Resurrection

by Ken McClure

  ‘For him?’

  ‘For all of us. Rendezvous is four miles south of here at 03.00 hours. That gives us an hour and a quarter. Rig up something in the back of the Land-Rover for our friend here and let’s get started.’

  The leader crossed to where the soldier was dripping water from his own flask into the mouth of the Iraqi. The man seemed only semi conscious but his lips and tongue sought out the moisture. ‘How is he?’

  ‘Alive but I wouldn’t give odds on that being the case in fifteen minutes.’

  ‘We’re moving out. A chopper’s on its way. Do what you can for him in the meantime.’

  The leader unstrapped a petrol can from the crashed truck and sprinkled the contents over the second Iraqi vehicle before throwing the can itself back in through one of the windows.

  ‘When the Iraqi had been loaded into the back of the Land-Rover on a makeshift pallet and they were ready to leave he lit two rags and threw one into each of the Iraqi vehicles. Orange flames leapt up into the night sky as the petrol ignited. He shielded his face from the heat for a moment before turning to run over to the Land-Rover and climb into the front passenger seat.

  ‘Move out.’

  They heard the helicopter long before they saw it.

  ‘It’s a bloody Chinook,’ said one of the men, responding to the engine note as they scanned the heavens. There was no mistaking the surprise in his voice.

  ‘What the hell are they sending a Chinook for?’ asked another.

  ‘You did tell them it’s only one bloke and not a bloody Iraqi regiment, didn’t you Skip?

  ‘ ‘They know. Keep clear, I’m sending the flare up.’

  The signal rocket fizzed angrily up into the night sky and burst like a miniature dawn on the scene below. A few minutes later the powerful searchlights on the underside of the huge Chinook helicopter took over a more permanent role in illuminating the scene as its twin rotor blades brought it to a hover over the Land-Rover and deafened the watching party below.

  After what seemed an eternity the chopper moved about a hundred metres to the south of them and touched down. Its blades were kept turning. The driver of the Land-Rover started the engine but the group leader put a restraining hand on his shoulder.

  ‘Let’s wait for instructions.’

  He had hardly said the words when a loud speaker crackled into life on the helicopter.

  ‘Sierra Mike Zulu, this is Chopper Tango Charlie. Remain exactly where you are. Do nothing until our men are with you. Flash your lights if that is understood.’

  The leader nodded and the driver flashed the Land-Rover headlights.

  ‘I don’t like this,’ whispered the soldier who was looking after the Iraqi.

  The doors of the Chinook opened slowly and several mean dressed in what appeared to be space suits emerged. They unloaded several boxes then started out towards the Land-Rover, bringing the cases with them.

  ‘Sorry for the high drama,’ continued the voice on the Tannoy. ‘But you men

  will be going into quarantine until further notice. Is anyone ill apart from your prisoner? Flash once for yes, twice for no.’

  ‘Why don’t they just use the radio for Christ’s sake?’ complained one of the

  soldiers.

  ‘The Iraqis have had time to figure out they’ve got a missing patrol. They’ll be monitoring everything right now,’ replied the leader as the driver gave two flashes of the headlights.

  ‘Good. Just stay calm.’

  The men in space suits reached the Land-Rover and circled the vehicle.

  ‘Bloody hell,’ whispered one of the soldiers, ‘I know our personal hygiene isn’t all that it might be after a week in the desert but this is ridiculous.’

  ‘Bio-safety suits,’ said the leader. ‘Completely self-contained. Nobody’s taking any chances.’

  The man in charge of the spacemen signalled that they get out the vehicle. They complied and stood there feeling very vulnerable while the boxes that the men in suits had been carrying were opened up.

  ‘Looks like we’re getting suits too,’ said one of the soldiers as the contents of the box nearest them became apparent.

  ‘Difference is, they’re wearing them to keep things out, we’ll be wearing them to keep things in.’

  ‘Doesn’t do much for your self esteem, does it?’

