All Fall Down

by Louise Voss

  ‘Ha, you’re making me sound like an alcoholic. I’m not – but it’s a bit of a stressful situation, wouldn’t you say?’

  Annie’s expression turned serious. ‘Just a bit. So, how are you finding it here?’

  Kate shrugged, not sure how much to admit to. She was glad Annie had asked her the question before she’d finished her drink. ‘Great facilities,’ she said neutrally. ‘Fantastic to be able to work with an unlimited research budget, too – I’m not used to that.’

  ‘I bet you miss your partner, though,’ Annie fished.

  ‘Work partner or home partner?’ Kate asked, visualising Paul and Isaac with a pang of longing for each so strong that she almost downed a huge gulp of the JD before thinking better of it. Kolosine would skin her alive if she went drunk to her next shift. This didn’t seem to concern Annie; she was guzzling her liquor as though it was apple juice.

  ‘Well, both, I guess – but I was thinking of your research partner. I was so sorry to hear about that.’ Annie put a hand on Kate’s forearm and squeezed. ‘You had a lucky escape, didn’t you? How come you weren’t at that conference too?’

  Kate frowned. ‘How do you know I was meant to go?’

  Annie looked momentarily flustered. ‘Oh, sorry, Kate, I didn’t mean to pry. I just assumed you were meant to be going if Isaac Larter was. Weren’t you?’

  ‘Yeah, I was, as it happens. My son had chickenpox so I cancelled last minute. Anyway, can we change the subject? How did you end up in this team?’

  Annie opened her mouth to speak, and then froze, pushing her blonde curls behind one ear as though this would help her hear better. ‘Wait – what was that?’

  ‘What?’ Kate hadn’t heard anything.

  Annie put her fingers to her lips, placed her mug on the floor, and tiptoed towards the bedroom door. She slowly turned the door handle – and then wrenched the door wide open, dashing out into the hallway. ‘Can I help you?’ she shouted after someone.

  Kate got up and followed her out, still clutching her mug. She saw a flash of meaty calf vanish around the corner towards the staircase, and a brief swish and crackle of nylon overalls.

  ‘It was Adoncia,’ said Annie in disgust. ‘That woman creeps me out. I swear she had her ear pressed against the door. What the hell was she hoping to hear?’

  Kate looked down at her drink. ‘Maybe she suspected we had illicit alcohol in here,’ she said.

  Annie giggled. ‘Maybe. Quick, let’s go get rid of the rest of the evidence.’

  But Kate put her hand over the top of her mug when Annie tried to give her a refill. She’d only had half of the first one, and was already feeling woozy. At this rate I’ll need a nap before my shift, she was thinking, when there was a loud rap at the door.

  ‘Now what?’ Annie said, hastily concealing her cup again.

  Junko stuck her head into the room. ‘Hurry, both of you, we’ve all got to get into the lab – now. Kolosine’s orders. It’s an emergency.’

  ‘What’s happened?’ Kate jumped to her feet, unspeakably relieved that she hadn’t had another drink. Annie stood up too, and visibly swayed.

  ‘You’ll see,’ Junko said grimly. ‘Just hurry.’

  19

  ‘Thank you so much for agreeing to talk to me,’ Paul said to Rosie.

  ‘That’s OK. It was a shock to hear Mangold’s name again – I hadn’t thought about Medi-Lab in an awful long time.’

  Paul had met her back outside the diner at eleven, having first returned to his hotel room for a shower and a shave. It was still warm despite the late hour and he put on a polo shirt and a clean pair of jeans, wanting to look respectable and trustworthy. He was wide awake now, his body clock so out of kilter it didn’t know what time zone it was in. He still hadn’t heard anything from Kate, so while he waited he’d emailed her, cryptically, saying he was safe but couldn’t tell her where he was, and asking her to reply and let him know she was OK.

  He checked the news while he was online: the first cases of Indian flu had been reported beyond LA, in parts of Los Angeles County. A woman had died in Pasadena, another in Malibu. Twitter was full of LA residents tweeting about how they felt sick, and scared.

