by John Holt
Kendall took a deep breath. “I was wondering what he was actually working on, and why he was visiting Trenton that day.”
Langdon nodded. “Oh, that’s easy,” he replied. “Richard was our current affairs man. You know, world happenings, that sort of thing. We had him working on this epidemic story. Nasty, don’t you think?” Kendall nodded. “He had been up to Trenton and got a load of information. That’s Trenton Pharmaceuticals,” he explained. “But you probably knew that already.” Kendall knew. He smiled, and simply nodded. “It promised to be quite a feature,” Langdon continued. “Hang on I’ll let you see it.”
He reached for the telephone and dialed a number. “Colin,” he said when it was answered. “Can you bring up Richard’s files on this virus thing that he was working on?” There was a pause. “Thanks. Oh, and don’t forget that small folder marked Punta Rojas, 2005.” Langdon replaced the receiver and looked at Kendall. “It won’t be too long,” he said.
A few minutes later the telephone rang. It was Colin. “Sir, there’s nothing here,” he said.
Langdon looked puzzled. “What do you mean, there’s nothing there? There has to be something. What about that file I mentioned?”
There was silence for a few moments. “That was destroyed, sir,” Colin said.
“Destroyed?” Langdon repeated. “What do you mean destroyed?”
There was silence once again. “Mr. Dawson told me to destroy it a few weeks ago,” Colin said.
Langdon shook his head. “Mr. Dawson told you to destroy the file. Are you sure that it was him? He told you that in person?”
“He telephoned me, sir,” Colin replied. “It was a bad line, but I’m sure that it was him.”
Langdon put the phone down. “This is mighty odd,” he said. “There’s nothing there apparently. There are no papers, no files, nothing. Wait here. I won’t be long I’m going to check this, myself.”
Ten minutes went by, fifteen, twenty. Kendall was just beginning to think that he had been forgotten when the door suddenly opened, and Langdon walked in. He was shaking his head. “I just don’t understand it,” he said. “There’s nothing there. Everything has gone. Even his computer files have all been deleted. It’s as though it had never been written. In fact, it’s almost as though Richard Dawson had never existed. It’s odd. It just doesn’t make any sense.”
Somehow, though, it made sense to Kendall. Somehow it made perfect sense.
* * *
Kendall sighed and took a deep breath. He stretched his arms into the air, and yawned. He was quite tired, and was lying on the sofa. He had got back from his jog along the beach about forty minutes ago. It hadn’t gone so well today. In fact it had been a pretty bad day. Everything that could have gone wrong had gone wrong. Firstly, he had been very late starting. It was downhill from then on. It was just too hot, as simple as that. Too hot, and he was too tired.
The beach had been pretty full by the time he had arrived. His target of five thousand paces hadn’t quite been achieved. In fact he had missed it by two thousand, six hundred and ninety-seven. His calorie counter indicated that he had only burnt off two hundred and thirty calories. It must have stopped, he muttered.
No he had to admit the day had gone badly so far. He felt dreadful. That large breakfast, bacon, eggs, and hash browns, followed by pancakes with maple syrup hadn’t helped either. It certainly tasted good, but as an aid to slimming it left a lot to be desired. He shook his head. It hurt. He adjusted the damp cloth that was casually draped across his forehead, in a vain attempt to quell the throbbing.
In the background he could just hear the announcer on the Fox channel. “Breaking news that is just coming in,” the voice said. “It has been announced by Trenton Pharmaceuticals that in the fight to combat the present epidemic of what has been termed Rican Flu, they will soon commence shipping large quantities of a new drug, Dioxycill 245.”
Kendall struggled to sit up, and reached for the remote control. He turned the volume up just as the screen changed to show the headquarters building of Trenton Pharmaceuticals.
The voice over continued. “Shipments will be made to Central and Southern America, India, and West Africa, the most affected areas. This is part of a United Nations led program that will cost in the region of two point four billion dollars. It is understood that the necessary finance will be provided by the United States of America, and the European Union.” The screen changed to an internal shot of the building, in the middle of the screen stood Alan Clark.
