Payback (25 page)

She
stood, staring at the floor, shaking, the syringe now at her side, her
brilliant attempt to thwart Koroma’s plans stopped in its tracks. He pointed at
a man near death, blood seeping from every orifice. “Take his blood. Now.”

She
nodded as he let go of her arm. She stepped over to the man and knelt down
beside him, taking his arm in her hand. She quickly filled the syringe’s barrel
with the deadly fluid, each drop enough to theoretically infect thousands if
not more.

It
terrified her.

And
there was nothing she could do.

She
rose, the man too far gone to have felt what she had done. She handed the
syringe to Koroma but he refused it. “Come with me.” He began to head to Zone
Two when she grabbed him by the arm.

“No!”

Koroma
turned, a look of mild surprise on his face.

“We
never go backward.”

“It
hardly matters now.”

“And if
your daughter were to become infected by us breaking protocol, would you feel
the same way?”

Koroma
paused, his eyes narrowing slightly. “What do you mean?”

“What if
the blood test was wrong? What if the samples were mixed up? What if she had a
mild strain that she could easily survive? Didn’t you notice how we’ve kept her
isolated more than the others? We’re giving her every chance she’s got to
survive. Don’t risk her life for the sake of an extra few seconds going around
the building.”

Koroma
said nothing, seemingly evaluating what she had said. She decided her best bet
to encourage him to follow protocol was to simply give him no choice.

She
headed for the rear exit and shoved open the door, stepping outside. The man
who would normally hose her down looked confused, surprised. Even a bit scared.

She
placed the syringe on a table then held out her gloved hands, determined to
keep them on as long as she had to handle the syringe. “Just spray my hands and
my feet.”

The man
nodded, carrying out the unusual orders as Koroma stepped outside.

She
pointed at Koroma’s boots. “Spray his feet too.”

The man
looked terrified, almost too scared to even look at his boss let alone follow
through with the order.

Koroma shook
his head. “There’s definitely no need for that.”

Sarah
decided it was best to pick her battles. If she was right, Koroma would soon be
gone, surrounded by infected men who once displaying symptoms, would be
infectious to those around them whether some of the virus were on the soles of
his shoes or not.

They
rounded the building, returning to where the men were waiting, Sarah filling
the seconds with encouraging words about how his daughter was very likely to
survive with proper care, a feeble attempt to reinforce the need to leave her
and Tanya alive.

Koroma
said nothing, instead holding out his arm as soon as they were with the other
men. She said nothing, instead injecting him, not even half a CC, but more than
enough to infect him in the days to come.

“Thank
you, Doctor.”

Her
automatic response was said before she could stop herself. “You’re welcome.”

She
closed her eyes for a moment, shaking her head, then injected the other men,
none to a man showing any hesitation. She wondered if the Kamikaze pilots of
World War II were as stoic in their resolve, if the Islamic terrorists heading
out on a suicide bombing mission were as steadfast. As she finished with the
last man, she made it a point to make certain the syringe was empty lest Koroma
turn it on her.

I’d
rather die from a bullet than Ebola.

“Very
good.” He said something in Krio that sent the men running to their vehicles.
Koroma turned toward her, pulling his gun. “I’m afraid it is time.”

Her
stomach tightened and her heart slammed against her ribcage as blood rushed
through her ears. Thoughts of her husband, her parents, her family filled her
mind, of the sick and the dying, of the lives lost and saved over the years,
and of one trembling lip, her last memory of her son, a memory she had never
dreamed she would be taking to her grave.

Her
breaths were shallow, rapid, as she began to hyperventilate. She stepped
backward, bumping into a table holding supplies. She gripped its edge. Tight. A
splinter from the worn table made its presence felt, jarring her back to
reality if only for a moment. Koroma stood in front of her, a blur, her eyes
filled with tears.

“I’m
sorry, Doctor, but I can’t risk someone finding you and you telling them of our
plans.”

She
sucked in a sharp breath and held it, blinking rapidly. She refused to wipe her
eyes dry, her hands still gloved and possibly still contaminated from the
patient she had taken the blood from.

