Ironside nods, while the other keeps talking.
“So, in summary, we have a private jet carrying no other than Pyotr Dmitri Zaytsev, a real masterpiece of shit, and his plane is heading rapidly to New York. At the same time, we have a possible accomplice aboard of an airliner with more than 240 people on board, which is flying over Africa. On one of the two aircraft, or both, there is the serious possibility of the spread of an extremely virulent pathogen, but we don’t know if it has already been released or not.”
“They said what it is?”
“According to what the Russians say, it’s a modified strain of Ebola virus, extremely contagious and laboratory modified to make it unstoppable. Jesus curse the criminals who make these monsters. Some things are already dangerous by God’s will. I don’t even want to imagine what would happen if it were to reach a populated area.”
“It seems unlikely that they got it stolen from under their very nose. On the other hand, if it was an intentional move they wouldn’t have bothered to warn us. It’s a weird scenario. Do you think we can trust them?”, asks Ironside as if thinking aloud.
“What can I say, John. Thank God they have notified us in time, even though I’m not sure I can figure out why they told us about the other plane too, the one heading for Paris.”
“Well, they don’t make a good impression in this circumstance, the reasons may be different. On that air route, many US citizens travel from South Africa going to the US, through Europe. The plane flies over Algeria, and I think the Russians are well aware of our bases in the Algerian Sahara desert. In addition, in this affair the Russians have already contacted us, they probably don’t want to bring in other nations…”
The two reached a security door, Ironside swipes his ID badge into an optical reader.
“…and lose their face with them too”, concludes Thompson, giving voice to the implicit conclusion of the discourse. “I think you’ve got the point, John.”
The door opens with a hiss, Thompson goes through with a sigh.
“Let’s get to work, my friend, let’s try to fix this thing as soon and as good as possible.”
MOSCOW
Leonidovich’s eyes are nailed in those of Ivanov. The latter has a very pale complexion, and a shocked expression. “Cape Town? Holy God, we are all lost”, says the scientist in an exasperated tone.
“Don’t cross your bridges before you come to them, Dr. Ivanov, we can still handle the situation if you cooperate lucidly.”
“You don’t understand! Zaytsev may have had contacts with who knows how many people before being tracked down by you, and even if there were only a few dozen cells in the vial, he could have reproduced them easily, to infect who knows how many people!”. The scientist stands up and bangs both hands vehemently on the table.
“Chill down, Ivanov! If the pathogen is really as dangerous as you say, we would already be aware of some cases. You said yourself that the infection dynamics is such that it can’t stay hidden for long, didn’t you?”
“You have no idea of what we are talking about, Leonidovich! If you only realized how unmanageable that monstrosity is, you would no longer sleep peacefully in your lifetime.”
“That’s why there are brainiacs like you, Dr. Ivanov”, replies Leonidovich with a hint of sarcasm on the brainiacs word. “And this is why we must send you up to the firing line.”
Ivanov’s eyes grow bigger while the other continues.
“Within less than half an hour you will board a supersonic jet. We must rely on you to save the credibility and the future of our country. Of course, you won’t say anything to the Americans about your classified research and discoveries in Antarctica. In our communication we mentioned a viral strain, a variant of Ebola, developed in the laboratory. It’s on the basis of this information that you have to handle the situation.”
“This is completely insane!” exclaims Ivanov, losing his cool. “That thing can’t be contained, you can’t handle it! We can only hope that the stolen vial is still intact or it has been destroyed. However, if the infection has spread to even just one human being… It won’t take great intelligence to realize that it’s quite another thing than Ebola. The Americans may be arrogant trigger-happy, but be sure that they aren’t stupid!”
“We have no choice Ivanov!”, exclaims Leonidovich raising his voice in an exasperated cry. “We have no choice! There is no way to stop those planes, but perhaps there is still time to do something. That vial came out of your labs, remember it. The responsibility for all this is only yours!”
Leonidovich accompanies those last words with a loud bang of his hands on the table. A few very long seconds go by, during which the government agent regains his calm and coolness. His tone is cold and threatening when he speaks again to the scientist. “Now you listen to me and open your ears all wide. I don’t know what you have in your hands and I don’t care to know why you have access to top-secret information, but I tell you one thing: you will help us solve this thing in the best possible way, or as sure as my life I assure you that you’ll spend the rest of your life watching your back. No matter in which hole you’ll hide, no matter how much time I’ll need, days, months or years. Sooner or later I will find you and I assure you that you’ll end your days in a dark place without windows. And believe me Ivanov, the things that you claim to have seen and experienced in these three decades in your laboratories will seem a sweet memory in comparison.”
Ivanov remains unmoved at that, staring Leonidovich in the eyes and shaking slightly his head.
WASHINGTON
Thompson and Ironside enter a huge room, the activity inside is intense and silent at the same time. The walls are lined up with displays. There are different workstations throughout the room, with operators working feverishly in front of each screen. A number of people move quickly around them, someone wearing military outfits.
Worker ants and soldier ants…
Ironside follows Thompson to one of the workstations.
“Mike, report on the situation.”
“Zaytsev’s jet has already reached our airspace”, hastens to answer a skinny guy with slightly too long hair, combed with a well-marked line that makes him look like a high school loser. “The Boeing 777 is currently flying over Mali. It will get into the Algerian airspace soon.”
A female voice emerges in the circuit of Thompson’s communications headset. “Sir, Dr. Moore in video call.”
“Please switch it to the workstation next to Mike’s, Janet, thank you.”
While Thompson and Ironside come closer to the display, the image on the screen changes, showing the face of a mature woman, who however retains a nerdy teenager appearance. Her red hair is in a showy bun from which the top of a pencil sticks out. She wears glasses with a pink plastic frame, and their lenses make her green eyes wider. A sprinkling of freckles enlivens her nose and the zone under her eyes. Her face has a massive bone structure, like one who has been overweight for a long time before a drastic diet. Nothing more about her is visible in the screen, she seems to wear a white laboratory coat. Thompson speaks first, going straight to the point. “Dr. Moore, I’m sorry to call you without any notice, but we’re in the middle of an important situation. Have you been informed already?”