The Leaves in Winter

by M. C. Miller

  He stepped outside, expecting someone to appear from the shadows but no one did. Maybe she had changed her mind. Perhaps she’d reconsidered the propriety of what he had asked her to do. He’d at least walk the area to be sure. At the far end he wavered between continuing on to the tennis courts or heading back the way he came. As he turned back, she appeared from a sheltered area under a thatched roof and quickly caught up to him.

  “Good day, Mr. Labon.”

  “I hope you weren’t waiting long.”

  “Not at all. I just arrived and was checking around.”

  “Shall we go?” Curtis led the way. Without drawing attention to himself, he searched the area for eyes upon them. There were none. So far so good.

  “I thought we’d might go to the Algerian restaurant on the corner.”

  The change of location didn’t faze her. “That would be fine.”

  The street was a clogged clutter of cars, motorbikes, bicycles, and pushcarts. Curtis wove a path along and through them until arriving at the restaurant’s covered porch. They were seated right away. The place was sparse with patrons. Using the weather as an excuse, Curtis asked for a table farther back from the entrance.

  Djamila was a bit nervous and overly polite. Her research work had exposed her to a variety of situations but she was still uncomfortable meeting a man for lunch who wasn’t her husband. “Thank you for meeting me near by work.”

  Curtis tried to relax. “I prefer it. Hotel Libya is convenient for meetings at the convention center, but too remote from the center of town. It’s good to get out.”

  “I hope your visit here has been productive.”

  “Progress comes in many disguises. Sometimes it’s recognized only with hindsight.”

  “I still don’t quite understand what you were telling the delegate from WHO the other day. It sounded like you have an organization but it hasn’t formed yet. How does that work?”

  Curtis preferred a short lunch and even briefer discussion. He liked Djamila but the longer they were together, the more he felt at risk. He had one goal and the sooner it was obtained the better.

  They ordered something light and then he dealt with her question.

  “The goal of my organization is to form other organizations around the globe. It’s called COPE, Communities of Population Expertise. It’s based on the CoE Networks convened by the UN’s Department of Economic and Social Affairs.”

  “Oh, I see. You organize people locally so they can discuss population issues.”

  “Exactly. The goal is to move beyond discussion, of course.”

  “How so?”

  “I believe a concerted effort needs to be undertaken to handle world population trends. Reasonable measures should be adopted into the Millennium Development Goals. Each area of the world faces different issues, but the problem is global.”

  “Sounds ambitious. You do this apart from your corporate work?”

  “Yes. COPE is a separate, non-profit venture of mine.”

  “Commendable. But from what I hear, none of the current Millennium Goals have been reached. If you add another one, do you think it will have a chance?”

  “What’s the alternative?”

  “True.” She wasn’t convinced but it would have been rude to explore the truth.

  Curtis was anxious to get on topic. “So…how did it go at the health clinic?”

  “Oh, you mean the blood sample?”

  “Yes.” All of his hopes hung on her next words.

  “I couldn’t get you one of the glass slides from the blood differential test.”

  Curtis deflated but then she added, “But I did get some blood. It’s not stained or prepared for study.” She produced a small box from her pocket. Inside was a small vial of blood. “I verified it was taken from the same patient.”

  Curtis was greedy to find out if she had gotten everything. “And the vaccine?”

  “Yes, that too. For a while, we kept the evidence for the police. The stolen box contained many small patches. In all the confusion, they weren’t going to miss one.”

  “You said patches?”

  “Yes, this new vaccine is quite different than anything I’ve seen before.” She produced a sterile pad in its clear protective pouch. The pad was small and square, about the size of one wrapped condom.

  Curtis recognized it right away. “Microneedles…”

  “Really?”

  “Yes. The center of the sticky side…right there.” Curtis pointed. “It’s coated with a hundred microneedles. They’re very short but after they pierce the skin, they dissolve and release the vaccine. The whole absorption process completes in anywhere from thirty seconds to five minutes.”

  Djamila handed over the box and vial to Curtis. A rush of accomplishment filled him. He was excited and worried all at once. The deed was done.

  “What happened to her – the patient?”

  “She was ceremonially washed and shrouded then buried right away. It’s required by Islamic custom.”

  “And her husband?”

  “He’s still in police custody.”

  “You said they tracked him down far north of here.”

  “Yes, in Gorom-Gorom. It’s where her mother lives. When the woman first got sick, she went home. That’s when her husband broke into the storehouse. He heard it contained new halal vaccine that had just arrived. Rumor said it was a conjugate vaccine, targeting several diseases. He claims he was desperate to save his wife and thought it would help. He didn’t know about the restriction. I think the police will eventually let him go.”

  “What restriction?”

  “We got instructions that said this vaccine was not ready to use. We shouldn’t use it until we were told it was all right. That’s why we locked it up.”

  “Is that typical?”

  “I don’t know what’s typical. I know several medicines in the body at the same time can cause bad interactions. Burkina is in the part of Africa known as the meningitis belt. Bacterial epidemics usually arrive with the dry harmattan winds, like now. Many people have just received their immunizations for meningitis. It’s prudent to do things in proper order.”

