‘There’s a lot I’d like to learn from him, General. As you say, he’s brilliant.’
‘Can you tell that we have been working hard too? After the Global Vaccination Programme was carried out in Sri Lanka, we diligently implemented the Great Purge.’ The general blew on his tea before sipping it.
‘My soldiers walked through villages and cities, destroying buildings, books and artwork – anything that reminded people of our former ways. We were happy to dispose of the antiquated icons and delirious ramblings of the previous generation.
‘Many of these buildings now sit idle and neglected, blending into the background like the majestic palm trees that we no longer notice.’
‘Some have clearly been repurposed. Like this teashop.’ Noah motioned to a broken piece of stone in the corner of the room, hidden among canisters of fresh milk. It was half a torso. The fulsome belly and unmistakable curve of an elephant’s trunk remained, but the god’s head was missing.
Garner sat down next to him. ‘Was this a . . .?’ her voice trailed away, unwilling to say the word here.
Noah spoke softly. ‘Yes. You need to look, but they’re everywhere. Like when you go to Rome and suddenly realise that you’re leaning against a small . . . tribute to Venus while licking a gelato.’
‘I can’t see you licking a gelato, Chief. Is there a gun strapped to your body in this scenario?’ Crawford replied, still standing.
‘Why am I here, General?’ Noah asked.
‘So that I can help you,’ the man replied. ‘You Westerners would never have made the sacrifices we did. You’re far too rights-orientated. It will be your downfall, if you want my advice.’
‘I’ll pass that on,’ Noah replied.
‘You make declarations for yourselves that are impossible to keep. You eventually realise that the only way you can preserve the rights you value is to violate them. It creates an impossible moral tension. That is the great failing of the West.’
‘There are worse failings than a complex relationship with the rule of law.’
The general laughed. ‘The irony is that you hide in the shadows of black ops and black sites so that your leaders can claim the quicksand of a moral high ground they don’t deserve.’
A metallic sound rang out behind them. Everyone in the room reached for their weapons. Even though Noah and his team didn’t have any.
Three soldiers stepped forward. One drove the butt of his gun into Crawford’s back. The other two slammed his body down on a table, pushing his head into its cracked laminate surface.
The general looked at Noah and spoke softly. ‘I wouldn’t.’
A soldier poked an iron prod at the pit fire and then brought it out to the general. He took it carefully. Its tip glowed red, like a splinter of the sun.
‘In 2020, my brother passed a new law. He decreed that people who were not like us should be branded so they would remember whose country they lived in.’
He waved the iron slowly, adjusting its weight, a heavy but comfortable sword in his hand.
‘I ordered my soldiers to enter people’s homes. We placed a specially designed branding iron over their own kitchen fires and held them down, even the children.’ He brought the iron to Crawford’s face, hovering it above his cheek.
‘No!’ Garner screamed, struggling against the soldiers.
‘We seared – I seared their skin with a wheel.’
‘Don’t move, Crawford,’ Noah ordered.
‘Easy . . . for you . . . Chief,’ he gasped. His eyes were wide, his body braced for pain as the iron came closer.
The general rested its tip on the table next to Crawford’s red face. Smoke curled up into his mouth and eyes. He coughed, saliva hissing as it hit the iron.
‘It was the symbol of our old ways and our righteous path; a burning tattoo on their forearm. I’m glad those old ways – and those days – are gone.’ He lifted the iron and placed it back in the fire.
The soldiers released Crawford. He stood up and staggered. Garner caught him and helped him to a chair. Noah could see she was terrified but she didn’t move from her post, between Crawford and the soldiers.
‘I’m tired, Dr Williams. I’ve fought too many wars and buried too many soldiers.’
‘You’ve buried plenty of civilians too.’
‘As have you. Don’t lecture me. The young – you always think you’re better than your elders.’
‘I suppose it depends on what our elders are like. My father was better than me. I’m finally learning to be more like him.’
‘Your father was a very lucky man then, to have a son like you.’
‘Perhaps.’
Metal clattered again, startling him.
