Outbreak

by Davis Bunn

  This new Kenneth had traveled to Africa. He had become a beloved figure by these people. He was an ally to a group whose sole purpose was to help and heal and save lives. What Theo saw as he looked around was that Kenny had become a brother worthy of knowing. Of loving. A brother Theo had never even dared to wish he might have.

  He heard the doctor say, “Following the Ghanaian outbreak, you know what I’m talking about, yes?”

  “Of course,” Avery replied. “The Ebola epidemic.”

  “The last time colleagues of mine gathered for a regional meeting, we set up an unofficial chat room. Adding anyone new could only be done after two or more of our unit met them in person. All communication regarding discoveries was limited to this one channel.”

  Avery jerked back from the table. “Wait, you’re saying you had advance warning?”

  “Let’s stay on target here.” She continued to talk between bites. “Our chat room is open only to clinicians we know and trust. It doesn’t have a name. There’s no link allowed to anything outside. It’s not the dark web, but we share a lot of the same traits. Security is tight.”

  Della asked, “You’re saying governments or international agencies are opposed to your talking?”

  Lanica grimaced as she rolled another ball of fufu. “That’s a western type of question. Everybody in my line of work remains directly tied to groups beyond our national borders. Funding, supplies, they all go through various channels. These are vital to our existence. We deal with them on a daily basis.”

  Della nodded. “You can’t risk upsetting them.”

  Avery protested, “I don’t see why you can’t answer my question.”

  “She’s trying to.” Della did not take her eyes off the doctor. “But first we have to understand her position.”

  Dr. Lanica Amadou smiled. Her entire visage went from sparking with anger to easygoing. “What was your name again?”

  “Della Haverty.”

  “And you are connected to this how exactly?”

  “Officially I’m in the PR department.” Della took a hard breath. “But I also work as a journalist.”

  Theo found himself regretting how swiftly the smile vanished. Lanica snapped, “This must stay totally off the record.”

  “I understand. It will. You have my word.”

  The doctor continued to squint across the table. “Why should I trust you?”

  “Kenneth Bishop does. Otherwise I wouldn’t be here.”

  Theo cleared his throat and spoke for the first time since sitting down. “I trust her as well. Totally.”

  The doctor nodded once, tilted her bowl, and spooned out the last bites. She asked, “Where was I?”

  “Funding and supplies,” Della prompted.

  “You listen. Good.” Lanica pushed her bowl to one side. “Which means our work is very politically charged.”

  Avery complained, “That makes no sense. Why would a government or health organization object to your stopping an outbreak before it becomes a crisis?”

  Lanica’s smile returned, tighter this time. But Theo liked the gleam in her dark gaze and how she remained focused on Della. The journalist.

  Della said, “It’s not about the crisis. It’s about what comes before and after. The impact beyond the health issue.”

  Lanica’s smile reached her eyes. “You must be a very good journalist.”

  “I think so,” Della replied.

  Lanica turned to the scientist. “The OECD estimates that the Ebola virus outbreak cost the Ghanaian economy six and a half billion dollars in lost revenue, mostly tourism and industrial investment that went elsewhere. That’s almost fifteen percent of the country’s entire annual income. African nations are terrified of being seen as the center of a new epidemic.”

  Della nodded slowly. “Being seen.”

  “Exactly.”

  “So this is about appearances.”

  Avery said, “This is nuts, is what it is. We’re talking about saving lives.”

  Della and Lanica just sat there, watching each other.

  Avery shook his head. “I’m the only one who saw those people. I know what this thing can do. It’s a killer of the first order and—”

  “People die all the time,” Della said. “What’s the life expectancy in Guinea-Bissau?”

  “Just over fifty,” Lanica answered. “We’re working on improving that.”

  “But to do this work you need outside help.”

  “Outside funding,” Lanica corrected. “Outside supplies.”

  “Right. And if there’s an outbreak?”

  “The western organizations come in and take over.”

  “All the funding goes toward halting this crisis.”

  Avery protested, “But this is a crisis!”

  “Who says?” Lanica asked.

  “I do. We do.”

  “One lone western scientist. Talking about people dying from . . . what was it you found?”

  Della replied, “The flu.”

  Lanica asked Avery, “Do you think these national governments will just sit on their hands while you cry to the world about people dying from bad colds?”

  “But the WHO—”

  “You think the World Health Organization exists out there, totally disconnected from all these nations? Why do you think there is such fierce infighting for the top posts?”

  “For funding,” Della said. “For control of information.”

  “For everything,” Lanica confirmed, still watching Avery. “And you want to endanger this by putting out an alert. For which there is no hard evidence, other than a couple of villages that have been struck by bad colds.”

  “And the measles,” Della added.

  “They will do everything in their power to keep potential outbreaks from becoming the next bad headline,” Lanica said.

  “Which is why you set up your chat room,” Della said. “An unofficial channel to discuss health issues at their very earliest stages.”

  “We cover numerous elements in these online conversations.” Lanica turned her attention back to Della. “We discuss drugs we have on hand or that can be easily obtained, and how they might be used for treatment of diseases not listed in the official protocols.”