  “That’s what you said before. So what’s your opinion? Do you think the vaccine is partly responsible for the woman’s death?”

  “It’s a possibility. Not that the vaccine is bad. I don’t think that. But it is certain we were told not to give it to people – not yet.”

  Curtis flipped the sterile pouch over and examined the patch sealed inside of it. A characteristic logo was evident. He read the fine print at its edge – MIOVAC.

  “As I told you a couple days ago, that’s why we need to keep this quiet, between you and me. We wouldn’t want people to panic. Those who already received their meningitis vaccine might get worried. Those who haven’t received it might refuse to take it. We wouldn’t want that.”

  “No, that would be bad.” Djamila nodded in agreement.

  “I can have this quietly studied in a lab – one that has advanced tools. That is the only way to be sure everything is all right.” Curtis smiled at her. “You’ve been a big help.”

  Djamila was concerned. She motioned to his face. “Your nose. It’s bleeding.”

  Curtis dabbed his napkin on his upper lip, then held it up against one nostril. “It must be the humidity. With these winds, it’s dropped so low.”

  Djamila looked away. “I hate to see blood. I know it’s strange to say, me working in a clinic. I guess in the clinic I expect it. I’m sorry.”

  “No problem.” Curtis quickly put vaccine patch and blood vial in pocket. “So tell me, what sickness did the woman have? What was the cause of death?”

  “The doctors aren’t sure. They believe it was some kind of non-specific lower respiratory infection.”

  “Non-specific?”

  “I know her lymphocyte count was next to nothing. The doctors said with such a suppressed immune system, just about anything would have killed her.”

  “
They checked for other things, didn’t they?”

  “Of course. Diphtheria, tetanus, pertussis, tuberculosis, measles, hepatitis B, poliomyelitis, and naturally this time of year, meningitis. All came up negative.”

  Curtis was intrigued. “…a minor bacterial infection.”

  “With all the terrible things one can catch in this country, it’s odd this woman should fall victim to something so benign in comparison.”

  “Maybe it was HIV.”

  “No. They ruled that out.”

  “Interesting.”

  They finished their meal and went their separate ways.

  Two days later, Curtis was finally able to fly out of Ouagadougou. He landed in a Mediterranean state where he chartered a private jet. If his instincts were correct, he could waste no time getting his precious cargo to the lab.

  The rabid dog might be bearing his teeth.

  Chapter 18

  Granite Peak Installation

  Dugway Proving Grounds, Utah

  Colin Insworth stepped out of the elevator and hurried outside only to pause. His eyes lifted to view a sunset obscured by a storm gathering in the west. The desert sky was streaked with high clouds faintly painted in shades of fading sunlight. A stillness encircled the three-story, flat-roof structure behind him. Across the dusty parking area, the windows of the single-wide trailer were dark. No one was in sight but that didn’t matter. Security knew that Faye Gardner was out here somewhere.

  The open desert left few places to hide. According to sensors, Faye was nearby. She had passed through the airlock tunnel twenty minutes ago. Video cameras had recorded her movement through the landing zone a minute later. At the time, guards were alert to her movements but not alarmed.

  An occasional trip to the surface was not uncommon for newbies to Granite Peak. It took awhile for some to get used to working in a buried lab. Some people just needed to see the sky again. Others felt the pull of open spaces. Whatever had prompted Faye’s race to the surface, one thing was certain: she couldn’t go far without losing herself in a lot of nothing.

  Colin stepped to the single-wide trailer and wound his way to its other side. Just as he suspected, Faye was off to herself, facing a darkening east. She sat on a berm of dirt that marked the end of level grading. It was obvious she had been crying. He forced his approach to be casual. Making it seem incidental was a stretch.

  “You found my secret place to think.”

  She glanced at him but said nothing. Her gaze returned to a far horizon.

  Colin found a sandy place to sit next to her. “I take it you didn’t come up here to watch the sunset. What’s wrong?”

  She leaned her lips against a clenched fist. “You don’t know?”

  Colin looked away from her. “There’s lots of things I don’t know.”

  “You expect me to believe that.” It wasn’t a question.

  “After the last couple of days, I’m not sure what to believe anymore.”

  Each with their own thoughts, a brief silence fell between them. Colin decided to confront what he thought might be the issue.

  “I stopped off at the lab. I heard about your concerns.”

  “Oh, really…”

  “The sputnik virus inside of Ghyvir-C is getting a lot of attention.”

  Faye erupted. “Can you drop all the bullshit and tell me flat out what we’re dealing with? Was sterility a biological accident or a planned event?”

  “What? Where are you getting this?”

  “Don’t lie to me, Colin! You’ve got me studying the damned thing. Did you think I wouldn’t find out?”

  “Find what?”

  “The suicide gene inside the sputnik – it’s not natural to that virus. The damned thing was engineered. It contains a gene patented by the Army in 2001.”

  “That patent was after Ghyvir-C was discovered.”

  “So what are you saying? The gene didn’t exist and the Army didn’t have it before the patent?”

