Thirty-two
The watery light was indicating an early autumn. It had been four days since Nick had alerted the authorities but no action seemed to have been taken. They were given hundreds of videos with threatened terrorist attacks and this was just one of them. They had asked Bagatelle to contact Harare to see if Mr Karasa had returned there. Nathalie duly contacted Sue Jones with yet more excuses to talk about the immunisation video and on gentle probing heard that Joseph had arrived in the country, albeit a day early, to visit a sick relative. Nathalie was walking past Geoff’s office hearing a conversation between him and Nick complaining that the whole thing had been a hoax when Tom rushed up the stairs.
‘Did you hear the radio?’ He was breathless.
‘Calm down,’ said Nathalie. ‘What radio Tom?’
‘The Today programme, on the news this morning.’
‘No Tom, busy working trying to salvage my programme. Broadcasters going cold on it, not enough meat apparently.’
‘Well, there might be some; meat I mean.’
Nathalie pointed to the boardroom. ‘Well we better go in there, don’t want Geoff and Nick adding more fuel to the thing.’
Tom followed her into the boardroom and perched himself on the corner of the long table.
‘The news, not conclusive but it’s possible, that WEXA’s boast of an initial attack could be true.’
Nathalie turned pale. ‘How come?’
‘There’s been a spate of hospital admissions in Guildford. They’re saying it’s early flu. Difficult to treat. Telling vulnerable people to get their jabs.’
‘And you think…’
‘It’s Ebola, possibly. Something in the report didn’t sound right. Shall I chase it up?’
‘Absolutely Tom,’ said Nathalie. ‘And I’m coming with you.’
Superficially Guildford Hospital looked like any other on a busy Thursday yet Nathalie could sense a raised presence in the air. More police cars than usual, a quiet hurrying around the intensive care unit. She tried the usual trick of posing as a patient’s sister but it didn’t work. She was grilled for her identity and the name of the patient. The concern of the receptionist made her more suspicious so she and Tom made their exit and concealed themselves by the bushes outside the ambulance dock. Two hours later they were just about to change their plans when an ambulance pulled up. Screens were hurriedly pulled across the road but not before Nathalie spotted the trolley being wheeled from the back doors.
‘Shit,’ she said quietly.
‘What’s up?’ asked Tom who hadn’t seen the action.
‘I’m afraid our Mr Karasa, or, if not he, someone else has succeeded. I’ve never seen flu victims delivered in an airtight tent by guys dressed up in containment gear before. I think you’re right Tom, it’s Ebola.
Nathalie and Tom returned to the office to find a reception committee. The blinds in Geoff’s office were pulled down. Tom was asked to wait outside and Nathalie was shepherded in by Stefanie who then left and closed the door behind her. Stern faces turned to her. Geoff was swinging uncomfortably in his chair faced by two smartly dressed men and Nick.
‘Nathalie, please sit down,’ said Geoff in an uncharacteristic tone. ‘These gentlemen are from, what they loosely call, the security services. I think we owe you an apology.’
‘The Ebola outbreak in Guildford,’ said Nathalie, still standing.
‘Told you she was a smart journalist,’ snapped Geoff.
The more thickset man leaned forward. ‘And where did you hear that Miss Thompson?’
‘Not heard it, seen it,’ replied Nathalie. ‘Just returned from the hospital actually, security and spacesuits everywhere.’
The services’ men hid their surprise and outlined their position. The country was on high alert. Cases of suspected Ebola had been reported in Guildford and Staines. At first these were genuinely thought to be flu but one experienced doctor had alerted the epidemiological service. Efforts were made to find out if the suspected patients had flown in from possible source countries but at the moment this was drawing a blank. The security services were alerted earlier this morning. They had contacted Harare to talk to the police there but they had received nothing but obfuscation and denial. Bagatelle was their obvious next port of call. Nathalie could hardly believe her ears when Geoff started negotiating with the security officers. He was offering full cooperation and access to all their files and knowledge about the Ebola threat but hinted in return that he wanted privileged access to any filming opportunities.
