Black wind

medical station for treatment of their wounds and to slip into some dry clothes. Dahlgren’s bullet wound had pierced the meaty section of his left calf but, fortunately, had missed damaging any tendons. As the ship’s doctor inserted sutures to close up the wound, Dahlgren nonchalantly lit up a cigar while lying on the examination table. When the smoke hit the physician’s nostrils, he nearly ripped out the sutures by hand before forcing Dahlgren to douse the smelly tobacco. With a grin, the doctor handed Dahlgren a pair of crutches and told him to stay off his leg for three days.
    Dirk had his bloodied cheek and forehead cleaned and bandaged after catching a face full of shattered glass when the helicopter hit the surf. Remarkably, the two men incurred no other injuries from the crash and sinking of the Sikorsky. Dirk had saved them from drowning when he noticed a fuselage door had popped off during the crash landing. After the helicopter filled with water, Dirk grabbed Dahlgren and swam out the opening and made for the surface. With the aid of Dahlgren’s trusty Zippo lighter, they were able to ignite some dry driftwood on the beach and stave off hypothermia until Delgado arrived in the rubber boat.
    Captain Burch, meanwhile, reported the loss of the helicopter to NUMA headquarters, as well as reporting the incident to the Coast Guard and the Atka village public safety officer. The nearest Coast Guard patrol vessel was hundreds of miles away at Attu Is
    land. Information about the fishing trawler was reported in detail but the odds for an interdiction were slim at best.
    After donning a black turtleneck sweater and jeans, Dirk made his way to the wheelhouse. Burch was leaning over the chart table plotting a course through the Aleutian Islands.
    “Aren’t we heading back to Yunaska to retrieve the bodies of the Coast Guardsmen?” Dirk asked.
    Burch shook his head. “Not our job. Better to leave them be and allow the proper authorities to handle the investigation. I’m laying a course for the fishing port at Unalaska to disembark the CDC scientists.”
    “I’d rather make for that trawler,” Dirk said.
    “We’ve lost our helicopter and they have an eight-hour lead on us. We’d be lucky to find them, assuming we could even outrun them. The Navy, Coast Guard, and local authorities have all been alerted to your description. They have a better chance of finding that trawler than we do.”
    “Perhaps, but their resources are all thin in this part of the world. Those chances are slim at best.”
    “There’s little more we can do. Our survey work is finished and we need to get those injured scientists appropriate medical care. There’s no sense in hanging around any longer.”
    Dirk nodded. “You’re right, of course.” Wishing there was a way to find the trawler, he headed down the ladder to the ship’s galley for a cup of coffee. Dinner had long since been served and a cleanup crew was working over the kitchen before shutting down. Dirk filled a mug of coffee from a large silver urn, then turned and spotted Sarah sitting in a wheelchair at the end of the dining hall. The golden-haired woman sat alone at a table, peering out a large porthole at the moonlit water outside. She was dressed in the dull medical ward attire of cotton pajamas, slippers, and a blue robe but still gave off a vibrant glow. As Dirk approached, she looked up and her eyes twinkled.
    “Too late for dinner?” he asked apologetically.
    “Afraid so. You missed the chef’s special Halibut Oscar, which was truly excellent.”
    “Just my luck,” Dirk replied, drawing a chair and sitting down directly across from her.
    “What happened to you?” Sarah asked with concern in her voice as she eyed the bandages on Dirk’s face.
    “Just a little accident with the helicopter. I don’t think my boss is going to like the news,” he said with a grimace, thinking about the expensive helicopter sitting at the bottom of the sea. Dirk proceeded to describe the events of the flight, all the while gazing intently into Sarah’s hazel-colored eyes.
    “Do you think the fishing boat had something to do with the death of the Coast Guardsmen and us getting sick?” she asked.
    “It only goes to figure. They obviously weren’t too keen on us seeing them poaching sea lions, or whatever else they were up to.”
    “The sea lions,” Sarah murmured. “Did you see any sea lions on the west end of the island when you flew over?”
    “Yes, Jack