  Colin took a moment to carefully choose his words. “You studied the virus fifteen years ago. You’re surprised by this?”

  “The big scare back then was about Ghyvir, the giant virus, not the sputnik inside of it. At USAMRIID, we were directed what to study. As far as we were told, the sputnik was just a parasite. Our research concentrated on the giant virus. A giant virus that caused the common cold in humans was big news. The fact that it had a parasite didn’t seem to matter that much. Our primary lab studied Ghyvir-C. We were told another lab would look at the sputnik.”

  “We know now that thinking was wrong. The parasite is the key. It has to be.”

  “But there’s no interaction between the two of them. I checked. There’s nothing symbiotic about Ghyvir-C and its sputnik. The sputnik gets a free ride until the right time to reproduce. Then it hijacks the giant virus and replicates until it causes Ghyvir to split open, releasing thousands of sputnik copies.”

  “That’s where we have to look for answers.”

  “You expect me to believe a suicide gene, engineered by the military, accidentally got loose and somehow, randomly in the wild, wound up combined into a neat little package inside a brand new giant virus? All this was natural?”

  “I expect you to find out how it works and come up with a way to defeat it.”

  “We know this thing resists mutation. You think that’s natural?”

  “Why couldn’t it be? It might be something new. You said yourself that a giant virus causing the common cold was new.”

  “You’re not going to tell me the truth, are you?” Faye looked away.

  “If you think I know everything, you have a problem right away.”

  “It’s common sense, Colin! If you see a thousand-piece puzzle all put together in front of you, it’s reasonable to assume it didn’t fall out of the box that way.”

  “What do you want from me?”

  “Tell me what’s behind this. Because it’s not normal. Somebody designed it!”

  “That hasn’t been proven.”

  “What do you think I’ve been doing? I’ve proved it! This sputnik is smart enough to know it has to affect the germ cells of the unborn. But it targets them before they’re even conceived! It installs in the parents an epigenetic mechanism that cleverly orchestrates a series of ‘snips,’ single nucleotide polymorphisms. The way it makes swaps in base pairs is not casual or random. It hijacks the very thing that makes one human genetically different from another. Then it makes sure its disease gets inherited. All of this executes in proper order, directed at a single purpose.”

  “What does that prove? Most viruses are single-minded. They all seem targeted at a purpose. That isn’t evidence someone planned it that way. All viruses come from nature.”

  Faye was emphatic. “Up until now.”

  “Nature can be nonlinear and chaotic – or deliberate and precise. Finding either one doesn’t prove anything was engineered.”

  “You can’t mean that. You know the business we’re in. You know what’s possible. Project talking points might work on the public, but not on me.”

  “Admit it, there’s just as much design in Ghyvir-C as there is in DNA itself. Complexity doesn’t prove design. If that were true, we’d all be Creationists.”

  “Viruses may come from nature but the way these two were put together had to be planned. Why are you fighting me on this? Why won’t you admit it?”

  “And then what? You’ll have your excuse to quit The Project? Is that it?”

  Faye’s anger flared. “You wanted me to confirm that sterility existed. I did that. Now you want me to figure out how it happens but you’re keeping me in the dark. We both know there’s more to this. I can’t work blind with my hands tied.”

  “You have everything you need – you have the viruses; you have RIDIS. History at this point is a footnote we can ignore. It won’t make a hell of a lot of difference one way or another how we got here if we can’t find an answer.”

  “You’re making my work harder. Knowing
what caused this mess, how it got put together is vital. Don’t you understand? This thing was crafted! You know it and I know it. If you expect me to reverse engineer it, then seeing some historical blueprints would help.”

  “Believe me, they wouldn’t.” The statement was as much confirmation of Faye’s claim as Colin was willing to admit.

  “How convenient.” Faye stood and escaped a few steps into the desert.

  Colin remained seated. He leaned forward, his forearms on his legs. “I don’t like this shit anymore than you. I certainly don’t know anymore than I need to know. Just like you. But it doesn’t matter. I keep at it because we have no choice – not because I believe everything my bosses tell me.”

  Faye folded her arms. She shook her head in disgust.

  Colin noted her rebuff. He stood and came to her side. There was a tension, a distressed confession in the way he murmured. “You’re not special, you know. We all have our feet planted firmly in mid-air.”

  Faye held silent. She glanced to read Colin’s rigid expression.

  “Keep this to yourself,” started Colin. “But I have my own doubts, even with what I know. I’ve learned some things in the last couple of days I wasn’t supposed to. It’s one of the fortunate hazards of leading a project like this – sometimes people assume you have clearance for things you really don’t.”

  Faye’s concern was piqued. Her head turned in interest, even as she held silent.

  Colin’s gaze shifted between faraway reference points in the darkening desert. “It started with a memo attached to an email I was copied on. I don’t think the memo was meant to be sent to everyone; at least not to me. Maybe they thought it didn’t matter. It was only one word that caught my attention.”

  Faye’s resistance to conversation melted away. “What word?”

  “Manhattan.”

  The obvious jumped to mind. “Is the city being targeted?”