The old man was rearranging his metal plates and tumblers on a stone table, around nine small broken statues. It was a crude but effective drying rack.
Nine stones – one for each planet; each planet a powerful demi-god. Noah’s father had believed in the planets.
‘They are fickle, son,’ his father had said, ‘worse than people. You must stay on their good side. Appease them. Ask them for their favour. They can bless your life with riches just as easily as they can curse you with tragedy.’
The planets had screwed Noah.
‘Get out of Sri Lanka,’ the general said. ‘The breach has been contained. There’s nothing more for you to do here. Tell Hackman I’ve given him fair warning. I’ve given you fair warning, because I’m a fair man – unlike my brother.’
‘Understood. Is that it?’ Noah asked. ‘Khan’s expecting me.’
‘Yes, of course. Khan. It’s a long and dangerous drive to Anuradhapura.’
The general reached out and took Noah’s hand. He pulled him close and whispered in his ear.
‘Be careful, the planets are watching you.’
The soldiers stepped back allowing them to return to the car with their weapons.
‘I’m sorry, sir, I had no choice,’ Vijay whispered.
‘We always have a choice, Vijay.’
‘My options were . . . limited, sir.’
‘What are you going to do, Chief?’ Crawford held a water bottle against his face. He was shaken but not burned. Garner’s hands trembled as she pulled a chill pack from the medi-kit.
‘My options have always been a little fucked,’ Noah replied. ‘I’m staying. We are staying – and Vijay, you’re taking us to Anuradhapura.’
‘Thank you, sir.’ Vijay started the car. ‘Seatbelts please. Nine more hours to go.’ He accelerated hard, pulling the car back onto the northbound highway.
Noah braced himself once more against the dashboard. It was only later that he wondered how the general, who had received the same vaccine as his soldiers and citizens, could remember the planets.
Chapter 19
The bus lumbered to the left allowing them to pass. Vijay sped around it. A motorcycle overtook the taxi behind them, and darted into his slipstream. Noah watched the bike in the side mirror – one rider, helmet again, grey saddlebags on the back. He swore silently and turned around.
‘The motorbike is fine, sir. Taxi good too,’ Vijay said. ‘Green car – problem.’
A third vehicle swerved into sight again through the mirror. The green sedan, three occupants, broken left headlight, numberplate obscured by dirt. The car had followed them from Colombo.
The bus drifted back, cutting the sedan off. Noah smiled and settled into his seat.
‘Nicely done.’
‘Thank you, sir,’ Vijay replied. ‘I am a professional – you tell all your friends. You want driver in Sri Lanka, you call me – I show you all the sights and lose all your tails.’
Vijay shifted gears and headed into the opposite lane. It was clear but they were approaching a blind corner. He honked his horn again.
Crawford jolted awake, hand to weapon, eyes darting.
‘It’s all good,’ Noah laughed. ‘Vijay was just signalling. Go back to sleep.’
They drove through the night and arrived at
Anuradhapura as the early morning sun filtered through the clouds. Its pink light made the chaos around them seem benign.
Khan’s clinic had been built on top of the ruins of the ancient city, once the capital of medieval Sri Lanka, and one of the most sacred places in the Buddhist world.
Vijay parked the car and the team surveyed the crowds: tuk-tuks and taxis, vans packed with medical supplies, minibuses jammed with people.
Noah recognised the motorcycle parked on a side street, no sign of the rider. He reached for the door handle but Vijay stopped him, a tentative hand on his arm.
‘Why are we here, sir? I drive without questions – but I ask you now. Why are we here?’
Garner and Crawford stirred at the back, Crawford stretching noisily.
‘Khan said he wants to show me something – so I’m here.’
‘This place has many stories,’ Vijay checked whether the others were listening. ‘It is a sad place, sir. No one comes here anymore except Khan and his patients.’
‘It’s a medical camp, Vijay – all medical camps are sad, with hope trying to breach the perimeter. Is there anything I should know about this particular one?’
Vijay looked through the window nervously. ‘No, no – just be careful. Stay with Khan.’