“Mr. Clark,” the reporter said. “Two point four billion dollars is a lot of money, wouldn’t you say?”
Clark started to smile, and nodded his head. “Well, yes it is.” Then he smiled. “But it’s not all profit. After all research and development costs are hugely expensive. Did you realize that over ninety-five per cent of the work we do is eventually shown to be wrong, and consequently of no value? And besides we will be making substantial contributions to the World Health Organization, and UNICEF.”
“Substantial?” the reporter repeated. “How much would that be, exactly?”
Clark shook his head, still smiling. “The details are still being worked out,” he replied. “But you’ll be the first to know when a decision is made.”
The reporter nodded his head. “How has Trenton managed to get this drug out so quickly?” he asked. “What with the extensive testing that needs to be carried out.”
Clark looked directly at the camera. “We here at Trenton are mindful of the difficulties in the so-called third world countries. We also know that there is a need to combat this epidemic, and quickly. We have arranged through the relevant agencies both here in America, and in Europe, for the necessary testing to be, shall we say less stringent in cases where the drug is to be used outside of America and Europe.”
The reporter looked surprised, and a little shocked. “Does that suggest that fewer precautions are being taken thereby possibly putting people at risk?”
Clark smiled and shook his head. “Not at all,” he replied. “After all, people are people the world over. They all deserve the very best that they can get, wouldn’t you say, the very best that we can supply.” He paused, and took a deep breath. “We are taking all the precautions we can. However you must remember that people are currently dying in the countries your report mentioned. Time is against us. We need to get something out there, and quickly. We need to give these people a chance, any kind of a chance.” He shrugged his shoulders and sighed. “Naturally, I would like to supply a 100% guaranteed safe and effective drug, and if I had the time that is exactly what I would do. Sadly, we just do not have the time. So that might mean we have to take a few risks.” He shook his head. “If that means we find a cure to this menace quickly, then that risk would be worth taking I say.” He looked directly at the camera, a wide grin spread across his face. He nodded his head. “Wouldn’t you agree?”
The reporter nodded. That made sense, he thought. “Yes I can understand that,” he said. “However drugs normally take years to develop don’t they? Your, what is it called…?”
“Diox-y-cill 245,” Clark replied slowly, pronouncing every syllable clearly and distinctly. “It is a combination of an antibiotic, and an anti-viral drug.”
The reporter nodded. “Yes, your Dioxycill, it seems to have been produced very quickly, a few short months, only.”
Clark shook his head. “No, that’s not entirely right at all,” he said. “We have been working on that particular drug ever since 2005.”
“2005,” Kendall murmured. He suddenly remembered that photograph of the group of tents. It was somewhere in Punta Rojas. Written across the bottom was that single word Trenton, and the date 2005. That was quite a co-incidence.
Kendall didn’t believe in co-incidence.
Chapter Twenty
A Hospital Check Up
“Bucharest Daily News,” Bucharest, Tuesday – “The first case of Rican flu in Romania has been reported by the head of the Romanian Society
for Epidemiology, Gebba Zolnar. Zolnar stated that a thirty-year-old woman who had recently returned from the United States had contracted the disease. The woman is now hospitalized at the Infectious Disease Institute in Bucharest together with her family. Romanian Health Minister Ion Balzac also confirmed the case and stressed that at the moment it was crucial to identify all persons that the woman had come into contact with. The woman had symptoms that included a rash to the upper body, together with respiratory problems. The first tests taken at the Cantacuzino Institute were inconclusive. However, the samples were also sent to a specialized laboratory in London, which, it is understood, will be able to confirm the result within the next few days, Minister Balzac added.”
