The professor nodded agreement.
“Indeed. This virus Georgio has developed, is derived from the influenza strain, and we know that particular virus is robust, but it mutates quite quickly from year to year, and adapts to differing environments. This one may well do the same, only time will tell. My instincts tell me, it will behave rather like a typical influenza virus. It will spread among people, from person to person, by contact, sneezing, touching, exchange of body fluids, and so forth.
“It does not manifest quite like influenza. I doubt if you would see severe runny noses, temperatures etc., and so the carrier of the virus may not be aware he or she is infected. I doubt if most people will notice. That is what happened to the animals tested, that is its beauty. Just how far it will spread, remains to be seen. We also do not know, yet, whether its effects can be reversed, that is to be determined.”
“How many people will you need, to do proper tests?”
Wong considered his answer. He had been puzzling over this question, and there were several answers.
“That will depend. To do a thorough testing, I would say not less than three hundred, and the tests should continue over say at least a year. By then we should know how long the virus remains in the human system, and what its residual effects will be. In both the mice and monkeys, after infection, the females became sterile, but were otherwise apparently unaffected. That is what we hope will happen with humans, but we won’t be sure, without testing. It’s effects might wear off after a time.
“We could of course just test a small group over, say, three months, and would get a reaction, but it would not be definitive. I believe we should know the longer term and wider effects, before we broadly release the virus.”
Sorensen nodded agreement. A year was not so long to wait. The problem of overpopulation would not go away, but it was vital they understood just what they were unleashing on the world, before they acted.
“So, we have to find at least three hundred guinea pigs, preferably living in a group situation, somewhere, hey?”
Wong nodded.
Sorensen continued, “I already think I might have the answer.”
18
On his flight home, Sorensen, as he usually did, spent much of the time writing himself notes. He found writing his thoughts down, helped to clarify his thinking, made him sharpen in his mind what he was dealing with. The logistics of testing the virus properly were incredibly complex, simply because they did not know what would happen when it was released, how it would spread, and how to monitor it. The tests would have to be imposed, no healthy group of people would willingly agree to take part.
Frederik decided there was nothing for it, he would have to take risks. He would minimise those risks as much as possible, and to achieve this, they would carry out the test on a group of people living in semi isolation. It would be, necessarily, without their knowledge or consent, and the group would need to fit the criteria of living in poverty, or near poverty, brought about by overpopulation. He had in mind such an area.
As a child, he had visited such areas with his parents, and a typical one sprang to mind, a small village in a remote area in Uganda. He remembered Viktor and Freja had arrived there, armed with equipment and with young Frederik in tow, shortly after a visiting priest had left.
Frederik would need to update his knowledge of the village after all these years. He would send someone to check it out and report, but he anticipated little would have changed. The priest had spent much of his time in the village, stressing the evils of contraception. The Catholic church was growing quickly in Africa, with already more than one hundred and sixty million members. Rome anticipated that, by two thousand and twenty five, one sixth of its world membership would be in Africa, largely due to the high birth rate among its members there.
As Frederik recollected, the villagers were dirt poor, living a hand to mouth existence. The pumps and toilets his parents had provided made some improvement, but life for the villagers was difficult. There were so many mouths to feed, and so little food. He would check, to see if it would be safe to test the virus here, and if the villagers kept mostly to themselves, as he believed, not interacting unduly with other villages, there should be small risk of the virus getting out of hand.
To monitor this, he would set up a small medical centre at the village, provide medical care, with a resident nurse, as well as a visiting doctor, while secretly measuring the birth rate of the women. This could be done subtly, at relatively low cost. A reduction of births, in a remote village, over a twelve month period, would pass unnoticed, while the medical centre would be welcomed. Frederik would not proceed until he had the report back, but if it was favourable as he hoped, they could commence the testing quickly. He would dispatch his emissary in the next few days, and should have an answer within two to three weeks.
By the time his plane had touched down in Stockholm, Sorensen had filled a number of pages with his neat handwriting, and made lists of assignments for his staff. As soon as he had cleared the airport, Frederik headed for home for a brief reunion with Maria and the boys, then disappeared into his office, to begin phoning. One of the calls was to Dr. Wong, to tell him of his idea. The doctor was worried.
“Is there there any way we can confine these villagers, stop them from wandering into other villages, and mixing with others, outside the village?”
Sorensen tried to re-assure him, explaining the nature of the terrain around the village, and how each village tended to keep to itself. One of the reasons for this, was to protect their food supply from marauding thieves, who had spied out where crops had been planted. Although the villagers posted guards at night to protect crops from ambitious wild animals, even more dangerous was a raid by a group of hungry neighbours. Wong did not sound convinced, and Frederik eventually decided that he should see it for himself.
“If the report is favourable, you must go out there and check it out for yourself, and I will come with you. We will both check it out. We both must be satisfied the test can be carried out safely.”
