by Daniel Kalla
McLeod’s eyes widened to the point where his lazy one seemed to drift into the midline. “Are you suggesting that this woman was deliberately trying to spread her vile germs?”
Haldane shrugged. “Can you give me another plausible explanation?”
For the first time in all the years Haldane had known him, McLeod’s eyes showed genuine fear. “What are we dealing with here, Noah?” he asked softly.
CHAPTER 20
VANCOUVER, BRITISH COLUMBIA, CANADA
When Nicole Caddullo awoke, for a disoriented moment she wondered if she had fallen asleep in her bathtub. Then she realized her bedsheets were drenched. Confused, the nineteen-year-old assumed her roommates had dumped a glass of water on her in her sleep as a joke. Thanks, guys! she thought angrily, but after the violent shakes set in she began to piece it together. Waking up in the middle of the night burning up from fever, she had thrown the blankets and bedspread off her. She had assumed it was a dream, but the proof in the form of her tangled bedcovers now lay in a heap at the foot of her bed.
Not the flu! Nicole thought. Not today.
She had an oceanography exam to write. And then back to the Vancouver Aquarium where she worked as a guide for her afternoon shift. The Aquarium! She remembered the small woman with the jet-black hair who wore thick-framed sunglasses despite the sunless gray skies. She had stood beside Nicole at the sea otter show two days earlier. Nicole had almost asked the woman to leave because her harsh cough was distracting the trainers and disrupting the show.
I bet that’s where I picked this up, Nicole thought bitterly.
Freezing, she sat up and reached for the blankets at her feet. Flopping back on the bed, she couldn’t believe how the minimal effort winded her. Lying with her blankets bundled around her she panted and gasped as if she had just broken her personal best time for the three-thousand meter dash.
Rather than easing with rest, her breathing grew more labored with each passing minute. Then the cough started. Her whole chest rattled with each hack. She coughed harder and harder. Then she choked on a gob of phlegm as if it were a chunk of meat before finally managing to spit it into her hand. She glanced down and saw that her hand was full of blood.
The sudden overwhelming panic surfaced as a hoarse scream.
HARGEYSA, SOMALIA
Hazzir Kabaal sat in his sumptuous office, enjoying his fourth espresso of the day. He liked a strong coffee before bedtime; he had trouble sleeping without it. In recent days, it had become a moot point. With or without coffee, he hardly slept.
When the media blitz first erupted, Kabaal had swelled with a prideful sense of accomplishment. It soon turned into a bittersweet victory. Kabaal had forgotten how attached he had become to London in his four years spent there. He remembered Sheikh Hassan’s warning: “When the West takes hold inside you it grows like a cancer that is difficult to cut out.” He knew the Sheikh was right, but the pictures of the empty London streets and the fear in the voices of TV interviewees had stirred the slivers of uncertainty. If only the Sheikh were here, Kabaal thought, he would wipe away the doubt with his pious reasoning.
“Sometimes God’s way is the hardest way,” Kabaal reassured himself aloud.
“So I have heard,” Major Abdul Sabri said.
Kabaal hadn’t realized that Sabri had materialized in his doorway. Kabaal looked down and flushed with embarrassment. He cleared his throat. “Welcome back, Major. I trust you had a safe trip.”
Sabri shrugged. He wore another plain white robe, but with his thick shoulders, opaque blue eyes, and an air of certainty he didn’t need a uniform or a weapon to establish his dangerousness.
“You met Mr. Gamal?” Kabaal asked.
Sabri sauntered up to the desk, answering only when he reached the foot of it. “We spent time together, yes.”
“And?”
“Bishr Gamal was a petty criminal. A thief and a pick-pocket.” He paused. “But he supplemented his income working as a police informer.”
Kabaal put his cup down and leaned forward in his chair. “Go on,” he said.
“He was sent to spy on us at the mosque.” Sabri looked over Kabaal’s head as if already bored with the topic of conversation.
Kabaal tried to emulate Sabri’s detached calm, but he couldn’t keep the edge out of his voice. “Sent by whom?”
