Payback (13 page)

“We need
to set up a triage area,” she said. “We’ll put the dying at the far end of the
room and make them as comfortable as possible. Those we think we can save we’ll
put at the center, and those we’re not sure are infected we’ll put at the
front.”

Koroma
frowned. “Why put them together? Don’t you risk spreading the disease?”

“No. You
only enter through this door at the front of the room, and exit through the
rear. Each section will be separated. We’ll hang sheets to delineate the areas.
In the first area we keep each person isolated from each other as best as
possible so that if someone is infected, they don’t spread it to others. Once
we’ve confirmed they are infected, we move them to the next area and try to
treat them. That section is only for people already infected, so we don’t need
to worry about spreading the disease from the first section to the second, nor
do we need to worry about spreading from the second to third areas, since
they’re infected as well.”

Tanya
spoke up. “The key is to never move backward. Never move from the second area
to the first. And to reinforce the habit, never move from the third to the
second. Always only move forward, that way you never risk moving the infection
back.”

Koroma’s
head was bobbing as he seemed to grasp the concept. “It makes sense.” He
motioned toward the wall that had the infected patients on the other side of
it, still resting in the sun. “And what of them? Are any well enough to be
treated?”

Sarah
nodded. “Yes. My initial assessment is nineteen of them might be able to be
saved. You have to understand, the mortality rate is as high as ninety percent,
but with proper care we’ve been able to bring that down to about fifty percent
if they’re reached in time. I’m afraid that we should be expecting closer to
the ninety percent since we don’t have any IV fluids to treat them.”

“What’s that?”

“Essentially
water with some additives,” replied Tanya. “It’s to keep them hydrated, restore
their electrolyte balance. We need to keep them comfortable, hydrated, and fed
if they can keep anything down. We need to let their bodies fight the virus and
hopefully win. If someone wins the battle, then we need to get them to fully
recover so they can donate blood for the sick.”

“Donate
blood? What do you mean?”

Several
men entered the room in shorts and t-shirts, the protective gear no longer
necessary since it had been disinfected. They were carrying ropes and sheets.
Sarah smiled and walked to about where she wanted the first line run. “Please
run a line across here,” she said, motioning with her arm. She walked toward
the other end, stopping about thirty feet from the far wall. “And another line
here. Don’t hang them too high. The sheets need to reach the floor.”

The men
set to work as Tanya continued to explain to Koroma how the immune system
worked and the concept of antibodies. “Those who’ve beaten the disease have the
cure within their blood. We can take that blood and transfuse it into the sick.
If we catch it in time, the antibodies will go to work and help fight off the
illness. If we’re lucky, those people get cured, and they too can become donors.”

Koroma
was shaking his head. “Amazing. I had no idea. We have several people who were
sick and are now cured, but they have been shunned by the others in the
village. Everyone assumed that these people could still make the others sick.”

Sarah
frowned. “Unfortunately that’s what most people think, but it’s like any virus.
Once it has been beaten, the virus is gone, but the antibodies remain, just in
case the virus were to return. About the only risk is that men can infect their
partners for up to seven weeks after they have been cured.”

Koroma’s
eyebrows jumped at this revelation, but he said nothing. They watched as the
ropes were strung, the sheets thrown over the tops, their staged quarantine
zones quickly taking form.

“What’s
next?” he asked.

“Everyone
out there is sick, of that there’s no doubt. We bring those we think we might
be able to save in through the rear door and into the second area, then those
we don’t think we can save through the same door, into the third area. That
will keep this area clean. It is essential that nobody who has been in those
two areas come here. I suggest you post a guard.”

Koroma
nodded. “Done.” He paused a moment. “You said it is spread through bodily
fluids.”

“Yes.”

“How?”

“Blood,
mucus coming into contact with open wounds or mucus membranes like the nose or
mouth, usually from coughing, sneezing or bleeding onto someone or onto a
surface that is later touched by someone.”