  Back at the diner, he had been starting to worry Rosie had changed her mind and sneaked out the back door, but she came out at 11.30 and suggested they head to a nearby bar. She had changed out of her waitress’s uniform into a white blouse and denim skirt. The bar was quiet, but airless and sweaty. As he sat down opposite her at a table in the back, it struck him again how attractive she was. Attractive but haunted, the fine lines of her face mapping a history of adversity. Like Kate.

  ‘So what do you know about Medi-Lab?’ he asked, after they had exchanged a little small talk.

  ‘My father used to work there. Not in the lab or anything like that. He was a salesman – selling Medi-Lab’s drugs to doctors and whatnot. He wasn’t at home much when I was a teenager, on account of him always being out on the road. He’d come home, what, once a month? He called home a lot, though – every night before I went to bed.’ She rested her chin on her palm, her eyes misting. ‘Every night without fail.’

  ‘Do you know what kind of drugs he was selling?’

  ‘I’m not one hundred per cent sure. Antibiotics, mostly, I think.’

  ‘Not antivirals? Antibiotics treat bacteria. I thought Medi-Lab predominantly worked on virus research?’

  ‘Hmm … well, like I said, I’m not totally sure. Drugs. That was all the detail I knew. Daddy helped doctors cure sick people. Some months, he’d help a lot of doctors and I’d get presents and my mom would get a lot of new clothes and everyone would be smiling. But most months, things would be tight, the refrigerator would be half-empty and my mom would sit around looking sick with worry …’

  Paul waited for her to continue.

  ‘Then, when the big scandal happened with the virus and the company went bust, my father lost his job. After that, the refrigerator was pretty much always half-empty.’ She smiled suddenly. ‘Listen to me. What a drama queen. Talking like some character from a Charles Dickens novel. But it was shitty – excuse my French – back then. Daddy was always raging about Mangold, about how it was all his fault the company had gone under, and how he’d gotten away with it, was still living in his big old house with plenty of money.’

  ‘Do you think I could talk to your father?’

  Her voice was quiet. ‘He died.’

  ‘Oh. I’m sorry. How, er … what happened?’

  ‘He died of pneumonia. It was a long time ago now – a couple of years after he lost his job. He was only forty-three. But he got sick a lot in that couple of years, I think because he was so depressed, drinking a lot.’

  ‘That’s really sad. I’m sorry to dredge all this up. It must have been hard for you.’ He knew these were platitudes, but he didn’t know what else to say. And while the sympathy he felt for Rosie and her late father was genuine, he couldn’t help wondering how useful this information might be in locating Mangold.

  ‘How much do you know about the big health scare that led to Medi-Lab being closed down?’

  ‘Only what Daddy told me and what was on TV at the time. They were working on a cure for some nasty African virus when there was a breakout. It was contained, but a couple of people died.’

  ‘Was it the Watoto virus?’

  ‘I don’t know … The name kind of sounds familiar.’

  From living with Kate, Paul had a good knowledge of nasty viruses. ‘Or could it have been Ebola, or Marburg?’

  Rosie shook her head. ‘I don’t know. Maybe the second one you mentioned. Anyway, whatever it was, a couple of the scientists who worked in the lab there caught it and died. I remember there were journalists all over the place. Daddy said the place was crawling with secret agents.’

  ‘FBI? I thought the Department of Health were responsible for closing it down?’

  ‘Hmm. He definitely said secret agents. But maybe he was mistaken.’

 
‘And do you know what happened to Mangold? Apart from continuing to live in his big house?’

  ‘No, not really. Except Daddy … I just realised I keep calling him Daddy. Huh. How about that? My father used to cuss him so much I started to hate him myself. I know he lived out of town. Still does, for all I know.’

  Paul took his iPhone out of his pocket, ready to type in a note. ‘Do you know where?’

  Disappointingly, she said she didn’t. ‘Are you trying to find him?’

  ‘Yes, I want to try to interview him.’ He hated being disingenuous, especially when Rosie was being so open.

  ‘Can’t you just look him up on the internet or something?’

  ‘I’ve tried – believe me, I’ve really tried. He seems to be completely off the radar. Any idea how I can find out where he lives? I need to know.’