“Sergeant Achmed Eleish. A detective with the Cairo Police Force.”
“Eleish!” Kabaal said. “That man has been dogging me for years.”
Sabri nodded, displaying neither surprise nor interest in Kabaal’s revelation.
“Eight or nine years ago, Eleish was shot by an activist who worked for my paper. Ever since he has been trying to prove my connection to The Brotherhood.” Kabaal shook his head and sighed. “I should have taken care of him a long time ago.”
“Shall I now?” Sabri asked.
Kabaal weighed the idea. “What exactly did Gamal tell Eleish?” he asked.
Sabri pointed from Kabaal to himself. “That we had been seen together. And that several of us had gone missing in the past weeks.” He shrugged. “He didn’t know much else.”
“Much or nothing else?” Kabaal pressed.
“Gamal had heard mention of a desert base, but he swore he knew none of the details.”
“Maybe he knew more than he was willing to tell?”
Sabri shot him a fleeting half smile. “After a couple of hours spent in my company, I don’t think Mr. Gamal was capable of lying,” he said as matter-of-factly as if the two of them had gone for a stroll.
“Did Gamal know if Sergeant Eleish had told others?” Kabaal asked.
Sabri shrugged.
Kabaal stared at his empty cup. “It would be foolish to assume Eleish is acting alone. If he disappeared now it would only raise suspicions and bring us even more attention.”
“So what?” Sabri exhaled. “They couldn’t find us if they wanted to.”
“And neither will Eleish,” Kabaal said. “For the time being, we should just keep an eye on him.”
Sabri looked as if he might yawn at any moment. “There are many ways that Sergeant Eleish could go without raising suspicion. Cars crash. Police raids go awry. And the difference between poisons and heart attacks can be very subtle.”
Kabaal hesitated, but then said, “Not yet, Abdul.”
“As you wish.”
Kabaal reached for a small stack of papers on his desk. “Our second wave has landed in America.” He sighed. “Not without problems.”
Sabri raised an eyebrow. “Problems?”
“Not in Chicago, but Seattle, yes.” Kabaal reached for a paper on his desk and waved it at Sabri. “An e-mail from Sharifa Sha’rawi.”
Kabaal read it aloud:“Dear Tonya,
Arrived in Vancouver, Canada, with all our baggage. The line at the border crossing was too long. I never made it across to Seattle. I had to leave the present in Vancouver. We had a lovely time, but we couldn’t stay. I’ll be in touch. Love, Sherri”
Sabri nodded impassively. “So they turned her away at the border.”
“Security is so tight these day. We should have flown her directly to Seattle.” Kabaal shook his head. “I could have predicted that the logistics were too complicated.”
Sabri shrugged. “Canada, America, what’s the difference?”
Kabaal shook his head. “Canada didn’t participate in the invasion of Iraq. We never intended to involve them.”
Sabri’s blank face broke into a slight smile. “Hazzir, you do realize that we have involved the whole world now?”
Kabaal looked down at the e-mail and nodded. “The Western world, anyway.”
Sabri laughed bitterly. “You think the virus respects borders or religion? I doubt it will differentiate between the righteous and the infidels. And I know that the American bombs that follow will not.”
“That is not the point, Abdul!” Kabaal looked up. “This is not about creating chaos. We will give them the chance to choose. To make amen
ds. And once they do, we can stop spreading this unholy plague.”
“God willing,” Sabri said, straight-faced, but his eyes were loaded with doubt. “So when do we contact them?”
“Soon. Very soon,” Kabaal said calmly. “But first, we must make them realize just how vulnerable they are.”
CHAPTER 21
THE SHERATON SUITES, LONDON, ENGLAND
By the time Noah Haldane got back to the hotel, he had reached a slow boil. In his career, he had seen Ebola slaughter an entire village, a close friend die of SARS, and people perish in third-world hospitals for want of antibiotics readily available in any first-world drugstore. He had seen people put politics, stupidity, greed, and self-interest ahead of the welfare of victims, but never before had he suspected anyone of willfully propagating an epidemic.
