“With her, not under her,” Blaine murmured, but otherwise he kept quiet.
“If your Colonel would be kind enough to show me where your operational areas are,” Navarro continued, “I’ll draw up a perimeter that will both protect my people and keep them clear of yours.”
Votorov barked, “You think my men cannot protect woman doctor and diplomat from Ozrabek rebel bandits?”
On cue, the distant thump, thump of artillery shells striking the earth sounded in the distance. Little puffs of smoke or dust rose on the horizon. Votorov’s cheeks colored.
“Do you think your men should waste time watching a bunch of doctors and diplomats?” Navarro said reasonably. “If I protect them, you can put more of your men out there, where they are needed.”
The General chewed that over mulishly before speaking again. “That much is true. I send my second with you. He will show you quarters. And where not to go.”
With that, Votorov turned his back on the group. He threw one more phrase to Chelovik: Prinesite ikh na uzhin. Then he left, taking his guards with him.
The Colonel made a quick salute and waited as the Westerners talked amongst themselves for a moment. Blaine looked more than a little discomfited, but Austen ignored him.
“That was a friendly welcome,” she said wryly. “But at least they didn’t shoot us.”
“It was friendly enough by their standards,” Navarro pointed out. “I’m not fluent in Russian, but that last bit…I think he was telling Chelovik here to ‘invite us to lunch’.”
“Nyet,” October corrected him. “Not lunch. Dinner.”
“Thank you, my friend. For some reason it’s hard for me to make out certain words. They sound odd.”
“Is not odd. Is accent. Kazakh people speak Russian outside, Turkish-type language at home.”
“Speaking of which, I need to check on something.” Navarro looked over to the Colonel. “Vy govorite po-anglijski?”
Reluctantly, the man spoke. “Da, I know English. Some.”
“Well, that will have to do. Lead on, Colonel.”
Chelovik nodded brusquely. “This way, please.”
The Colonel walked them along the main traffic artery between the airfield and the mining compound. It was easily the largest and straightest street, designed to move ore and equipment from the mine lifts and to the cargo area. He pointed out sections of rusty chain-linked fencing that marked the border of the army camp in fractured English.
Navarro listened carefully, asking questions where needed to clarify things before speaking in turn to October and Redhawk. Austen paid scant attention to them. Her eyes were focused on other things.
She looked for signs of infectious agents. Despite the looming presence of the mine’s self-formed cloud, there wasn’t much air movement, which was good. The streets were deserted, save for the occasional armed patrol. Aside from the cracked pavement and general run-down look of the area, the streets were clean.
Too clean, in a sense. Even in the rural towns of the United States, it wasn’t uncommon to see feral cats or dogs out on the street. In the Third World, she expected to see signs of chickens or, in urban areas, rats and mice. Here, she saw nothing. Not even birds.
It could be nothing. But it bothered her like an itch she couldn’t quite scratch.
They turned the corner and entered an open square. At least, it had once been open. Now it was filled with a what looked like a half-dozen white railroad boxcars, placed side by side and welded together.
Instead of wheels and carriages, each trailer-style structure stood atop sturdy mobile platform supports. Compact aluminum-framed windows with vertical slat blinds punctuated the sides. But what really stood out were the flowerlike biohazard signs which had been printed in a vivid warning crimson against the white outer walls.
“That is laboratory,” Chelovik said, his tongue wrapping around the last word with difficulty. He gestured again towards the structure. “See fence? That is the last…how you say? Barrier?”
Austen peered at the fence. It wrapped around all but the first trailer and encompassed a depressingly dark building to one side. She made out dim lighting and the flicker of monitors from inside.
More importantly, that one building had been isolated from every other in the compound, save for the lab trailers.
“What’s that place?” she asked Chelovik, though her gut already knew.
“Old barracks,” came the reply. “Now only for sick. And dead. Mostly dead.”
“The infirmary. Right.” Austen rubbed her hands together, steadying her nerves. “That’ll have to wait for later. Let’s go see if there’s anyone else in the mobile lab, or if we’re on our own again.”
