by Terry Morgan
CHAPTER 45
Kevin was taking his usual long lunch break and as it was a pleasant sunny day he decided to take a casual stroll to clear his mind from thinking about his possible arrest on suspicion of involvement in bioterrorism. With no particular route in mind he walked towards Bristol Zoo, up onto Clifton Downs and then towards Brunel's famous suspension bridge over the Avon Gorge. Here, the sun was warm enough for him to remove his Liverpool FC sweater.
Tunje had phoned him at one point but apologised for having hit a wrong button on his phone and the call had only lasted long enough for Kevin to ask whether Tunje had changed sides to work for MI6 and was monitoring his movements. He had bought a packet of sandwiches and a can of Coke from a local shop and sat down to eat his lunch on a wooden bench overlooking the bridge. As he unwrapped his sandwich, his mobile phone rang yet again.
"My name is Daniel Capelli," the caller said, "Am I speaking to Kevin Parker."
Kevin was very tempted to say no but said yes.
"Forgive me for calling you, Kevin - may I call you Kevin? - but I wondered if you could help me. I am working for a pharmaceutical company in the USA who have reported the loss of some research material they were developing for use in treating virus infections, like influenza. I have reason to believe it may have got into the wrong hands and I am looking for some help."
Kevin was not sure what to say. The man was English, he could tell that. The only question was his name - Capelli sounded Italian and mafia instantly came to Kevin's already paranoid state of mind.
"Well, I'm a lecturer in Economic History. How could I possibly help?" Kevin said. He was pleased with his reply but had already lost his appetite for the sandwich lying on his knee.
"Because I've recently logged onto your Malthus Society website and something caught my eye."
Kevin's stomach turned. It wasn't due to hunger but he swallowed anyway. "I see," he said and decided to wait to see what came next.
"Does the name David Solomon mean anything to you, Kevin?"
So, Kevin thought, there is something about this man. "Uh, yes," he replied.
"Do you know much about him?"
"I knew nothing until two days ago," said Kevin thinking that if this was a straw floating past his sinking body he might, at least, try to grasp it.
"And what happened two days ago?"
"He put something on the message board. It rang a few alarm bells. A friend of mine then checked him out."
"And?"
"Alarm bells are still ringing."
"What did you find out? Can you tell me?"
"I'm not sure who you are."
"I'm a private individual, Kevin, a professional investigator of industrial fraud and I feel we may have uncovered something here - something that borders on serious crime. If you are in any way involved or know anything then please tell me."
Kevin thought about it. The phone call had come out of the blue but he needed a friend in England, not Larry Brown in far away Nigeria or Tunje who never took things seriously enough or Tom who sometimes seemed too old to care. Was this a chance to share the worries he had been carrying around with him since he met Mohamed El Badry? Kevin decided to grab the straw.
"David Solomon is, to use a phrase of my old friend, Tom, a nutcase," he began.
"Why?"
"Some of his views are extreme. The Malthus Society and myself in particular advocate action to persuade governments to take population control seriously. We do not advocate or support implementation of population control methods that have not been adequately debated and agreed. We might be impatient but we do not do anything without some sort of democratic accountability," said Kevin as if reading from one of his own past writings.
He paused but then went on:
"For example, he wrote in one article, 'unless we want to destroy everyone, we must have an effective drug or vaccine available in advance of the release of the virus - to use selectively in order to retain proper scientific control.' And then came his posting on the Malthus site about the day of reckoning."
For Daniel, this fitted neatly around everything he had imagined and he admitted as much to Kevin. "That's exactly what I thought, Kevin. Will you help me?"
In reply, Kevin described his and Tunje's meeting with Mohamed El Badry. Then:
"A friend of Tunje's works at the American Embassy in Nigeria. A doctor working at the Embassy was the one who reported the Nigerian cases to the WHO. His name is Larry Brown."
They talked for a while longer until it was quite clear, the battery on Kevin's phone was nearly exhausted.
"We need to talk more, Kevin," Daniel said. "I'll phone you again very soon. And I'd like to talk to Larry Brown. Feel free to tell him that you and I have spoken and that I'll call him soon."
