by JT Sawyer
She pressed the send button for Weaver’s number and waited for him to pick up while wondering what new fiend nature had just unleashed upon the world.
Chapter 6
The Gulfstream G150 jet hit a jarring air pocket that yanked Reisner awake from his brief slumber. He sat up and looked out the window, recognizing the mountainous topography of Malaysia below. He had served three years assigned to a field station in Singapore shortly after graduating from training, and had spent many long days doing reconnaissance flights over the country. He glanced at his watch and figured they had just over ninety minutes before arriving in Manila, which was just about how much sleep he’d had.
During the early hours of the flight, he and his team had mulled over the details of what Siegel had presented. Two things had become crystal clear to Reisner: his team was more on edge than on any other mission, and everyone thought Siegel was withholding vital intel on the nature of what the Atropos was doing in the South China Sea. Neither was a confidence booster, and Reisner had done his best to remind his team of their track record and their considerable tactical abilities. He also reassured them that their safety came first over anything on board the vessel, despite what Siegel said.
He rolled his shoulders and stood up, walking past Connelly, who had her knees scrunched into her chest while her earbuds sealed her off from the rest of the world. She rocked her head to the side as the music seeped out. He gave Connelly a quick glance, as her t-shirt had slid down slightly, showing her tan neckline.
So far she seemed like an excellent operator, plus she was easy on the eyes, though he had to remind himself that he had almost ten years on her. Not that it would have mattered. At this point in his life, he had little interest in relationships beyond his professional world. His schedule revolved around constant assignments abroad, and he grew uneasy staying in one place too long.
His team was the closest thing to friends he had, but most of them except Nash and Runa were kept at a distance, for more than just professional reasons. His father’s lifestyle had taught him that. As a career army officer, his father’s job ensured the Reisner family never stayed in one place for long, and Will had grown up moving to a new base every couple of years. Childhood friends were fleeting, and he learned to never hold on to either people or places. His relationships with women in college were just as ephemeral. If college had given him a place to funnel his energy, then the Agency had provided a way to direct it into a laser focus. Once he left home, he never returned, except for his sister’s birthdays and, later, to attend his father’s funeral. Runa and his team were the only ones he let partly into his world, and even then they were only occasionally granted access through many layers of security.
He continued down the aisle, moving past Byrne and Porter, who were stretched out on their reclining seats, partially asleep, while Nash was staring intently at his laptop.
Reisner walked by the lanky figure and reached past him for a bottle of water stowed in a seat back.
“Anything of importance?”
“Just the news—and you know what can be said about that,” Nash said, leaning back and thrusting a finger at the screen. “Though this is of interest—from a source out of Vietnam which says there’s an outbreak of flu. Thousands of people are being admitted to hospitals around Southeast Asia. Same thing is being reported in Singapore and Jakarta.”
Reisner raised his eyebrows. “Avian flu has been known to be endemic to the region. There used to be regular outbreaks around Asia when I lived there years ago, though not on that scale.”
Reisner pulled out his phone and then scrutinized a message from Runa that was sent an hour ago. “Get a load of this—says here that dozens of patients in separate incidences were admitted to the ER in Taiwan last night, all reporting flu-like symptoms and all of them dying. And there are cases of a mysterious virus now erupting around the U.S., although there’s no confirmation as to whether it’s the same one the Taiwanese are dealing with.”
“Damn,” Nash said, rubbing his chin.
Reisner held the phone out towards Nash, pointing to the fifth line, which indicated an autopsy in Taiwan had revealed the presence of Bertiella in the muscle tissue and organs.
“What the hell is that—a drug of some kind?” said Reisner.
Nash typed in the word on Google, then scanned the results. “It’s a type of tapeworm.” He squinted at the article’s fine print. “Says it’s usually found in primates in the wilds and is spread by tiny mites.”
Reisner grimaced, then squinted at the intel on the screen, trying to glean more from Runa’s message. He thought back to Siegel’s frightening lecture and felt like he already knew the answer. He tried to dismiss it. No way our government would set off something on this scale. He took a gulp of water and paused. Not intentionally, anyway—Christ, what if someone stumbled across that ship?
“And what about the cases out of Southeast Asia and surrounding regions—any mention of this Bertolla showing up there too?”
“Bertiella, and I have no idea.”
“Any news reports from China on outbreaks resembling the Agency’s closed source documents?”
“No—nothing at all,” Nash replied after scrolling back through the headlines of reports listed on the Langley servers.
“Even if there were, China would keep a tight lid on it, knowing their need to control the media and their perception abroad.”
Reisner texted Runa, inquiring further about the outbreaks and any connections to their current operation. When he was done, he palmed the phone as if trying to see into the future. He felt like calling his sister in Virginia and checking in on her. Maybe even telling her to take the day off from teaching at her elementary school. What would he say? And why the hell would she even listen to him—as far as she knew, he worked as a risk management advisor for corporations, not as a spook with access to classified events unfolding around the world.