Though dreading that prospect, she led the way up to the first set of double doors. The metallic handles had been shaped like oversized paper clips. Austen took a deep breath, as if ready to dive into waters of unknown depths and gave the nearest handle a pull.
Chapter Fourteen
Austen’s first thoughts upon entering the mobile field epidemiological lab’s first trailer module were blessedly positive ones.
It smells antiseptic in here, her mind noted approvingly. To a person in her profession, that meant it had been cleaned recently. It smelled safe. Of course, she had to remind herself that in a hot zone, nowhere was truly ‘safe’. Safety was only an area of relatively low risk.
The wall opposite the entry door bore a bright red biohazard symbol, which many called a ‘hazard flower’. Next to the flower, the words MODULE A: 0 had been carefully printed. Navarro threw a curious glance in Austen’s direction.
“I get that this first section is ‘Module A’,” he said. “What’s with the number zero?”
“That’s to indicate the biosafety zone in this section of the lab,” she explained. “Level 0 means that this is, for all intents and purposes, a normal office. No one’s got to worry about wearing protective gear, and biohazardous materials won’t be present.”
At least they shouldn’t be, she thought to herself. There’s nothing to stop a deathly ill person from staggering in the door, though.
The rest of the trailer-sized space stretched away to the left. Walls had been coated in a tan vinyl to simulate leather and soften ambient sound. Fold-out tables and desks punctuated the floorplan along with orange-tinted chairs that looked as if they’d been swiped from a cheap motel. Power outlets and multiple types of network sockets ran along a gold-painted bar at knee level.
“Hell yes, I can make use of this!” Redhawk gleefully rubbed his hands together. He pointed towards a marked, recessed square in the ceiling. “There’s a scuttle hole with retractable folding stairs. I can set up our satellite feed on the roof right here.”
“Leigh, we could use this space for our Command and Control center,” Navarro stated. “Good comm links and power for a C&C here. With luck it should be out of the way of your lab work.”
“I’d say that your luck is in,” she said. Austen stepped forward to look at a schematic that had been printed on the wall further down from the hazard flower.
MOBILE FIELD EPIDEMIOLOGICAL LAB DIAGRAM
The schematic showed the six trailers in a stack from top to bottom. The bottom trailer was highlighted with a blue YOU ARE HERE button. The next two trailers were marked for dining, living quarters, and a conference area, also at Biosafety Level 0.
Trailers four through six were where things got interesting. Biosafety levels ratcheted up from 1 through 4. The final area had been marked for hardsuit gowning and the chemical decontamination showers. The diagram also showed the off-set passages that connected each trailer. In the last three areas, the connection changed from simple sliding doors to pressure-sensitive hatches complete with UV-illuminated airlocks.
“If this is all in order, then we’ve got ourselves a nice work environment,” Austen breathed. “I’m seeing a backup diesel generator inside Module E, but I doubt that would last more than forty-eight hours. We’ll need uninterrupted power f
rom the main compound.”
October had to translate Leigh’s request before Chelovik could answer. The Colonel nodded gruffly and answered tersely in Russian.
“He says that the first doctor here said the same thing,” October informed her. “He says not to worry, you have been hooked to the base’s main power grid.”
That brought Austen up short. The first doctor here?
But she nodded in thanks. “That sets my mind at ease a little bit.”
“Redhawk, you’re on point to set us up,” Navarro ordered. “I want both you and October to head back to the cargo jet, get our equipment unloaded and start placing our men.”
“I go to my duties,” Chelovik announced. “I return in evening. To call you to General Votorov’s dinner. I warn you: do not be late!”
With that, the Colonel turned and left without so much a nod of goodbye. October lumbered along in his wake while Redhawk trailed behind. Navarro scratched his chin in thought.
“Interesting,” he mused. “The soldiers here are a pretty slovenly lot. A bunch of ill-fitting uniforms, save for this Votorov and his second. Might mean that the Kazaks are having problems filling the ranks.”