Lost in his rage, he walked through the hotel lobby with his eyes cast to the ground. At first, he didn’t register that it was his name being called out. “Noah?” the voice called again.
He looked up to see a woman striding rapidly toward him despite her slight limp. It took him a moment to place her. “Gwen?”
Gwen Savard shot out her hand. “I’ve come from Washington to see you.”
He met her firm handshake. “Gwen, I am not sure I’ve ever needed a drink as badly as I do tonight.”
“You too, huh?” She turned and headed for the lobby bar.
They chose a comer table by the crackling flames in the huge stone fireplace. They could have picked any seat in the bar. With widespread news of the virus’s grip in London, it looked to Haldane as if the city had emptied overnight. While the traffic had seemed light to him yesterday, today the streets were largely deserted on what normally would have been a hectic workday. Of the few people he had spotted on the streets, several wore medical masks and most darted and dodged past as if air raid sirens had blown.
The waiter was at their side before they touched their seats. Haldane was tempted to invoke McLeod’s twohighballs-at-once policy, but he refrained, ordering a bottle of Heineken instead. Savard asked for a double gin and tonic.
Once their drinks arrived, Haldane took a long sip of his beer. Placebo or not, the relief was immediate. With the bottle still on his lips he viewed Gwen, appreciating her striking features for the first time. With shoulder-length sandy blond hair, full lips, and the most aqua-green eyes he had ever seen, she was prettier than he remembered. But the steely resolve behind those eyes reminded him of what had struck him the only other time they had met in person: her serene confidence. Considering the circumstances, he found her self-assuredness soothing.
Haldane had little doubt that she had been sizing him up, too, but her placid expression was undecipherable to him. “How are things in London?” she asked.
Haldane exhaled. “Sixty more suspect cases of ARCS were reported today.”
“Where?”
“There are three distinct clusters, so far.” Haldane described the geographical dissemination of the virus, which followed the oil company executive’s tour of the Tower of London. “Most of the infected are tourists.”
Savard drained the last of her drink. “Which will make it very difficult to contain the virus to London.”
He shrugged. “That’s probably a moot point.”
Savard spun the glass in her hand, staring at the swirling ice cubes at the bottom. “Oh?”
“ARCS didn’t get to London on its own.”
She stopped swirling. “No?”
“Someone meant to bring it.” He studied her face waiting for a reaction but saw none.
“What makes you so sure?” she asked.
“I don’t think you would be here if that weren’t the case,” Haldane said. “Besides, I’ve seen enough to know that infections don’t just pop up on the other side of the world without leaving a trail.” He paused. “And then there’s the highly suspicious index case who by all accounts went out of her way to spread her germs.” He described what he knew of the mysterious woman from the Park Tower Plaza’s elevator.
Savard put her glass down. She stared at Haldane with a look of calm concern. “I agree, Noah. Someone has weaponized the Gansu Flu.”
“Who?”
She shook her head.
He pointed the neck of his bottle at her. “No theories?”
“There’s always the usual suspects, though we have nothing linking it to them.” Her bone-straight shoulders sagged a few inches. “Some sophisticated lab equipment disappeared in Africa, but we don’t know if it’s related.”
“Africa?” Haldane grimaced. “How does ARCS get from China to Africa?”
“It’s just conjecture,” she said. “The bigger question is where will it go next?”
“Depends on who has their hands on it, right?” he said.
Savard leaned over the table and locked her eyes on his. “Noah, how difficult is it to grow this virus in a lab?”
“You’re not asking about WHO or CDC or any other legitimate lab, are you?”
“No.”
Haldane nodded. “It would be dead easy. It’s a type of influenza. Once you had a sample, you could incubate it in eggs, chickens, primates, or ...”
“Humans!” Gwen jumped in.
“No lab required.” He nodded. “Just people crazy enough to deliberately infect themselves with the Gansu Flu.”