His phone vibrated and he glanced down at the screen. It was from Runa:
Outbreaks filtering in from the UK, Australia, South America, and Africa. China is a black hole and our embassy is not responding.
Reisner took a deep breath and shot a nervous look at Nash. Reisner feverishly typed a response, inquiring about where the initial outbreak had occurred.
Runa’s message fired back a few seconds later. His reply caused Reisner’s face to go rigid.
“What?” said Nash.
He tried to swallow but felt his mouth go dry. “There were over eighteen hundred passengers who recently disembarked from a cruise ship that ended its tour in Hong Kong three days ago. All of the passengers flew home to their own countries and have since come down with a mysterious virus.”
Chapter 7
The highway heading to Baltimore-Washington International Airport was more congested than usual, and Selene was getting concerned that she’d miss her flight. The middle-aged taxi driver was doing his best to maneuver through the mess while cursing under his breath.
Selene had convinced David Weaver at the CDC to get her on a flight to Taiwan to assist Tso with the mystery he was confronting. At first Weaver was obstinate, as she expected, but when Selene shared the data and blood sample results Tso had emailed her, along with the mention that patient zero was in Tso’s morgue, his mood changed. If this was avian influenza, then Selene was exactly the person to be on the front lines. She opened her laptop and scanned some information on virus transmission via parasites sent to her by a colleague from the WHO.
With a mile left to go before the international terminal, her phone rang. She shoved her laptop in a shoulder bag then answered the call from Weaver.
“Selene, I’ve just gotten word that there are sixty-three confirmed cases of influenza throughout the U.S. So far, twenty-eight of the patients have died from acute respiratory failure. And I’ve gotten reports of outbreaks in Latin America and Europe as well.”
Her mind reeled from the staggering percentage of fatalities. She listened in horror
as Weaver discussed the same symptoms that Tso had listed and the presence of miniscule parasites.
She soaked in every word Weaver uttered. “From the personal history interviews my team has conducted with the families of the victims, the one thing they all have in common is that they recently completed a cruise that finished in Hong Kong. All of the victims, even those my colleagues in the UK and elsewhere have documented, can be traced back to Asia Pacific Cruise lines.”
Selene thought back to her conversation with Tso. He didn’t mention any connection between the victims except that they must have come into contact with patient zero after he left the tea plantation. Did patient zero come into contact with the people getting off the cruise, or are we dealing with two separate flu strains?
“Send any data back from Taiwan ASAP,” said Weaver in a frightened tone. “It sounds like Victor Tso already has some lead time on us for understanding what’s happening, and I need some answers on how to combat this thing. I’ve got all my staff focusing on this as their top priority, but anything you can forward to me about patient zero will speed this along compared to what Tso can do at his facility.”
The taxi driver pulled to the curb and pointed to the terminal. Right now, she wished she could be in his seemingly carefree position, oblivious to Weaver’s message and unaware of the deadly virus that had just reared its head around the globe.
She got out of the taxi and grabbed her luggage, dumping it all on the curb while hastily reaching for her cab fare. Selene wished she could snap her fingers and be in Taiwan. The eighteen-hour flight time was going to be excruciating since she couldn’t be in touch with her colleagues or keep track of the unfolding events. She wondered if the other passengers were aware of the outbreak in Taiwan, but then remembered Tso’s comments about the tight-lipped manner in which the minister of health was trying to prevent news of the event from leaking out.
Selene stopped in mid-stride as she approached the luggage kiosk near the entrance. What if the virus has spread throughout Taiwan by now? She thought of donning an N95 mask when she disembarked the airplane in Taipei—she always kept one in her carry-on—but then worried about the panic she might set off with the other passengers, not to mention the fact that the mask was only mildly effective in serving as a viral barrier. Being crammed in an airport terminal with a circulating ventilation system amidst thousands of people was like stepping into a giant petri-dish.
She had dealt with the fear of contagion before while working in Africa and Haiti, but those assignments involved the use of biohazard suits and numerous safety protocols to prevent contamination. Plus, those threats were regional and she knew her team would be pulled out by WHO in the event the social order began to crumble. What if there’s a quarantine placed on travel after I arrive—will I be able to get back here?
Selene glanced up at the departure schedule on the overhead monitor as she stepped forward in line. It’s not too late to turn back. I could always assist Victor with his work through videoconferencing.
She took a deep breath, pressing her shoulders back, disappointed in herself for having such a moment of selfishness when other people’s lives were at stake. Suck it up—you battled Ebola before, for crying out loud. This is why she’d had gotten into medicine in the first place. The science was utterly fascinating but it was the impact she could have on people’s lives through preventing disease outbreaks and saving those who seemed beyond hope—that was what infused her career with meaning.
Selene glanced at the television monitor again, focusing on the destination of Taipei and reflecting on the battle that Victor Tso was embroiled in. She strode forward, thrusting her luggage onto the platform and handing her ticket to the attendant. Hang on, Victor. We’ll figure this out together. As she walked inside the terminal, she felt around inside her purse for the N95 mask she kept there for emergencies, but then removed the silver timepiece instead, clutching it in her palm as she navigated through the bustling human traffic around her.
