Outbreak

by Davis Bunn

  seventeen

  The Air Portugal plane to Lisbon was a vintage DC-9 that smelled very musty. The economy seats were narrow and did not have enough legroom. They sat midway back, filling the middle row. Theo took the center seat. He shared a steadying breath with Della and Avery as the plane lifted off the ground.

  An hour later they were served coffee and stale sandwiches. When the stewardess took their trays away, Theo asked Avery, “You mind telling me how you got involved in all this?”

  “How far back do you want me to go?”

  “We have time now,” Theo replied. “We might not later. Start at the beginning.”

  Avery’s motions became slow, deliberate. “I can’t remember not being interested in biology. I’ve always been fascinated by the mechanics of life. When I got to university, I met a professor who felt the same way. She’s dead now.”

  Theo felt Della shift forward on his other side. Theo said, “You clicked.”

  “She became my thesis advisor, I worked with her for three years, and when her health forced her into retirement, I took over her lab.” Avery looked around him. “If only I’d known then what I know now . . .”

  Della leaned closer still. “This field trip only makes your decisions all the more right.”

  Avery smiled. “Now you sound like my wife.”

  “I look forward to meeting her,” Della said.

  “When I told Claudia about what had happened on this trip and that I wanted to come home, she told me to consider all this through the lens of the greater good.”

  Della said, “Wow.”

  “All the children who are waiting for me to help them. All the people who can’t help themselves.” Avery shook his head. “How do you argue with that?”

  “I’m glad you didn’t,” Theo said. “For all our sakes.”

  Avery was silent for a time. Then, “Everybody in my field talks about being on the cutting edge. All the prizes and the recognition go there.”

  Theo nodded. He heard the same words at every academic conference he attended. “Academic fields are changing fast.”

  “When I was an undergraduate, it was all about microbiology. By the time I started my doctorate, it had shifted to the molecular level. Now it’s genetics and proteomics.”

  “And getting more specialized all the time.”

  “Right. Brain function, cellular differentiation, on and on. Thousands of new questions and problems we didn’t even know existed five years ago.” Avery picked at a crack in his armrest. “I still love microbiology. Even though the field is rapidly becoming sidelined. I told myself I didn’t mind the second-rate lab. Or how I had to wait in line for my turn at the new equipment. Or scrambling for scraps when it came to funding.”

  Della said, “Then Kenneth Bishop showed up.”

  “We met at a conference. Second rate, of course, because the world had moved on and I hadn’t. But he claimed he was there because of my studies.” Avery stared at the seat back just inches from his face. “Your brother has an amazing mind. Oh, I’d heard all the stories about him and the opioids. I was warned a dozen times to stay away, to turn down the offer, keep my tenured position. You know what? There was a lot of jealousy behind their concern. And even to those who really were worried about me, my answer was the same. I didn’t care then, and I don’t care now.”

  Theo asked, “What did he say that convinced you?”

  “He called vaccines the ugly stepsister of the pharmaceutical industry. He bragged about how he had bought the company for a song.”

  “I heard him use those exact words,” Della said. “It was the first corporate gathering I attended as an employee. He described how the other prospective buyers treated the entire industry as a has-been. But Kenneth Bishop saw vaccines as the start of a whole new empire.”

  Avery looked at Della and smiled. “He gave me the same spiel.”

  “Only it wasn’t a spiel, was it?”

  “Most of these other companies Kenneth spoke about, they see vaccines as no longer sexy. All the real work has already been done.”

  Della nodded. “Like your field, or so they thought. But something changed, didn’t it?”

  “Everything changed,” Avery replied. “Superbugs began rampaging through hospitals, untreatable with our latest and strongest antibiotics. As Kenneth said, vaccines became the only bullet left in an otherwise empty gun.”

  “Problem is, you only make a few pennies on each vaccine,” Della said.

  “True, but you can sell millions of them,” Avery said. “Billions, in some cases.”

  “Right. A billion pennies is a lot of money.”

  Avery smiled. “Kenneth Bishop said that as well.” He closed his eyes then, shutting out the world and ending the conversation.

  Theo thought the scientist looked exhausted. He supposed they all did. He turned to Della, intending to tell her how great it was to feel so in sync with a beautiful woman. He wanted to tell her a lot of things. But she had leaned back and closed her eyes too. Della sighed once, a soft release of tension and breath. She appeared to have drifted off.

  All Theo saw of the Lisbon airport was a long corridor. They were met planeside by a pretty lady in a blue Delta uniform, who personally led them to the jet bound for D.C. The looks given them by other passengers when they boarded suggested the plane had been held up just for them. As soon as they were seated, Theo turned on the satellite phone, asked Della for the number, and called his brother. The phone rang and rang. Finally, an automated voice came on the line and said that the mailbox was full. The line went dead. Theo sat holding the phone, wondering. Even if Kenny was still in police custody, surely somebody would be monitoring his phone, Amelia or his assistant or the lawyer. Somebody. The fact that no one answered was somehow more troubling than hearing Kenny had been arrested.

  Delta’s first-class mini-cubicles made conversation difficult, and he was exhausted. Theo ate an excellent meal, then slept the rest of the flight. He woke when the attendant touched his shoulder and said they were arriving.

