The Silent Sea (Oregon Files 7)

“Where did this happen?” Max asked.

“The survivor was a lowly seaman, not a navigator. He only said that where it took place was a land of ice.”

“Curious,” Juan said. “How does—”

“A black woman become an expert on Chinese maritime history?”

“No, I was going to ask how the story was preserved for so long, but since you brought it up . . .”

“My father was an electronics engineer who spent most of his career in Taiwan. I was raised in Taipei. That’s where I got my undergraduate degree. It was only after I finished that we returned to the States. As for how the story persisted, the survivor, Zedong Cho, wrote it down when he was an old man. He lived in Taiwan when it was just anther province. The manuscript was handed down through the family, but by the time a few generations had passed it was seen as a piece of fiction, the fantasy of an old ancestor with a good imagination. I learned about it because my roommate all four years at university was Susan Zedong, Cho’s nine-times-removed granddaughter.

“Of course, there was no way to prove Admiral Tsai ever existed because the Emperor erased all evidence of him and all his men, so the story has remained just that, a story.”

“Until now,” Max reminded.

“Until now,” she smiled at him.

Cabrillo could definitely sense some sparks here, and as much as he’d like to give them time alone, time was a luxury they didn’t have.

“Does he say what caused the madness?” He was thinking about Linda Ross’s report. Coincidence was a four-letter word in their line of work.

“The Silent Sea got separated from the other two ships for a month on its way to South America. They stopped at a remote island—please don’t ask which—and they traded for fresh food from the natives. That’s the only deviation from what the other ships encountered, so I’ve always believed the food was tainted somehow.”

“Would you excuse me for a moment,” Juan said, and stepped awa

y. Max couldn’t have been happier.

Juan dialed the Oregon and asked to be put through to Dr. Huxley.

“Jules, its Juan.”

“Hey, where are you guys?”

“Believe it or not, on a Mississippi riverboat.”

“It’s warm and sunny, isn’t it?” There was envy in the ship’s medical officer’s voice.

“The sun just set, but it’s still about eighty.”

“And you’re calling to gloat. That’s cold, Chairman, even for you.”

“Listen, have you had a chance to check those samples you asked Murph to bring back from Wilson/George?”

“Not yet.”

“Test them for prions.”

“Prions . . . seriously? You think Andrew Gangle had mad cow disease?”

“A form of it, yes, and I think he got it from the other body. Prions don’t die, right?”

“They’re just proteins, so they aren’t really alive. But, yes, in a sense they don’t die.”

“So someone could become infected if prions are introduced into the bloodstream by, say, accidentally jabbing yourself with the bone of a corpse riddled with them?”

Julia didn’t hesitate. “Theoretically. Where’d this brainstorm come from?”

“A Chinese ship that isn’t where it was supposed to be. Do me a favor and tell Mark and Stoney to quit studying the map. I found the bay.” He left it at that and rejoined Max and Tamara, who was laughing at some joke Hanley had just cracked.