The officers had obviously faced such cynicism before. ‘Naturally in this case of national emergency the less people in the loop the better,’ said the man in the pinstriped suit. ‘In time you may have access to material but for the moment we are issuing a DSMA notice.’
‘DSMA notice?’ asked Nathalie.
‘Defence and security media advisory notice,’ explained Geoff. ‘Means they want us to keep this stuff close to our chests for a while.’
He looked at the two officers. ‘As long as we eventually get sole use for the stuff we’re getting that’s fine by me. At last we’re going to get a great programme.’
Nathalie felt red with rage. Here they were discussing what might or might not have been a preventable terrible disease, and all Geoff was worried about was his programme. She was about to explode with expletives but thought better of it. Even now they had no concrete evidence that Joseph Karasa had anything to do with the affair. A thought came to her.
‘CCTV.’
Geoff looked puzzled.
‘CCTV,’ she repeated. Can’t we trace Joseph’s movements from the Child-Aid centre?’
One of the security officers rose from his chair and made ready to leave. ‘Already checked Miss. No cameras in that side street I’m afraid. We know the time he left but no other camera in the area picked him up.’
DSMA notice or not, the wind of the Ebola outbreak caught fire. Over the next few days case after case was reported in the Home Counties. Isolation units were set up and guidance printed on every general practitioner’s door. Speculation was rife. Many were convinced that a nurse travelling from Sierra Leone, although not presenting symptoms herself, had spread the disease. Fake news on Facebook and Twitter contrived every possible conspiracy theory, from imported food contamination to Martian invasion. Along with the major television networks Geoff had his cameras everywhere, but even he was distressed and sickened by the terrible symptoms.
‘We reported Karasa as soon as we received Temba’s video,’ he said sadly to Nathalie. ‘I know you blame me but we still don’t know if he had anything to do with it. As for WEXA, you heard what the security guy said, they get threats like that every day.’
‘We could have, should have, done more Geoff. The warnings were there.’
‘We don’t make the news Nathalie, we document it. Without your research the authorities wouldn’t have the stuff they have.’
‘That’s no consolation. Nineteen cases and rising and two already dead. And this is meant to be a shot across the bow. If they really do a large-scale attack what on earth is that going to be like?’
‘Well let’s hope that’s not going to happen. We haven’t seen their threat posted yet, and if the terrorists’ guys can persuade the Zimbabweans to find your Mr Rolex I’m sure they will put him out of business.’
‘I’ve told them about Temba’s plan to meet up with them again, but he and Lloyd have gone off the radar. It’s so difficult. The Zimbabwean government are just ignoring us. Some say they are even gloating over the crisis here.’
‘Giving us a dose of African disease. That’s what they said wasn’t it,’ said Geoff. ‘Well looks like they’ve bloody done it.’
One week after Joseph had returned to Harare there were nearly thirty cases of Ebola, and those were only the confirmed ones. Three people, all vulnerable or elderly, had died and the death toll was expected to rise. The health service was trying desperately to contain the situation. Special porta
ble isolation units had been set up and some schools had been shut. Epidemiologists were working frantically on trying to trace the source and patterns of the disease outbreak. Media security had been tight and the public had no idea of the authenticity of the WEXA threat. GCHQ had quickly discovered their internet posting. This was downgraded and interwoven with other more likely threats. To the general web browser it was just one of many unlikely scams trying to take opportunistic publicity. The headline news from the broadsheets and public broadcasting still laid the blame at the door of the nurse who travelled from Sierra Leone. It was very convincing.
‘Clever bastards,’ said Nick staring at the web page. ‘Shove the real threat in amongst other nutters’ publicity and confuse Joe public.’
‘Can I see that?’ asked Tom.
Nathalie sighed and walked to the other side of the room whilst Nick turned the screen towards Tom.