Noah laughed. ‘Yes, I’m sure he’ll be able to protect me from his patients.’ He checked that his weapons were concealed properly.
‘No, no – he’ll protect you from the ghosts. He’s here to help – they won’t trouble him.’
Noah shook his head and opened the door. The astringent smell of chlorobicide couldn’t quite mask the stench of the open latrine. Crawford coughed beside him, covering his mouth with his hands. Garner raised an eyebrow but said nothing.
Nurses in white coats, gloves and face masks stood at the entrance. They organised the sea of ragged people into queues, conducting Haema Scans and prioritising illnesses. They directed some patients to a fast-moving line.
‘Rapture addicts – of course.’ Vijay motioned to the emaciated people siphoned off to a separate building.
‘Even my son . . . He says it makes him feel complete. They forget to eat and sleep and function. They just drift . . .’
‘I’m sorry, Vijay. I didn’t know.’
‘We all have our burdens, sir.’
Khan walked towards them. ‘You made it! I trust you weren’t waiting long?’ He held out his arms as if he was about to hug Noah and then dropped them awkwardly, acknowledging his gloved hands.
‘I’m sorry about the smell – we have excellent sanitation inside the precinct, but on the outside, the toileting is a little more erratic. I’ve asked the Ministry of Health to apply to the Japanese again.’
‘They make outstanding toilets,’ Crawford noted.
‘They do. How was the drive? It’s a long way from Colombo but well worth the trip.’
He led them through a warren of tumbling stone walls and carved pillars. Medical staff rushed by, nodding respectfully at Khan.
They passed small chambers, each converted into examination rooms and filled with doctors, nurses and patients. Noah glimpsed consultations, IV infusions, dental checks and eye tests. Wires ran along the stone corridors and snaked into each room, supplying power for the lights and portable equipment.
Noah stopped abruptly, staring through a small, square window into a room. He recognised the metal tunnel attached to a bed, the monitors and cold lights. Technicians and doctors fussed around the patient inside the machine. There were two soldiers by its side.
‘Is that an MRI?’ he asked. ‘In there?’
‘Yes, it is.’ Khan dragged Noah past the door. He was surprisingly forceful. ‘I had a funder who recognised the need for such diagnostic equipment. Let’s keep moving, this way.’
They passed a hall where workers ladled food for lines of men and women.
Crawford eyed the enormous vats of steaming curry and trays of snow-like rice. ‘Chief, come on – I’m starving. I didn’t get any tea.’ He pleaded.
‘You’re always hungry,’ Garner said.
‘Do you mind, Amir?’ Noah asked. ‘They can catch us up later – Crawford gets nasty when he hasn’t been fed.’
‘Of course, of course – please, make yourself comfortable. Noah and I will be at the stupa – ask anyone for directions.’
Noah nodded at Crawford and left. They were a good team.
Khan pulled him through the mire of people and up a flight of stairs, out into an open courtyard made of stone, so black and shiny it looked like the surface of a lake.
A massive white stucco dome stood in the centre of the courtyard, like an egg rising from the black lake. At its peak was a spire of gold, pointing accusingly to the heavens.
‘In our old language, we called this a stupa. It was very important to the first civilisations of Sri Lanka.’
Noah knew what it was. The stupas held religious objects – this one had stored Lord Buddha’s clavicle bone. The Bio file reported that President Rajasuriya now kept it for himself, in his bedside table.
He had seen pictures of Anuradhapura before it was purged. A sprawling labyrinth of ruins: palaces, temples and man-made lakes. It was adorned by parades of stone lions, armed with swords, ready to fight for the Buddha.
What remained of the ruins had been battered by soldiers – Eastern Alliance on the instruction of Western Alliance. Statues smashed beyond recognition, the relics and possessions of Lord Buddha stolen, hidden or destroyed.
‘The people who come here – who are they?’ Noah asked. ‘I was expecting a rural vaccination clinic. Booster shots and blood scans.’
