Acts Beyond Redemption

by S. Burke

  He swung his legs from the bed and felt a wave of nausea hit him; he dry retched several times and lay back on the pillows weakened by the retching. His vision was blurred, and the dread of what may be happening here threatened to overwhelm him.

  He called for his wife. “Badria? Badria, come quickly!”

  No answer.

  “Badria! Where are you, woman?”

  The woman came hurriedly into the room. “What is it? What is wrong, my husband?” She placed her gentle hand on his forehead stepping back in alarm at the heat coming from him. “You are ill! Lay back, rest.” She hurried to the nightstand and poured him a glass of cool clean water, holding his head as he drank it down.

  “More water. Please, Badria. I will be fine shortly, perhaps I have the influenza.”

  “Perhaps,” she responded doubtfully. “Your fever is very high. I will call for Doctor Yasir and then I will make you more comfortable, yes?”

  “You are a good woman. Are my boys awake yet?”

  “I have not heard them, they will be up shortly. I think it’s best to keep them away from you until the doctor has been. The influenza is highly contagious, if that is what is wrong. I don’t want the young ones becoming ill with it.”

  “Yes, that is wise. Go know, hurry, call the doctor.” He went to say more, but was wracked with a spasm of pain and vomited the water he had recently drunk.

  Badria left the room quickly and ran downstairs to the study to call Doctor Yasir, hoping frantically the man was awake at this early hour.

  Faculty of Veterinary Medicine

  Kabul University

  Afghanistan

  The technician looked again at the slide under the microscope. This sample was exactly like the other eleven. These were from different veterinarians located many miles apart. Was this possible? Surely not. The slide revealed an infection type he had never seen before.

  It was similar in construction to the horse virus from Venezuela that had killed many humans in its namesake country in the late 1970s. Carried by mosquito, it had rapidly transmitted from its equine host throughout Venezuela, with cases being recorded in the United States of America as well. This nasty looking thing was constructed only a little differently, with arms that reached like tentacles and attached themselves to healthy cells. They grew at an astonishing rate.

  Mosquito transmission? He knew only too well how likely that was. His country battled malaria constantly.

  He was not the type to panic. He took a long deep breath; he had no wish to be seen as a fool. Yet all his instincts told him he was witnessing something bad here, very bad. He made his decision.

  After locking the specimen blood in the secure vault, he disrobed and discarded the suit and mask in sealed containers to be destroyed.

  His phone call to the veterinarians waiting on these results would generate alarm if he didn’t handle it correctly, yet to wait could endanger more than just equine lives. He decided to discuss this with his superior. The head of the infectious diseases team would need to make the decision to take this further. He rang and asked Professor Sajadi if he could discuss a matter of utmost importance. In one hour he would talk to the man. He was already aware that this tentacled horror would cause equine death on a large scale if it wasn’t contained.

  The decisions would go well beyond this room. Time was the enemy.

  Home of Abdul-Saboor

  Doctor Yasir was displeased at being awoken so early. The woman Badhiri, wife of Abdul-Saboor, was frantic, and making no sense, but he knew the man. He respected him, and duly arrived at the home, expecting to find a patient with influenza, nasty, but easily treated. What he found caused his pulse to quicken. Abdul-Saboor was in great pain. His fever at 103 degrees was already dangerously high. What concerned him the most, however, were the blotches of purplish red skin across the man’s upper torso.

  Petechiae, warning signals of internal bleeding. He asked the frantic woman questions, and was not satisfied with her response.

  “Where has he been? Tell me now. Has he travelled abroad recently? Quickly, woman,” he demanded, his fear making his tone harsh. It surely can’t be Ebola, not here?

  “No, nothing. He trained the horses as he does every spring on the edge of the Hindu Kush. He rode to victory in the Buzkashi only a few days past. He was well.”

  “Who amongst the staff accompanied him?” the doctor demanded.

  “None … he holds his secrets close. Our sons are the only ones permitted to see him train.”

  “Where are they?”

  “Still sleeping.”

  “Show me to them quickly, woman. Then call an ambulance.”

  Badhiri was terrified. She had never seen this kindly man so agitated. Her husband was very ill.

  The doctor followed her into the boys’ room. The light was switched on and what greeted their startled gazes was both unpleasant and frightening. Both Majeed and his younger brother lay moaning in their beds. They had vomited profusely in the past few hours and already the deadly looking petechiae revealed itself on their young bodies, the purplish red spots indicating the release of blood from the capillaries.

  “No!” the woman screamed. “My boys!”

  “Quiet, woman. Be calm. Where is the telephone? Quickly!”

  She showed him to the private study her husband used for reading. The doctor dialled the number and issued terse instructions. He then turned to the woman, placing his gloved hand on her sleeve.