  He had raised his voice and her body language changed in an instant. Where previously she had been leaning forward, now she sat upright in her chair, shoulders back, her eyes narrowing. ‘OK – what’s really going on here?’ she demanded.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Well, you seem pretty worked up about finding Mangold. Beyond the call of journalistic duty, I’d say. Are you really writing a book about him?’

  Paul exhaled. What was the point in lying? ‘Actually – no … Sorry. It’s a long story.’

  ‘I think I’d better go.’ She stood, briskly gathering up her purse.

  ‘No, please!’

  Paul didn’t know how much Rosie could really help him, but he didn’t want her to leave. He was enjoying her company, more than he’d enjoyed anyone’s company for a long time. With the exception of Kate and Jack, of course. The thought of her running out alarmed him, and he fleetingly regretted telling the truth.

  ‘Please,’ he said. ‘Sit down and I’ll tell you everything.’

  She hesitated, then sat back in her seat, tracing with her fingertip the edges of a stain on the table in front of her. ‘Sweet Home Alabama’ came on the jukebox, and Paul noticed her finger tapping in time to the intro. He was surprised that she’d stayed. She didn’t know him, had no idea if she could trust him. But there was something about her that made him think she was lonely, that maybe she didn’t have anyone to talk to apart from her grown-up daughter and her customers. And that maybe she was enjoying his company too.

  ‘Thank you. OK …’ He paused, aware that the story he was about to tell would sound far-fetched, even though it was true. He had to be careful how he told it. ‘A couple of years ago my twin brother, Stephen, was killed by a virus – a man-made virus.’

  ‘Man-made? Do things like that really exist?’

  Paul nodded. ‘I used to be sceptical about that kind of thing too. But it does happen. And Mangold was involved. He was funding the guy who made this virus. Because of that, he was partly responsible for my brother’s death, so I need to find him.’

  ‘This is crazy,’ Rosie said.

  ‘I knew you’d think it sounded crazy.’

  ‘No, I meant, a few hours ago, this was just a normal, boring day. Then this Englishman walks into my diner and cracks open the past, then starts telling tales about searching for the man who helped kill his brother with a deadly virus.’

  ‘Yeah. It’s insane. But believe me, I’ve seen crazier things.’

  ‘I bet you have.’

  The air between them was thick with tension. Rosie was looking straight into his eyes, trying, it seemed, to read him.

  ‘Excuse me,’ she said, standing up again, once more hooking her bag strap over her shoulder.

  ‘Are you leaving?’

  ‘Don’t look so worried. I’m only going to the bathroom.’

  He sat and waited for a few minutes, convinced she had left the bar and that, unless he went back to the diner and begged her to reconsider, he would never see her again.

  But then her reflection appeared in the mirror on the wall, holding two more bottles of beer.

  ‘Mangold,’ she said, sitting down and pushing one of the bottles across to him, ‘ruined my father’s life. You know, I met him a couple of times, when I was a kid. They used to hold an open day for all the staff and their families every summer.’ She sipped her beer. ‘I gotta admit, I’d sure like to find Charles Mangold too. There are a few things I’d be keen to say to him.’

  Paul nodded. There was a fire in her eyes now. It made her even more beautiful, especially when she leaned towards him across the table and he could see the swell of her breasts, her skin aglow with perspiration, a pink flush around her collarbone. He couldn’t help it: he was aroused. He made himself think about Kate, feeling horribly guilty, but telling himself at the same time that it was OK to find another woman attractive, so long as you didn’t do anything about it.

  She looked right into his eyes, holding his gaze for a few seconds longer than necessary. ‘I think I know just the person who could help.’

  20

  Kate and Annie followed Junko towards the lab, walking briskly to keep up with her. Annie was surreptitiously huffing into her cupped hand, and Kate slipped her a stick of gum.

  ‘Is it Buckley?’ Kate asked as they entered the changing room and, for the second time that day, began slipping into their safety suits.

  Junko nodded. Within minutes, they were suited up and in the lab. Kolosine and the rest of the team were gathered around the windows of the small room in which Kate had sat with Officer Buckley earlier that morning.

  Kate edged her way to the front, and gasped with shock. Buckley, who had been lying as still as a corpse earlier, was having a fit. He thrashed about on his cot, limbs shaking violently. His eyes bulged and his tongue protruded from his mouth.

