Then he thought of all the cities in America, and all the people who lived in them.
The President was shocked. The nightmare had already moved on to the next phase.
Order had begun to break down within the resort, people were trying to escape, knowing that they risked death in the attempt, but fearing death if they stayed. It reminded him of the horrific scenes of the Twin Towers as the flames burned and people began to jump from the windows.
Sandy had jumped from a window. And he was dead.
The President turned back to his desk and sat down once again.
His hand had just been forced. He could no longer sit back and do nothing.
The disease had now jumped from the pirates to the secondary transmission group. Others were now beginning to catch the plague.
Already there had been an attempt to break out from the resort.
The President knew that faced with death if they remained, others would try to escape too. The risk of just one of them being successful was not acceptable.
The President leant forward, picked up the phone and asked his Personal Secretary to arrange another video call with the W.H.O. and Puerto Rico.
It was time to authorize Piras Stage Three.
Chapter 42
The Governor’s Office
San Juan
Puerto Rico
Wednesday 7.30 p.m.
“Walter, come in!” the Governor greeted his old friend the Superintendent, standing up from his desk and waving him to a chair. “Make yourself comfortable.”
“Thanks, Alberto.”
“Scotch?”
“Don’t mind if I do.”
The Governor poured them both a drink.
“Thanks for coming over. I thought it would be better if we had another little chat, away from the others.”
“Good idea. Cheers!”
They chinked glasses and each took a sip of the Governor’s thirty year old Malt.
“I’ve been thinking Walter. Perhaps we’re making a mistake about the Piras Plan?”
“Why? In what way?”
“Well, I think we both agree that the treasure in the holds of the pirate ship gives us each an incredible opportunity to improve our own personal pension plans?”
“Agreed. Basically, the more we can get hold of and redirect in our direction, the better.”
“Agreed. Couldn’t have said it better myself.”
“And why not? The pirates stole the treasure from someone else, and all we want to do is to steal a little back. I always enjoyed playing ‘pirates’ when I was a kid, and now we have a chance to play it in real life.”
They both laughed.
“The thing is Walter, when we talked about this earlier, for some stupid reason I was a little worried that if we agreed to the Piras Plan and the thermonuclear incendiary device was set off near the ship, that the ship would be vaporized and all the treasure inside would disappear into thin air. Apparently that is not the case. I’ve spoken with a couple of our scientists and according to them there is no risk of solid metal objects being vaporized. Effectively what the incendiary device will do is to incinerate everything. The treasure is made of metal, and metal doesn’t burn. The most that will happen is that it may melt.”
“But the ship will burn and everything on board?”
“Yes, but the treasure will not burn. I think the most likely scenario is that the ship will burn rapidly, and it will sink, or the gold and silver and jewelry will make a hole in the bottom of the ship and fall through.”
“So, is that good?”
“Absolutely. It’s excellent. Think, Walter, think! Our plan before was to confiscate the treasure on behalf of Puerto Rico, and then ‘lose’ a proportion of it during transit or storage. But I’ve got a better plan now. One where we end up getting it all.”
“How?”
“Well, so at the moment, only the pirates and several other people know about the treasure. But they are all in the resort. Right?
“Right.”
“For us, the fewer people who know about it, the better. In fact, the best scenario is obviously one in which no one else knows about the treasure apart from you and I?”
“Correct…”
“So why don’t we agree to the Piras Plan. It’s brilliant! It covers all our bases for us. Not only does it ensure that we all live, and that the plague does not get out and kill us all - which between you and me, has begun to worry me quite a lot, but it ensures that everyone else who knows about the treasure apart from us, would be killed. Quite legally.”
“True…”
“And what’s more, the likelihood is that the pirate ship will sink into the Bay, or at least the treasure will sink to the bottom, and once it has no one will ever know it’s there…”
“Apart from us!” Walter chimed in, finally.
“Bingo.”
“But how do we get it out?”
“You and I immediately buy the Blue Emerald Bay Resort, or at least what’s left of it. I’m pretty sure the company that owns it just now will be glad to get rid of it. There will be nothing left. We can spin them a story about the land being effectively worthless because of ‘residual radiation’ or something, and you Walter, could remove their hotel license, due to health concerns.”
Walter smiled. He was beginning to like the plan.
“Of course, that part will probably be bullshit, but I’m sure we can make it convincing enough to make it work. Then, you and I go into partnership and we buy the resort for a knock down price, which includes the Bay where the pirates' ship sunk.”
“Which means that the treasure then legally belongs to us, and we can retrieve it in our own time, as and when we see fit, or feel the need? Is that what you mean?” Walter asked.
“That’s exactly what I mean, Walter. Exactly. We’ll be rich, Walter my boy, rich!”, the Governor chuckled.
For a few moments neither of them said anything. They were both considering the possibilities, and fantasizing about the hoard of gold, silver and precious jewels.