  “Listen to me, Badhiri, be calm and listen now. I will have them taken to hospital. I will do all I can to help them. I must put this place and all of you in it in strict quarantine until we know what we are dealing with here, do you hear me? I will accompany them to the hospital myself and get things under way. I will have someone return and have all the children and staff issued with gloves and masks, and send people to assist you in quarantine procedure. My first job is to see to Abdul and the boys. Some people will be here to talk to you soon. I promise it. I have drawn blood from you. If you feel ill at any time, you must contact me. I will arrange for accommodation in the hospital for you to be near your husband and sons. That will be a few hours to organize. Do you understand what I am saying to you, Badhiri?”

  The woman nodded. The physician doubted she had heard half of what he’d said.

  Badhiri had no idea that the horses were ill. It would be thirty-six hours more before the connection was made.

  The ambulances could be heard in the near distance, a sound that would become chillingly familiar in the days and weeks to come.

  Chapter 47

  CNN

  Afghanistan

  May 1

  Reports in from Kabul indicate that an influenza outbreak has hit Afghanistan. Reports are filtering through and sources tell us that the numbers of people hospitalized are considered unusually high for this time of year. Many practitioners are blaming the exceptionally bitter winter for the elevation in cases.

  We were unable to confirm reports that these instances of ‘influenza’ may be connected with an equine virus that has killed dozens of horses in the past few days. Investigations are continuing. No comment has been forthcoming from the Commander of US forces in Afghanistan. A source within the military who wished to be unnamed said, “We are not concerned. Our boys have been immunized against every damned thing going.” End quote.

  CNN Breaking News

  Kabul, Afghanistan

  May 8

  Afghanistan authorities have today confirmed they are closing all borders with neighbouring countries. The ‘influenza’ outbreak has now been identified as a highly contagious equine virus, labelled ‘Hindu Kush A’. Early indications reveal that the disease is transmissible from horse to human, and human to human. An unconfirmed number of deaths have allegedly occurred. Flights into and out of Afghanistan have been halted. All places where people gather, including places of worship, restaurants, theatres, and schools have been shut down until further notice. Only emergency vehicles plus vehicles c
arrying essential food supplies and medical equipment are permitted free access on the roads. More updates as they come to hand.

  White House Press Release

  May 9

  President Elizabeth Shea in a statement released at 8.30 a.m. today announced her measures to combat the deadly outbreak of ‘Hindu Kush A’ virus, or HKA as it is now known.

  “With thousands of American service men and women deployed in Afghanistan it is obvious that we must act prudently to protect them,” she said. “To that end, all deployed personnel will be tested, isolated, and returned home once they are given the all clear. To date very few of our people have been infected, but the risk factor is too high to allow a military presence to be sustained. We as a people are assisting in every way possible, with volunteers in the medical field being flown in by our government. Our centre for Infectious diseases and USAMRIID are throwing their combined expertise behind the investigation of a possible vaccine. The first of our troops will arrive home on May 21. It is anticipated that the other nations represented amongst our NATO allies will make their own announcements today. We are treating the matter as both urgent and extremely serious.”

  White House Press Release

  June 4

  President Shea has released today the details of the troops killed by the HKA virus during their service in Afghanistan. Memorial services for the 1,487 men and women lost will be held across the country. All next of kin have been notified. All serving troops are now home.

  CNN Breaking News

  June 18

  Just in; the latest death toll figures in Afghanistan. Confirmed dead: 326,411. This figure is expected to increase as figures become available from remote areas.

  White House Press Release

  June 22

  President Shea announced just moments ago that a vaccine for the treatment of the deadly HKA virus has been discovered by our scientists at USAMRIID. The vaccine is believed to be 100% effective against the disease and is expected to save the lives of people in the early stages of infection as well as immunize those not infected. Air Force personnel and military medical people are being airlifted in to Afghanistan immediately to assist the Afghan government in the rapid release of the vaccine into the general populace.

  In other news just to hand former head of the CIA David Michelson has died. Early reports indicate that he appears to have taken his own life. Investigation is continuing. More on this story as it becomes available.

  Chapter 48

  Present Day

  Trish enjoyed her drive; she sat in the sun by the river and breathed in the clean air. It helped settle her and allowed her to marshal her thoughts.

  It was Ted’s funeral tomorrow and she wanted to attend. She decided to leave in the early hours of the morning, which would allow her time to refresh and change clothes for the funeral. She would avoid seeing Mike and Nigel if possible till after the ceremony. Comforted at having made her decision, she slept in the gentle sunshine for an hour, waking to find the cloud cover had increased and a storm brewed. She headed back to the motel, planning a meal with no booze, and an early night.

  The Allworth Home

  “Frank, what do you think? We should contact that nice Trish Clayton about these, don’t you think?” Lana Allworth was clearly anxious. She opened the sketch pad again, looking at the stunning woman Quinn had drawn. “The date on the ones with the girl in them troubles me, wasn’t that around the time Quinn was supposed to have disappeared?”

  Frank Allworth silently agreed, but wasn’t happy at being caught up in the investigation again. Still, it would be the right thing to do. “The agent gave you her card, yes?”

  “Yes, she did.”

  “Well, I guess we had better tell her about this, and leave it for her to decide if it’s important or not. I’ll ring her. Find the card for me, hon.”