“Blood.
So if an infected person’s blood were to get into a healthy person’s blood,
they would become infected.”

“There’s
a very good chance. It’s highly contagious.”

“And how
would you get this blood into another person’s blood?”

“It
doesn’t really need to work that way. They could swallow it, for example. The
infected people begin to bleed heavily as their cells break down. If they
sneeze for instance, it can send a mist of blood that someone else could breathe
in. Quite often it’s spread because someone touches an infected person’s blood
when they’re trying to get them to a hospital. They then rub their eyes, their
mouth, or have an open cut.” Tanya threw up her hands. “There’s just so many
ways, the only real protection is the gear we were wearing earlier.”

“What
would happen if an infected person’s blood were injected into someone else’s?”

“Why
would anyone do such a thing?” cried Tanya. “It would be madness! Murder!”

Koroma
waved his hands. “No! No! No! You misunderstand me. I mean from a needle, if
you were to get pricked, through your gloves.”

“Oh,
sorry,” apologized Tanya. “They could become infected, of course. If the needle
did have some of the virus on it, and of course the more blood the better
chance, then yes, they could become infected. Most likely
would
become
infected.”

Koroma
frowned then turned toward the windows as a woman’s voice called out. “Lunch is
ready,” he smiled. “We should eat now, while we can. There is much work left to
do.” He marched out of the community center, Sarah pleased to see he actually
followed her instructions, leaving through the rear exit.

Tanya
looked at Sarah. “Let’s eat, I’m famished!”

“Me
too,” said Sarah, following her friend to the rear of the building, albeit a
little slower as she mulled over the conversation.

She felt
a chill race up and down her spine.

But she
wasn’t sure why.

Leroux & White Residence, Fairfax Towers, Falls Church, Virginia

Chris Leroux leaned against the acrylic shower wall, letting the
piping hot water roll down his back. He had managed to get a good number of
hours sleep, work only contacting him once indicating they couldn’t access the
Sierra Leonean databases because a power outage in Freetown had taken down the
servers. He hadn’t heard anything since which meant he’d be going in for his
regular shift—probably at least twelve hours straight.

He
didn’t mind, he loved it.

And
besides, it was for a good cause. They needed to track these terrorists to make
sure there wouldn’t be any more attacks, and they needed to try and find the
Vice President’s daughter and by extension the Ukrainian national. It didn’t
matter how many hours he had to put in, if they were successful in recovering
either of them, or preventing another attack, it would all be worth it.

“Call
for you.”

Leroux
turned off the water, quickly shaking the water out of his hair with his
fingers. “Who is it?”

“Sonya.”

Leroux
stepped out, grabbed a towel and rapidly dried his hair and head. Taking the
phone he smiled awkwardly as Sherrie took the towel and began wiping him down.

“This is
Chris.”

“Hi,
sir, it’s Sonya. We finally got into those servers. Not too much on the major
that’s of interest except that his wife and son died recently of Ebola, and
that he’s from the same geographic area as the hostage takers in Norfolk.”

“That
sounds like too much of a coincidence.”

“Agreed.
You heard about the shooting last night?”

“What
shooting?”

“Sorry,
the Director said to let you sleep, but I figured you’d somehow know since you
seem to know everything.”

“Ahh…”

“Sorry,
boss, that came out wrong. Anyway, the terrorist that survived was murdered in
his hospital bed last night—looks like an air bubble was injected into his IV.
Anyway, security caught up to the guy who did it. Turns out he was an employee
at the hospital for almost ten years. Clean record, model employee. Blew his
head off!”

“Who,
security?”

“No, he
blew his
own
head off.”

“Holy
shit! Did he say anything?”

“You
mean like the standard Allahu Akbar?”

“Yeah.”

“No,
nothing Islamic. He said, apparently in perfect English, ‘For my people’.”