“I like it, Alberto, I like it!” Walter admitted.
“Good. I’m glad you agree. So let’s change the plan then. The next time we speak with the President and the W.H.O. we will both agree to implementing the final stage of the Piras Plan. In fact, the sooner the better.”
They didn’t have long to wait.
A few minutes later they were informed that the President had scheduled another video conference for 9 p.m. that night.
--------------------
The Blue Emerald Bay Resort
Puerto Rico
Wednesday
8:30 p.m.
Captain McGregor sat by the side of the bed of Miss Sally. Wearing thin gloves made of the miraculous material through which he could see, and which was called ‘plastic’, he held the lady’s hand.
He did not know if she could feel his grip, or if she knew that he was there, but the Captain felt good sitting by her side.
This was the second woman that he had spent an evening’s vigil with as she succumbed to the plague. The first had been his wife.
They had both been young and still in love when the plague had marched through their village, claiming a quarter of all those that lived there.
He had been the first in his family to fall sick, and his wife had been by his side the whole time, mopping his brow and attending to his thirst, keeping his body cool, and reassuring him of her love whenever he was able to focus on the world around him.
Unlike many others, Captain Rob McGregor had not died. On the third day the fever had broken, and within a week he was well enough to stand again, although walking any distance took several weeks.
His wife had fallen sick a week later, the large buboes of the plague quickly ravaging her body and destroying the woman he loved.
It was astonishing how quickly their roles had reversed: soon it was he that sat at her side and mopped her brow, and attested his undying love for her. For three days he
had barely slept, too scared to close his eyes in case his wife had needed him or wanted to speak with him.
On the fifth day she died.
He held her in his arms as she passed away, thin and emaciated, but still beautiful in his eyes.
The child within her womb had died, never seeing the father that had loved it since the day its mother had smiled at Rob McGregor and told him her joyous news. And Rob McGregor had never seen his child.
Yet not a day passed when he did not think of the first time he felt it kick within its mother’s belly, and how he had laughed and cried with joy at the wonder and thrill of it all.
And not a day passed when he did not think of Ann, his wife.
Captain McGregor looked down at Miss Sally. He mopped her brow again, and stroked back her hair. When she coughed and spittle appeared at the side of her mouth, he wiped it gently away.
For a moment he saw Ann lying there on the bed instead of Miss Sally. It was only for a moment, but it pierced his heart, and he found that he had to swallow hard in order to stop the tears from flowing.
For a brief moment in time, Rob felt guilty that he had made such a comparison: Ann and Miss Sally. Yet, if he were to be honest with himself, there were comparisons to be made.
Ann and Sally were of a similar build and height. Both were slender women, but with full breasts and shapely hips. Whereas Ann had long, brown hair which she always kept wrapped up in a hairnet on her head, Sally had blond, curly hair which she let blow in the wind.
Both were full of life, strong in character and had eyes that twinkled in the sun and drew a man’s gaze.
Lastly, and it was simply the truth whether it was right or wrong, Robert McGregor was attracted to Miss Sally in a similar way that he had been to his wife, whom he still loved.
Rob felt a terrible irony in the situation he now found himself in. Since the passing of his wife, he had never allowed himself to fall for another woman, and even if he had permitted it, there had simply never been the desire to do so. He had loved Ann with all his heart and for many years there had been no room in his heart for any others.
Admittedly, loneliness and lust had eventually co-joined and driven him to seek the company of other women, whose names he never desired to recall, and whose faces were both unimportant and forgettable. He had sought only the warmth of their bodies, the stroke of a soft hand upon his cheek, and someone with whom to drive the madness from his mind and body.
Miss Sally had been the first woman in all these years with whom he had found himself able to converse and relate to, and whose company he had enjoyed. The attraction had been instant, in spite of the circumstances: he had been her captor, and she his prisoner, although quickly the roles had reversed and he had offered his cutlass to her.
And now, for the second time in his life, he sat beside the bed of a woman that had stirred his interest and had then been infected by the plague.
Cruelly, history was threatening to repeat itself.
And once again, Rob McGregor was powerless to stop it.
--------------------
High Security Field Laboratory
World Health Organisation
San Juan
Puerto Rico
Wednesday 8.30 p.m.
Moira Cerny sat in front of the large LCD desktop computer screen, scanning the information in front of her. She had started by relooking at the reports from thousands of reported cases of plague that the W.H.O. had collected over the years, and then, finding nothing, had moved on to research any cases of plague that had been recorded and documented in the past one hundred and fifty years. If necessary, she would go beyond that.
It had been just over twenty four hours since Moira had suggested to her boss that the biovar of Yersinia pestis affecting those in the Blue Emerald Bay Resort posed a significant threat to mankind, and therefore the W.H.O. should consider working with world governments to implement the Piras Plan. And in those twenty-four hours Moira had slept only a few hours, falling asleep at her desk when she could no longer force her eyes to stay open.