Chapter 8
Mindoro Island, Philippines
Upon landing at the rural airstrip on an island south of Manila, Reisner and his team were met by two Agency contractors, who were busy packing a weathered Huey-160. Reisner had worked with Rezal Dominguez in the past during assignments in Manila, and knew him as a resourceful fighter. He knew the local islands and waterways, having grown up as the son of a fisherman in the western Philippines. A missing front tooth stood out when he smiled at Reisner. The two men gave a hearty embrace while the rest of the team was introduced. Eric Santos was the pilot Siegel had selected, indicating that he had flown missions throughout Southeast Asia for the past six years. The man looked like he had just stepped out of the jungle with his deep tan and leathery hands. Reisner showed him the whereabouts of the vessel on his GPS unit, and Santos said he could have them there in just over an hour.
Dominguez helped unload some of the tactical gear from the plane, then walked alongside Reisner to the Huey. “Have you heard about the strange illness sweeping through Manila and the surrounding regions?” said Dominguez.
“Nash just showed me some headlines from around Southeast Asia, where there’s a similar outbreak unfolding.” He looked at the swarthy man next to him. “How bad is it here?”
“Many people in Manila are staying at home. They are scared. I can’t blame them. The hospitals are already overwhelmed. From what I’ve heard from friends there, this is very contagious. People are coughing up blood—and worms.”
Reisner squinted one eye as he looked at Dominguez. “Sorry to hear that, amigo. We shouldn’t be gone long and you can get back here to your family.” Hearing such troublesome news in person only compounded his earlier concerns gleaned from Runa’s messages. They needed to get the sensitive items off the Atropos and then get the hell back to the States. The sooner they were out of this ever-increasing hot zone, the better. Reisner shoved away his apprehensions about what was happening abroad and narrowed his focus on the upcoming mission.
As the others stowed their gear in the Huey, Reisner walked to the rear of the jet and dragged out two Kevlar-lined duffel bags. These contained the biohazard suits and ventilation equipment they would need to don before leaving.
Byrne and Nash had unloaded the ruggedized Pelican cases which contained their weapons. Reisner preferred using the shorter Tavor Bullpup rifles over a standard AR for the tight confines they would face on the ship. Seven magazines of 5.56 ammo accompanied each weapon, and Byrne handed these out while Nash distributed flash-bangs, smoke grenades, and incendiary devices to each person. Suppressors were also essential, as there was no quicker way to destroy your hearing than firing a weapon in the steel corridors of a ship.
Everyone was already carrying their Glock 19s, but Connelly and Porter dipped their hands into one of the crates to retrieve some extra 15-round magazines. Though they weren’t planning on encountering any hostile forces, they were entering a nebulous region where pirate vessels were known to roam, not to mention their concerns over what had happened to the crew of the Atropos, and Reisner wasn’t taking any chances.
When they had finished getting outfitted with their gear, Reisner called everyone over and motioned for them to grab biohazard suits, rubber overboots, gloves, and respirators.
“It’s been a while since we’ve done any NBC training, but nothing has changed since the spring refresher course—you double-check the seals on your suit, then triple-check your partner.”
He began stepping inside his one-piece bodysuit, which was made of an impermeable dull green fabric with a double-sealed zipper up the front that went from the crotch to the neckline, where it met a flexible hood. Unlike the bulbous yellow suits the medical community had, these were designed for soldiers needing to move quickly, so the suit clung closer to the body and allowed for a full tactical belt to be worn around the waist. The latter was necessary to hold the oxygen canister for the respirator, which covered the entire face and was encircled by the scrunched-down hood.
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“Keep your seals around the boots and gloves tight,” he said, pulling on his overboots and then duct-taping the seam where they met the leg cuffs. “We’ll complete suiting up with the respirators just before we land on the ship.”
“And don’t blow your cookies inside your mask,” said Porter. “Like this one time when I was in Nigeria and this guy fucked everything up by…”
“You’ve told that story about eleventy-seven times already,” said Nash as he slid on his suit. “Although Connelly probably hasn’t heard it yet, so maybe you can impress her.”
Connelly smirked as she slid on her boots. “And by ‘this guy’ you really mean yourself.”
Nash chuckled and shook his head. “Damn, girl—you fit in on this team just fine.” He looked at Reisner, who had just finished sliding the foot-long oxygen canister into a tubular belt pouch. “We oughta keep this newbie, boss. She can hold her own and that ain’t easy to do around a throwback like Porter here.”
Reisner slung his Tavor rifle over his shoulder. “That’s Runa’s call, not mine.” He gave Connelly a scrutinizing glance, giving her suit a thorough check, then turning around so she could give him a similar inspection.
He grabbed his respirator and attached it to a three-foot-long hose that connected to the oxygen canister, then draped it over his right shoulder. Reisner looked over at Santos and then whirled his index finger in the air to indicate he should start the Huey. “Let’s roll in ten minutes—I want to make this a quick recon to the Atropos and be back by nightfall or sooner.”