  ‘He’s having a seizure,’ Kolosine commented, as if he were describing a dance move.

  ‘But Watoto doesn’t cause seizures!’

  ‘Could it be a fever seizure?’ Annie asked.

  Kolosine looked at her scornfully. ‘No. If this was a small child we might suspect that, but not in an adult. This is something new. This, it seems, is how victims of Watoto-X2 die – the seizure usually finishes them off before the haemorrhaging starts. Less messy, at least. It’s fascinating. I’ve never known a virus cause this kind of violent seizure in an adult before.’

  ‘Why isn’t somebody in there helping him?’ demanded Kate. ‘Didn’t they send a nurse with him?’

  ‘He’s beyond help. There was a nurse, but she got sick and had to go back,’ Kolosine said flatly.

  Kate moved towards the door. ‘We can at least comfort him. He needs to be turned on to his side, so he doesn’t swallow his tongue. Come on, let me in.’

  Kolosine sighed. ‘A proper Florence Nightingale, aren’t you?’

  ‘Fuck you, Kolosine.’

  Though she couldn’t hear anything over the speaker in her helmet, Kate sensed the collective gasp from the other scientists. Kolosine glared at her from behind his visor. She couldn’t remember ever receiving a look of such naked hatred before.

  ‘Fine,’ he said. ‘Be a heroine.’

  Once inside the room, Kate hesitated. Buckley was writhing and crying out, shaking like someone was sending two thousand volts through his body.

  ‘Sod this,’ Kate muttered, and she ripped aside the plastic sheet that sealed the cop inside the isolator, bending to manoeuvre him on to his side.

  ‘It’s OK, it’s OK,’ she whispered as his terrified eyes met hers. She held on to him, shocked by the violence of the tremors, wishing she could do something, anything, to stop his suffering.

  She clutched him for a long time, her eyes squeezed shut. Eventually, he went still. She opened her eyes and looked into his face. She wouldn’t be able to feel his pulse with her thick gloves on, so she put her visor close to his face, as if they were kissing. There was no mist on the visor. No breath.

  She looked up as she became aware that Kolosine was tapping furiously on the glass. He spoke to her – shouted at her – through the radiocom, filling her helmet with f
ury.

  ‘You’re contaminated, so we are leaving the lab. Wait for us to exit then come through. Make sure you put your suit into the disposal bin and scrub your whole body.’

  God, she wished she could mute him. She watched as Kolosine led the others out of the lab, Junko and Annie both looking back at her, frowning behind their visors. A great wave of exhaustion crashed over her.

  She forced herself to look down at Officer Buckley before exiting the lab. You need to freeze this image in your mind, she told herself. Because this is it. This is the reality of what’s out there.

  This is what you have to beat.

  Dawn broke, and Kate had barely slept. This was only her second full day at the lab and already the pressure to find the vaccine was becoming unbearable. For a while she lay fretting under her incongruously twee patchwork quilt, reliving Buckley’s dreadful last moments, feeling physically sick with the responsibility resting on her shoulders, and the shoulders of the rest of the team. Bright morning sun streamed through the thin calico curtains, and Kate put the pillow over her head to block it out.

  When she had emerged from the lab after decontaminating herself, Kolosine had sent her to her room, like a naughty child. She had spent the time poring over her research paper, hoping it might reveal to her some elusive detail that could help solve this puzzle.

  Finally giving up on sleep, she got up and set off for the breakfast room, taking her laptop with her. She was re-reading her research paper for the tenth time when the epidemiologist walked in, a huge mug of coffee in one hand and a large laptop in the other. He looked utterly haunted.

  ‘Hi …’ she said. ‘How are you getting on?’

  William shook his head and took a big swig of the coffee. ‘Got a minute? I’ll show you.’

  He pulled out the chair next to her and sat down, pointing at his computer screen. His hair was sticking up in all directions, as though he’d just got out of his bed – although Kate suspected he hadn’t been near it all night.

  ‘This is my first graph, the epidemic curve so far,’ he said, indicating a steeply inclined green line. ‘Number of cases – y-axis; date and time of onset – x-axis. Look at that rate of infectivity – have you ever seen anything this bad?’