by Ken McClure
Macmillan shook his head and said, ‘It didn’t travel from Equateur, they’ve had more than forty cases of haemorrhagic fever in Kivu and seventeen have been confirmed as being Ebola by lab tests. The real crunch came when genetic testing of the virus revealed it to be a completely different strain from the one in Equateur: that’s why they’re calling it a new outbreak; they have no option, it really is.’
‘The tenth,’ Steven murmured, feeling utterly dejected and not at all looking forward to an upcoming discussion with Tally.
‘I just can’t believe it,’ said Tally. ‘The world’s gone crazy . . . Less than a week since the end of one outbreak another one erupts . . . it’s just not possible . . . it’s just not fair!’
Steven could hear the emotion in Tally’s voice and it wasn’t making things any easier for him to persuade her that she must turn away from it all. ‘How did you hear about it?’ he asked.
‘The regional manager for WHO, Marcus Altman, called me this morning. He’s not sure what’s going to happen . . .’
‘Tally, what do you know about North Kivu?’
‘It’s hundreds of miles away from where I am.’
‘I’ve been investigating with help from the Foreign Office,’ Steven said, ‘it’s a little piece of hell on earth, completely without law and order with a civilian population living under the most atrocious conditions because so much in the way of housing has been destroyed in the continual fighting in the region. This has led to such severe overcrowding that Ebola will rage through the community like a forest fire after a long drought. The warring factions are completely without mercy and would put ISIS to shame when it came to inflicting pain and slaughter on their fellow citizens. You must not even consider going there.’
‘I haven’t been asked . . . no one has . . . no one saw it coming,’ said Tally, still sounding upset.
‘You might be,’ said Steven. ‘In the absence of any better idea, it will be an almost automatic thing for the authorities to ask those already in the country to carry on without putting any real thought into it and that could lead to absolute disaster. It’s clear thinking that’s needed not three cheers for the firemen as they walk into the flames never to return.’
‘We can’t just turn our backs, Steven.’
‘You must. It’s time for others to do the right thing, it’s a different response that’s needed.’
‘Which is?’
‘They have to stop the virus getting out of Kivu. Nothing else matters. Kivu is to all intents a war zone where no one can tell friend from foe. It’s pointless for outsiders to even try. All acts of human kindness will have to be side-lined and cold hard facts recognised. You know as well as I do, we cannot treat Ebola – we have nothing to treat it with – and highly skilled nursing will only save one in ten at great risk to the nurses. All efforts have to be centred on stopping the virus escaping and starting the pandemic we all fear could sweep the world. The only thing we have in our armoury is a vaccine and please God, we can get enough of it. It has to be used to create a belt of healthy immunised people round the whole infected region so that the virus cannot cross it. Viruses need living tissue to survive. If they can’t find someone new to infect, they will die. People trying to break out of the region have to be turned back.
‘And if they have guns?’
‘They will have to be met by people with bigger guns.’
‘But, who . . .’
‘Surrounding countries will be keen to protect their borders and allowed to do so but United Nations action will be needed – and I mean action, not a bunch of freeloaders sitting on their arses passing resolutions.’
‘Oh my God,’ Tally murmured, ‘I need time to get my head round all this. I don’t know what to say.’
‘Please promise me you won’t agree to go anywhere before we speak again. I would get down on my knees and beg you to come home as quickly as possible if I thought it would do any good, but I know it wouldn’t and, ultimately, you will make up your own mind, so, promise me that?’
‘I promise.’
TWELVE
It was strange for Steven to feel dread over the prospect of hearing from Tally, but that was how he felt as he waited for her to phone the following evening. When the call finally came, he let it ring more than a couple of times, still fearing that he was about to be told that she had decided to stay on in DRC and go to Kivu Province.
‘Hi, how are you?’ he said with a slight croak in his throat. Tally didn’t seem to notice. ‘It’s been such a strange day,’ she said, ‘the news of another outbreak has taken everyone by surprise and, because so many people were packing up and preparing to wind down, there’s been a real lack of communication all round. From what little I did manage to pick up here and there, it seems that what you said about Kivu was absolutely right; it’s virtually a war zone and the general feeling is that the new system of area management just won’t work there.’
Steven raised his eyes to the ceiling and silently mouthed, there is a God.’
As an alternative to shouting yippee, he said, ‘That makes sense,’ as calmly and seriously as he could.
‘The good thing is that there are large stockpiles of vaccine ready to be used, starting with contacts of cases in the city of Mangina where the new outbreak started with 13 confirmed cases,’ Tally continued, ‘but the plan is to create a circle of immunity to cross all likely exit routes from the province while maintaining a safe distance for the volunteers. There’s no question of sending in people to hunt through a wild landscape riddled with groups of lawless bandits to offer vaccination.’
‘Good,’ said Steven . . . ‘I hope the bottom line is you’re still coming home?’
‘I think it does,’ Tally replied. ‘There are enough volunteers here with the skills needed to vaccinate people and, with no need for targeted area management, I still plan on coming home.’
‘Wonderful,’ said Steven.
‘There is something I’d like you to do for me,’ said Tally.
‘Ask away.’