"Can we meet?" asked Kevin suddenly anxious to put a face to the caller and perhaps shake his hand.
"Yes, we may need to but I'm calling from Bangkok."
Unimpressed by his latest discussion with the WHO, Larry toyed with the idea of raising his concerns with the Ambassador. At least, he thought, he might be able to start a ball rolling somewhere. Unable to contain his impatience any longer he phoned the Embassy in Abuja.
"Larry, how's our discoverer of new diseases? Found any more?"
"Not yet. But I'm uncovering other things which bother me."
"Spill the beans, Larry. I'm all ears. By the way, how's the commercial scene? Anything happening on the healthcare front down there? How's the team supporting you?"
Larry had no wish to go into his other frustrations just at that moment. Joseph was sitting within easy throwing distance and he had no wish to get tangled up in a staffing dispute, just yet at any rate. So he said, "Fine."
"So what's biting you, then Larry? The mosquitoes down there? Hah!"
Larry also didn't want a session of humorous camaraderie just at that moment. He was seething not only with a feeling that things needed putting right in the Embassy's commercial section but in the international system governing control of medical research. That was why he was phoning and he still hadn't worked out where to start. At the end looked a good place in this instance.
"No, the mosquitoes aren't biting but something like a new version of SARS might. It might even get you, too, Mister Ambassador - it'll certainly not care who it decides to infect or how many."
"Yes, you warned me about that Larry. I now keep a clean handkerchief in my pocket. But you sound a bit serious if I may say so."
"How does a million deaths from a SARS-like virus just in the USA sound?"
"You serious?"
"Let me describe a scenario to you. Imagine, if you will, a country that deliberately spreads a virus, like SARS, with no known cure with the intention of wiping out hundreds, thousands or perhaps millions of people in a neighbouring country. Would you call it war using biological weapons, sir?"
"Yes, I would, Larry, although wouldn't it kill the aggressors as well? But go on."
"And if it was carried out inside their own country against an ethnic minority for instance it would be called ethnic cleansing or genocide, right?
"Yes, I suppose so. But....."
Larry gave him no chance to butt in.
"But if it is a private company releasing the virus because they had a treatment or a vaccine ready to launch to make huge profits from, what would you call that, sir? Good business practice?"
"I'd call that very unethical, Larry."
"Yes, and what would you say if some of the scientists behind creating that virus and developing the drug or vaccine not only had a commercial interest in it but held some very extreme political views about the need to reduce the world's population for a hundred reasons that they would, if needed to, site as indisputable evidence for their actions?"
"But that's ridiculous, Larry. They wouldn't be allowed to get away with it with all the checks and balances in place on research of that sort."
"Are you sure there are any proper checks and balances? Because I'm not
and I've looked. There are no international policing systems in place. Any rogue scientist could team up with any rogue businessman with a history of fraud or malpractice and hell bent on making even more money - and what's there to stop it?"
"Are you sure, Larry?"
"Yes, sir. I've checked. And what's more I think we are facing just that scenario out there right now and no-one knows about it or, even if they did, can do anything about it. We might even be too late. I believe those deaths up in Kano were part of what we might call in the world of ethical medical practice a clinical trial. A cleverly chosen place if I may so. A place where the locals have no trust in the system for reporting problems like this, a place where unsubstantiated rumour spreads far faster than facts and just a small corner of a vast area currently fighting a war against Islamic insurgency. And the doctor running the field tests has since disappeared, as you know. "
In Abuja, the Ambassador leaned back in the big leather chair behind his desk. "OK Larry, hang on. Let's test this theory of yours out," he said and picked up the other phone on his desk. Then he pressed a button and Larry heard him say:
"Julie, when they open the shop, can you find me somebody to talk to in the Department of Health and Human Services in Washington. Then do the same thing with the US Federal Drug Administration. We'll take it from there."
Then he turned to Larry again. "Larry, my friend, you've just made the hair on the back of my neck stand up . Give me a while and I'll get back."
