The Nightmare Scenario (6 page)

“If it’s far enough from the mainland, it should be easy enough to contain. I assume the local WHO
office has already contacted the government with a request?”

“It is, indeed, well isolated from the mainland, and yes, the local office has contacted the government, as has the office in Manila, but the request isn’t being viewed favorably.”

“What? Just a month ago they extirpated an entire village without any complaints.”

“Yes, but that was indigenous tribal land. There are ‘real Indonesians’ living on these islands, including members of the upper caste of their society”

“You’ve got to be kidding me! Okay, what’s the fastest way to assert influence over the Indonesian government? We don’t have much time here. If we could successfully put twelve hundred people under house quarantine in such a chaotic city as Beijing for two weeks during the SARS epidemic, surely we can quarantine a small, archipelago?”

“I spoke to Stan about it briefly.” Stan Russell was their ‘maestro politico’ at the WHO. He knew all the ways and tricks around the UN and everything worth knowing about international politics and foreign relations. “He said that if we wanted to be certain to get it done, and done quickly, it would have to go through the Secretary General.”

“What does he think, can I do it over the phone or do I have to brief him in person?”

“Stan said that, given your warnings in your last monthly briefing, the way has been paved, so it should be a relatively easy sell. He did, however, ask me to inform you that by that he does not mean ‘easy,’ just
‘relatively easy.’ Because of the geographic conditions the military effort would not be large.”

“Okay, that brings us to priority number two: information and understanding. I assume there’s someone on the way already?”

“Yes, the local office has dispatched two people.”

“What do we know about them?”

The second act of the opera had apparently ended, and people were streaming out from La Scala for breaths of fresh air. Walt’s voice was temporarily drowned out by their chattering and the clinks of champagne glasses, brought together in toasts. Aeolus turned up the volume on the phone, put a finger into his left ear and started walking away from the crowd. “Come again, Walt. I didn’t get that.”

“I said, absolutely nothing.”

“Okay, get hold of Dr. Chen-Ung Loo at the Singaporean CDC, they’re close enough. Tell him to send his two best guys. Also, figure out who we should send from our side. I wish I could go myself, but I guess I’m of better use coordinating from the center.”

“I think we’d all agree to that, sir. Who do you want to send?”

“I don’t know. Pick someone I like.”

“I don’t believe there’s anyone on staff you’ve expressed any particular liking for, just varying degrees of dislike.”

“Well, then find the ones I dislike the least.”

“Very well, I’ll select someone based on your performance ratings.”

“Come to think of it, forget about our staff. Send Rebecca Summers. She’s seen this before. Find her and get her down there.”

“If I may be so bold, sir, she’s half a world away.”

“That’s fine. Loo’s guys can hold it together until she arrives.”

“As you wish.”

“Oh, and send that intern too, the one called it in the first time.”

“Why would you send him? We know nothing about him. I’m not even sure he’s an MD?”

“You’re wrong. We do know something about him. He has a brain, a good one even. As I’ve told you many times: intrinsic ability trumps experience nine times out of ten. Also he speaks the language, and can probably be on site in a matter of hours. That works for me in terms of a liaison until Rebecca gets down there. Also, it’s going to take me a while to get back, given the hour. Have someone pull an all-nighter and compile
everything
we have for me by tomorrow morning. Someone smart.”

“You really should pay closer attention to your staff.”

“So you keep telling me.”

“Also, if I may say, this would have been a good time to have had a deputy, sir.”

“Which I would have, Walt, if there had ever been a candidate with the qualifications required.”

“Some say your standards are too high.”

“Yes, they are high, and for good reasons.”

“If you say so. There is one more thing. One of the doctors and a nurse at the hospital are showing symptoms.”

“Hmm… For now, I would just write that off as a consequence of the primitive state of their equipment. That reminds me, we need to send gear.”

“Already done. Basics dispatched from Jakarta and proper lab equipment with full kit is on its way from Singapore.”

“Do we have samples?”

“Yes, samples have been sent, blood and swabs, for all I know by raft, to Jakarta.”

“Reroute them to Dr. Loo. They’ll do it faster and better.”

