Chapter 37
The patrol boat sliced through the water as we headed out toward Torchlight Key. The engines howled, and the briny air swirled. It took about an hour of skimming across the swells to reach the remote island. Last I’d heard, the private key was owned by an investment trust, but remained undeveloped.
The island didn’t see much traffic. There wasn’t much out there but dense jungle-like terrain, bugs, and an old radio outpost.
The sun angled toward the horizon—the close of another day imminent. Every second that ticked away put Kara more on edge. Dr. Malcolm didn’t look too settled either. He grew more jittery as we drew near the key.
"Is there some kind of problem?" I asked him.
"No. No problem," he said. But he kept stealing glances around the horizon.
We were the only ones as far as the eye could see. It’s not like this place saw a lot of casual tourists. You had to know where it was and be willing to make the journey. Of course, a place like this was ideal for smugglers—a great location for an aerial drop or illicit rendezvous.
Malcolm directed me into a narrow channel, and I navigated the patrol boat deep into the mangrove swamps.
We snaked through, avoiding roots and half-submerged stumps.
I trimmed the engines as the hull scraped the muddy bottom, then ran aground at the channel’s end.
Off the beaten path, Torchlight Key was the perfect location for a clandestine lab.
After dropping a Danforth anchor over the stern, we disembarked. I helped Kara ashore, and Dr. Malcolm led us into the thick underbrush.
We traversed the narrow trail, crunching across leaves, stepping over fallen logs.
Craggy branches clawed at us as we marched through the dense foliage.
Varmints scurried about the brush, and birds chirped in trees.
Dappled rays of sun pierced the canopy of leaves above, speckling the trail.
I kept my head on a swivel, and so did Dr. Malcolm.
Mosquitoes buzzed about, but the bloodsuckers weren’t bad yet. At dusk, they'd feast.
"What do you keep looking for?" I asked the good doctor.
"One can never be too careful out here."
He wasn’t lying.
"Are you packing?"
"Aren’t you?"
This far from civilization, anything could happen.
Help was a long way away. It was best to take precautions.
A 9mm holstered in my waistband and a few extra magazines would handle just about anything from wild animals to smugglers or Caribbean pirates.
There hadn’t been any recent reports of hijackings in local waters, but at times, it could be treacherous out here.
A posted sign along the trail read: NO TRESPASSING. Violators will be shot.
Dr. Malcolm led us to a small clearing under the canopy of leaves.
It was quite an impressive structure considering it was built out of bamboo, palm fronds, corrugated tin, and local wood.
On stilts to avoid flooding, steps led up to a large veranda with a swinging bench and a lazy hammock.
It was clear this could function as a second home for Dr. Malcolm when necessary.
Covered by a dense canopy above, the roof was further camouflaged with palm fronds, with camo netting a few feet above.
Dr. Malcolm had gone to great lengths to obscure the clandestine lab from aerial view.
50 feet away, a pit had been dug for a generator and was covered with sound-dampening material.
Solar panels had been placed strategically in nearby spots to collect light.
A battery stored power. Not far away, a composting outhouse handled waste, and rain barrels caught water.
I had no doubt Dr. Malcolm had devised a water treatment process for freshwater in the lab.
As we drew near, Dr. Malcolm raised his fist and signaled us to halt.
He knelt down and released a small monofilament tripwire that spanned the path.
It was connected to a Hillbilly Claymore—a shotgun shell in a pipe with a trigger and a firing pin.
It was the kind of thing that would put a serious damper on your day.
"That's not exactly legal," I said in a casual voice.
Dr. Malcolm looked me dead in the eye. "Nothing about any of this is exactly legal. Do you want my help, or don't you?”
His eyes flicked between the two of us. There was no turning back now. He was Kara's only hope.
Malcolm continued, "We had a deal, remember? I expect you to honor it.”