Gwen’s eyes narrowed. She spoke quietly but with a noticeable edge. “There are people willing to strap bombs to their chests and walk into theaters, malls, and daycares. How different is this?”
Haldane rubbed his eyes. “Viral suicide bombers, huh?”
“Carrying a load more dangerous than any conventional explosive.”
“Much,” Haldane agreed. He pointed at her empty glass. “Another?”
“I’m okay, but you go ahead.”
Haldane waved the waiter over and ordered a second beer. Then he turned back to Gwen. “I don’t know if I can be of much more help.”
Her smooth brow creased into a skeptical frown.
“Gwen, I deal with emerging pathogens of the natural kind. I have no expertise ...” He sighed and then grunted a laugh. “Expertise! Christ, I don’t have the first clue in dealing with man-made spread. That’s your department.”
“Man-made or not, we’re facing a potential pandemic here.” Then she added firmly, “And for that, we need your help.”
The waiter arrived with Haldane’s second beer. It felt like ice in his hand, but this time the long sip brought no relief. “I’ll do whatever I can,” he said. “I’m just saying this is virgin territory for me.”
“For all of us.” The crow’s-feet deepened at the comers of her large green eyes. Her lips parted into a wide smile. “But thank you.”
Haldane laid the beer on the table. “So what’s the next step?” he asked.
“We deal with each outbreak while we track down the source.”
“Or sources,” he said.
“Yeah.”
“How?” he asked.
She swept her hand over the table. “A coordinated international police and intelligence effort.”
“The CIA?”
She shrugged. “And Interpol, MI5, FBI, NSC, CDC, WHO, DHS ...”
Haldane forced a grin. “Maybe the AAA?”
“If necessary.” She laughed. “Whoever it takes.” She bit her lower lip and eyed him intently. “Do you have any ideas?”
Haldane hunched his shoulders and grimaced. “For catching bioterrorists?”
“For dealing with this.”
“A vaccine should be a top priority,” he said.
“Which could take months, if not years.”
“But if this virus is going to be used as a weapon, it will always be a threat until everyone is immunized... or has already been infected.”
“Okay. Fair enough,” she said. “Any more immediate suggestions?”
“The single best defense in outbreak control is communication. Especially in this case since the Gansu Flu could hit a
nywhere next. We need to put the world on notice.”
“I think they already are.” Gwen bit down harder on her lip.
“They might be aware, but now they need to act,” Haldane said. “Every fever or cough on the planet must be assumed to be ARCS until proven otherwise.”
Savard whistled.
“Can you imagine if we don’t?” Haldane asked. “This bug has ground one of Europe’s biggest centers to a halt. And we’ve just seen the beginnings of it. Wait until it comes to the States.” He sighed. “And, Gwen, we both know it will.”
His cell phone rang. He pulled it out of his pocket and glanced at the call display, which read “Switzerland.” Haldane brought the phone to his ear. “Hello.”
“Ah, Noah, it’s Jean,” Nantal said as warmly as if he were calling to wish him a happy birthday.
“Can I call you back later, Jean?” Haldane said. “I’m in the middle of a debriefing with Gwen Savard.”
“No, Noah, I wish I didn’t have to interrupt you and the beautiful Dr. Savard, but my news is terribly important,” Nantal said. “For both of you.”
“What news?” Haldane asked.
“Two people have tested positive for the Gansu Flu in Vancouver,” Nantal said.
“Vancouver, Canada?” Haldane said, more for the benefit of Gwen who watched him intently.
“Yes,” Nantal said.
“New cases?” Savard mouthed the question at Haldane.
He held up two fingers for her. Then he spoke into the receiver. “Look, Jean, we believe somebody is deliberately spreading this virus.”
“So it would seem,” Nantal said without a trace of surprise.
“I imagine it will crop up all over the place soon. We need to meet with Gwen’s team and set up a pandemic ARCS task force, sooner—”
“Excuse me, Noah,” Nantal cut in. “There is something most peculiar about the latest Vancouver case.”
“Everything about this is beyond peculiar,” Haldane said.