Leroux
frowned.
For my people?
  That was something he couldn’t recall ever
being said by an Islamic fundamentalist before killing themselves. Usually they
shouted the standard greeting on their way to Hell, or quoted some piece of
scripture, but ‘For my people’ sounded political rather than religious. And he
had never heard the term ‘people’ being used by one at all. Everything in their
religion was couched in terms of Allah or Mohammed with almost all acts,
whether good or evil, being done in their names.

Never
‘for my people’.

“Interesting,”
he finally said, his voice distant as Sherrie’s ministrations were momentarily
forgotten.

She
seemed to notice. “What?”

He
didn’t respond.

She
yanked his junk.

He
jumped, looking at her. “Huh?”

“What?”

He held
up a finger. “Just a second. Sonya, I’ll be there in thirty. Have the team
ready for a handover to the day shift. Try to find out everything you can on
this hospital worker and spread the net out. See if we can find anybody whose
immigrated from that area in the past, oh let’s say twenty years.”

“That
could be thousands.”

“Could
be, but at least we’ll have a pool to work from.”

“Got it,
boss.”

Leroux
hung up then turned to Sherrie who playfully tossed the towel into his face.
“What’s the latest?”

“The
surviving gunman was murdered last night in his hospital bed and the murderer
blew his own head off.”

“I guess
I should have let you listen to the radio this morning instead of jumping your
bones.”

He
blushed. “Yeah, well, missing the news sometimes has its benefits.”

She
smacked his ass cheek sending a delicious shiver through his body. “Good
answer.” She turned the water to the shower back on. “Give me ten minutes, I’ll
come in with you.”

“Okay,
I’ll let them know.”

He sent
a text message to the security detail stationed outside to give them the heads
up then began to dress, listening to the radio as he did so.

And
still not listening.

For
my people.

The
connotation of those three words was eating at him.

I
don’t think this has anything to do with what we think it does.

Somewhere in Sierra Leone

Major Koroma sat back and belched, patting his stomach. It was the
best feed he had eaten in some time. He smiled at the grandmother who had fed
him.

“Fantastic
as usual!”

She
smiled, holding out a bowl with more food in it. “You must eat, you’re still a
growing boy!”

He
tossed his head back and roared in laughter, his men joining in, the two female
doctors at the far end of the table looking on curiously, the entire
conversation in Krio. “I haven’t been called that in quite a while!” he said.
“But I’ve had enough. Save the rest for the sick, they need it more than us.”

The old
lady’s face clouded over, the gaiety of the brief mealtime masking the dire
situation they found themselves in. He turned to his second-in-command, Amadu
Mustapha, who had arrived only minutes before from Freetown. “Has there been
any word?” he asked, his voice lowered though still loud enough for everyone at
the table to hear.

“Yes.
The Americans are angry, demanding answers from our government—exactly as we
expected.”

“They
must be going mad that there’s been no demands.”

Mustapha
chuckled. “You should hear their news reports. They don’t know what to do.
Washington is denying any connection between the Vice President’s assassination
and the kidnapping of her”—he nodded toward the end of the table at Sarah
Henderson—“but the media isn’t hesitating.”

“Making
up the facts as usual.”

“Again
as we expected.”

“And
what is the official response from Washington?”

“They’re
sending a team of forensic experts, FBI, to examine the crime scene. They
should be arriving later today.”

“Military?”

“None
that we know of.”

“Any
word on who killed our people?”

“No, but
CNN is saying it was military, and if it was, they’re also saying it could only
be Delta Force.”

“And
what of Sekou, is he still alive?”

Mustapha
shook his head. “No. I had him eliminated. We couldn’t risk having him talk.”

“He was
your cousin, wasn’t he?”

“Yes. He
would have killed himself if he had the opportunity, I’m sure.”

“I have
no doubt. He was a good man. Family?”

Mustapha
frowned. “Wife and three young children.”

Koroma sighed.
“The sacrifices we make today will hopefully make the lives of all our children
easier in the future.”