“What happens after we find this man or the director?” Sanjay asked.
“Good question. The way we see things is that if we can keep them off balance, we might have a chance to defeat them. So, depending on the situation you find there, if there’s a chance we can take the director out, we’ll send some people over to do that. That isn’t a problem for you, is it?”
“Absolutely not.”
If Sanjay had his way, he would undertake the spy mission on his own, but Kusum was not about to let him go off alone.
“All right, all right,” he said, knowing it was an argument he would never win. “I’ll take Arjun with me.”
“Arjun has been working with the Americans the most. He should stay.”
“Okay,” he said, knowing she was right. “You and I.”
“And Darshana,” she said.
“Why Darshana?”
“It is a long trip, so I assume we will take a car and not our motorbikes. With three drivers we will not need to rest. Or, if you prefer, we could take Prabal instead of Darshana,” she suggested.
“No, no. Darshana is fine.”
Prabal had made quite a mess of things here in Mumbai before the survival station was abandoned, and while he’d been trying hard to rectify his actions — actions which, admittedly, worked out for the better in the end — Prabal was a bit of a walking disaster, so taking him along was not an option Sanjay wanted to consider.
Sanjay located a Toyota dealer on Lal Bahadur Shastri Road, picked out a brand new Land Cruiser, and returned to the survival station, where he, Kusum, and Darshana loaded enough supplies into the back to sustain them for several days. When they were done, they went inside to let Arjun and Prabal know they were leaving.
Both men were up in the communications room, so Sanjay called up the stairwell, “We are all set. Our satellite phone will be on if you need to reach us.”
“Wait!” Arjun said.
He climbed down the ladder, still clearly bothered by the pulled muscle in his neck. When he reached the bottom, he pulled a smartphone out of his pocket.
“Here,” he said, handing it to Sanjay.
“What do I need this for?” The regular cellular system had gone out of commission only a few days after the outbreak started.
“The picture. I put it on there.”
“What picture?”
“From Mr. Ash. Of the Dutchman.”
Right. In his rush to leave, Sanjay had forgotten. He put the phone in his pocket and held out his hand to his friend. “If you have any problems, let us know.”
“Same for you,” Arjun said. “And whatever you do, do not let them see you.”
18
Dr. Lawrence ran the test a second time, but the results were exactly the same. She hurried over to the lab door and stuck her head out into the main medical room.
“Dr. Rivera, can you come here for a moment?”
Not waiting for a response, she returned to the workstation, where the results of the two separate tests run on Ben Bowerman’s blood were displayed side by side on the computer monitor. As she checked them again, she heard Dr. Rivera enter the room.
“What is it?” he asked. “Is he sick?”
There was no need to indentify the detainee he was talking about. Bowerman was the only intake they’d had all day.
“Not sick,” Dr. Lawrence said. “Immune.”
“Are you sure?”
“He has the antibodies. He’s had KV-27a.”
“But he doesn’t look like he just got over it,” Rivera said. “He looks fine.”
She locked eyes with him. “I don’t think he had it recently.”
The corner of his mouth rose as he realized what she meant. “Another one?”
“Yes.”
“Incredible.”
“Isn’t it?”
The stadium lights lit up the field, holding back the night.
Outside, a whistle sounded twice.
“Finally!” Diego said.
“What’s that mean?” Ben asked.
“Dinner,” Melody told him.
They walked outside into the cool but not uncomfortable evening.
“We wait here,” Diego said, after taking only a few steps from the building.
“Why?” Ben asked.
“It’s what we’re supposed to do.”
It wasn’t much of an answer, but before Ben could pursue it further, the gate on the other side of their yard opened, and a guard entered, his rifle held high against his chest. He was followed by two men, each carrying a pair of individually wrapped trays. They set them on the ground, exited, and then one returned with an additional tray.
As soon as they had all left and the gate was closed, Diego said, “Okay.”
They retrieved their food and took it back into the building, taking seats around the tables in the central area. The sound of crinkling aluminum foil filled the room for a moment as they removed the covers from their food.
Dinner consisted of salad, fried rice with chicken, and sliced fruit. There was also a bottle of water and a small piece of cherry pie. Ben picked up the plastic fork and wondered if those in the sick holding area received the same food.
He froze, a forkful of rice inches from his mouth.
The other holding areas.
He dropped the utensil on his plate and shot out of his chair.
“Where you going?” Ava asked.
Without answering, he ran outside. If he hadn’t already missed it, he thought this might be his opportunity to see into the tarp-covered area, when the guards opened the gate to deliver dinner.
He hustled around to the back corner of the fence. The third enclosure looked unchanged from the last time he’d checked it out. Had dinner been delivered?
He studied the fence, and then groaned. Of course. There was no break in the fence that he could see, so the gate must have been on the backside, out of his view. He pushed away from the fence and headed back around to the dorm entrance.
But as he came around the corner, he stopped dead in his tracks. The gate to his holding area was open again. This time there were four guards — two by the opening, and two accompanying Drs. Lawrence and Rivera as they walked toward the dorm.
Seeing him, they too stopped.
After a moment of confusion, Dr. Lawrence smiled and said, “Mr. Bowerman. Excellent. We were looking for you. Please, come with us.”
“Come with you where?”
“Please,” she said, motioning him to join them.
In contrast to Dr. Lawrence’s friendly demeanor, the two guards stared at him, as if ready to swing their rifles around and shoot him at the slightest protest.
“Mr. Bowerman?” Dr. Rivera said.
Knowing he had no choice, Ben nodded and walked over.
“Thank you,” Dr. Lawrence said as they escorted him out of the pen. “We’ll go over here for a moment.” She gestured to the third-base-side dugout.
After they took the steps down, Dr. Rivera pointed at the bench. “Have a seat.”
Ben did as asked. “What’s going on? Is something wrong?”
“Not at all,” Dr. Lawrence said. “We just need to draw a little more blood. Our fault. We had a problem with the earlier sample.”