Chapter Twenty

Geneva, Switzerland

October 20

The director-general of the World Health Organization had assigned two people full-time to feed information about the H1N6 virus into WHOSIS. The Statistical Information System, an interactive database, was their best way to keep up with the growing spread of cases in many of the organization’s one hundred ninety-three member countries.

Ten days into the pandemic, the statistics were staggering. Sixty-three countries were now reporting cases of the mysterious virus, and more than two million fatalities had been recorded. The WHO’s estimated death toll nearly doubled overnight, when they added the names of victims who had only been suspected of dying of the virus. Most of these reports were trickling in from third-world countries and isolated areas, where overwhelmed clinics and hospitals had neither the time nor the resources for accurate diagnostics. Even in the developed countries, it was still impossible to confirm the H1N6 infections through lab tests. Their record-keeping was imperfect because it was based on symptoms, location, and the known rate of the progression of the disease.

She hoped that was about to change. Several of the world’s best labs were trying to isolate the stealth component of the virus through blood tests on people who were at the highest risk of having the disease but had not yet developed symptoms. They were the family, friends, neighbors, and coworkers of the dead and dying.

Though she tried valiantly to keep her focus on the myriad of tasks demanding her attention, she checked the latest reports from China every half hour or so. The explosive outbreak there was particularly worrisome, with a quarter of a million cases reported, and the spread was marching rapidly southward toward her home village.

Martial law had been declared in twenty-two nations, many acting because of widespread riots, looting, and hoarding. Borders throughout Europe, Asia, Africa, and North and South America were being closed to help contain the outbreak. Public gatherings were banned in many regions, and quarantines were springing up everywhere. Several major airlines had cancelled flights to the most severely affected countries, and some were considering a temporary shutdown of business altogether. People were afraid to travel, causing so many cancellations that planes were often flying with only a handful of passengers, and major airports like Amsterdam’s Schiphol, London’s Heathrow, and Kennedy in New York were virtually empty. Media Web sites crashed regularly because of the flood of panicked people seeking information on the virus.

The transportation of goods and services had stopped nearly everywhere. Surgical masks and over-the-counter flu medications had sold out globally in the first couple days of the crisis, and grocery shelves in the stores that remained open were virtually bare. Tens of millions were heeding the WHO’s advice to remain in their homes and avoid all contact with other people.

It was only a matter of days, the director-general thought, before panic ensued in a way that hadn’t been seen since the Spanish-flu outbreak of 1918, when a third of the world’s population had been affected and as many as one hundred million people had died. People had killed their pets when it was rumored dogs carried the virus. Relatives had withheld food from affected loved ones. The normal conventions of society had broken down, and the economic, political, and other repercussions had been felt for many years after the threat passed. And this new virus could spread so much faster and farther today with air travel. The potential effect was unimaginable.

Already several people had committed suicide. Most had been infected; they couldn’t deal with the agony of the final days. But also some took their lives because their families had been decimated, or because the growing economic impact of the virus had wiped them out financially. There would be many more of those, she knew, in the weeks and months ahead. God help us all.

London, England

October 20

Derrick Anderson-Howe was on the phone in his den, asking yet another of his well-heeled business contacts for money for Zoe’s ransom, when the cell phone in his suit jacket vibrated against his chest. The caller ID read Chez Maurice.

“Let me ring you right back,” he said abruptly into the landline before flipping open his cell. “Collier, please say you have something good to tell me.”

“On the contrary, I’m afraid,” his friend with British intelligence replied. “I’ve just learned some very disheartening news, Derrick. I’d received information that the contacts I told you about—the ones who apparently have someone in place in Colombia—were planning to stage a rescue mission of Western hostages. I’d hoped they might be able to locate Zoe and include her. A slim chance, probably, which is why I didn’t tell you. I didn’t want you to get your hopes up.”

“And?” Derrick loosened his tie.

“I’ve gotten word through the grapevine that they’ve recalled all their people from the field, to help with this pandemic,” Morris reported. “And the latest intel indicates that all the resources they might have called on for any rescue are being reassigned as well. Helicopters and planes have been grounded in Colombia, except for extreme emergencies. To put it bluntly, my friend, this virus has altered everyone’s priorities. Nearly every able-bodied man and woman in military, intelligence, covert, and even private organizations worldwide are now being utilized to stop this thing from spreading and prevent chaos.”

“I understand, Collier,” Derrick said. “I know you’ve done everything you can. I appreciate your efforts.”

“Don’t be too discouraged. Zoe is valuable to these people. And at least she’s probably being held in an isolated location, which may be the best thing for her right now.”

“I’d thought of that.”

“Stay positive,” Morris said. “I’ll keep an eye on the situation and let you know if I hear anything more.”

The words of encouragement made no difference. With each passing day, Derrick grew more certain he’d never see his daughter again.

Date: 2015-01-11; view: 605