‘Looks pretty professional,’ said Tom. ‘Facts and figures of exploitation and their demands for a fairer Africa. And look here Nathalie, a reference to your promise of a video. “In the forthcoming days we will broadcast our case on British television”. Sounds like they believed you.’
Nathalie pressed her head against the window. ‘I don’t want reminding Tom. I sat in a tent drinking tea with those bastards. Promised Lloyd and Temba, wherever they are, that we would prevent any attack. Look where that’s led us. Those poor people, and we’re still no closer to knowing the source or how they did it.’
Geoff burst into the room catching the end of her sentence. ‘Ah now that’s where you’re wrong. Put a researcher onto the case. Given special permission to follow the epidemiologists’ reports. There seems to be a pattern for the outbreaks.’ He threw a map onto the table. ‘Take a look at this.’
The four of them huddled around the map. Geoff pointed to circles of shaded colour around a number of towns in the south-east of England.
‘Here, here and here. Tight spots where patients have been diagnosed. Not in Scotland, Wales or the North of England. Just around these towns.’
‘Water supply?’ suggested Nick.
‘Doesn’t fit,’ said Geoff. There’s some more localised source. I’ll let you mull it over, if you get any ideas pass it on to the researcher.’
He started to leave the room but turned back to watch them still pouring over the map. ‘Oh yes, and by the way, really odd one this, nearly all of the victims seem to have been short-sighted.’
Later that day Nathalie returned to her flat in Fulham. She lay on her bed exhausted anticipating another sleepless night. She played with the phone in her hand turning it over and over in her palms. She dialled Lloyd for the umpteenth time. The phone was dead. He did say he would discard it after a few days but, although she knew it was useless, she kept trying in case he reactivated it. The British authorities had discarded Joseph Karasa’s involvement in the outbreak. The Harare Hospital and the charity had confirmed that the visit was official, and the Zimbabwean authorities pointed out that he had returned openly to the country. Unless the UK had any concrete evidence they were wasting the Zimbabwean police force’s time. Nathalie knew from her own experiences that even if they did have evidence the Harare police would have been uncooperative. At the mention of WEXA, the Zimbabwean authorities just laughed. There was no such organisation in the country. Britain was just stirring up trouble by pointing the finger of their disease outbreak at Zimbabwe. The next time Zimbabwe had a reported epidemic perhaps they would point the finger the other way. It was a mess, but a mess that Geoff was revelling in. Each day they had more footage for their programme. As soon as the source was discovered and the DSMA notice was lifted they would finish the programme, perhaps even turn it into a series. Nathalie reluctantly turned to her script. Each day it was looking blacker. More and more people contracting the disease from an unknown attacker. When she had started her programme on bioterror it seemed a distant threat. Now that threat was real the whole thing seemed less attractive.
The phone rang.
‘Lloyd?’
‘No, it’s Tom, isn’t my name on your screen?’
‘Sorry Tom, didn’t check, wishful thinking.’
‘Well that’s what I’ve been doing. I remembered you telling Geoff that Ebola was not that easy to catch. They needed to get it into people’s bodily fluids.’
‘Yes that’s right.’
‘I’ve been trying to think how they could do that.’
‘Yes Tom, get to the point.’
‘I think Geoff’s researcher has given us the answer.’
Nathalie’s voice became more irritable. ‘Tom!’
But Tom was not to be hurried in his moment of glory.
‘They were short-sighted. Needed some help with their vision.’
The penny dropped. Nathalie shouted out the answer. ‘Lenses, contact lenses. The maniacs have put it into contact lens solution.’
‘Only an idea.’
‘No, it’s a brilliant idea. Explains the localised outbreaks. The spread isn’t through contact contagion, the authorities have been amazing at isolating people. Clarifies why new cases are just popping up out of thin air. Someone buys some solution, sticks it in their eyes. Oh God, we’ve got to stop them. I’m cutting you off Tom, have to ring Nick, he’ll get some of his security mates onto it.’ She pressed the off button and then the speed dial.