  “Which is totally prohibited,” Della said.

  “In the West,” Lanica corrected. “Not allowed in western nations.”

  Della punctuated her pause with a long breath. “Will you tell us about the rumors?”

  “Of course,” Lanica replied. “That’s why you’re here.”

  But her reply was cut short by voices rising beyond the portal. Then a massive figure filled the doorway, blocking out the light. Henri searched the commons room, then rushed over. “Mr. Bruno, he says we must leave now!”

  “What’s the matter?”

  “He says word has come, Mr. Kenneth has been arrested.”

  Lanica was instantly on her feet. “I warned him he was taking a foolish risk to go public at this stage. I told him this would happen.”

  “We can’t stop now.” Della remained planted on the bench. “We need to know—”

  “You think the arrests will stop with that one man?” Lanica started moving for the exit. “They will know he sent you. Or suspect it, which is the same thing.” She reached the door and turned to wave them forward. “Come or die, that is your only choice.”

  sixteen

  Theo followed the others out of the commons hall and through the compound. Lanica rushed into her office and returned a split second later with a purse and sunglasses. She directed them toward the front entryway. Theo could see how the woman’s naturally combative streak would appeal to Kenny. His brother was intently focused on the deal to the exclusion of all else. Lanica used her bullishness to combat local inertia and provide her patients with the best possible care. No wonder Kenny had offered her funding. Or that this doctor chose to trust Kenny with her secrets.

  As soon as Lanica appeared, the soldiers lolling about the truck went through a re
markable transformation. A few of them actually snapped to attention. Almost all of them broke into broad smiles. She greeted the officer respectfully. When she made her request, the officer responded with a crisp salute before opening the passenger door. She refused politely, indicating that she wanted to ride in the back with the others.

  Once they were under way, Lanica said, “The rumors started surfacing about eleven months ago. Clinicians up and down the western coastline heard of villages perishing from illnesses that made no sense. One person dying of a chest cold or a cut finger or a virulent skin rash, of course. But entire towns?”

  Their return through the main market was markedly different. Women spotted the doctor and raised pale palms to the sky and called greetings. Children ran alongside the truck, reaching out to her. The soldiers shouted and tried to wave them away. The children laughed and yelled back and kept running. Lanica gave no sign she noticed anything at all.

  She went on, “The first doctor to suggest a connection works in the Port Harcourt area. You know this place?”

  Avery was leaning forward so far he risked spilling onto the truck’s floor with every bump. “Nigeria, right?”

  “Correct. And one of the most polluted regions on earth. Chemical runoffs from the regional oil industry have poisoned the groundwater and killed the local fishing industry. Terrible problems have arisen among the tribal populations. A clinician working with Doctors Without Borders began noticing a change among the local children. You need to understand, if you get beyond the compounds connecting the oil fields to the port, the road system is dreadful. Many tribal communities are cut off through the entire rainy season. But last year, when the transport links became reconnected, the returning doctors noticed that local kids were closer to normal weight, their energy was excellent, and their skin and eyes indicated a new high-protein diet. A month or so later, the entire village was dead.”

  They turned onto a main highway that took them past the president’s palace, a luxurious compound that was a world away from the market’s clamor. Blooming trees lined the central garden.

  The truck accelerated into the passing lane, and Lanica raised her voice to be heard. “The doctor interviewed neighboring villages, all of whom showed the same positive indications. Especially the children. The village elders spoke of how the fishermen from the lost village had brought in a new harvest. That was how they described it. A harvest from the sea.”

  Avery nodded. “Then they died too.”

  “No,” Lanica replied. “Those villages remained healthy. The doctors warned them not to eat the seaweed. The villagers ignored the doctors. Their children kept getting stronger. Deaths actually declined.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  Lanica shrugged. “I can only tell you what I know. When the doctors returned a month later, the village elders complained that the seaweed was no more. The children cried at night from hunger. The doctors found the first signs of malnutrition. But nothing more. No deaths. No strange illnesses. Nothing.”

  Della asked, “What does Kenneth think happened?”

  Lanica grimaced. “Now we’re moving into rumors and conjecture.”

  “It has to be more than that,” Theo objected. “He didn’t dive headlong into this simply because of suspicions.”

  The truck slowed and halted by a military checkpoint. Up ahead, the Bissau airport stood at the center of a broad dusty plain. A few cars and trucks dotted the empty parking area. On the terminal’s other side, three planes stood silent in the wavering heat. In the distance, a jet’s engines began whining to life.

  The officer stepped down from the truck and exchanged salutes with the guards. All of them turned toward Lanica. She in turn exchanged melodious greetings, then turned back and continued more quietly, “All along the western Africa coast, people are speaking of this Lupa. The seaweed arrives almost overnight. Within a week it has grown so thick that a child can walk across it. Then it turns a brilliant red color. The entire sea appears like a flower. The stench is acrid and so strong it will burn the eyes. A few days later, the smell dissipates. A while after that, the seaweed begins to split into patches. In a matter of weeks, it melts away.”