Wong was happy with this. It was agreed he would fly to Stockholm, join Frederik there, then fly together to Uganda’s Arua airport, which could handle the Sorensen jet. They would charter a helicopter for the hop to the edge of the Okapi wildlife reserve, the reserve de faune a okapis, where the village was located.
Sorensen scanned a copy of the report to the doctor three weeks later. There was nothing in it that said no. Two days later, he greeted Wong at Stockholm.
“You will come home with me, freshen up and get some sleep, and we fly out tomorrow morning, early. I have never landed at Arua, but my pilot says it takes big jets, internationals, so the Gulf-stream should have no trouble. I tried to get a chopper without a pilot, and take my own, you can never be sure about African chopper pilots, they can be pretty wild, their training is haphazard, but the helicopter operator at Arua wouldn’t hear of it. It seems they have to give work to their locals, or run foul of the government, so we will have to take what we get at that end.”
Later the next day, Sorensen and Wong, together with an interpreter, sat looking down on the African terrain, as their young black pilot searched for landmarks below, eventually picking up the small river that should lead them to the village. Landing proved more difficult then anticipated. Their pilot scoured the bushland around the village for a wide enough clearing, and by the time one was found half a mile away, every native within a radius of ten miles knew of their presence.
The men of the village turned out carrying spears, to see what the fuss was about, while their women and children hid, until satisfied it was not terrorists coming to kidnap them. Frederik was surprised this was still a fear in that part of Uganda. They calmed the villagers, and Frederik negotiated the use of a hut for a few days. When the chopper lifted off, two days later, Wong was satisfied.
“It will meet our requirements. I identified about fo
rty women of child bearing age, and from the ages of the kids we saw, there are some being born every year. If you install that new water pump, we can introduce the virus through the water initially, and by the end of twelve months, we should know if it is going to work.”
“Assuming that it does work, where will this village be, in say thirty years time?”
This was the ethical question that continued to bother Sorensen, and he guessed the answer, but he asked it anyway.
“Thirty years? I would anticipate that unless something changes, the village will be in decline. The children we saw, will have grown up, but there will be fewer new children being born, fewer children running around, than we saw. In another few decades, it is possible the village could become a memory, the land returned to nature.”
This would be a future he would be responsible for, and sadly, it was the future he believed was essential, if human life was to survive. It would be painful to watch it happen. It would be even more painful to be responsible, but it had to happen, if there was to be a world as he knew it, for his great grandchildren. Wong stayed with Frederik for a few days, to discuss ways and means to spread the virus, then left for America, to return to the laboratory. He had much to do.
They now had to commence manufacture of the virus in quantity, and just how much would be required, he wasn’t sure. It would depend on how robust the virus proved to be in the environment, how it replicated, and how quickly it spread when it was released. It might take a cupful, or a drum, only testing would show this. Part of the laboratory would now be turned over to production. Some of the team, tasked to see if there was a way to reverse the virus’s effects, were kept working on this, as they had no definitive answer at present. He thought about what assignments he could give the others, that would use their talents.
Sorensen had plenty to occupy his mind, with his business interests still demanding his attention, there was always something happening somewhere, despite his policy of delegating responsibility, but he found himself distracted, unable to give these problems the thought they required. Empowering his senior staff to undertake new ventures on their own initiative, had resulted in his empire growing beyond his wildest dreams, but keeping his head around it was a constant pressure.
Now, images of villages, towns, even cities, with few children, and filled with old people, kept pushing into his consciousness. They were visions that occasionally brought tears to his eyes. Then his mind would turn to starving, neglected, war damaged children, of wars being fought, seemingly everywhere in the world, wars which essentially boiled down to a battle for resources. He thought of wildlife, beautiful animals, even fish, disappearing forever from the planet, year after year, by the inexorable reclaiming of their habitat for human use. He also had recurring visions of his parents’ heads, on stakes.
He had to tough it out. The medicine the world needed was not pleasant, but it was essential, and yes, the world would be changed, but it had to change, to survive. He would commence the test, as soon as Wong had the quantity of the virus he thought necessary, and then it was sit back, and wait. They would use the cover of the medical centre to release the virus, then monitor it.
With his eye always on the detail, Frederik considered who he should call on, to advise him what that centre would require.
19
“Have you heard from the boys?”
Helena called out from the kitchen, where she was preparing the evening meal. Frederik jerked awake in his chair, where he had dozed.
“Sorry, was I supposed to hear from them?”
“No, but they said they would be back after dinner, and they haven’t turned up. I wondered if they had given you a call.”
Frederik laughed. “That would be a first. I mean, how often do they let us know when they are held up somewhere? It’s only if they need something, or there is a serious hold up, they let us know, and it is usually you they call, not me.”
“Well, they had better not be too much longer, dinner should be ready in half an hour.”
Frederik picked up the notes he had let fall to the floor, the boys forgotten. They were boys, always busy, and up to something, and their bellies would tell them it was time to return home.
