The Nightmare Scenario (10 page)

He paused.

“But there’s also another possibility. This might be what we informally within these walls refer to as the Nightmare Scenario. The worst case is a strain with a high mortality rate; a strain with a high share of asymptomatic people; a strain that has the capacity to jump back and forth between animals and humans; a strain against which our vaccines are ineffective, and which is
so different that efforts of producing a new one takes longer than it does for the pandemic to sweep across the globe. Now, if that is what we’re talking about, a lot of lives are at stake, and by that I don’t mean millions, I am talking about a much larger number.”

The attention of everyone in the room was absolutely fixed on Aeolus. The silence was complete. A fly’s footfall would have been distinctly heard.

“I know many of you think I am arrogant and that I don’t appreciate your work or the efforts you put in.

“That’s because I hold you to a higher standard than you have ever been held to in your life. This is not amateur hour; this is the Champions League final.

“To use an analogy, I think you would agree that a surgeon has an important and very difficult job. During an operation, he has to make split-second decisions while holding a human life in his hands. Well, no matter how demanding a task that may be, ours is more difficult. We don’t hold
one
life in our hands. We hold millions. In this case maybe hundreds of millions.

“Now that’s not unique. Researchers who develop vaccines often produce results of the same magnitude. But their work is long-term, slow and incremental. They don’t have to make the flash decisions we might. We need the skills and abilities not only of the best surgeons or the brightest researchers; we need a combination of both. You think I don’t appreciate your work. You think that I think of you unintelligent and lazy. I do not. I
know
that you are competent and dedicated.”

He let that sink in, and then continued. The reason I know that is the following.

“During my tenure I have, as you all know, fired a fair amount of people. Many of you have disagreed with those decisions, but they have not been without purpose. I have fired everyone I thought was not up to task we are about to undertake. I have interacted with most of you. You’ve given presentations to me, written reports that I’ve read, or done the underlying research for them. And despite this you have survived. You have lived up to the highest standards. And that, my colleagues, is the greatest compliment and statement of recognition you will ever receive.

“When Churchill took command of Great Britain during the Second World War, he told his compatriots that they were not ready for war. Many of the leadership positions, both political and military, were held by cronies who had been placed there due to nepotism and favors, rather than competence. Churchill made it clear that before they could go to war, they had to replace these people with others selected on the basis of ability. Before that they wouldn’t stand a chance against the Germans.

“Well, we might now be facing our own war, and luckily for us, we have already done what Churchill needed to do.”

This was the critical point to get across and it seemed to be working. Some of the staff was looking down, probably regretting something said about him behind his back at some time. Others yet, were nodding slightly in recognition of what he had just said. He moved in for the kill.

“You are the best and the brightest within your respective fields of work, and together we
are
ready.
And I want you all to know that in this battle we are
all
together. This victory will not be won by the medical staff alone. You all have a role to play. The elevators must work – always. No printer can be out of paper – ever. A power shortage could cripple us. A missed call because of an overtaxed switchboard could mean hundreds of deaths. No task is insignificant. We will stand together and we will succeed or fail – together.”

In the back of the crowd, close to the large glass entrance doors, Aeolus saw a middle-aged man with a broom. The man straightened his back and nodded at Aeolus – slowly, proudly and confidently.

“Right now, we’re in a bit of a hiatus, awaiting reports of what exactly the status is in Eastern Indonesia, and for our troops to get into position.

“So I want you all to go home to your families. Spend some quality time with them. Because, if worst comes to worst, you will not be seeing a lot of them in the days, weeks or even months to come.

“You cannot, however, repeat what I have said here. We have to manage the information that goes out carefully, at this stage, lest we start a panic that could be a greater danger than the virus itself.

“At the exits, there are leaflets detailing what you can and cannot say to your families. If any one of you would disregard these instructions, your greatest problem will not be getting fired. You will be guilty of negligent homicide and have to carry on your conscience the deaths of more people than any serial murderer in history.”

