The Viral Epiphany (30 page)

“So I really think we should now find a way to go ahead and mass produce the vaccine. This is exactly what is needed to protect the people of Ireland.”

           
“That’s very interesting, Dan.
 
My congratulations to you and Brendan,” Martin had said, “but there is one major issue you left out. Even if this vaccine is effective, as I’m sure it is, who is going to pay for the production?
 
We at AMA can’t very well foot the bill ourselves, you know.”

           
“Yes, of course,” Dan replied. “We will have to get the government involved too, very quickly.”

“Perhaps I can put in a call to the
Taoiseach
,” Martin said,
 
“I know him rather well, you know, and I would think he would be most interested.” The discussion continued for the next few hours with both Dan and Brendan giving detailed descriptions of the retrovirus that had been discovered in the mammoth tissue and of the corresponding vaccine. They decided to break for lunch at one p.m. and walked across the street to a new theme restaurant that had become popular with AMA employees called
The Galloglas.
 
The word was that they had the best roast beef in Cork.

While they were enjoying their meal and continuing to discuss the vaccine issue, an Irish Coast Guard search and rescue team found the first body from the Saint-Étienne-du-Rouvray.
 
It had washed ashore near the Old Head of Kinsale, about ten miles from the site of the wreck.
 
At about the same time a young, and still very wet, Frenchman staggered into O’Brien’s pub in the small town of Ardfield, a few miles from the wreck.

The man’s torn clothing and bedraggled hair instantly caught the attention of everyone in the room.
 
His face was badly scraped and bleeding.
 
He stood at the door for a few moments, as if in a daze, and looked around at the people who were sitting at the tables and then turned towards the old man behind the bar.
 
He swayed unsteadily as he spoke a few words in French, but no one understood what he said.
 
A young fisherman at the table nearest to him quickly stood up and offered him his hand, but as the French man reached out to take it he lurched forward and fell to the floor.
 
Seconds later a steady stream of blood began flowing from his mouth and collecting in a pool on the old oaken floor.
 
The young woman who had been sitting with the fisherman screamed.

While the young Frenchman lay dying on the floor of O’Brien’s pub, other survivors were making their way, either by foot or by hitchhiking, to the nearest towns – all the while trying to avoid detection by the
gardai
, for they were well aware that the Irish border was closed to entry by all.
 
Throughout the afternoon the search teams continued their efforts to find survivors, and the survivors of the wreck of the
Saint-Étienne-du-Rouvray
tried to avoid capture.
 

As Dan and the others continued their discussions over lunch, Dan explained to Martin how the vaccine could be created synthetically.

“I think that your facility could begin production rather quickly if we provide you with the code.”
 
Dan said.

“I agree, I think we could.
 
We certainly have the equipment to produce synthetic vaccines here.
 
I would have to make sure we have enough supplies, like sterile water, on hand.
 
Will we need to supply an adjuvant, like aluminum phosphate, to the vaccine?”

“No, sir,” Brendan said with a slight smile, “It’s designed to be very active in stimulating the production of antibodies without the use of any adjuvants.”

“Brilliant,” Martin said with a grin, “Well then, I’m sure we have enough supplies of organic materials. The main problem might be to figure out a distribution plan.
 
With four or five million people in Ireland needing the vaccine it could take quite a while to get it to everyone.
 
We would need to get some of the other biotech companies involved too, you know.
 
We would also need government help to distribute it quickly.”

Martin was quiet for a few moments and then he said, “Alright, you’ve convinced me.
 
As soon as we get back I’ll call the
Taoiseach
!”

 
They walked back to the AMA headquarters building shortly after 2 p.m. and Dan, Sheila, and Brendan settled down again in Martin’s office and waited for Martin to place his call.
 
However, before he had a chance to make the call there was a knock on the door and his secretary looked in.
           
“I’m sorry to interrupt sir.
 
There’s a call for Mr. Quinn from the Cork
Garda
station. They say it’s extremely urgent.”

           
Martin motioned to the phone on the desk and Dan picked it up.
 
It was the Captain he had talked with after the men from Omega had been captured.

           
“Dr. Quinn, I’m sorry to bother you, but this is quite important.
 
I recall from our discussion that you had mentioned to me that you might have a vaccine for Asian Fever. Is that correct?”

           
“Yes, it is,” Dan replied, “Why do you ask?”

           
“I’m afraid, sir, that the disease has found its way to Cork.
 
I just received word from Clonakilty
Garda
station.
 
A boat from France was wrecked on the coast during the night, and we are guessing there were at least ten and maybe as many as fifty people on the boat.
 
They were probably trying to land illegally in Cork and got caught in the storm.
 
We have a report of one survivor who has died in a pub in Ardfield with massive bleeding, and I have received a report that a local car dropped three other men from a wrecked boat at Clonakilty hospital an hour ago.
 
We don’t know what symptoms they might have.
 
However, based upon the size of the wreck I think there are probably many others wandering about the Clonakilty area, and it’s likely some of them are infected also.”