  The soldiers donned the orange suits they were given while the Iraqi was removed from the back of the Land-Rover and given a short medical check before being fed into another of the suits with some difficulty as he was unable to help himself. When everyone was suited up and all the seals had been checked by the men from the Chinook all those in orange suits were sprayed thoroughly with a disinfectant solution before being led over to the waiting helicopter. The soldiers turned as they reached it to see an incendiary device turn their Land-Rover into a blazing inferno.

  ‘I think it just failed its MOT,’ whispered one.

  The inside of the Chinook had been partitioned to provide a plastic cocoon for the boarding men. It had its own air supply and filtration system and was hermetically separate from the rest of the aircraft. Food and bottled water had been left inside for them. Their quarantine had already begun.

  No one could think of anything much to say on the flight. They fell to silence as each man faced his own thoughts.

  An isolation suite had been readied for them at the base hospital in Dhahran, not that much preparation had been needed. It already existed for the purpose; it had been commissioned as a precaution in the war over Kuwait but as yet had not been used in earnest. This was its first real test.

  For the soldiers it was a relief to get out of the cumbersome suits and have a long shower before dressing in fresh fatigues. When they were ready, their debriefing was carried out by closed-circuit television. ‘You’d think we’d just returned from Mars,’ said one of the men. ‘I’m expecting the US president at any minute.’

  Their side of the story was straightforward. Two Iraqi vehicles had crossed the border into Saudi territory and they had intercepted. The Iraqis had failed to comply with a request to drop their weapons and had opened fire first. Three Iraqi soldiers had been killed, one sick man had been brought in with them for treatment. Both Iraqi vehicles had been destroyed by fire.

  ‘And the dead Iraqis?’

  ‘Cremated with the vehicles.’

  The debriefing officer drew in breath through his teeth.

  The group leader felt compelled to defend his action. ‘I thought in the circumstances and not knowing what the agent was, it would be best to burn everything,’ he said.

  ‘Well, so far the Iraqis haven’t made any noises at all,’ said the officer. ‘We haven’t heard a peep out of them.’

  ‘Is that good or bad sir?’

  ‘In my view, bad. Silence usually infers guilt. If this had been a case of a patrol innocently straying across the line they would have been screaming the place down and calling the UN into special session.’

  ‘How is the Iraqi we brought in, sir?’

  ‘Still alive, I hear. We’re waiting for the experts to arrive.’

  ‘So no one knows what’s wrong with him yet?’

  ”Fraid not. We’ll keep you posted. In the meantime I’ll have to ask you all to be patient.’

  ‘Yes sir.’

  ‘Still feeling all right?’

  ‘Yes sir, we’re fine.’

  The four soldiers were encouraged to get some sleep but it proved difficult for all of them. Although well used to having to sleep where and when they could under operational conditions, lying on a clean comfortable bunk, alone with their thoughts in their present predicament was not something they had been trained for. The enemy this time was completely intangible; it was something they could not get to grips with. It was invisible and deadly and for all they knew, it was already inside them; chances were, it had already won the battle. They became hyper-aware of their own bodies When one of the soldiers sneezed the others froze in apprehension. Was it
the first sign? The slightest twinge of pain in their limbs, any suggestion of stiffness took on a whole new significance.

  ‘This waiting is driving me mad,’ said one of the men as they started their third day drinking coffee and playing cards.

  ‘Surely they’ll figure out something today,’ said another. They had experts flying in all day yesterday. Porton Down, CDC Atlanta, a team from Sweden.’

  ‘Sweden?’ chorused the others.

  ‘Apparently they have a great deal of expertise in mobile isolation facilities for disease outbreaks. They set up a team after one of their cities was threatened with an outbreak of filo virus a few years ago. They’re top notch.’

  ‘So they think it’s a virus then?’

  ‘Seems to be, the way they’re moving,’ agreed the leader.

  ‘Christ, we must have it,’ said one of the soldiers, getting to his feet and starting to pace.