And
besides, it would only give her a clearer view of the man about to shoot her.

“Is
there anything you want to tell your father?”

“Wh-what?”
The question caught her by surprise. What did he mean? Was he going to send him
a message, or worse, actually see him?

“Do you
have a message for your father?”

“I-I
don’t understand. Are you—are you going to see him?”

Koroma
didn’t reply. “Do you have a message? Last chance.”

She
nodded, hesitantly. “Y-yes. Tell him, tell my husband and son, and my mother,
that I love them and that—” She stopped, the words caught in her throat as she
choked out a sob. “Tell them all that I’m sorry, and that I love them, and that
my last thoughts were of them.”

“They will
receive your message.” He stepped closer. “Now close your eyes.”

She
gasped out a cry, her entire body shaking like a leaf as she squeezed her eyes
tight, her hands trembling at her sides as she turned her head slightly,
cringing with the anticipation of her impending death.

God
forgive me for all my sins. Please take care of my son.

A horn
honked, the grinding of gears causing her to open her eyes and look toward the
road. “I got it!” a voice shouted, “I got it!” She saw the blurred form of
Koroma turn toward the voice, a voice it took her a moment to recognize as
Mustapha’s.

The
truck he was in skidded to a halt, a cloud of dust rolling toward them as he
jumped out, the man clearly excited.

“Got
what?” asked Koroma, stepping away from Sarah, giving her a moment’s reprieve
she wasn’t sure she was happy to have, it merely giving her more time until her
impending doom.

“The IV
supplies they said they needed!”

This
statement snapped Sarah’s survival instinct back into play. She yanked off her face
mask and gloves, tossing them aside then wiped her eyes dry. “Did you say you
got IV supplies?”

The
suddenly in focus Mustapha nodded, a genuine smile spread across his excited
face. “We hijacked a supply heading for Port Loko. That’s where I’ve been for
the past few hours.” He jerked his thumb over his shoulder as two men began
unloading boxes of supplies. “We’ve got a whole truck full.”

She
chose to be bold, to take the initiative and ignore the danger, since the worst
that could happen would be for Koroma to shoot her, something she had been
seconds away from regardless. She walked swiftly to the rapidly growing pile of
boxes and tore one open. Inside were precious bags of IV fluids, the exact type
she needed to help save the people in her makeshift clinic.

She flashed
a smile at Mustapha then whirled on Koroma, pointing at the boxes. “With these
I can save your people.”

Koroma
said nothing, the gun still out, but now at his side.

“You can
kill me now and all of this will go to waste, or you can let me put this to
use. I can save your people, not all of them, but many of them.” She stepped
toward him, lowering her voice. “I can save your daughter.”

This got
a reaction as his eyes finally met hers. “Are you sure?”

She
decided telling the truth was the best option, any hint of deception possibly
sealing her fate. “No, I can’t guarantee it. But she’s young, strong and has
just started showing symptoms. She’s been isolated early and hasn’t begun to
dehydrate yet.” She pointed at the boxes. “Let me save her. With proper, prompt
intervention, over half can be saved. Let
this
be your legacy.”

He said
nothing for a moment, then suddenly holstered his weapon, walking briskly
toward the idling vehicles. He stopped, turning toward her. “Save my daughter.”

“I-I
will.”

He
nodded then turned to Mustapha. “If my daughter survives, give her to her
grandmother.”

“Of
course, Adopho.”

“And if
the Americans come, you know what to do.”

Mustapha
bowed slightly, closing his eyes for a moment. “It will be done.”

Koroma
opened the passenger door to the lead vehicle, looking at Mustapha one last
time. “Good bye, my friend.”

Mustapha
snapped a rigid salute, Koroma returning it as the vehicle pulled away, leaving
Sarah to wonder what Koroma’s final instructions were.

She
could think of only one thing.

Kill the
doctors.

But she
had to ignore that inevitability for now. She turned to Mustapha.