  Soon as they landed, Theo used the satellite phone and again called his brother. This time it was answered on the first ring. A young woman said, “Kenneth Bishop’s phone.”

  “Hi, this is Theo, his brother. I was wondering if—”

  “Oh, yes, Dr. Bishop. We were hoping you would call. Just one moment, please.”

  “Wait, I really . . .” He went quiet. The woman was already gone.

  The phone clicked several times, then a familiar male voice said, “Preston Borders here. Dr. Bishop?”

  “Yes.”

  “Where are you now?”

  “We just landed in Washington. How is my brother?”

  “That is not the most pressing issue. The authorities seek to implicate you in what they claim are his activities in the illegal drug trade.”

  “That’s ridiculous. I haven’t seen my brother in years.”

  “They are investigating Mr. Kenneth’s financial status and can clearly see that you are currently operating under the guise of his company.” There was a faint buzzing noise. “Hold just a moment, please. I have another call.”

  Theo looked up to see Della watching him over the divide. “What’s up?”

  “I’m not sure. It sounds like—”

  “Dr. Bishop, are you there?”

  “Still here.” He held up an index finger to Della. Wait.

  “We have been monitoring your whereabouts since learning of this development. My associate has just arrived at Dulles. Marilyn Riles is a specialist in criminal litigation. Might I suggest you formally retain her services?”

  Theo spotted three officials in blue FBI windbreakers appear in the plane’s doorway. “Yes. I agree.”

  “Splendid. Might I suggest you extend that representation to include your two companions?”

  “Absolutely. Federal agents have just shown up.”

  “Instruct your associates they are to say nothing unless your attorney is present. Good luck,
Dr. Bishop. I hope we can speak again very soon.”

  Theo had survived several near-death experiences. Hiking in winter had brought him very close to razor-edge danger. He had been trapped once in the High Sierras by a freak snowstorm. Another time, six of them had been attacked by a bear, which they learned later had been wounded by a hunter too drunk to track down his prey and finish what he’d started. Every such high-threat event had drawn from Theo new discoveries about his own character. Theo knew now that he responded to such elemental moments, when life and death were separated by the thinnest of veils, with calm. Just like now.

  He sat in the first-class seat and felt the world drift into a fog of his own making. He knew Avery and Della were speaking to him, wanting to know what was happening. But first he had to plan. When he blinked and refocused, Theo felt as though he had been away for hours. But he knew it was probably less than a minute.

  He kept his voice low. “Both of you be quiet, lean in, and listen.”

  Something in his tone silenced them.

  He went on, “We only have a second. No talking back. No arguments. Our safety and our success rely upon your getting this right. To anyone who wants to know where we’ve been, tell them this and nothing more. Kenny sent us to Guinea-Bissau to inspect his hospital. Della, he wanted you to develop a story. Avery, there were infections and possible vaccine issues he wanted you to check out. Demand legal representation. Help is on the way. That’s it. Here they come.”

  They were still frozen in place when the blue-jacketed agents stopped in front of them and said, “Della Haverty, Theodore Bishop, Avery Madison?”

  “Yes,” Theo replied.

  “You’re coming with us.”

  Avery asked, “What about our things?”

  “An agent will see to them.” The agent pulled plastic zip-tie handcuffs from his pocket. “Stand up and turn around.”

  eighteen

  They were cuffed and escorted off the plane with one agent on lead and three more gripping their left elbows. The agents guided them up the gangway, past all the wide-eyed airport staff with their wheelchairs and manifests. Another agent sat behind the wheel of an electric cart just inside the terminal entrance. Avery blinked and swallowed nervously and stayed silent. The ride was endless. Theo found the stares that tracked them only mildly distressing. He was mostly concerned about his two friends.

  They were taken through a Personnel Only gate and down a series of ramps, deep into Dulles Airport’s underbelly. They halted before a glass wall adorned with a number of shields—FBI, Homeland, DEA, Airport Security, Customs and Border Control. The agents took hold of their elbows and walked them through the bullpen. A dark-skinned woman with eyes like broken shards of obsidian emerged from her office. “Which one of you is Theodore Bishop?”

  “That’s me.”

  “Put him in one,” she said. “Two and three are occupied. The scientist can cool his heels in four. The PR lady here can sit her turn on the bench.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Her face was creased by two deep furrows that ran from the crest of her nose down either cheek. When she squinted at Theo, the folds deepened like ancient scars. “Look, Theodore . . . or should I call you Theo?”

  “Lawyer.”

  “It would be in your best interests not to mention those of your pals—”

  “I am publicly demanding my constitutional right to have my attorney present during questioning.”

  She crossed her arms. “I think you’re a troublemaker. I don’t like troublemakers.”

  “And I think you’re a bully,” Theo replied. “Know what I think of bullies?”

  She glared at him for a long moment, then jerked her head at the rear corridor and returned to her office.

  The agents led Theo down the hall and into a windowless box with painted concrete walls and two metal chairs. They cuffed his wrist to a narrow table and left without saying a word.