When you come back to work, keep the following in mind: This war is going to be fought over several
different time horizons. The effort of containment and quarantine is a day-to-day exercise. The work of understanding the virus has a timeframe of weeks and longer term research such as vaccine development has a timescale of months. Make sure you know which timeframe you are fighting in and pace yourselves accordingly.

“This might or might not be it. In any case, we need to get ready, and if it comes to it, let’s make sure we win this one for the home team.

“Godspeed.”

With that, Aeolus stepped down off the desk and started walking away from the podium.

The silence was broken and people started talking, gathering their possessions and preparing to leave. But the talk wasn’t that of excessive excitement or panic. No, it was the muted and controlled conversations of people filled with a concern kept in check by determination and a sense of pride. The speech had worked.

As Aeolus headed toward his office, something in the corner of his eye caught his attention and he stopped to listen to what transpired.

There were three junior staffers walking up to Ed. One of them said, “We have no families to go home to. What we can do to help?”

“Well,” said Ed, “what do you work with?”

“I coordinate efforts against malaria in Africa,” said one.

“And I fight an uphill battle against the spread of polio,” said another.

The third one sounded embarrassed. “Well, actually I don’t work with tactical epidemiology at all. I
study the genetics of certain diseases and try to document their origins and spread.”

“Okay,” said Ed, “here’s what I need you to do. We don’t know much more about this strain apart from that it’s new and highly lethal. It shares some symptoms with the Spanish flu – rare symptoms that we’ve not seen in a while. I’m pretty well up to speed on the recent pandemics like the swine flu, but I don’t know enough about the Spanish flu and I need to get on top of it fast.”

“Mr. Malaria and Ms. Polio, you will compile everything we know about the Spanish flu, and by that I mean
everything
: Research, popular literature, eyewitness reports, I want it all. And I don’t want just a pile of papers on my desk. I need an upfront synthesis of the most important points and cataloguing and indexing of all the details in the supporting material. In short, you’re going to give me a full bibliography of everything written on the Spanish flu, and you’re going to do it in eight hours.”

The two staffers nodded and ran for the library.

Aeolus had never seen anyone run in the WHO offices before, and he liked what he saw.

“What about me?” the geneticist asked. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Yes there is, Mr. Genetics,” said Ed. “If I’m not misinformed, there has been some DNA sequencing efforts on the Spanish flu, based on material found in Alaska.”

“Yes, that’s correct.”

“Is the sequencing complete yet?”

“I don’t know for sure. The last I heard was that they’d finished two gene pairs about a decade ago.
Unless there were problems with the sample they should have been done a long time ago.”

“Do you know the guys working on this?”

“I know
of
them. The leader is a Dr. Tauenberger, based out of Bethesda.”

“Okay, get a hold of them. Figure out what they know and what we can learn from the sequencing.”

“Consider it done. I’ll report back in a couple of hours.”

Aeolus smiled as he started walking again. They
were
ready, or at least as ready as they were ever going to be. If it came to war, they’d put up one hell of a fight.

DIUS
PRETERITUS

(Of days past)

SEVEN YEARS EARLIER, OCTOBER 9
^TH
, 9 AM, BAGGAGE CLAIM, BALTIMORE WASHINGTON AIRPORT

A
eolus was waiting for his luggage to arrive on the conveyor belt. The airport was packed. People struggling to navigate their carts repeatedly bumped into Aeolus, something that was met with a petrifyingly cold stare of reproach and contempt.

One of the great inconveniences following September 11 was that he was no longer allowed to pack his straight razor in his carry-on luggage. He had always traveled light – carry-on only – but nowadays he had to check in his bag. A colleague had suggested he switch to a drugstore razor, but Aeolus had never even considered that. There was no dignity in shaving with a piece of plastic. Besides, with the skill acquired over years of training, the straight razor did give a closer shave.