“Consider it done.”

“Good prep-work, Walt. I have no idea how this organization would function without you.”

“Thank you, sir.”

The bell sounded and the noise from the crowd outside the opera house waned as the audience started making its way back inside for the third act. Aeolus watched the men in tuxedos and women in cocktail dresses retreating, floating, wraithlike, across the square, bathed in the monochromatic light from the glowing disc of the moon.

Mother Nature had thrown down the gauntlet, but he was not one to shirk from a challenge. He straightened his back in a defiant posture, staring back at the moon, beckoning her to bring it on.

SIMULTANEOUSLY, CDC HEADQUARTERS, ATLANTA, GEORGIA

R
ebecca once again checked her phone for new texts, in spite of the fact that there had been no sound from her phone since she checked the last time ten minutes ago. Roger was coming to town and they had talked about meeting up for a drink.

Since bumping into Roger in Jakarta three weeks earlier, they had spoken on the phone a couple of times. They probably would have talked more if Rebecca hadn’t been so hell-bent on never calling him twice in a row, without him calling her back first. She didn’t want to seem too eager.

Roger always seemed to be in a good mood when they spoke. He regaled her at length about the documentary that he had just completed. It had earned great praise from his producer. There was apparently a scene with an old Chinese woman, which was particularly gripping. She described how the military lit a fire
in a circle around their neighborhood, letting it burn inwards.

Rebecca, for her part, had told him stories about her fieldwork in Africa, and all the bizarre experiences that had come with it, exaggerating them slightly to make them more interesting than they actually were, in the hope of making the conversations last longer.

She checked her phone again, and as she did so it beeped. The message read: “At the Halo Lounge. Want to meet up?”

She waited three minutes, counting the seconds passing on her wall clock, before she replied: “Sure, I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

She went to the ladies’ room to put on a light layer of make-up, just some foundation and eyeliner. Anything more than that just made her feel awkward; the same way high-heeled shoes did. She swore as she smudged the eyeliner. She looked at herself in the mirror and shook her head. Really? Here she was, nervous as a teenage girl on her first date. Roger had never cared about her make-up before. Why would he do so now? She splashed her face with water, washed away the make-up and left.

A cab and an elevator ride later, she entered the Halo Lounge. She spotted Roger sitting in a quiet corner with two drinks in front of him. The music, muted, hip and soft, mixed with the soft ambient voices, provided a tranquil backdrop of sound. She sat down next to him and said hello.

In front of her was a Grasshopper. “I took the liberty of ordering in advance,” said Roger. “I was hoping you hadn’t changed your habits too much.”

“No I haven’t, thank you. And I see that neither have you, at least in regards to drinks. Still doing those Manhattans on the rocks with white instead of red vermouth?”

“Indeed, my dear.”

They exchanged small talk for a couple of minutes, commenting on people in the crowd, how the place had changed as of late, and how Diet Coke wasn’t the same after Coca-Cola changed the formula to a hundred percent aspartame.

Rebecca was just considering how to shift the conversation to a more personal tone when Roger said: “Actually, this isn’t
only
a social call. I’m working on a story, and I love to get your view on some things.”

Rebecca put down her drink and slowly shook her head.

“Wow, do I feel silly now. Here I thought you wanted to see
me
, and all you want to do is pump me for information for some story? You know, next time, you should just make an appointment with me at the office.”

Rebecca rose and looked around for her backpack, but before she found it Roger had grabbed her wrist.

“Twinkie. I’m sorry. I
did
come here to see you. Really. I’ll prove it if you sit back down.”

After a moment of hesitation Rebecca sat down, crossing her arms in front of her chest.

“I brought you a gift,” Roger said with one of his disarming smiles.

“A gift?” asked Rebecca, suspicion still lingering in her voice.

Roger pulled a large black leather box from his bag, and handed it to Rebecca.

As she opened it and saw what was inside, her anger subsided. It was a silly gift, but still, the thought had to count for something.

“Roger, this is very sweet of you, but I already have a stethoscope, several of them in fact, as do most doctors. Also, I’m not a clinician so I never use them.”