“Pravda TOMSK” (Siberia), Tuesday – “The number of Russians who have contracted the Rican flu has risen to ten after doctors in South-Western Siberia diagnosed a 14-year-old girl with the virus, local authorities said late on Monday evening. “A 14-year-old resident of Seversk in the Tomsk Region has contracted the virus whilst on a trip to Great Britain,” a spokesperson in the regional administration office said. “The confirmation from the Vektor Medical Laboratory in Novosibirsk arrived on Monday.”
Russia’s top sanitary official, Leonid Olavinsky, said on Friday that all patients diagnosed with Rican flu in Russia were people who had returned after vacations or business trips abroad. He also said that none of the patients were in a serious condition.”
The World Health Organization (WHO) has confirmed seventeen thousand four hundred and sixteen officially registered Rican flu cases and 429 deaths in forty-two countries and territories worldwide.
Zaman, Istanbul, Tuesday - “The total number of Rican flu cases in Turkey has risen to 82, with 34 of the cases diagnosed only in the past week, according to Health Ministry records. Those diagnosed with Rican flu are reported to be doing well. However, there have been no follow-up reports on those who have been released from hospitals. So far, no deaths have been reported in Turkey due to Rican flu. Among the latest cases seen in Turkey are two Cypriots recently arrived from the Turkish Republic of Northern Cyprus (KKTC), three Romanian citizens arriving from Romania and one Turkish and one English citizen arriving from the UK who were detected as being infected by the Rican flu virus. In addition, another Turkish citizen has been diagnosed with Rican flu.”
* * *
Kendall sighed deeply. He wasn’t feeling too well. He had been awake for much of the night. The jogging yesterday had really been too much for him. He had aches and pains all over, and he had a temperature. He had muscle pains where he hadn’t even known that he had muscles. Earlier there had been a strange tightness to his throat, and now there was a nagging pain in the centre of his chest. He sighed once again, and looked over at Mollie. She was busily reading a magazine, and paid no attention to him. He sighed once again, louder this time. Once again Mollie ignored him, and continued reading. It was an article regarding make up tips from the stars. There was another loud sigh, there was still no reaction. She must be deaf. Kendall started to cough, and moaning loudly.
Mollie suddenly looked up and threw her magazine down on to the desk. “What is it?” she asked impatiently. “What is your problem?”
Kendall looked at her, and then looked down. “I’m sick,” he said weakly. “I don’t feel too good.” He paused and took a deep breath. “I hope I’m not catching that flu virus.”
Mollie sighed, and shook her head. “You’re not sick,” she said simply.
Kendall placed his hand on his chest. “I am sick,” he insisted. “I’m very sick. It’s my heart. I’m sure of it.”
“It’s not your heart,” Mollie said. “It’s probably that curry you had last night.” She looked at him and sighed. “I did warn you, but you wouldn’t listen. You knew best.”
Kendall shook his head. “You don’t care that’s your trouble,” he said. “I’m sick, probably dying, and you just don’t care.” He clutched his chest again and moaned loudly.
“All right, if you’re so sick, you better see a doctor, or go to the hospital for a checkup.”
Kendall shook his head. Maybe she was right, maybe it was the curry, but just in case she was wrong, he would get a checkup. Then, when the bad news was confirmed, she’d be sorry she had been so heartless. Yes he would go to the hospital, he would go today, this very afternoon. He wanted to pay a visit to a hospital anyway. In fact he actually had a particular hospital in mind. Furthermore he had already made an appointment.
“Oh, I’ll be all right,” he said quietly. “Don’t you worry about me. I don’t want to be a burden to anyone. I’ll manage.”
Mollie nodded. “Good,” she murmured. She did not need to be told twice, and without anything further, she retrieved her magazine and continued reading from where she had left off.
* * *
The Larkspur Clinic is located in a quiet leafy suburb on the western side of the city. It is a three-storey marble and glass structure surrounded by woodland. It was only a few years old and boasted state of the art equipment. Kendall had parked about thirty yards from the main entrance. He got out of the car and started to walk towards the building.