“Maybe you can find out more over dinner,” Blaine noted, as he adjusted his tie. “Better yet, I should be able to easily finesse the information out of him. After all, the General believes that I am a member of the Diplomatic Corps.”
A man’s voice came from the next module over. It had a genial British lilt to it, even if what was said made Blaine frown.
“I would know that sense of inflated self-regard anywhere!” the voice called. “If that doesn’t take the biscuit, I don’t know what does. Why, Sir Ian Blaine has come out to the provinces to visit the commoners.”
“And I would know that sense of humor anywhere,” Austen replied, as she led the way into the next area.
The stuffy fake leather interior gave way to another biohazard flower next to the words MODULE B: 0. Inside, the walls, bunk-like sleeping berths, and light-blocking curtains had all been coated in a soothing forest green.
While the antiseptic smell of rubbing alcohol still hung in the air, it had been shoved into the background by the scents of freshly brewed coffee and tea. An older man and a young-looking woman stood inside the module’s kitchenette.
Austen’s face broke out into a smile as she recognized Edward Preble.
The man had a rangy frame, clad in a loose white shirt and wrinkled corduroy slacks. Luminous blue eyes twinkled under a patch of thinning hair the color of steel wool. Yet the man’s most striking feature was a bandage plastered across the bridge of his nose. It was a wide, flesh-colored stripe that gave Preble the absurd look of a prizefighter who’d taken a dive.
“It’s always good to see you, Leigh,” he said warmly, as she came up and clasped his arm. His voice dropped as he added, “I sense that I have you to thank for requesting this old war horse’s services.”
“I did tell Blaine that we needed you,” she admitted, just as quietly. “For your mind, not your time in the marathon.”
“Oh, ho! Ever the sharp one, you are.” Preble turned to greet the other members of Austen’s party. “Believe it or not, it’s good to see you, Ian.”
The edges of Blaine’s mouth pulled up into a smile, though his eyes didn’t follow along.
“Likewise, Ted.”
Preble took a couple of steps forward, limping unsteadily on a quad-foot cane. “And who’s this brawler you’ve brought along?”
“Nicholas Navarro, of Motte and Bailey,” came the polite reply. “We’re a private security firm.”
“Private security? What a friendly way to say ‘mercenary’. Positively chummy.” Before Navarro could object, Preble held up a shaky hand. “No offense meant, I assure you. One of the side effects of my condition is an unfortunate bluntness.”
“Don’t let him fool you,” Austen said. “He’s been this way long before the Parkinson’s. How are you doing with that, Ted?”
“Mister Parkinson hasn’t skipped a day off work.” He winced painfully. “Stage two helped introduce my nose to the edge of a table a few days ago. Still, it didn’t prevent me from boarding a plane.”
“Well, at least I expected to see you here,” Blaine remarked, as his eyes swiveled towards the young woman. She was barely five feet tall and slat-thin, with features so delicate that they could have been molded from porcelain. “I’m afraid I don’t recognize you, are you someone’s assistant?”
“Ah, no, I came alone. I mean, I’m no one’s assistant,” she replied in a voice that was equally high-pitched and high-strung. She tentatively offered a hand in greeting. “I’m Amy Zhao, currently with the University of California at Los Angeles. Bacteriology department.”
Blaine didn’t accept the proffered hand. “How did you get here?”
“I came on the same plane as Ted Preble. We’ve been here less than an hour so far.”
“Don’t give her the third degree,” Preble called over. “I know Amy from a talk she gave at the Santa Barbara conference a couple years back. She could teach you a thing or two.”
“Pardon me for saying so, Doctor Zhao,” Blaine said, “but you don’t look old enough to be served in a bar, let alone be allowed on a mission like this.”
“Ian!” Austen said sharply. “You’re not going to browbeat anyone. You selected her, that means she’s on my team. You live with it.”
“That’s just it! She wasn’t on my list!” He let out a breath. “I asked for Tomasar, Alan, and Palfrey. Where are they?”