‘Could you lay your hands on a copy of the 2016 WHO report on the last Ebola outbreak in DRC and check if anyone who received the experimental vaccine at the time died because of it?’
‘Will do, are you going to tell me why?’
‘I’ve become fond of a young teacher here – a very nice intelligent girl – who insists that friends and members of her family died after being given the vaccine, but I seem to remember reading than no deaths had been attributed to the vaccine.’
‘Maybe they already had the disease?’
‘Monique assures me they were perfectly healthy.’
‘And you think there may have been some kind of a cover-up.’
‘I don’t know what to think, the vaccine was very new at the time, but surely they wouldn’t have tried to hide something going awfully wrong like that.’
Unable to offer any reassurance, Steven said, ‘Okay, I’ll check it out. . . Actually, I thought you already had a copy of that report – you were going to study the spread of the previous outbreak?’
‘I gave it back,’ said Tally, ‘and I don’t want to ask for it again. It’s a long story. Are you going to tell me how your investigation is going?’
‘Some progress,’ said Steven, it looks like Petrov had finished whatever he was doing in Israel before he was murdered. When the Israelis opened up his lab to make it safe, they found everything already sterilised and cleaned up. There was however, a sealed flask awaiting transport to WHO in Geneva, something he had been doing from time to time. Anyway, Israeli Intelligence managed to intercept it before it was collected and pretty soon the guys at Porton Down are going to analyse the contents.’
‘Sounds exciting.’
‘It’s hard to see how that is going to tell us why so many people have died over it.’
‘That’s what makes it exciting.
‘Maybe you could do something for me, will you be seeing your teacher friend again?’
�
�I said I would let her know if I found out anything about the vaccine given to her family.’
‘Did she say who administered it?’ Steven asked.
‘She just called them the aid people.’
‘Ask her if she remembers any names of those involved.’
‘Will do, can I ask why?’
‘’It’s a long story . . .’
‘Touché,’ said Tally.
‘We can exchange our long stories when we’re together again . . . soon.’
‘A nice ring to it, stay safe.’
’You too.’
If Steven were not absolutely fed up with the world and his dog declaring that they were on an emotional roller coaster in every other interview on radio or television, he might have been one of them. His fears surrounding the possibility of Tally staying on in DRC and putting herself in yet more danger had largely been dispelled, but the relief he should have felt was being denied to him by the twists and turns of his own investigation expanding to include the infiltration of major world aid agencies by organised crime. He was no longer looking at Russian oligarchs financing a project for which it had been necessary to bring top scientific brains on board, it now involved rogue elements embedded in world aid organisations, one of them a top WHO strategist. Steven rubbed his temples as he tried to figure out how this changed things.
On the positive side, he was no longer working alone. MI6 had given him valuable information on Phillipe Lagarde – the man he had been respecting for his selfless work in the fight against world disease. The fact that he was some kind of criminal had to be fitted into the puzzle. MI6 and the other intelligence services would continue to investigate the involvement of criminals in the ranks of aid providers, particularly in the exploitation of vulnerable people across the globe whenever and wherever disease and disaster struck, but it was still going to be up to him to shine a light on the scientific aspects of what had been going on within his small group.
Not for the first time, he found himself feeling grateful for a personal relationship, in this case his association with Jane Sherman. Their paths had not crossed that often but they respected and trusted each other in a world where that was far from the norm. What was more important was the fact that they understood each other’s jobs and accepted that only a minimum could be shared.
Jane had not really wanted to tell him about the problem with WHO and the involvement of Lagarde, but in the ensuing game of verbal chess, she had accepted that his determination to pursue his own investigation could impact adversely on MI6’s interests and compromised. This was the best and most pragmatic outcome and both understood that. He hoped that Jane’s agreement to keep him in the loop might extend to him being present at Porton when Petrov’s flask was opened.
He had to admit that it did seem likely that US Intelligence would be proved right and a new addictive, synthetic drug, the backbone of modern-day slavery, would be making an appearance. There was one thing however, that he wasn’t comfortable with and made him start looking through his notes for dates until he found what he was looking for.
By the time the people at Beer Sheva had opened up Petrov’s lab with the intention of making it safe, Phillip Lagarde had been murdered so who had the Israelis spoken to at WHO when they called to ask what should be done with the flask? Someone at WHO had told them that the parcel would be picked up, but the intelligence services had beat them to it and stopped that happening
Steven remembered hearing that Petrov had sent material to WHO on more than one occasion so it sounded as if people there must have known about the relationship between Lagarde and Petrov. Lagarde had also been instrumental in securing WHO funds for Petrov, ostensibly to continue his work on vaccines when he decided to move to Beer Sheva, so, it couldn’t have just been a secret arrangement between the two of them . . . unless of course, there was a difference between what Petrov was supposed to have been doing – designing vaccines – and what he’d actually been up to.
Petrov had worked alone at Beer Sheva, none of his Israeli colleagues had ever had occasion to enter the high security lab he worked in, believing him to be working with deadly viruses, but what about Geneva? Was Lagarde the only one to know what was in the containers sent to them by Petrov and what had happened to the contents after that?