“I have
to get Tanya. I’ll need her help to get everyone hooked up as quickly as
possible.”

Mustapha
nodded and she headed toward the showers, assuming that’s where Tanya had
disappeared to, she not having seen her since the new arrivals had first appeared.
Stepping inside the building, she pressed against the wall, her entire body
shaking with relief as she looked up to the heavens, thanking God for one more
chance.

CIA Headquarters, Langley, Virginia

“What are we looking at?”

Chris
Leroux used a laser pointer to indicate an L-shaped building surrounded by a
loose cluster of houses in a semi-circle on three sides. To the right, only
several hundred yards from the tiny village was a small winding river, the
entire area cleared of trees leaving pale yellow grass and dried dirt covering
the open areas.

“This is
a community center in the town of Samaia in northern Sierra Leone, population
less than five hundred. When these photos were taken several hours ago, you can
see two transport vehicles that match the description of those missing here and
here,” he said, moving the pointer. “What’s interesting though is this.” He hit
a key on his laptop and the photo changed to a zoomed in and enhanced photo of
the southern side of the building. “Here you can see two individuals, one
appears—”

“Is that
biohazard gear they’re wearing?” asked Donovan Eppes.

“We believe
so. It matches the personal protective equipment that those dealing with the
Ebola outbreak are wearing.”

“So they
have an outbreak in this village,” said Cindy Fowler, the testiness in her
voice suggesting she was pissed off at somebody, probably Eppes. “Should we be
surprised by that?”

“Of
course not,” said Leroux, ignoring her attitude, it getting tiring. “We’ve
confirmed however that there are no clinics in this area, no workers assigned
to this village, and that this village, Samaia, is the hometown of our prime
suspect, Major Adopho Koroma.”

“Now
those are just too many coincidences,” said Morrison with a slight smile of
approval directed at Leroux. “Anything else you can tell us?”

Leroux
nodded, flicking through several more enhanced photos, each showing different
armed men around the village. “Clearly there is a significant armed presence
for this small a village. We’ve got a UAV heading for the area now and our
Delta team along with British Marines are ready to enter, but the Sierra
Leonean government is refusing permission. They want to handle it themselves.”

“When?”
cried Vice President Henderson. “How long will it take them to get there?”

“Hours.
They’re proposing leaving the operation until tomorrow morning as it will be
dark before they get there.”

“No
goddamned way are we waiting until tomorrow!” Henderson jabbed his finger into
the tabletop. “I want Delta sent in, now!”

This
demand was above Leroux’s pay grade. He turned toward Morrison who said
nothing. He began to wonder if his boss was expecting him to respond when he
was finally saved by someone jacked in over the speaker.

“Proceed.”

Henderson’s
shoulders slumped in relief.

“Thank
you, Mr. President.”

Samaia, Sierra Leone

“Tanya, it’s me!” Sarah knocked on the door to the showers again,
this time a little harder. She could hear the water running inside, but the
door was closed and locked. She put her ear against the door and swore she
heard sobbing inside. Pushing on the door, she twisted the knob as hard as she
could to no avail.

She
slammed on the door with the palm of her hand.

“Tanya,
open the door!”

The
sound of the water changed inside, then the squeak of the knob being turned was
followed by the water stopping. She stepped back slightly, not sure of what to
expect, but when the door finally opened, she gasped, stunned at what she saw.

Her
friend was soaked from head to toe, her clothes stained dark red, the water
pooling at her feet mixed with what was clearly blood.

She
resisted the urge to grab her, her fear of the virus too great, but when her
friend started to collapse, she leapt forward and grabbed her, helping her to a
nearby bench in front of the lockers then kneeling at her feet. “What
happened?” she asked, quickly checking her body for wounds, finding none.
“Whose blood is this?”

“It-it’s
not mine,” she finally said, her eyes at last looking at Sarah. “It’s the
driver’s.”

Sarah’s
jaw dropped. The amount of blood was significant, despite her having been under
the shower. If she had stabbed him, they were dead.