I gave a reluctant nod of agreement. I had given him my word. A deal with the devil, perhaps. I would have to put aside the badge. I’d have to conveniently forget everything I learned about the island. Somehow, I kept finding myself in these situations I'd rather not be in.
We continued past the Hillbilly Claymore toward the lab. Dr. Malcolm pointed to the surrounding underbrush. "This whole area is rigged with booby traps. I would advise you not to wander off and only step down paths that we've already traversed."
"Why the heightened security?” I asked, already knowing where this was going.
Dr. Malcolm gave me a flat look, then continued walking up the steps.
The boards squeaked as we climbed to the veranda.
He unlocked the door, flipped on the light, and we followed him inside.
The place was filled with beakers and vials, drums of chemicals, an array of high-tech equipment, test tubes and burners, you name it.
I knew right away what kind of lab this was, and that sense of dread twisted in my stomach.
Dr. Malcolm had been putting his chemistry skills to use in a more lucrative market.
"What exactly are you cooking up out here?"
The eccentric doctor shot me another look. "Anybody ever tell you, you ask too many questions?”
It was hot and stuffy in the lab. Dr. Malcolm flicked on a wall unit air conditioner. It wouldn’t take long to cool the place off.
He told Kara to take a seat, then gathered the items for a blood draw—a number of blood collection vials, a vacutainer needle, and a rubber armband.
Dr. Malcolm prepped her arm with an alcohol swab.
He tied it off like a junkie shooting heroin, tapped her vein a few times, then pierced her vein with the needle.
Kara flinched slightly.
Vernon connected a collection tube, and the syrupy crimson flooded in. After he filled a few containers, he placed a piece of gauze over the puncture, removed the needle, and taped down the gauze. "Leave that on for about 15 minutes."
Kara knew the drill.
The lab had a small centrifuge, a portable mass spectrometer, a gas chromatograph, a UV-Vis spectrophotometer, a high-powered microscope with digital capture, reagents, solvents, and more.
"This is going to take a little time," Dr. Malcolm said.
"How much time?" Kara asked.
Malcolm shrugged. “We know the toxin is working as designed. It's elevating heart stress, clotting activity, and muscle breakdown, causing vascular damage. The question becomes, how efficiently is it functioning, and is there a weakness in this adulterated design that we can exploit?"
His eyes flicked between the two of us to make sure we were following along.
Kara nodded.
"I need to run this through molecular modeling software and do an isotope analysis. I can’t give you a timeline, but I'll try to work as efficiently as possible.
" Dr. Malcolm paused. "I can't make any promises.
I have to be frank, I'm not optimistic. If I were you, I would try to enjoy your last moments. "
Kara scoffed. "And just how am I supposed to do that?”
"Spend time with someone you love. Go for a walk on the beach. See the sunset. Breathe the air. Try to appreciate the moment. Enjoy a last meal full of saturated fat.”
She laughed.
“Indulge your deepest desires.” He paused. "If it were my last day, I’d probably call up a few people and tell them to go fuck themselves."
Kara laughed louder. "That might take more than a day.”
"Prioritize," Malcolm said. "Pick what's most important to you."
"Well, I don't think we’re gonna find anyone to deliver pizza out to the island. All of my loved ones are gone. Maybe I should take in that last sunset.”
"The nicest beach is on the west side of the island.
I go there sometimes and sit when I need to think.
It's peaceful and calm. Helps me get out of my head when I’m stuck on a problem.
Just be mindful of the booby-traps. Go out the way you came, then head to the west. I'll be here. I'm not going anywhere.”
Without a boat, there was no other way off the island. Dr. Malcolm couldn't leave without us.
"I work better alone, anyway. Less distractions.” He moved to the mini fridge, powered by solar. He pulled open the door and grabbed a small bottle of champagne. He handed it to Kara, then found two glass beakers.
She looked at him like he was insane. "I don't think we have anything to celebrate just yet.”
"If you're not going to celebrate your life now, when are you?”