  Theo found himself remarkably untroubled by his incarceration. The hard surfaces and windowless confines and the agents’ stern expressions all helped to push away the jet-lag fog. Everything he saw, everywhere he looked, all told him the same thing. He had one chance to get this right.

  Half an hour passed. Theo could hear voices pass up and down the corridor. At last the door opened, and a man stepped inside. “Well, hello there.”

  The newcomer could not have been more different from the other agents. For one thing, he was smiling. The man was tall and fortyish and wore an expensive-looking sports jacket, knit silk tie, and pleated gabardine trousers. He walked to the corner and unplugged the camera attached to the point where the walls met the ceiling. “Name’s Martin Thorpe. Nice to make your acquaintance, Dr. Bishop. Sorry about all this rigmarole.”

  Theo had no idea what to say, so he remained silent.

  “For the record, your incarceration has nothing to do with me.” He looked like an aging version of one of Theo’s students, all dressed up to run for class president. Crystal-clear gray eyes, cornhusker blond hair, confident smile. He crossed his arms and leaned against the wall. “I’m just using it as an opportunity to introduce myself.”

  “Any particular reason why I should believe you?”

  “Absolutely.” He straightened, leaned across the table, and slipped a card into Theo’s pocket. “Because I was never here.”

  He walked back over and started to plug the cord back into the camera, then paused and added, “When you get your act together, if you need something, give me a call. I might be able to help.”

  Another half hour passed. Or it could have been a couple of days. The minutes seemed endless. Theo went through several switchbacks. One moment he was certain he had mentally covered all the bases he could at this point. The next, the walls began closing in. The pressure came from all the unseen obstacles, every danger he had not yet identified. He also had no answer to how he was rearranging his life around a brother he did not know. But there was a greater sense of need here, an urgency that could not be denied. Theo believed Kenny had uncovered a hidden threat. The lives of villages, towns, whole cities were at stake. And something more. Kenny would not be involved in this if it was only a crisis in West Africa. Theo was certain his brother feared this Lupa would become a threat to America as well. The handsome young agent who came and went in a cloud of mystery had confirmed the fact. Theo’s confidence that he was on the right track kept the walls from compressing him into full panic mode.

  Then the lock clicked, and the hard-faced woman walked in. One of the male agents who had apprehended them on the plane entered with her. And a younger woman in a go-to suit of navy gabardine. Theo assumed she was Marilyn Riles, the trial attorney sent by Preston Borders. The last person to enter the room was by far the largest—a tall, big-boned African with eyes cold as a carbon blade. The African focused on Theo and said, “Well, well. The troublemaker himself.”

  The young attorney demanded, “Release my client.”

  The hard-faced female agent replied, “In a moment.”

  “Let me try and clarify the situation.” Marilyn Riles was slight and young and had a voice to match. Yet something about her left Theo certain she could be hard as nails. “Unless you are pressing charges, you will release my client now.”

  The senior agent pointed at Theo with her chin. The other agent walked over and released Theo’s wrist from the table. While he did so, the female agent asked Theo, “How much do you know about your brother’s illegal operations?”

  “Don’t answer that,” Marilyn snapped.

  Theo responded anyway. “Nothing at all. Including what about his business is illegal. If anything.”

  The woman snorted, then turned to the African and said, “He’s all yours.”

  “If only that were true.” The African revealed a feral gleam that would have suited a lion waiting in the tall grass. He wore an expensive gray suit of rough silk that glinted in the room’s harsh light. He walked over and loomed above Theo. “Your brother, Dr. Bishop,
seeks to profit from my continent’s misery. Again.”

  Theo rose slowly from his chair. Not backing off an inch. “And you are?”

  “Ambassador to the United States from the Organization of African States, my good sir. My mandate is to stamp out all vestiges of the colonial arrogance that has so scarred my continent.”

  “Was that a threat?” The young lady stepped closer to the senior agent. “Did that individual just threaten my client in your presence?”

  “Of course not,” the African replied. “Why would I bother to accuse or threaten this gentleman? Can we all not agree that his lily-white hands are perfectly clean?”

  “Perfectly,” Theo replied.

  “Which is why I find it curious that your brother recently bailed out your company, pulling you back from the brink of bankruptcy. Just before he sent you off to . . . where was it exactly that you traveled to?”

  Theo held his gaze. “I still didn’t get your name.”

  “Your brother’s many businesses are of the utmost interest to us, Dr. Bishop. Which means that should you involve yourself in any way, you too will become a person of interest.”

  “Threats again,” the young lady snapped. “My client and I are out of here.”

  The African turned and walked to the door, where he said, “You really must visit West Africa again, Dr. Bishop. And do so very soon. I will personally ensure that you have the time of your life.”

  nineteen

  At a quarter past midnight, Avery rose from his bed and went downstairs. His fatigue was an ache he felt in his bones. His body clock was so skewed, he would need weeks to recover. But far more than jet lag kept him from sleeping. Avery made himself a sandwich from the turkey Claudia had roasted for their dinner. He poured himself a glass of milk and carried the impromptu meal into his office. He sat behind his desk and set the plate and glass beside the two pages Dr. Lanica had passed to Theo.