  Lana knew exactly where it was, it wasn’t as if an agent of the FBI left you their card every day of the week. She removed it from the hallway bureau and handed it to her husband.

  “This is a cell phone number,” said Frank as he punched in the numbers.

  The phone rang for a while and then someone picked up. “Agent Clayton’s phone.”

  “Is she available please?” asked Frank.

  “No, sir. She appears to be out of her office at the moment. May I take a message and pass it on?”

  “Well, it’s sort of complicated. Can you just tell her Frank Allworth called and we may have something interesting for her to look at. She has my number and address.”

  “Frank Allworth. Got that, sir. May I tell her what case this is in reference to?”

  “Oh, sure, yes. I was speaking to her yesterday or maybe the day before, it’s about the disappearance of Quinn Hamersley, I mean, Quentin Hamersley.”

  “Right, got that. I will pass it on as soon as she gets back in the office. Thanks for your call, sir.”

  “Welcome.”

  Frank hung up, satisfied he had done the right thing. “She was out of the office so I left a message with another agent.”

  The man placed the cell phone down.

  What was Trish doing opening up the Hamersley case? More importantly, just what was it that was significant enough to have Frank Allworth phone her? At least he now knew where she had been. Question was, where was she now?

  He made a call.

  Frank had an early lunch and decided to do some fishing; it was his favourite way of relaxing and it had been weeks since the weather had been inviting enough to go. He loaded up the trunk and headed out to the river. The heavy cloud cover wasn’t troubling him; he’d caught some of his biggest catfish in the rain. He was pulling into the open rest area as another car turned into the exit lane.

  That’s Agent Clayton’s car, she sure is out of the office!

  He hit the horn and flashed his lights at the car.

  “What the hell?” Trish spoke aloud. “Who?” Hey, that’s Frank Allworth.

  Trish pulled over to the side of the road and waited for the other vehicle to draw up alongside.

  She rolled down the window. “Hello, Mr Allworth. What can I do for you, sir?”

  “Afternoon, Agent Clayton. Funny that you should be here. I left a message for you with someone in your office only about an hour ago.”

  Shit. Who answered my phone? “Oh, on my private line?”

  “It was a cell phone. Anyways, I was told you were out of the office, so I left a message with the agent who answered your phone.”

  “What can I do for you?”

  “I think you best take a look at some things me and the Missus found. Probably nothing, but you best decide that. Can you come now?”

  “Sure can. I’ll follow you.”

  I wonder what he’s found. At this stage anything will be a help.

  The two cars pulled into the driveway and Lana Allworth came hurrying out. “Well, that’s the fastest message response I’ve ever seen.” She smiled and waited for either her husband or the agent to explain how that had happened.

  Trish walked into the welcoming sitting room and took a seat. Lana Allworth hurried into the kitchen to make a cup of coffee for the visitor. She re-entered the room with a tray, put it down, and waited for her husband to explain.

  Trish spoke first. “Thank you for contacting me. It was careless of me to have left my cell phone back in the office. I was enjoying this beautiful day in the same spot Mr Allworth likes to fish … and, well, here I am. May I ask what prompted the call?”

  Lana looked at her husband and he left the room, returning with a large sketch pad. “The Missus was flipping through a magazine and was certain she recognized the woman on the cover.” He passed the magazine over to Trish. “Lana never forgets a face, you know. Drives me mad sometimes.”

  Trish looked at the smiling image of Sheila Harrington dancing with Damon Henderson and her adrenaline began pumping. “You know this woman?” she asked, surprising herself at how calm her voice was.

  “Oh no, dea
r, but poor Quinn did, look here.” Lana Allworth reached over for the sketch book her husband held and flipped to the back of the book. She made a small grunt of satisfaction and gave it to Trish Clayton without further comment.

  Trish gazed at the beautiful drawing of a woman asleep with her hair fanned out across a pillow. Even in profile there was no mistaking it for anyone other than the Harrington woman. Trish felt her pulse increase and took a deep breath. She turned the page and found two more sketches of the prime suspect; one of them was of her drinking a beer on this front porch, Quentin Hamersley’s front porch. The other one nailed it. Sheila was sitting on the bonnet of a Porsche laughing and looking almost impossibly carefree and innocent; the Porsche was in front of the house Trish now sat in. The letter S and the date of November 16 appeared in the corner under the artists initials QH.

  “I knew the date was close to when he disappeared. I keep a birthday book you see, and, well, the date of November 16 on the first one is the date our deputy sheriff became a father. Is this any use to you, Agent Clayton?”

  Trish didn’t hear the woman’s question; she had gone back to the beginning of the book and found nothing of interest until the sketch of four young men in some sort of uniform. Her heart felt like it had stopped beating altogether.

  The sketch was of Quentin Hamersley, Brad Collingsworth, Christopher Pike and an unknown man. The three identified were the first three victims of the ‘Countdown’ killer. The picture bore a tag, ‘Pale Horse; Team Alpha.’

  “Agent Clayton, my dear, you have gone pale. Are you all right?” asked a concerned Lana Allworth.