The Malthus Pandemic

by Terry Morgan

CHAPTER 17

  I was back at the trade show at the Bangkok Convention Centre and Walt Daniels was standing, arms folded at his stand like a sergeant major watching the troops go by. Had I been a potential customer I think I would have walked on past, but let us not digress into the dos and don'ts of body language when running a successful exhibition.

  "Ah," Walt said, "The man of mystery returns. Fancy a coffee?"

  I accepted and thanked him for last night. John Wardley then emerged from somewhere, looking jaded from the night before.

  "John is feeling a little unwell this morning, aren't you John?"

  Wardley nodded and said, "I need to visit the men's room, Walt. I might be gone a while."

  "Go ahead, young man," he waved John away. "What goes down either comes back up very quickly or travels further on down. Whichever route it chooses, it'll soon be out." He turned to me.. "Told you didn't I? Not sure if he got his end away last night or not but, either way, it hasn't done him a lot of good. Had a job raising him this morning." Walt poured coffee into two plastic mugs.

  "Thanks for being so understanding, last night, Walt," I said.

  "You mean understanding about John or understanding about you?"

  "Me, Walt. But I've still got a few questions. Do you mind?"

  Walt took a mouthful of black coffee and swirled it around his teeth. "Go ahead."

  "What sort of research was David Solomon doing before he disappeared?"

  "New treatments for viral infections as we all were. Specifically, looking at systems that acted on the surfaces of viruses. Certain enzymes were looking useful. He was also an expert on virus replication and was looking at the ways in which viruses changed. It's called 'gain of function' - GOF - research in our jargon. You change something, like a virus, and see how it then behaves. Controversial, but it's what we do. And he had done a lot of work on Influenza before he joined us."

  "Did you know his girlfriend?"

  "I met her once but he kept his private life to himself. Josh Ornstein spoke to her after he disappeared and, of course the police did. Why don't you ask Josh? You should probably talk to him anyway. Phone numbers are on my business card. Call him. He's away a lot but you can probably track him down."

  "How co-operative will he be?"

  "He's OK. I should tell him about you, anyway. I owe it to the company."

  I thought, briefly, before replying."Perhaps I'll call him and tell him that you and I have spoken. OK?"

  "Sure, no problem. Good luck," said Walt. Then, seeing a possible customer approaching, he got up. "Must see to this guy."

  I wandered out to the Convention Centre concourse, stood in a corner and, following my hunch of earlier that morning, phoned Hong Kong.