Deep Storm

39

Crane found Hui Ping in her lab, scrutinizing an absorption line printout and making notations on the pale green datasheet with a felt marker. She looked up as he entered, smiled.

"Oh, good," she said. "You got the laptop."

The smile faltered as she caught the expression on his face. "Peter. Something wrong?"

Crane stepped forward. He glanced up at the security camera mounted in the ceiling, stayed carefully out of its field of view. "I have to ask you something. Have you ever been to Outer Hull Receiving?"

"You mean, the place where the Tub docks with fresh supplies?" She shook her head. "Never."

"Where were you around the time Asher died?"

"Here, in my lab. I was studying these absorption lines, remember? I told you that."

"So you were nowhere near the hyperbaric chamber."

"No." Ping frowned. "Why? What are you getting at?"

Crane hesitated. He was about to take a calculated risk-and, very probably, break every rule in the lengthy agreements he'd signed when he came here. It was true he could think of no reason why Korolis would lie about Ping's involvement. And aiding a suspected saboteur was a treasonable offense. But his gut told him she was trustworthy.

Besides, she was the only person who could help him learn what Asher had discovered.

He licked his lips. "Listen carefully. Korolis claims you're the saboteur."

Ping's eyes widened. "Me? But-"

"Just listen. He's convinced Spartan to put you under house arrest. A detail will be down here to escort you to your quarters at any moment."

"That can't be." Her breathing grew fast and shallow. "That's not right."

He gestured her toward him, out of camera range. "Calm down, it's okay. I'm getting you out of here."

"But where?"

"Just relax. I need you to think. Is there a lab or some other place where you can work on the laptop? Somewhere isolated, out of the way, without security cameras?"

Hui didn't answer.

"Look, I'm not going to let them take you. But we have to get out of here. Now do you know of a place like that?"

She nodded, making an effort to calm herself. "On deck six. The Maritime Applied Physics Lab."

"Okay. But there's something I need to do first. Step over here, out of the camera's view." And-reaching into the pocket of his lab coat-he pulled out a sterile wrapper. As Hui drew close, he tore away the wrapper, exposing a number 12 scalpel that gleamed in the artificial light.

When she saw the scalpel, Hui stopped. "What's that for?"

"I need to remove the RFID tags they inserted in us," Crane said, pulling out additional medical equipment and laying it on the table. "Otherwise, they'll find us anywhere."

He pulled up the sleeve of his lab coat, swabbed the dimpled area on his forearm with disinfectant. He let the scalpel hover over his skin a moment as he held his breath.

The first incision sliced through the epidermis. The second penetrated the dermis and exposed the RFID tag, embedded amid yellow subcutaneous fat. Hui looked away as he plucked out the radio tag with tissue forceps, then let it drop to the floor of the lab and crushed it underfoot.

"There," he said. "Now I can't be tracked like some migrating fowl."

He dressed and sterilized the wound, applied a butterfly closure, and tossed the scalpel in the wastebasket. Then-pulling another sterile scalpel from his pocket-he turned toward her.

She took an involuntary step backward.

"Don't worry," he said. "I've got an anesthetic pad to numb your skin. The only reason I didn't use one on myself was because I accidentally grabbed just one from the dispensary in the temporary infirmary."

Still, she hesitated.

"Hui," he said. "You've got to trust me."

She sighed, nodded. Then she stepped forward again, pushing up her own sleeve as she did so.