“This isn’t just any stethoscope. It belonged to someone I think you know. It belonged to Dr. Urbani.”

“Dr. Carlo Urbani? Really?”

“You know of him, I take it?”

Rebecca knew very well who Carlo Urbani was. He was the epidemiologist who received the 1999 Nobel Peace Prize on behalf of Doctors Without Borders. He was the one who discovered SARS in Hanoi and blew the whistle. He was the one who established the first containment, and without the time he by that bought the medical community, they would never have been able to stop it. He treated patients without concern for his own life, and died from it as a consequence.

“Of course I do! He’s a hero. And not only to me. Every epidemiologist thinks so. Aeolus Hughes himself wrote his eulogy, for Christ’s sake. Where on earth did you get this?”

Roger shrugged. “Let’s just say that sometimes it pays off to have people who owe you favors.”

“Roger, this is a
fantastic
gift. Thank you. That is really very sweet.”

She leaned across the table, put her hand on his and kissed him gently on the cheek.

“You know what day it is today, right?” he asked.

Rebecca did not.

“It is exactly twelve years since we first met.”

Rebecca felt her eyes tear up and took a deep breath to keep it from showing.

“Boy, now I
really
feel stupid. I am so sorry, Roger.”

“I’m glad you like it. So can we get on with the interview now?”

“Roger…”

“Look, I brought you a gift. You brought me nothing,” Roger said, turning his palms upward, inviting her to challenge his conclusion.

It felt utterly absurd. After this considerable emotional turbulence, the man still wanted to talk about his interview. Well, what could a girl do? Somehow he had earned it.

“Okay, you win. What’s this all about?”

“You remember when I met you at the airport in Jakarta and I asked you whether you were working on an outbreak of some apocalyptic epidemic?”

“Yes.”

“Well, since then the topic has started to interest me a lot, and I’ve read up on it. It’s really exciting stuff. I mean, things like how you guys eradicated smallpox, or stopped SARS from killing the world. The bird flu, the swine flu; all those things which you live and breathe.”

“You’re not the first reporter or writer, for that matter, to think of writing something about epidemics.”

“No, you’re right. That’s all well covered. I have another angle. I think there’s a more interesting story. I’m talking about the story of the people behind it all, the people who live to fight diseases. I’m talking about their personalities, their backgrounds and their motivations.”

“You want to write about me?”

“No, Twinkie, I don’t,” Roger said and chuckled. “Even if I haven’t seen you for a while, I don’t think I have the distance required to be sufficiently objective. I’ve set my sights on another person; someone I understand you know, at least a bit. I’m talking about Dr. Aeolus Pentecost Hughes.”

“Well, that could indeed make for an interesting read. He’s quite the character. But what kind of story are you writing? I’ll have no part in smearing him. There are a lot of people who would love to see that happen, but I am not one of them. I have the greatest respect for the man.”

“I don’t know yet. See this as your chance to weigh in. Help me understand the man behind the CV. I know he’s one of the most knowledgeable men on the planet in his field, but what’s he
like
?”

“He’s not an easy man to understand.”

“That’s why it’ll make a good story! Give me a thirty-second rundown of his personality.”

“For starters, he is
transcendentally
sharp, and he appreciates that quality in others. He has a very low tolerance for the absence of it and people he considers to be, to put it in his own words, ‘A few prawns short of a
paella’. He can cut people apart in public in ways that are, how to put it… just not socially acceptable. Some say he’s narcissistic and elitist. I would just say he’s an acquired taste.”

“So he struggles with social connection? I mean, I haven’t been able to find
any
girlfriends or even quick flings, and no boyfriends either, for that matter.”

“There’s some truth to that. His eccentricity, the way he dresses, his cane, his allegories, quotes and expressions; they all work to create a distance from others. It feels as if he doesn’t really belong here; like he’s from another time and place.”

Two fresh drinks appeared out of nowhere and a waiter swiftly replaced their empty glasses. She hadn’t seen Roger re-order. He had to have ordered this refill in advance, which meant that he’d been certain she would stay for more than one drink. Cocky. As always.