  ‘It’s been three days and we’re still all okay,’ countered one of the others.

  ‘I know but … Christ, we must have it. It wouldn’t be much of a biological warfare agent if we didn’t, would it?

  ‘So it’s a crap agent, I’ll settle for that,’ said the leader. It’ll be on a par with Saddam’s crap missiles. They would have been as well throwing rice pudding at the Israelis as these SCUDS as I remember.

  ‘Or maybe our shots are working against it. We could be immune. ‘

  ‘Yeah, let’s look on the bright side.’

  This spawned a short chorus of ‘Always look on the bright side of life’ which had more bravado than humour about it. It prompted their Saudi monitors to ask if they were still feeling all right.

  ‘Never better,’ replied their leader, not bothering to explain any further.

  At seven on the evening of their third day in quarantine the doors to the isolation unit were suddenly opened up and the four soldiers were joined by British and Saudi officers.

  ‘Your incarceration is over gentlemen,’ announced one. ‘You’re free to go.’

  The men were taken aback. The Iraqi’s okay then?

  ‘No, unfortunately he’s dead but not from any dreadful new plague virus I’m delighted to say.’

  ‘Then what?’

  ‘Our international team of experts tell us he died from something called, disseminated vaccinia; he was just unlucky.’

  ‘I’m sorry sir, I don’t think I understand,’ said the group leader.

  ‘Apparently the chap suffered an adverse reaction to a vaccination against smallpox.’

  A vaccination?’

  ‘I’m told that there are a certain percentage of people in any population who are hypersensitive to vaccinia virus which they use for giving protection against the disease. This poor chap was one of them.

  ‘So we are okay then?’

  ‘Indeed you are.’

  ‘Thank f….goodness sir.’

  ‘Amen to that sergeant.’

  TWO

  World Health Organisation

  International Disease Monitor

  Geneva

  September 1997

  It was a hot afternoon. The sun was shining brightly on the summer crowds that thronged the pavements but inside, the room was pleasantly cool because of air conditioning and comfortably shaded thanks to half closed blinds. There were twenty four people assembled in the room when the doors were finally closed and the chairman brought the meeting to order.

  ‘Thank you for coming, ladies and gentlemen, I‘ve convened this special meeting of the Viral Pathogen Group to scotch a rumour I’ve been made aware of and to relay a report that has arrived on my desk from our colleagues at the United Nations Disease Monitor.

  The facts of the matter are as follows. Two weeks ago a sick Iraqi soldier was picked up just inside Saudi Arabian territory by a routine desert patrol. His intentions were not clear in crossing the border but it seems he was being pursued from the Iraqi side so we can assume that he was seeking help or even asylum. He was too ill to give any information to the men who picked him up but one of these men who had special training in biological warfare recognised the possible dangers of the situation and sought expert advice by radio. The sick man was subsequently airlifted, along with the patrol to a hospital in Dhahran which had isolation facilities and where they were all put in quarantine. The immediate fear for the authorities was that the Iraqi had been subject to some biological or chemical warfare accident. One of the staff physicians, however, a man in his sixties thought he recognised the disease as being smallpox.’

  A slight hubbub broke out in the room.

  ‘Quite so,’ conceded the chairman. ‘A full scale alert was declared.’

  When specialist people arrived from CDC Atlanta along with a Niklasson team from Sweden it was determined that the disease was not in fact smallpox but an adverse reaction to vaccination against the disease. The man was in fact, suffering from disseminated vaccinia. He was one of these few extremely unfortunate people who cannot tolerate vaccinia virus- I can’t remember the exact incidence figure?

  ‘One in a hundred thousand,’ said a man half way down the right side of the table who spoke with a strong Swedish accent..

  ‘Thank you, Sven,’ said the chairman. ‘Of course, once it was established that it was not smallpox they were dealing with there was relief all round. The three or four day nightmare was suddenly over. Unfortunately the Iraqi himself died without being able to furnish us with any details of what exactly had happened. The patrol members who naturally had been worried about their own safety were released from quarantine and allowed to return to duty. But it was a very worrying time for all concerned.’