           
“I see,” Dan said as he looked over at the others in Martin’s office.
 
The expression on his face told them all that the news was very grave.

           
“So, Mr. Quinn.
 
Is it true that you have a supply of the vaccine then?
 
I think we might be needing it quite soon.”

           
“Let me call you back,” Dan said and quickly hung up the phone.
 
At first he couldn’t quite believe what he had heard from the
Garda
Captain.
 
At last he simply whispered, “The disease…Asian Fever.
 
It’s here in Cork!” Each of them suddenly felt their hearts begin pounding at the words.

           
           
Ten minutes later Martin was talking on the phone with the
Taoiseach
.
 
After explaining that the researchers at UCC had created a vaccine for Asian Fever, Martin relayed the news that they had recently received from the
Garda
Captain.

           
“You’re sure the disease is in Cork?” the
Taoiseach
asked.

           
“Yes, sir.
 
There is no doubt.
 
The manner of death that was described to me can only be Asian Fever.”

           
“Then you’d best get started right away, Martin. Don’t worry about the costs; the government will cover the charges. I’ll alert the defense forces to be ready to distribute the vaccine to everyone in Ireland.”

           
“I think we need to involve all the production companies in Ireland, sir.
 
I don’t think AMA can do it all alone.”

           
“Absolutely.
 
Can you provide them with the computer code too?”

           
“Yes, I can do that almost instantly. The real problem is manufacturing time and distribution time.”

           
“How long will that take?” the
Taoiseach
asked.

           
“I think the manufacturing will go quickly.
 
We can make very large batches of the liquid very quickly, maybe only a few days, but the distribution of the vaccine will take some time. I would think that for Ireland we would need four or five million doses.
 
That could take weeks to distribute!”

           
“Well then, we’d best get started.
 
You’ll have maximum support from me.
 
Maybe we have time to save most of our people.
 
But we have to act fast!”

           
“Yes, sir!” Martin said and after he hung up he turned to Dan, Sheila, and Brendan.
 
“OK!” he said, “The
Taoiseach
is with us one hundred percent.
 
It’s up to us now.
 
Let’s get going - I’m afraid we don’t have any time to spare!”

Thirty

           
The
Goddess of the Seas
, plowed eastward through the blue-green waters of the North Atlantic Ocean, the long streaks of rust on its hull showing it was definitely not a cruise ship, on its way to Rotterdam with its weekly cargo of frozen American beef, chicken, and vegetables.
 
The ship was passing over the Mid-Atlantic Ridge, about a thousand miles south of Iceland, and would be arriving in port in a few days.
 
The crew of twenty merchant seamen were always very busy whenever the American Goddess Lines container ship was entering or leaving port, but now, in the open sea, with no other ships or land in sight, they often had spare time for reading, listening to music, or perhaps relaxing on deck for an hour or two.

           
Dave Jansen, twenty-one years old and a new hire, was on his first trans-Atlantic voyage, and today he was enjoying the sun and the light breeze.
 
He was standing by the rail and watching the waves slide past the hull only to lose their form and disappear in the white foam of the ships wake.
 
After a few minutes, he leaned over the rail and looked straight down into the depths and saw the colors of the sea change from transparent bluish-green at the surface to blue-black as the water deepened, and then finally, at some depth unknown to him, to utter darkness.

           
Meanwhile, three hundred feet below the
Goddess of the Seas,
the
SSN Seawolf
glided along a more northward path in absolute silence as it followed the North Atlantic Drift current.
 
The
Seawolf’s
main propeller was stopped and the submarine’s control room was quiet as the passive sonar operator listened attentively to the sounds from above.
 
He held up his hand for quiet while he listened and then suddenly clenched it tightly into a fist. The
Goddess of the Seas
, traveling at a computer-controlled twenty knots had passed directly overhead.
 
Seconds later, the sound of its huge, churning propellers began to fade in the sonar operator’s headset.

At the moment the
Goddess of the Seas
passed over the
Seawolf,
Dave Jansen was still peering intently into the water.
 
It was the then that a strange feeling of danger came over him, if for only an instant.
 
He wondered for a moment if he had seen something, the vague shape of something very large, pass beneath them. He shuddered and then looked up and turned towards the other side of the ship. There was nothing but blue water on the other side. He shook his head and smiled.
 
No,
he said to himself,
there are a lot of dark shadows in the sea; that was probably just a darker shadow.

           
“Sonar. Report,” the Captain of the
Seawolf
ordered.

           
“Sir, target is fading. Bearing one two zero degrees true, range one thousand meters, speed twenty knots.”

           
“Roger, Sonar.
 
Communications, release the SATCOM antenna.”

           
“Aye, aye, sir,” the communications officer said and pushed a sequence of buttons that opened a small hatch on the aft deck of the submarine.
 
Seconds later a balloon inflated and began rising to the surface.
 
The balloon had a satellite communications antenna attached to the top and at the bottom a cable was attached that connected the antenna to the communications equipment in the submarine.
 
The balloon floated quickly to the surface and less than a minute later the communications officer made his report.