Half an hour passed, and still there was no sign of Viktor and Michael. Maria had taken some trouble with the meal, and didn’t want it spoiled, and she began to become annoyed.
“Sometimes I could kill those two, they can be scatterbrains. I told them to be home in good time for dinner, but no, not them. Off somewhere, having a good time with friends, never mind the food spoiling, or how much work I have put in.” Frederik had suggested they employ a cook, but Helena would not hear of it. She enjoyed cooking for the family.
Frederik recognised the tone, and decided it was time to placate his wife.
“All right, we will have dinner without them, and serve them right for missing out. Put theirs on a plate, and they can have it when they get home. We’ll have our dinner together, and pretend we don’t have any sons to annoy us.”
The meal was eaten, but there was an underlying uneasiness in Frederik’s mind, and soon after they had finished, he decided to do some checking. Viktor and Michael had set off together immediately after lunch, in Viktor’s car, to visit a girl from Viktor’s class, who also happened to have a younger sister. The boys had made this trip several times before. Viktor had assured his mother the girl was just a friend, they were going to watch a movie together, and not to worry.
Frederik’s call to the girls’ family, sent his worry levels screaming. The boys had not arrived.
“Something has happened to the boys. They didn’t get there.”
Now, Helena, too, was alarmed. It was not like their sons to make arrangements to meet with friends, and not keep them. Something must have happened. Both Sorensens began telephoning every one of their son’s friends they knew. No one had seen or heard from either of the boys.
At nine o’clock, Sorensen telephoned the police, to report them missing.
Teenage boys not coming home for dinner on time, was not something the Swedish police would normally take much interest in, but when Frederik Sorensen made the call, the alarm went out immediately. Throughout the countryside, police were alerted to look out for Viktor’s Volvo, not an easy task in a country where Volvo’s were ubiquitous. An alert was sent to airports, railway stations and border crossings. Frederik and Helena spent a sleepless night, hoping for word. Frederik wanted to join the search, but was advised against it.
“Mr. Sorensen, there may be nothing wrong, it is too early to start thinking something terrible has happened, and really, there is nothing you can do we are not already doing. Every police officer in the country has been told the boys are missing, and is on the look out. We are checking CCTV at airports and rail stations, and so far, nothing has shown up. It is best if you remain at home, where you can be contacted quickly, and leave it to us.”
Frederik’s mind began playing tricks. He kept flashing back to the time news had broken his parents had been kidnapped, and then what followed. Visions of the heads of his father and mother, impaled on stakes, haunted him, only this time it was his sons’ heads he saw. That could not happen! This was Stockholm, not Africa!
Despite police reassurances, he felt a dark foreboding that something had happened to Viktor and Michael, and that it was bad. The boys knew the risk their name carried, that the world saw the Sorensen name as synonymous with great wealth, and that it made them a target. He had counselled them repeatedly of the need for caution in the way they moved around, of watching for suspicious behaviour from members of the public, but Frederik was realistic enough to know, the boys thought they were invincible.
The next day dragged by, minute by minute, and still no news. Evening came, and Helena, unable to eat, sat sobbing on the lounge, Frederik’s arm around her, while his mind was racing. Someone had his boys. It would be for ranso
m, and again his mind jumped across to his parents, and handing over money, then learning of their murder.
Who was behind this? What did they want? If it was ransom, and by now the police were also thinking along this line, they should hear from the kidnappers soon. He knew, whatever the demand, he would pay the ransom, regardless of what the police might say about encouraging others to copycat, but this time, he would be smarter how he went about it. The boys safety would have to be guaranteed. He would see that any arrangements with the kidnappers, ensured this.
He wondered how much would be demanded. It would be substantial, and that would mean a lot of cash would have to be handed over. Cash meant paper, and paper was heavy. A transaction to exchange cash for the boys would be tricky, but he would think of a way. His bank manager had assured him, the bank could find a large quantity of bank notes fairly quickly, but if the demand was for American dollars, which was possible, this could take a little longer.
From time to time, he left his wife to pace the room, trying to calm the pounding in his head, and think rationally. Who was the person or persons behind this? So far, no trace had been found of Viktor’s car, and a scouring of CCTV footage of airports and railway stations had found nothing. The boys had disappeared completely, without trace. Whoever had masterminded their snatch, had planned it well, left no clues, and this made him believe it was not the action of an individual, or several individuals. This was the work of a professional, well organised, gang. Which gang?
The second night passed, and still no news. Frederik called in the family doctor for his wife, and Helena was now sleeping fitfully, under sedation. He had not eaten for two days, and hunger now set in. He managed a sandwich. He was getting restless with the inactivity, sitting and waiting for the phone to ring, doing nothing. Would the phone ring? If this was an organised gang behind the kidnap, they would surely know that the police, by now, had a tap on his phone.
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