Thirty-three
The meeting had been scheduled for two in the afternoon. Geoff had been isolated with some security service officers and a high-ranking government official in a backstreet office in Whitehall all morning. He even had his phone switched off, a first for Geoff. Now, halfway through the afternoon, he was ensconced in his office with Bagatelle’s lawyer. He had even refused coffee, another first for Geoff. Poor Stefanie almost had her head bitten off as she poked it around his door. Nathalie, Tom and Nick though were flooded with the stuff as cup after cup was brought into the boardroom.
‘You’re very kind, but we can’t take any more,’ said Nathalie handing her the empties. ‘How much longer do you think he will be?’ She looked unnecessarily at her watch, the large clock on the wall clearly stating four o’clock.
‘Your guess is as good as mine Nathalie, you know what he’s like once he’s got his teeth into something. Dotting I’s crossing T’s.’
Nick stood up to stretch his legs. ‘If you’ve got anything stronger than coffee I’ll take it. Don’t understand all this hush-hush stuff we all know what’s happened.’
What had happened in fact, was that Tom’s theory was right. Patient’s houses were searched for contact lens solution and tested for the virus. Within hours batch numbers were collated and the source traced to a warehouse on the outskirts of north London. The conditions and security there were pretty shoddy but fortunately the stock control less so. Twenty-four hours later and every single contaminated bottle had been destroyed. The spontaneous outbreaks stopped immediately. The proven cases of Ebola had been restricted to under fifty, it had been estimated that if the source hadn’t been found the numbers would have reached the hundreds. Worse still, if the primary cases had spread some people were talking in the thousands. The paper press had somehow circumnavigated the schedule notice, got wind of the lens solution source, and were hinting at bioterrorism. Geoff had protested to the authorities and had been called to this morning’s top-level meeting. Just before two he had stormed into the office and demanded that the company’s lawyer meet with him immediately. They had been in his room ever since.
It was five o’clock when Stefanie returned to the boardroom.
‘He is ready for you now,’ she said with a sigh.
Nick took a coin from his pocket, tossed it, and slapped it on to the back of his wrist. ‘Good news or bad news?’
‘No comment,’ said Stefanie. ‘But it won’t be long before you’ll find out.’
One by one they trooped into Geoff’s office. He was sitting at his desk, angle-poise on, despite the time of day, hunched over a file
scribbling frantically.
Nick walked over and rapped on the desk. ‘Now when you said two o’clock, we didn’t realise you meant New York time.’
Geoff looked up at Nick and then at the wall clocks. ‘Ah yes, sorry. Needed to know the legal position.’ He rose from his chair and slapped Nick on the back. ‘Which I do now.’
He gestured to the four easy chairs circled around a coffee table in the corner of his room. ‘Please sit, we’ve got a lot to get through.’
The sun was now at a low angle casting strips of light from the blinds across the room. Nathalie sat, squinted and then rose to adjust the slats to deflect the glare from her eyes. On her way back she looked over Geoff’s shoulder at the document in his hand reading Top-Secret and Highly Confidential.
‘So, we’re going to be all sworn to secrecy,’ she said.
Geoff smiled. ‘Well, not exactly, in fact quite the opposite. We’ve got the green light to broadcast whatever we want, or nearly whatever we want anyway.’
Tom’s mouth dropped open.
‘And a lot of it, young Tom, is down to you,’ added Geoff.
‘Okay Mr Secret Service,’ said Nathalie sitting and pulling out her laptop. ‘Tell us the story.’
Geoff sat back, enjoying the moment, looking at the expectant faces. Eventually he put his hands behind his head and began.
‘Secret Service pleased with Tom’s hint for the source and realise that the bioterror attack cat is out of the bag so they want us to put out our programme pronto. They know that they may come under some criticism for not acting on our first tipoff but think the best thing is damage control by putting the whole thing out in the open. Also it will show our WEXA friends that we’re onto them and any second attempt is likely to be well and truly snuffed out.’
Nathalie could hardly believe what she was hearing.
Drugs to Forget Page 31