  Avery said, “That level of regional knowledge suggests the growth has happened before this season.”

  “Kenneth made the same assumption, and I agree.”

  “So the seaweed appeared years before the deaths began?”

  “Perhaps. Yes, perhaps. We have started gathering formal data. I should know more soon. All I can say at this point is, the fatalities only started this year.” Lanica gestured toward the terminal. “Now, inside, all of you. Before it’s too late.”

  The airport terminal was a throwback to an era of oppressive regimes and closed borders and fear. The terminal building was rimmed by a hurricane fence with razor wire coiled along its top. The entrance walk was bordered by two sandbagged military positions. Sharp-eyed troops checked their passports and spoke with the officer who had accompanied them from the clinic. They were then waved through with a contemptuous gesture. More soldiers patrolled the terminal’s front veranda, with still more inside the building. All of them armed, alert, and quietly hostile.

  Bruno and two of his team were standing just inside the entryway. He greeted them all with handshakes and shoulder pats intended for the watching troops. The people waiting for flights were mostly silent. The airline employees and airport staff behaved stoically and did their best to pretend the soldiers were not present. Lanica led them to the Air Portugal desk, where a senior clerk spotted the doctor and revealed the terminal’s only smile. They shook hands and talked in low tones for a few moments before Lanica turned and said, “Give the man your passports. You have money?”

  “I do,” Bruno said.

  “Cash is best. The plane leaves in less than an hour, and getting a credit card approval at such short notice—”

  “I have American dollars,” Bruno assured her. “How much do you need?”

  Lanica and the clerk shifted over to where he could work the computer. As he typed, Lanica said, “This is Carlos. His daughter is diabetic. I have helped care for her.”

  “Dr. Lanica saved my daughter’s life,” Carlos said in heavily accented English. “You have luggage?”

  Bruno handed Theo a backpack. “Everything was misplaced except for this.”

  Carlos showed no surprise at the news. “I have only one first-class seat.”

  “No,” Theo said. “We all need to sit together.”

  “Three one-way economy tickets to Lisbon will cost four thousand two hundred US dollars.”

  Theo thought the amount was absurdly high. But Bruno made no protest as he opened his belt pouch. Henri stepped in to shield Bruno and the money while he counted. “Here’s four thousand five hundred.”

  “That is not necessary,” Carlos replied.

  “We would all be grateful if you would accept,” Lanica said.

  “Doctor, after all you have done for me and my family, I could not possibly—”

  “Take the money,” she said. “For your associates. And your daughter.”

  Carlos jerked a nod, pocketed the money, and handed back the passports and boarding passes. “I will personally see you to the plane.”

  “We couldn’t ask for more,” Bruno replied. He handed Theo a much larger wad of bills and the ship’s satellite phone. “In case you run into problems at the other end.”

  Theo pocketed both. “You’ll be compensated, yes?”

  Henri laid a massive hand on Theo’s shoulder. “One thing you don’t got to worry about, man, is the boss getting paid.”

  Bruno said, “I’ll phone ahead, arrange your flights back to Washington.”

  Lanica pointed them away from the airline desk. “Let’s step over here. Carlos, perhaps you will join us when it is time?”

  “But of course.”

  Lanica held on to their passports and boarding passes as she walked them toward the security checkpoint. “We will st
and here, and the customs officials will see that you have come with guards and with local friends.”

  “Thank you so much for everything.”

  “You will give your brother a message for me?”

  Theo watched her reach into her purse, extract a folded sheet of paper, and slip it into his passport. “Of course.”

  Lanica handed over Della’s and Avery’s passports but held on to his. “You must tell him I grow increasingly certain his theories are correct.” She tapped one finger on his passport and the papers it now held. “The evidence is there, for anyone who wishes to look beyond self-interest and truly see. You understand what I am saying?”

  “Not yet,” Theo replied. “But I will soon. I hope.”

  “The truth they wish for you to see here in Africa is not the real truth. It is a fragment. They do not lie. They mask what they want to keep hidden behind partial truths.”

  “I’m hearing the words,” Theo said. “But . . .”

  She motioned with her chin toward the sunlight beyond the dusty windows. “Here we deal with one reality. We identify an illness and we treat it. When we can. When the medicines are available. When we can reach patients in time, and have the resources and properly trained personnel.”

  Theo nodded slowly. “That is what the local leaders want us to focus on. That things are getting better, and there is hope for the future.”

  “Correct. You have seen how busy we are, dealing with our little fragment of truth. What is more, we must remain here. Under their supervision. Being watched.”

  Theo glanced around the terminal. What he saw was the proximity of danger everywhere. The risk of becoming caught up in everything that loomed beyond the checkpoints and the razor wire and the fear that stained every face. “I understand.”

  “Understand this. In your search for the hidden reality, start by asking why your brother was arrested. Why he came looking for your help.” She handed over his passport. “Tell your brother that his friends on the front line all hope and pray he survives.”