‘We do a lot of that here. Walk with me,’ Khan gestured ahead. ‘We also have a rehabilitation clinic on the other side. I’ll take you there later. In the Eastern Alliance, immunity is no longer our main health issue.’
‘Drug addiction,’ Noah said.
‘Yes – Rapture, in particular, but anything that enhances mood. After the sadness of the war, people are hungry for happiness, I suppose.
‘We also do preventative medicine, diagnosis and referral, public health education – the usual work . . .’
He led Noah inside the stupa, both of them bending to clear its low doorway and then straightening up as they emerged into a small domed hall, arranged like a hospital ward. An aisle down the middle, a row of ten beds on either side.
‘And some unusual work . . .’
‘What’s going on here?’ Noah asked. Men and women rested calmly, some sitting up to smile at Khan. At the back of the hall, MRI, CT and X-ray footage covered an illuminated wall, like an avant-garde mosaic. From that distance Noah couldn’t read the tones of grey and black, only the familiar outline of brain scan after brain scan. And tumour after tumour. Uniform and painfully familiar.
Khan smiled but didn’t leave the doorway.
‘What’s wrong with these people?’ Noah asked again.
‘Nothing is wrong with them. They’re dying. There is nothing we need to do for them. In modern medical terms I suppose you would call this section a palliative care clinic.’
Noah narrowed his eyes, trying to decipher the scans at the end of the room. The people around him looked underweight, their eyes shadowed a little, their lips dehydrated. But they didn’t look profoundly sick.
‘What are they dying of?’ Noah asked.
‘There are many kinds of illnesses, Noah. We don’t heal them. We comfort them, we feed their bodies and their . . . we make them strong enough to face the final part of their journey. We teach them not to fear their sickness but to embrace it.’
‘I don’t understand what you’re talking about. What sickness do these people have? What sickness could you possibly accept?’
‘Why must you classify everything? You’re such a virologist.’ Khan laughed.
‘I am. So are you. We’re trained to identify and classify disease so we can find a cure for it. If you’re not curing these people what are you doing to them? Are you experimenti
ng on them? With your new vaccine?’
‘I don’t experiment on people, Noah. My patients know what’s going on – for the first time since the war, they know what’s going on. I’m not hurting them. I’ve identified a disease – a new one that should not be cured. It should be accepted and explored.’
‘All diseases should be cured!’
‘No, take it from an old virologist. Some diseases must be cured. Ebola must be cured. Tuberculosis, AIDS and malaria too. We have cures for some of our plagues, but not all. We should keep looking. These diseases – they are the simple ones. The ones we can see with our microscopes, scan with our machines and treat with our drugs. We are explorers. We should go further than what we can see, scan and treat.’
‘We are scientists, not explorers. What other diseases are there?’ Noah asked angrily.
‘Life is a sickness. It’s killing us from the day we’re born.’ Khan leaned in and dropped his voice. ‘Life without belief in something higher, something greater than yourself. That is sickness. These people – they finally know who they are and where they’re going.’
Belief. How did Khan even know the word, let alone the meaning – or its absence?
And then Khan spoke normally, as though he hadn’t whispered anything at all, making Noah doubt he’d heard it.
‘A vaccine won’t eradicate a virus – a virus can never be truly eradicated. It mutates in order to survive.’
Noah didn’t know which disease Khan was talking about now.
‘Ebola, Noah –’ Khan replied, as if answering him. ‘One or more strains of Ebola still live happily in the world. We just don’t see them very often. I’d hide too if I could. But there are too many cameras as you know.
‘We’re part of a fragile but resilient ecosystem. It’s finely balanced – there are consequences if you remove even one part.’
‘That’s ridiculous,’ Noah replied. ‘If all life – human and viral – should be allowed to exist according to some natural law we haven’t identified yet, then how do you explain why Nature gave one life such superior survival skills?’
‘The virus isn’t just a random act of Nature, Noah. It’s an act of evolution. I remember a poem, or fragments of it anyway. My memory is so poor these days but these words keep coming back to me.’ Khan closed his eyes, searching for the words from a hidden corner of his mind.
The Barrier Page 15