Steven wanted to investigate . . . but STOP signs were flashing inside his head. If he started asking questions of WHO in Geneva, it would quickly be construed as interference in what was an MI6 and US Intelligence affair and that could lead to general . . . unhappiness. Apart from that, it had been Jane Sherman at MI6 who had told him about Lagarde being under investigation and he didn’t want to betray her trust. On the other hand, . . . he didn’t think that contacting people at Beer Sheva University could be seen as interference. The Israelis had not done anything wrong and were not under investigation. All he had to do now was think how to approach them.
‘What exactly do you want to find out?’ asked Jean next morning when Steven voiced his hesitation about contacting the Israeli lab.
‘We know that Petrov – before he was killed – intended sending whatever he was making to Phillipe Lagarde at WHO in Geneva, and this wasn’t the first time he had sent off such a package. It would be good to know if they were all addressed to Lagarde or, if indeed, they were all sent to WHO in Geneva. I’d also like to know how they were sent – presumably he couldn’t use the normal mail service so some kind of courier service must have been employed.’
‘And a specialised one,’ said John Macmillan who had joined them. ‘He wouldn’t have wanted anyone interfering with the contents so he’d probably use the threat of dangerous organisms being inside to ward off official nosiness.’
‘The university would have supplied the necessary labelling and documentation,’ said Steven, ‘It’s not unusual for strains of bacteria and viruses to be exchanged between university labs.’
‘And it would be the perfect cover for new synthetic drugs if that’s what he was up to,’ said Macmillan.
‘So, what’s my interest?’ Steven mused. ‘What good reason could Sci-Med have for asking questions that the intelligence services may have already asked?
‘Press a different button,’ Macmillan suggested. ‘MI6 and US Intelligence are concerned with criminality and threats to their countries’ security on an international scale; we deal with threats to the UK arising from the actions of members of the medical and scientific community. I suggest you start by telling the Israelis exactly who you are and mention that you are aware of the serious questions being raised over what Petrov had been doing in their lab. You could suggest that you would like to be assured that none of the containers he had been sending out were addressed to premises in the UK – nonsense, of course, but I think it will sound reasonable enough – you can then tag on any of the other questions you want to ask as part of the general conversation.’
‘Brilliant,’ said Jean.
‘Absolutely,’ added Steven.
Steven said who he was and hung on the line while someone in Microbiology at Beer Sheva University went to find, ‘Dr Zimmerman’. The wait seemed to go on for ever before he heard someone fumble with the receiver.
‘Dr Eli Zimmerman here. I don’t think I’m familiar with the Sci-Med Inspectorate,’ said the voice.
Steven explained that they were a small investigative group and said what they did, adding, ‘We’ve been around for quite some time.’
‘I know,’ said Zimmerman. ‘I just checked.’
Steven smiled as he heard the reason for the wait.
‘What can I do for you?’
‘I understand that no one is very sure what Dr Petrov was working on in your lab, Doctor, but there has been some talk of him designing the kind of synthetic drugs which can be a substitute for heroin and are hugely addictive. I also understand that he sent out material from the lab from time to time?’
‘My understanding too,’ said Zimmerman.
‘I was worried he might have been
sending such material to the UK. Can you assure me that was not the case?’
‘I’m afraid not.’
‘You don’t have a list of the addresses?’
‘Oh yes, we have a list, Dr Dunbar, it’s just that I can’t assure you. He sent two containers to the UK.’
‘Oh dear,’ said Steven for want of something better to say. He had been totally taken aback and now Zimmerman was laughing . . .This was all going splendidly. Not.
‘Fear not, Dr Dunbar, the two parcels Petrov sent to the UK were presents to his father in London, a bit naughty but he used the same containers and labelling as for the ones he sent to Lagarde in Geneva because it was easier and the courier could be relied upon to deliver them without interference from customs and the like.’
‘Which courier would that be, Doctor?’
‘MedTrans International.’
‘Ah, well known for moving donor organs around quickly and under controlled conditions,’ said Steven.
‘Indeed.’
‘Thank you for your help, Dr Zimmerman and for putting my mind at rest, I take it all the other packages he sent out went to Phillipe Lagarde in Geneva?
‘Yes.’
‘Not too many, I hope?’
‘Four in all, I’m told.’
‘Well, I hope that the authorities at WHO managed to locate and deal with them if the rumours about synthetic drugs are true?’ said Steven pushing his luck.
‘I’m afraid not,’ said Zimmerman. ‘I understand Lagarde redirected them to other addresses almost as soon as they arrived in Geneva.’
Steven sighed despondently and said, ‘I suppose we can now expect another highly addictive drug plague to erupt on the streets of . . . do you know where Lagarde sent them, Doctor?’
‘I’m afraid not.’
‘Well, let’s hope the relevant authorities can minimise the damage,’ said Steven. ‘Many thanks again for your help.’
Steven put down the phone feeling a very long way from being assured that all was well. He felt sure that Petrov’s story about sending presents to his father might be baloney. He could have used his ‘naughtiness’ as a cover for sending whatever he had been working on via a respectable specialist courier to a private address in London. Petrov’s father could well be involved in Malenkov’s operation.