She knew that the Piras Plan had not yet been fully implemented, and that it was now under a rolling review every six hours, whilst they waited to see if and how the infection would spread from the initial infection group to the secondary group of residents and employees at the hotel.
Her reaction to the news was mixed: relief that the hundreds of human beings within the resort were still alive and had not been wiped off the face of the earth because of her recommendation, but fear that a delay in the plan’s execution could have disastrous consequences for others.
Understandably Moira had never felt under so much pressure in her life before. What if she were wrong, and the biovar was not as potent as she believed it to be, and the Piras Plan was fully implemented and everyone died because of her misguided judgement?
And what if she were right, and she let her superiors delay the Piras Plan because she lacked the courage of her convictions to insist that they incinerate the resort and its occupants as soon as logistically possible?
As she spoke, other W.H.O. scientists in different countries were analyzing the results and information she had been able to send them by secure encrypted email. Another top scientist in this field would also be arriving in Puerto Rico tomorrow evening to help her in her work, and confirm her findings. Moira wanted her work and conclusions to be checked and scrutinized by as many peers in her scientific community as possible.
She hoped that she was wrong, but she feared that she was not.
The problem was that time was of the essence. If her initial conclusions had been correct, then every second they delayed the Piras Plan’s full implementation posed extra danger to humanity. They had to act fast…
But sometimes when you acted too fast, you missed something. You made a mistake.
Had Moira made a mistake? Had she made missed something?
She kept going back to the basic facts that she had established.
This was a new biovar of Yersinia pestis. They had never seen this before. Either it was mutation, or a natural evolution of the bacteria, or it had been deliberately engineered in a laboratory somewhere.
Based upon their experience, this biovar had the potential to be more potent and lethal that other biovars already recorded and associated with plagues that caused high mortality rates.
Given the time pressure, and the medical facts emerging from the resort so far - the infection rate was fast, and the mortality rate high – the evidence so far backed up her conclusion, and therefore she was justified in calling for the implementation of the Piras Plan.
However, now that others had hesitated, they had been given extra time. Extra time to check and recheck their conclusions, extra time to observe the effect of science’s latest medicines in the treatment of the infection, and most importantly, to study and observe how the infection spread from one person to another and the symptoms it produced: in particular, to see how it jumped from the initial carriers - the pirates - to the residents of the resort.
A few minutes ago, Anton had called her from Switzerland, informing her that another conference had been called for 9 p.m., and he had shared with her the news that three people in the secondary group had now been infected.
Moira refocused her attention on the documents and figures on her screen, scanning the reports, case histories and statistics as fast as she could. Her pulse raced, her eyes darting from one document to the next. Assimilating, learning, checking…
At the back of her mind, the same question repeated itself over, and over again.
Had she missed something?
--------------------
The Governor’s Office
San Juan
Puerto Rico
Wednesday 9.00 p.m.
The large LED screen on the wall of the Governor’s office flickered and came alive. The screen divided into two separate areas and then the image of the President of the United States of America sitting behind his desk a
ppeared in the left hand box, and the head and shoulders of Dr Anton Lebsky, Director-General of the World Health Organisation appeared in the other.
“Gentlemen,” the President opened. “Thank you for joining me again, especially Dr Lebsky in Switzerland. I understand that this is another very early morning for you. However, we agreed earlier that we would meet regularly to review the situation in the Blue Emerald Resort. I have had little chance to think of anything else since we spoke last, and to tell the truth, I believe that we should open up the discussion once more, and consider moving to Stage Three after all.”
“May I ask, why the change of heart on this, Mr President?” Dr Lebsky spoke next.
“Because the situation in the resort has changed. I understand that the first cases of Pirate-to-Resort Resident transmission have occurred, and I have been informed that an attempt has already been made by three residents to break out of the resort. I am concerned that a future attempt could be successful. Now that secondary infection has been confirmed, I believe it is too risky to delay Stage Three any longer. I would be interested to hear all your thoughts on this.”
The Governor of Puerto Rico spoke next.
“I agree with the President. Previously I was naturally reluctant to agree to the detonation of such a powerful nuclear incendiary device in Puerto Rico. Perhaps I was scared by the term ‘nuclear’, but I have since learned from my advisors that this is an extremely localized explosion, that though powerful, is not comparable with the atomic bombs we more readily think of. The thought of killing so many innocent people is abhorrent to me, however, granted that further infection has now occurred, it is unfortunately likely that most of them will die anyway. To delay further would just increase the risk to others, but may not change the outcome to the individuals in the Blue Emerald Bay Resort.”
“I agree with the Governor,” the Superintendent nodded. “I have to think about the safety of everyone else in Puerto Rico. I’ve had more time to think about it now, and I believe we have no choice.”
TIME SHIP (Book Two) - A Time Travel Romantic Adventure Page 19
