‘We’re also expecting someone from the CDC very shortly,’ Zeiss said. He looked at Li. ‘For the uninitiated, that’s the Centers for Disease Control in Atlanta.’
Steve’s attempted smile at Margaret across the table lacked conviction, and the sense of impending doom that had been descending on her over the last couple of hours started to become acute. Why were they here? And why the need for all these high-ranking military medical people?
She had her back to the door and did not turn until Zeiss said, ‘Oh, and this is Felipe Mendez, emeritus professor of genetics, formerly of the Baylor College of Medicine in Houston.’
Margaret felt a sudden restriction across her chest. She turned to see Professor Mendez shuffle into the conference room with what he probably imagined was haste. He was just as dishevelled as she remembered him, his overcoat hanging open, buttons missing from his jacket, trousers two sizes too big, belted at the waist and gathered in folds around his loafers. His hair was whiter than when she had last seen him, thinner, but just as unruly. The only thing about him that reflected any measure of care and attention were his neatly trimmed white goatee beard and moustache.
His watery brown eyes smiled at the faces around the table. ‘Apologies,’ he muttered. ‘So sorry to be late.’ He found an empty seat opposite Margaret, put his battered old leather briefcase on the table and sat down. For a moment she thought he hadn’t seen her, until he looked up and smiled beatifically. ‘Hello, Margaret my dear,’ he said. ‘It’s been a long time.’
She had no opportunity to respond. Colonel Zeiss was anxious to get the meeting underway. ‘Ladies and gentlemen, just so that none of you are labouring under any illusions, the reason you are all here tonight is that in our view we are facing a full-scale national emergency.’ He had everyone’s attention now. ‘As some of you already know, blood and tissue samples taken from the bodies found in the truck at Huntsville have revealed that the victims appear to have been injected with the virus which caused the Spanish flu pandemic of 1918.’ His announcement prompted a mixed reaction around the table.
‘Flu?’ Hrycyk said dismissively. ‘Is that all? I get a shot against the flu every year.’
Dr. Ward spoke for the first time. ‘The Spanish flu was the most pathogenic flu virus in history,’ he said. ‘It killed more people in three months than the Great Plague in three hundred years. And there is no shot that will protect you against it, Agent Hrycyk.’ He leaned forward. ‘Your own figures for illegal immigration should tell you that the ninety-eight Chinese we found in that truck are probably just the tip of the iceberg. They died by accident. We have no idea how many others successfully crossed into the United States bringing the virus with them.’
Margaret was puzzled. ‘I don’t understand,’ she said. ‘How do you know it’s the Spanish flu virus? I don’t remember being off the day they did virology, and my understanding was that we didn’t even know about the existence of viruses in 1918. So you’ve nothing to compare it with.’
Dr. Ward responded coolly, ‘Perhaps, Dr. Campbell, you were too busy helping out the Chinese police to keep up with the news. A research team at AFIP managed to partially sequence the Spanish flu virus at the end of the last decade.’
Margaret felt her face colour. ‘Then perhaps you’d like to enlighten me, Doctor,’ she said, trying to retain as much dignity as possible.
‘There are others around the table besides yourself, Ms Campbell, who require enlightenment,’ Dr. Ward said. By now Margaret had the very firm impression that she didn’t like the good doctor very much. He took a moment to compose himself. ‘Back in the nineties,’ he said, ‘a team of researchers at AFIP HQ in Washington, led by Dr. Jeffrey Taubenberger, discovered that tissue from seventy Spanish flu victims had been stored at AFIP’s National Tissue Repository. They were able to recover fragments of viral RNA from the lung tissue of a twenty-one-year-old private who died from the flu at Fort Jackson, Carolina, in 1918. Along with other samples, and soft tissue recovered from an Eskimo grave in Alaska, they were able to sequence enough of the recovered fragments to establish for the first time that the 1918 pandemic was caused by an H1N1 type virus, and that it was completely unlike any other human flu virus identified during the past seventy years.’ The doctor paused to let his words sink in. There were others around the table to whom this was also news.
He went on, ‘The closest match they could find was with a strain known as Swine Iowa 30, a pig flu isolated in 1930 and kept alive at various culture repositories ever since. It lent some credence to those who had always believed that the virus mutated from a strain found in birds, was passed on to pigs and then ultimately to humans — a unique sequence of mutations giving the virus its unparalleled pathogenic qualities.’ He sat back. ‘And of course, it was by a unique sequence of good, or bad, fortune that we actually identified the virus in these Chinese immigrants. The viral panel requested by Dr. Cardiff included a routine test for flu virus. But it was sheer chance that one of Dr. Taubenberger’s team got to cast an eye over the results. She immediately recognised part of the sequence, and initiated further, specific tests that proved positive.’ He leaned forward, elbows on the table, fingers interlocked. This was his moment and he was making the most of it. ‘Ladies and gentlemen, we are 99 percent certain that what we are dealing with here is the original Spanish flu virus. Last time around it killed anything up to forty million people. This time, it could be a whole helluva lot more.’
‘I’m sorry to be a nuisance,’ Margaret said, cutting short Dr. Ward’s moment, ‘but I’m beginning to wonder now if I was off the day they did virology. I mean, if all of these people were injected with this virus, how come none of them showed any flu-like symptoms?’
‘Because they weren’t suffering from the flu, my dear.’ Mendez’s interjection took Margaret by surprise. She turned toward him, blinking.
‘What do you mean?’
‘They were only carrying it,’ he said. ‘In a noninfectious form. They weren’t affected by it at all.’ He now had the attention of everyone around the table. He ran nicotine-stained fingers through his pure white whiskers. ‘The virus with which they were injected was genetically manipulated so that the DNA in their genomes would be transformed to contain its code.’
Margaret was struggling to keep up with this. ‘I thought that RNA viruses couldn’t get into the human genome.’
Mendez smiled. ‘My dear, if you want to be technical about it, then you are absolutely right. But by using standard gene therapy methods, it’s not too difficult.’ He leaned forward and looked around the faces at the table, intoxicated by his own knowledge. ‘All you have to do is to take a retrovirus called Moloney leukemia virus and use it to nest the code for the RNA flu virus along with a few genes required to make the nested virus into an active transcript.’