He was on his way to give a lecture at a conference, and was hoping to fly up to Boston afterward to
join the weekly epidemiologist drink at the Back Bay Social Club with Loo and the others. He hadn’t been for a long while, but now, with Yelena back in Russia, he could once again join that rare gathering of people that made him feel as if he actually fit in.

The last few years had been good to him. True, the work had not been particularly exciting and there was more representation and politicking than he’d expected. Still, he had been promoted to Assistant Director-General. Gabriel Hardy, or “The Old Man” as he was affectionately referred to among the WHO senior management, was aging quickly. Aeolus was convinced that within a couple of years, he would have the man’s job, the job he had wanted and worked for, for so many years.

The Old Man had been a great leader of the WHO during his tenure. His temperament and focus was different from Aeolus’s. The Old Man focused on great challenges that required patience, where victories were measured in small, incremental steps. These were the campaigns against malaria, tuberculosis, polio, HIV, river blindness and dengue fever. It was an honorable effort, and it was important work, no matter how slowly it moved. At some point it would show results, and maybe, if they were lucky, they would manage to eradicate those diseases just as they had smallpox. But not in the Old Man’s lifetime. And probably not even in Aeolus’s. Still, the Old Man kept on fighting.

When it came to tactical epidemiology though, the very temperament that made the Old Man suitable for leading the fight against malaria worked against him. He
did not have the sort of personality needed to make the hard decisions required in responding to a hanta fever outbreak. That wasn’t a problem. That was why he had Aeolus.
That
was what Aeolus exceled in, like no one in the WHO before him.

While he was waiting, his phone rang. It was the Old Man.

“Hughes, we have a bit of a situation over there in the US.”

“Okay.”

“There’s been a case of Ebola landing in the States, and naturally they’re all flying off the handle.”

“That’s to be expected.”

“Since you’re on-site, I want you to sit in and represent the WHO at the meeting.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to do it yourself via video?”

“No, it’s better to have someone there in person. And also, quite frankly, you’re better at Ebola than I am.”

“In person, sir? I’m not sure I understand. Atlanta’s at least three hours away.”

“You’re not going to the CDC. You’re going to the White House. Baltimore is still close to Washington, right? It hasn’t moved since I studied geography or something?”

“The White House?”

“Yes, the Situation Room. They’re taking it very seriously. You’re going to meet the president. Please try to restrain yourself. As I’ve told you many times: no one likes the smartest kid in the class.”

“Even when he’s right?”

“Hughes, your job is not to be right. It’s to make people listen to you and take the actions we need them to.”

“Yes, sir. I’ll do my best, sir. But how do I even get into the White House?”

“I don’t know. Take a cab and ask for the main entrance, I guess.

“You should have been given clearance. They have a copy of your passport. As long as you make sure not to smile they’ll probably recognize you.

“So much for having drinks in Boston…” thought Aeolus. He left his luggage and marched briskly through the crowd, parting the ocean of people with his raised cane. He made it out, got into a cab and paid the driver a substantial amount of money to drive him to the White House as fast as humanly possible.

TWO HOURS LATER, WHITE HOUSE SITUATION ROOM, WASHINGTON D.C.

A
fter some confusion at the main entrance, which apparently was not where Aeolus was supposed to have shown up, two tall and muscular gentlemen led Aeolus down to that infamous place referred to as the Situation Room. The Situation Room was not a room so much as a complex of rooms covering five thousand square feet in the basement of the West Wing. He was led into the main conference room, a rectangular space with an oval table seating thirteen people. There were several screens around the walls showing videoconferences with the headquarters of various government agencies. It was not all that different from the WHO’s SHOC, disregarding the lack of ability to launch nuclear weapons from the latter.

Aeolus was apparently late. There were ten or so people in the room. The president sat at the head of the table. The others, whom Aeolus did not recognize, seemed to be a combination of secretaries of various
departments, military officers and someone who Aeolus was pretty sure was Intelligence.