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‘Worth a try,’ said Richard. ‘She was heading for Mexico City. She could conceivably be quite close by if she can get over the Sierra Madre.’

‘I remember a briefing,’ added Juan Jose, ‘that suggested one of the best uses for dirigibles like that is in emergencies. They don’t need any major ground support and yet they can move things the size of containers.’

‘So we have some priorities,’ said Richard. ‘Check the last hospitals. Get back to Sulu Queen. Contact the navy at Manzanillo. Contact Dragon Dream.’

‘Aeroscraft are the guys who built her,’ Biddy added. ‘I knew it would come to me. They’re out in Montobello. I can get through to them.’

‘Right. But, unless you’re confident about multitasking, I suggest we leave the radio contacts till we get back aboard, except for alerting Cheng that we’re on our way. Then we can start to call our priority list as we bring her in.’

By the time Richard eased Sulu Queen past the Faro lighthouse at the end of the breakwater and into the flotsam-thick relative calm of the outer harbour a couple of hours later, Juan Jose Guerrero had contacted Manzanillo, explained who he was, where he was and what he was doing. Already on high alert, under direct orders from the president to cooperate as fully as possible, the admiral he finally talked to warned that the commands on the Baja were already fully committed and Vallarta was filling up with refugees so swiftly that the naval contingent down there was going to be needed onsite. But he agreed to load one of his venerable Papaloapan-class tank landing ships with as many BTR-70 amphibious vehicles and Gama Goats as he could spare. And with drivers and support teams. Already well versed in such work and holder of a Humanitarian Service Medal, the vessel had an emergency routine practised after Hurricane Katrina and again after the Haiti earthquake. She could be with them in twelve hours, depending on sea conditions.

Biddy’s contact with Aeroscraft seemed equally positive. Dragon Dream was indeed on her way to Mexico City. ‘She’s currently at Durango International Airport,’ Biddy explained just after she broke contact. ‘That’s just the other side of the mountains, about two hundred and fifty kliks north-east of here. Of course, they’re keen to help in any way they can. Dragon Dream is a scaled-down version of the craft already in production, but she can still help. They’re trying to find a way over the Sierra. As soon as they do, they’ll be here. Dragon Dream can fly at more than one hundred and fifty kliks per hour. And she can carry up to sixty tons payload — that’s three fully laden TEUs — or a hundred or so passengers. Sounds like the answer to your prayers, Richard. If she can get here.’

As the helmsman eased Sulu Queen into the empty dock in front of Maxima at Richard’s command a couple of hours later, however, the next set of problems became obvious. The amount of rainwater draining between the containers and collecting in the bilge beneath the ship’s hold meant that the pumps were on full. At sea this was not a problem, but as the big freighter came close to the dockside, the bilge water flooded the facility even further, adding to the deluge and washing away towards the warehouses. Furthermore, although there was a crane large enough to lift Guerrero’s containers ashore, there was no one to man it and nothing to transport them — always assuming the roads were passable. ‘As I said,’ observed Robin as her husband stood thinking the problems through, ‘we either need some big choppers or Dragon Dream.’

‘But in the meantime,’ frowned Guerrero, ‘what can we do? We have focused so much on getting here. And now that we are here, we cannot get our help to the people who need it most!’

‘Not for eight to ten hours, maybe,’ added Miguel-Angel, looking on the bright side as ever. ‘Then the navy will be here.’

‘But the National Guard is here already,’ snapped Juan Jose.

‘Tell you what,’ said Richard. ‘How about this? The way we have your containers secured means that the only thing stopping us opening them up again and really starting to get things moving is the rain. How about if we moved them into the dry? Then your people could get out some of the supplies — tents, say, heating units, medicines, so forth. And then we could see about bringing people to us, aboard here, if we can’t get the containers to them.’

‘Like a real arco de Noa!’ said Miguel-Angel.

‘But where is this dry place?’ demanded the major.

‘Under the road bridge,’ answered Richard. They all turned round to look at it. The arch of the single span was dead ahead. The outwash from the town joined with the current of the river to make the landside rough and dangerous-looking. But where the span swooped down to settle on the breakwater, things looked much calmer. And on that side, too, the dock had been built out under the span into a broad walkway with a series of bollards. It was clear that, with care, Richard could get a good deal of his ship in there and use the bollards to moor her securely in place. ‘I can’t get Sulu Queen right under because her bridge house is too high,’ he was saying. ‘Even with all our thrusters and the manoeuvrability of the engine it will be really tough. But I reckon we could put all of her foredeck under. Use it as a roof, effectively. Tie up so that my bridge house here is as close to the road-bridge wall as possible and keep a close eye on the way the flood and the tide make the water level rise and fall. Biddy can still come and go off the after deck, taking your experts out and bringing emergencies aboard, and in the meantime we can try and get the foredeck bright, as warm as possible and dry. Come to that,’ he continued, following his train of thought further, ‘once you’ve started emptying your containers of their emergency supplies you could even use some of them as individual refuges. People all over the world are using containers as houses, schoolrooms, hospitals. Why not stock each one as you empty it with a chemical toilet, a heater, some bedding and put people in them until the authorities get on top of the situation?’

‘Jesus,’ said Juan Jose. ‘When you start thinking, Richard, you think big.’

‘It’s something that’s been at the back of my mind for a while. As I said to Nic Greenbaum when Robin and I were still staying aboard Queen Mary, we were the only people in Long Beach who didn’t need to fear a flood, because we were in the only local hotel that was actually designed to float.’

‘Right,’ said the major. ‘If you think you can pull it off then go ahead. In the meantime, my next move is to get some teams looking through those warehouses for anything we can use — including more shelter. I’ve always wanted to get into the hotel business, and if the Westin, the Hilton or the Marriott are empty then now’s the time. They’ll make great evacuation centres, independently of the fact that they make great wind-breaks to give us some shelter here. Also, I need to take some of my medics in the Bell up to the hospital where we saw those folks waving.’ He saw the look on Miguel-Angel’s. ‘OK, kid, you can come.’

‘I’m trained up to accident and emergency level,’ added Robin. ‘And I can fly choppers. I’ll sit in the co-pilot’s seat and see where I can be most help.’

‘Take a walkie-talkie,’ said Richard. ‘Stay in touch.’

‘I’ve got fuel in the tank,’ added Biddy. ‘I can take you three and four others then hop back for seven more as many times as you like. Just get it organized. Or get that super-efficient Lieutenant Harding to do it for you.’

‘That’s settled, then,’ said Richard. ‘Let’s get to work.’

THIRTY-EIGHT

Upslope of the hospital building in Puerto Banderas was a car park that was both in the wind shadow and the rain shadow of the building. It was relatively dry. Biddy landed there while Robin, the Guerrero brothers and the first four American medics got out and ran for shelter. Then she lifted off and hopped back towards the harbour and Sulu Queen. Robin ran up the eight steps that took her from ground level to the ground floor of the building and paused in the covered outer entrance as she watched the helicopter lift away. Her gaze swept up the slope to the edge of the jungle and the long white wall at the end of Nic’s Dahlia Blanca estate. It had almost become the lip of a waterfall now. Runoff overflowed in a steady stream and swept on down the hill. She wondered briefly about the state of the beautiful house she had admired in Biddy’s video. Then she turned and ran in through the automatic glass doors.