  A murmur of agreement surfaced in the room.

  ‘In view of the rumour about an outbreak of smallpox, circulating in certain professional circles, both here and at the UN building, I thought I would put the record straight. I have also asked Dr Jacques Lang from the joint WHO/UN smallpox advisory group to join us today and give us an up-date on the world situation with regard to that disease.’

  A tall man with a distinct stoop and dark unruly hair that he kept having to brush back from his forehead stood up and sorted his notes in front of him on the table. He took a sip of water before beginning.

  ‘Colleagues, as you know, there has been no case of smallpox occurring naturally on the planet since 1977 when the last case, a man in Somalia died from the disease. The WHO declared the world free from the disease some two years later. True, there was one more death after the Somali patient that but that was a case of the genie getting out of the bottle — or should I say, the test tube, in a laboratory accident in Birmingham, England.

  I think we all learned something from that tragedy. It stood out as a tragic demonstration of the ability of the virus to get out of containment. Ever since that time, the storage of live smallpox virus has been strictly controlled. Currently it is only stored at two places on Earth, the Centers for Disease Control in Atlanta, Georgia, USA and the Russian State Research Centre of Virology and Biotechnology at Koltsovo in the Novosibirsk Region of the Russian Federation. Security at both establishments is of the highest order and containment facilities for the virus are as secure as man can make them.’

  ‘Even in Russia?’ asked a somewhat jaundiced American voice.

  ‘I appreciate your scepticism. Russian infrastructure leaves a lot to be desired these days but the Koltsovo institute is beyond reproach.’

  ‘So, if the virus is locked up safely at only two places on Earth and no one can get at it, why was the Iraqi soldier being vaccinated against the disease in the first place?’ asked one of the women present, a German lady in her late forties. The murmur in the room said that she had just asked the question many other people had been thinking.

  Lang grimaced and said, ‘Frau Doctor Lehman has of course asked an intriguing question. Frankly, we don’t know. It may have been some routine procedure that no one ever got round to changing. That sort of thing often happens in a military environment where peopl
e are not encouraged to question things. Routine becomes tradition. Another puzzling thing is that the Iraqis have not yet acknowledged the defection of their man nor, I understand, the deaths of three more of their soldiers in the border incident that led to his escape.’

  ‘What exactly happened?’

  ‘I understand the sick man’s countrymen were intent on killing him when the border patrol intervened. I don’t have any more details,’ interjected the chairman.

  ‘Why would they want to kill a sick man if he was just suffering an adverse reaction to a routine vaccination?’

  ‘Maybe they didn’t know that’s what it was. Maybe they saw him go down with some awful disease and were frightened they might get it too so they took matters into their own hands.’

  ‘That’s possible if it was a local decision among border guards but if the order came from higher up maybe the Iraqis didn’t want anyone to know he’d been vaccinated.’

  ‘In that case we’d have to consider the possibility they’ve got their hands on the virus and intend using it as a weapon,’ said an American voice.

  The German woman, Lehman, nodded vigorously at this.

  ‘That’s a bit of a leap, Hank,’ said the chairman.

  ‘I just don’t see how they could have got hold of it,’ said Lang. ‘There has been no breach of security at either of the holding establishments and there is no animal reservoir for the virus in the wild. It’s purely a disease of humans — that’s partly why we were so successful in wiping it out. That and the availability of such an efficient vaccine. I think we are worrying unnecessarily.’

  ‘Just for interest’s sake, how would smallpox rate as a biological weapon?’ asked an Asian man.

  That’s really not my field,’ replied Lang. ‘But personally, I would find it almost too frightening to contemplate. Smallpox virus is one of the greatest killers the world has ever known. It’s been around for over two thousand years. It killed an Egyptian Pharaoh, several European crowned heads and countless millions of ordinary people before vaccination brought about its demise.’

  ‘Worse than anthrax?’