“Oh, I can answer that,” Preble said. “Tomasar’s in hospital, broke her ribs in a motorcycle accident the morning you sent the summons out. Alan’s stuck in Saint Louis, there’s a general airport strike going on. And Palfrey’s come down with a bad case of the flu. A nice bit of irony there, don’t you think?”
“I’m not in the mood, Ted.” A thought occurred to Blaine. He eyed Austen with suspicion. “Leigh, you pulled some strings, didn’t you? I should have known you’d go behind my back–”
Blaine’s accusation ended abruptly as the door between Module B and C slid open. A woman with lustrous black hair stepped out and glanced directly at him.
“Ian, please stop before you embarrass yourself further,” she said. “Austen didn’t ask for Doctor Zhao. I did.”
Chapter Fifteen
“Helen Lelache,” Austen said, amazed. “I knew you were on the list, but I didn’t expect to see you here before us.”
“Mere chance,” came the reply, with a dismissive flip of one hand. The trace of a Gallic accent accompanied the gesture. “I was attending a conference in New Delhi. A simple four-hour flight here as opposed to your journey.”
Lelache was of average height and fleshed out more than was fashionable for a model’s catwalk. But even in her vanilla white lab coat and pants, she turned heads. High-wattage green eyes, gull-winged eyebrows, and hair the color of India ink gave her an intense, feline look.
She glanced approvingly towards Navarro. “So this the leader of our private armée. I read about you and your men in the WHO file. You look the part.”
Navarro’s eyes lingered on Lelache a moment too long for Austen’s taste.
“Thank you, Doctor,” he said simply.
Lelache stepped inside, allowing the door behind her to slide shut. She nodded to the men and greeted both Zhao and Austen with a pair of air-kisses along each cheek. When she’d finished doing this with Austen, she added a quick aside.
“It’s good to see another of the Seven Angels again,” she said. “I choose to see it as a good omen, Leigh!”
Navarro took note of her words but said nothing.
“Helen,” Blaine finally said, “would you mind explaining what you’ve been doing here?”
“Of course, Ian. I arrived on scene a day and a half before all of you,” Lelache made her way over to the kitchenette. She made a vague wave that encompassed everything around them. “Just as all this showed up
on one of the cargo planes. I made sure that the men put tab ‘A’ into slot ‘B’, and voilà, our lab was complete.”
Austen nodded. “You made our lives a lot easier. Thank you for doing that.”
“As the acting EIS, I had to see what was needed out here.” Lelache poured herself a quarter-cup of coffee. She dunked a cube of sugar in it and downed the cup’s contents in one long sip before continuing. “Once I did my initial survey, I remembered meeting a young scientist at a conference on the West Coast. Someone with just the right pair of talents I needed.”
“Ah, I haven’t done epidemiology in the field,” Zhao said nervously. “I mean, I’m excited to be along, and I’ll do the work, but I’m surprised you thought of me.”
“The problem is, she’s a bacteriologist,” Blaine pointed out. “We’re lacking a virologist, now that Tomasar’s not coming. What are we going to do if the pathogen’s viral in nature?”
“Then we make do,” Austen said firmly. “Your company used to work with mousepox. That’s a virus, last I checked. So you can fill in the gap yourself. Unless you’ve traded in your skills with an electron microscope for golfing under par?”
Blaine threw her a sour glance. Finally, he nodded his head. “Fine. That much makes sense, anyway.”
“There’s no need for all this drama,” Preble grumped. He limped unsteadily on his cane to stand next to Austen. “The idea that this is some kind of bug is a dodgy one to begin with. Such a high mortality rate, at such speed? Clear indications of a toxin at work. Besides, have you seen the condition of this mine? It’s one big industrial accident waiting to happen!”
Navarro crossed his arms and looked contemplative. “You’re all bringing up good points. But Doctor Lelache is having a good old time watching us spin in circles as she sips her coffee.”
Helen Lelache gave the big man a respectful raise of her cup before putting it aside.
The Devil’s Noose Page 7
