“You asked for my honesty.”
Najid inhaled and tamped his anger. That was an emotion that never led to anything good. “Continue.”
“Many of these people do not trust modern medicine. They do not trust doctors or hospitals. You might have seen in your research that in the first two outbreaks of Ebola in 1976—north and west of here in what was Sudan and Zaire at the time—the epicenter of one outbreak was the hospital, and the epicenter became the hospital when a few sick Sudanese infected the staff, who in turn infected the other patients.”
Najid turned and looked at the hospital doors. “Are you saying that this hospital is the epicenter of this strain of Ebola?”
“I think the whole town of Kapchorwa is, but that is not my point. People talk. Stories spread. The story of fifty villages being devastated by this horrible disease—with Belgian nuns at a hospital being at the source—is a story too wicked not to pass along. I don’t doubt that everyone on the continent has heard it. I have little doubt that if these villagers tell scary stories to frighten their children at bedtime, that has got to be one of them.”
Najid asked, “What is the point of your story?”
“How many villagers have your men found in their homes?” asked Kassis.
“Many.”
“How many more do you think fled the village when they realized what was going on, taking the virus with them? How many do you think ran when we showed up in our yellow suits with guns?”
“Too many,” replied Najid.
“My point is that this strain of the virus has traveled outside this village already and is slowly spreading across the country on the feet of frightened peasants.”
“I can only hope that the runners are only recently infected, not symptomatic. Some things are beyond my control. I must accept that,” said Najid. “It may be a week or two before those turn.”
Kassis paused before speaking. “That is an overly optimistic guess.”
“That doesn’t matter. We are already committed to this course of action. We’ll control what we can, and leave the rest to Allah to decide. That will buy us time. Burning the village will not prevent the medical community from figuring out that this strain is airborne, but it will delay them finding out. The villagers in the jungle and the men blocking the road will delay them finding out. They will protect that road until they can’t. Then they will fade into the forest and shoot any medical personnel they see in the village. All of these things only buy us hours or days. But hours and days are all we need.” In Najid’s mind, it all made perfect sense.
“But the brutality of burning these people alive!”
“It is a mercy. They’ll suffer less in a fire than of the disease. Do you disagree with that?”
“The length of their suffering will be shorter. I can’t say that it will be less.”
Chapter 51
Everyone in the conference room was staring at Olivia. Olivia was staring at the map. It looked just like the map she’d seen days earlier on Dr. Wheeler’s computer.
Eric asked, “Olivia?”
Olivia’s heart was racing as she thought of Austin. Could he really be in that tiny Ugandan town with a terrorist? Austin’s was probably the only white American face in that town—a town too small for it to go unnoticed. And if he was there in the presence of an Arab, who was executing an operation to terrorize someone or to blow up something, Austin was in the gravest of dangers.
“Olivia?” Eric asked again.
She slowly turned, blinking unexpected tears back into her eyes. She opened her mouth but her voice cracked and gave her away. “My…my brother is there in…in Kapchorwa.”
A few jaws dropped. That took them all by as much surprise as it had taken Olivia.
Eric recovered the quickest. “Your brother is in Kapchorwa, Uganda? Right now?”
Olivia nodded.
Eric’s confusion showed on his face. He hated coincidences, and everyone knew it. But they also knew they came across them all the time. With enough data and enough time, any two random people or events could be tied together, kind of like that Six Degrees of Kevin Bacon game. “What’s he doing in Kapchorwa?”
Olivia looked back at the map and she rubbed her eyes, shaking her head because she didn’t believe it herself. “He’s there with some kind of college program. He’s a senior. He’s volunteering. He’s teaching kids.” Olivia felt herself falling apart as she thought about her little brother. She always thought of him as little. She’d seen him mostly as a kid, and not as much as a teenager, since she was already off in college or pursuing a career. She’d had a particularly hard time thinking of him as a college student. She shook her head again and turned to hide the tears that were starting to make their way down her cheeks.
Eric turned to Barry and gave him a nod. Barry was now in charge of the project.
Eric stood up and put a hand on Olivia’s shoulder. “Come with me. Let’s go grab one of the other conference rooms. Let’s call—”
“Austin,” Olivia said. “His name’s Austin.”
“Come on.”
Olivia stood, fishing for her cell phone in her purse as she did. She couldn’t get used to not having it with her.
Eric put a hand on her back and guided her toward the door. “It’s okay. I’m sure he’s fine. Let’s call him from another room.
Eric guided Olivia into one of the small conference rooms. They sat down and Olivia dialed Austin’s number. It took an uncomfortably long time for the phone to work its way through the connections. It rang a few times and cut over to voicemail. She looked at the phone and shakily dialed again. Eric patiently watched. She put the phone back to her ear, waited, let it ring, and got voicemail again.
Shaking her head, she placed the phone back in its cradle and looked at Eric. “Voicemail.”
“That’s okay. It’s okay.” He put a hand across hers. “Listen to me. I know you’re fearing the worst. But the worst almost never happens. You hear me?”
She nodded, knowing Eric’s argument was lacking but she had nothing to say about it. “What do I do?”
“Just be calm, Olivia, okay?”
Olivia took a few deep breaths. “It’s my brother.”
“We don’t know anything yet, right?”
Olivia nodded. “I know.”
“Okay. I understand why you’re worried. I’d be worried too if my brother wasn’t such a dipshit.”
Olivia laughed through her stress and nodded again. “I love him.”
“I know. He’s your brother. You have a right to be worried. When was the last time you talked to him?”
Olivia looked down, and a tear rolled over her cheek. “Before he left for Uganda.” She started to cry.
Eric leaned over and hugged her.
After a few long minutes, Olivia sniffled up the last of her tears and sat up straight.
“It’s okay to cry,” Eric told her.
She nodded and gave him half a smile.
“Have you talked to him through email or Facebook? Anything like that?”
“Yes,” Olivia nodded. “Of course. Maybe a week ago, he sent me some pictures.”
“Has anyone talked to him in the last few days?”
“Maybe my dad,” Olivia answered.
“Your dad? Can we call him?”
Olivia picked up the phone and dialed her father’s number.
On the third ring, Paul Cooper answered, “Hello?”
“Dad, this is Olivia.”
“Is something wrong?”
Olivia started to cry again.
“What’s wrong?” Paul asked.
Eric gestured for Olivia to give him the phone. Calmly, he said, “Mr. Cooper, this is Eric Murchison. I’m Olivia’s supervisor.”
“What’s wrong?” Paul asked. “Is Olivia okay?”
“It’s okay, Mr. Cooper. Olivia is fine. Everything is all right here.”