The Malthus Pandemic

by Terry Morgan

CHAPTER 16

  At the World Health Organisation HQ office in Geneva, the Director General was in a meeting with the South African Minister of Health. It had turned out to be a very formal meeting with pleasantries and dignified acknowledgements of the important status of each other. The politics was obvious. The DG was showing no outward signs of the impatience she was feeling but her adviser, Richard Lacey saw it. He glanced at his own deputy, Claire Sodano to check if she, too, had spotted it.

  Besides the DG, Richard Lacey and Claire Sodano, the Minister had brought along his own Deputy Minister and secretary.

  "Yes," the Minister was saying, "New infections among mature age groups in South Africa remain high but, most thankfully, new infections among teenagers seem to be on the decline. Regretfully, KwaZulu-Natal rates are still very high and so are those in Mpumalanga but the Government is continuing to pledge funding and support for educational campaigns and so on. We must............"

  The DG was well aware of the dreadful South African statistics. She probably knew the actual figures better than the Minister. But still she remained impassive and listened intently.

  Richard Lacey's phone, though, buzzed in his pocket. He quickly glanced at the caller, saw it was his own secretary and knew it as a sign to speed up the meeting if possible as either something important had cropped up or someone else was waiting to speak to the DG. Furtively, he pressed a couple of keys and waited. Instantly, the three letter return message was "SEA". Lacey knew what this meant. The WHO's Regional Director for South East Asia was waiting on the phone.

  "Excuse me, ma'am - sir" he said to the DG and bowed his head to the Minister. He then got up and left the room.

  "Doctor Pradit, Richard." the secretary said as he returned to his office.

  "OK, transfer it to my office. Tell him the DG's with a Minister and I'll deal with it."

  It took just seconds for Richard Lacey to digest the information from the Regional Director for South East Asia.

  "Ah, Richard, ah. It's Pradit. I'm in Bangkok. We're getting some, ah, vital information now on the Bangkok respiratory outbreak. First, ah, viral tests show it's, ah, a new one. They're calling it TRS-CoV. What we need now are, ah, samples from the Nigerian cases to check if there is any, ah, similarity. Any chance of some urgent, ah, what you say, ah, arm twisting?"

  "Not much of a hope, Pradit. I'll try but as far as Nigeria is concerned, it sounds as if it's too late."

  Doctor Larry Brown had been summoned to Abuja, to meet the US Ambassador next morning. He was a single man but, so far at least, was finding that the evenings dragged. Yes, there had been a few noisy night clubs and a few women who had liked his American accent but, with the stress of Nigerian Airways and Nigerian taxis, he was finding his energy levels after 6pm far lower than he would have liked. Being a doctor he diagnosed physical and mental acclimatisation - patience was needed and his energy levels would soon return to normal.

  Alone and sprawled on the sofa with his feet up on the coffee table in an Abuja flat he was able to use when in the capital, he was engrossed in what he knew had become a bad habit - playing with his mobile phone. In fact, he was checking logs and trying to build some sort of contacts list that might come in useful. For a minute or two, he couldn't place the phone call he'd received several days before that showed no caller's number. Then he remembered it had been from Philippe in Kenya. Philippe was sharing a serviced apartment with another Frenchman, a lecturer at the University.

  Being bored, Larry tried the Nairobi number.

  "Oui, uh, yes. This is Charles."

  Larry asked to speak to Philippe.

  "Uh, sorry. May I ask who is calling?"

  "Larry - a friend - Nigeria."

  "Mr Larry?"

  "Larry Brown, US Embassy, Abuja. Philippe phoned me several days ago. He had a problem."

  "Ah, yes. Philippe is not here. I am worried. I have not seen him for three days. He left on Monday. Took a small bag. He is not at the Hospital either. No-one has seen him. It is very strange. You say he had a problem? Do you know his family in Paris? I think they should know."

  Larry apologised for being unable to help. Neither did he have any other contact details. Feeling sure Philippe would turn up somewhere, sooner or later, Larry forgot about it and instead started to think about his meeting with his boss, the American Ambassador. next morning.