehead.

"Don't move," Loh said softly in Malay. She repeated it in Chinese and then in English.

"Who-?" he said in Malay.

"You are safe," she said. "I am Monica. You are in a medical facility. Where are you from?"

The patient writhed and opened his mouth in silent pain.

"Where are you from?" Loh repeated.

"Singapore," he said.

"What is your name?" she asked.

"Name," he said drowsily. "Lee."

"Lee what?" she pressed.

"Tong," he replied.

"Lee Tong, what were you doing at sea?" she asked.

"It hurts," the patient said. He closed his eyes. Tears fell from the sides. "My skin, my feet . . . on fire."

"We will make the pain stop when you answer my questions," Loh said. She was glad the doctor could not understand her. He would only waste time with misguided pity. "What were you doing at sea?"

"They fired at us," he said.

"Who did?" Loh asked.

"They saw in the dark," he went on.

"The boat you were attacking?" she asked.

"Yes," he replied. "They hit . . . plastique."

"Your plastique?" she asked. "You had plastic explosives on board?"

He nodded.

"Lee Tong, were you trying to take something from the other vessel?" Loh asked.

He began to pant.

"Did you attack another vessel?" Loh demanded.

"It hurts . . . help me!"

"Did you attack another vessel?" she shouted. she shouted.

"Yes-"

Dr. Lansing was checking the heart monitor to the right of the bed. "Ms. Loh, his blood pressure is rising, two ten over sixty. His heart rate is two twenty."

"Meaning what?" Jelbart asked.

"He's approaching ventricular tachycardia," the doctor said. "That can cause hemodynamic compromise-clots, air bubbles, death."

"You're saying you haven't got much time," Jelbart said.

"I'm saying he he hasn't got much time," the doctor replied. "It's time to stop this, Ms. Loh." hasn't got much time," the doctor replied. "It's time to stop this, Ms. Loh."

Loh refused to move. "Lee Tong, what did you want from the vessel?" she demanded.

He did not answer. He simply moaned.

"Did you want to hijack it? Did you want to steal something?" the naval officer asked.

"Money," he replied.

"You just wanted money?" she asked.

"Jewelry," he said. "Goods."

"What kind of goods?" she pressed.

"Electronic," he replied.

"Nothing dangerous?" she asked. "No nuclear waste?"

He shook his head weakly.

They were just pirates, then, she told herself. Pirates who picked the wrong vessel to try to board. she told herself. Pirates who picked the wrong vessel to try to board.

Lee Tong began to cry. He struggled against the straps that held him to the bed. A nurse came over to help restrain him.

"Officer Loh, this has got to stop," Dr. Lansing said. "Nurse, he needs a beta-blocker to stabilize. Push more propranolol IV. The rest of you-out."

Loh ignored the physician. "Lee Tong, were you in the Celebes Sea when this happened?"

"Yes," he replied.

"Can you describe the vessel you attacked?" she asked.

"Too dark," he said. He began to shiver and become more active. His eyes opened suddenly. He forced out a raw, hoa.r.s.e, inarticulate scream.

"That's enough!" the physician said.

Dr. Lansing moved in front of the woman. He turned the morphine drip on again. Almost at once the patient began to calm.

Loh maneuvered around the doctor. "Can you describe the boat?" she asked. "Did it sink?"

"Did not sink," the man said as he drifted off. "Explosion . . . kept going . . ."

Lee Tong relaxed and sank back into the bed.

"Why did you do that?" Loh asked the doctor.

"Because his heart rate was approaching two hundred and thirty-five beats a minute," the doctor said. "In his weakened condition, we could lose him. Now step aside, Ms. Loh. Let me do my job."

The naval officer moved back. As the physician moved in with his nurse, Jelbart took FNO Loh by the arm. He walked her around the lead screen and into the corridor. The other men gathered around her.

"What did he tell you?" Ellsworth asked.

Loh looked at the others. She took a short breath. "His name is Lee Tong, and he is Singaporean. He was at sea with other pirates, and they attempted to rob a vessel at night. They only wanted those goods they could spend or fence. That is typical of the breed. Judging from the radioactivity, it appears they happened upon a vessel that was carrying nuclear waste."

"What kind of ship?" Jelbart asked.

"I don't know," she said. "But these people do not routinely attack the kind of vessels that would transport nuclear materials."

"Legal nuclear materials," Coffey pointed out.

"That is correct," she said. "The pirates obviously tried to stop the ship and were repulsed by weapons fire, probably by a team with night-vision capability. Lee Tong said they were cut down in the dark."

"By professionals," Jelbart said.

"It appears so," Loh agreed. "In the course of that exchange, the pirates' own plastique was detonated. It must have punched a hole in the target vessel and sprayed the sampan with radiation. He said that the ship is still afloat. Perhaps it was crippled in the explosion and is at anchor not far from where it was attacked. I'm going to search for it."

"Before you leave," Coffey said to Loh, "I am obligated to point something out."

"Yes?" she said.

"Whatever the patient told you cannot be used in fashioning a legal case against him," Coffey told her. "Mr. Tong did not have an attorney present, and he was under the influence of medication."

"He is also guilty of piracy," Loh replied flatly.

"Perhaps," Coffey admitted. "And if you are inclined to prove that, you will have to do it some other way."

The woman's aides were standing at the far end of the corridor. Unschooled and very young, they both knew virtue from criminal behavior better than these older, highly educated men beside her. Knowledge and liberality had crowded common sense from their brains.

"Gentlemen, I am returning to my patrol ship," she said. "It is probably not a coincidence that this event occurred where it did."

"What do you mean?" Ellsworth asked.

"You're thinking about the 130-5 site, aren't you Officer Loh?" Jelbart asked.

"I am," Loh replied. "I would like to go there and look for evidence of a conflict or perhaps the target vessel itself."

"Excuse me, but what's the 130-5 site?" Coffey asked.

"It's the point of intersection at one hundred and thirty degrees longitude, five degrees lat.i.tude," Jelbart replied. "That's where j.a.pan and China are permitted to dump their nuclear waste."

"But Officer Loh just said these pirates wouldn't have attacked a vessel of that sort," Ellsworth said.

"They would not have," the Singaporean agreed. "What I'm afraid of is something else."

"What?" Ellsworth asked.

"That they attacked a vessel that may have just done business with one of those vessels," Loh replied.

SIXTEEN.

Washington, D.C. Thursday, 11:55 P.M.

Paul Hood was about to leave when the phone beeped. It had been nearly five hours since he turned over the running of Op-Center to the evening shift. That was the only time he got to catch up on E-mails, intelligence briefings, and personal matters.

He s.n.a.t.c.hed it up and sat on the edge of the desk.