“Incredible,” he murmured. And extremely pricey, he guessed; the best of the very best, the crème de la crème. You didn’t get this kind of thing on Medicare that was certain. This kind of service came with two things only – money, and lots of it, or influence. In the case of Richard Dawson it was both, all courtesy of the Miami Herald, who provided the very best possible care for their employees. It was here that Richard Dawson had been rushed, following the alleged accident. It was here that he had been examined. And it was here that the death certificate had been signed. “Death was caused as a result of internal hemorrhage of the brain.”
As Kendall approached the main entrance doors, there was a gentle hissing sound and they slowly opened. He walked through into the bright and airy entrance lobby. Over on the far side was the reception counter. Kendall slowly walked over. As he drew near, one of the smartly dressed receptionists looked up.
“Can I help you, sir?” she asked, with a large smile on her face.
Kendall smiled back. “I hope so,” he said. “I would like to speak to Doctor Lambert, or Doctor Russell, please.”
“Did you have an appointment?” she asked.
I did, and, I fact, I still do, have an appointment. “Yes I do,” Kendall replied. “I rang earlier.”
The young lady looked down at her computer screen for a few moments. She then looked back at Kendall. “Doctor Russell is off today, I’m afraid.” She paused for a moment. “I think Doctor Lambert is in surgery.” She checked her screen once more. “Let me try his pager.” There was no reply. “As I thought,” the young lady said. “He must be in surgery. Let me try his secretary.” She reached for the telephone and quickly dialed the number.
A few moments later a young lady answered the call. “Doctor Lambert’s office,” a voice said. “Can I help you?”
“Oh Pat, this is Liz on reception.”
“Hi Liz,” the voice replied. “What can I do for you?”
Liz looked at Kendall and smiled. “Pat, I have someone here.” She placed her hand over the receiver, and looked at Kendall. “What name is it?” she asked.
“Kendall, Tom Kendall,” Kendall replied. “I have an appointment.” He looked at his watch, and then he checked the large clock on the wall. “For three o’clock. I’m a little early.”
“Pat, are you still there?” Liz continued as she removed her hand. “I have a Mr. Tom Kendall here to see Doctor Lambert,” she explained. “He has an appointment for three o’clock.”
There was silence for a few moments. “That’s correct,” Pat replied. “I have it listed here.” There was silence once again. “Doctor Lambert is in the lecture room with those new students. He is due back in about fifteen minutes. Anyway, send him up, would you? He can wait here.” The line went dead.
Liz replaced her handset, and looked at Kendall. “You c
an go right up,” she said. “Room two four two.” She pointed over towards the lift area. “It’s the second floor, turn left.”
Kendall looked in the direction indicated. Then he turned back, thanked her, and then slowly made his way over to the lift.
* * *
A few minutes later, Kendall was standing outside room two four two. He knocked on the door.
“Come in,” a voice called out. Kendall opened the door and entered the room. A young lady came towards him, and beckoned him in, closing the door behind him. “Mr. Kendall?” she asked. “I’m Doctor Lambert’s secretary. Doctor Lambert has just rung through. He will be here in about five minutes. Do have a seat.” She pointed to a chair.
Kendall nodded and sat down. The young lady returned to her desk and resumed her work. Kendall looked down at the low table next to him. There were a number of magazines in a neat pile. Kendall reached forward and picked up the one at the top of the pile. It was the latest copy of The American Medical Journal. Kendall started to slowly turn the pages, casually glancing at them as he did so. As far as he could see it was full of articles regarding the Rican Flu. He slowly closed the magazine and placed it back on the pile. Carefully, he patted the sides to ensure that it was properly and neatly in place.
The secretary noticed what he was doing and smiled at him. “He won’t be much longer,” she said. Kendall smiled back and quickly looked away.
Suddenly the door swept open, and a tall, grey haired man entered the room. “Mr. Kendall,” he said. “I hope I haven’t kept you waiting.” Without slowing down, the man continued towards his office. “Please come in,” he called out to Kendall trailing behind him. “Pat, no calls please,” he called out as he opened the door of his office and waved Kendall through.
* * *