Bioterror! (an Ell Donsaii story #14) Read online

  The disease seemed to have burned itself out on Little Diomede. The patients who’d had it had all developed antibodies and then people simply seemed to stop getting it. After a period it’d seemed reasonable to believe that the micro epidemic had burned itself out without spreading to any other populations. Kelso described the lingering concern that it represented some kind of failed bio-weapon which had been created by the Russians and tested on Big Diomede. Although the natives of Little Diomede weren’t terribly cooperative with questioning about it—each person claimed not to have island hopped themselves, but all of them suspected that someone else has—it seemed likely that, if there was an animal reservoir on Big Diomede, a few people from Little Diomede might’ve visited Big Diomede and brought the disease back with them.

  Kelso, of course, had desperately wanted to sample some of the wildlife from Big Diomede, but, not surprisingly, no permission was forthcoming from the Russians. In view of the fact that the disease didn’t seem to be particularly dangerous, no one in Washington had been willing to expend political capital urging the Russians to change their minds and give her permission.

  Kelso went on to describing the virus itself and the similarities and differences between it and the vaccinia vaccination virus.

  Abe lifted a hand and Kelso acknowledged him. “This difference in the protein coat. Is it due to a snip (Single Nucleotide Polymorphism) or other relatively simple mutation that could’ve occurred naturally?”

  Kelso shook her head, not uncertainly, but definitively. “No, it’s intentional. Someone excised the entire section of DNA for several of vaccinia’s surface proteins and replaced it. The substituted surface proteins are analogous to, but not exactly the same as those in the camel pox virus.”

  Curious, Abe prompted, “Camelpox?”

  “One of the ten species in the Orthopoxvirus genus. Generally affects camels and can be spread camel to camel or carried by the camel tick. It kills about twenty-five percent of camels it infects. Camels do transmit it to humans, typically causing pustular eruptions on the hands. That, by the way, is the way cowpox was transmitted to humans and became the basis of the world’s first vaccination programs. You should know that in 1995 Saddam Hussein admitted to having a biological weapons program based on camelpox. The idea was that the local population would be largely immune if they could make camelpox into a lethal bioweapon. We don’t know much about the program, but inserting sequences for camelpox proteins would’ve been difficult with 1990s technology. However, if they were capable, it seems like a reasonable weapons strategy. Most people in the world wouldn’t have immunity to camelpox.”

  “A lot of Arabs would,” somebody mumbled.

  Abe chose to ignore the comment as inflammatory and unhelpful. Instead, he said, “If it’s a release, accidental or otherwise, of an Iraqi bio-weapon, why did it first show up on Little Diomede?”

  Kelso shrugged, “As an accidental release of an Iraqi weapon, Little Diomede’s so unlikely as to be absurd. As an intentional release, testing it on an isolated island sounds much more reasonable. But why create a bio-weapon based on the cowpox genome? It does occasionally kill someone, in fact as I continue my report you’re going to hear that we’ve documented some mortality, but it isn’t exactly what most people think of when they think of a weaponized virus.”

  Abe said, “I’m sorry to have interrupted your presentation. Perhaps we should let you finish before we barge in with more questions.”

  LaQua nodded, and went on. “Since the Little Diomede incident, the virus has begun showing up all around the world, leading to the question of whether Little Diomede was actually the first incident or whether it was simply the first one recognized. However, we have not been able to find a location where anyone claims to have seen these types of lesions prior to the onset of the Little Diomede cases.”

  LaQua put up a map of the world, “Here we’ve highlighted in blue the areas where typical pustules have been reported and, in red, locations where they’ve been confirmed to come from the Diomede virus.” She paused, giving people a moment to study the map, then continued, “As you can see, the greatest number of cases have been in northern and eastern Africa, the Middle East, and Polynesia. However, cases have been reported almost everywhere in the world…”

  Dr. Rushdie suddenly interrupted, “They’re targeting the Muslim world!” As everyone turned to stare at him, he looked around at them a little wildly. “If you pull up a map of the OIC, it’ll be the same!”

  “OIC?” LaQua said, a puzzled tone in her voice.

  “Organization of Islamic Cooperation. It’s a cooperative group of the Islamic countries of the world.” His eyes went back to LaQua’s map. “I’m pretty sure the maps’ll be almost exactly the same!”

  LaQua spoke to her AI and a moment later a map of the OIC popped up on the large screen next to the one she was using for her presentation. The similarities were obvious. Rushdie said, “Zoom in on Israel, I’ll bet you’ll see that in the Middle East, it alone isn’t involved!”

  Silence dominated for a moment as LaQua had her AI zoom in on Israel, then murmurs broke out as it became obvious that most of Israel hadn’t been affected like the surrounding countries had. Rushdie said, “Those cases you see in Israel? Those’re in the Palestinian areas. They aren’t just targeting Islamic countries, they’re targeting Islam!” His eyes went back to LaQua, “Show me the cases in the United States.”

  LaQua spoke to her AI and a map of the US appeared with scattered cases.

  Rushdie said, “Zoom in on New York.” When she did, he said, “That area in the northern part with all the cases? That’s Hamilton County, where I grew up. It has the highest concentration of Muslims in New York, and I’m pretty sure that New York has more Muslims than the rest of the country.”

  Abe stared. The maps seemed pretty damning. Then LaQua said somewhat plaintively, “So, if someone’s targeting Muslims with this disease—all around the world which would certainly indicate that it’s an enormous and concerted effort—why’re they attacking them with a disease that seldom makes anyone but the immunocompromised sick?” She turned to look at Rushdie questioningly, “The overall mortality’s only about one in 10,000!” She shrugged, “As bioweapons go, it really isn’t much of a threat.”

  Everyone turned back to the maps with puzzled looks on their faces.

  To Abe’s surprise—because Abe would’ve expected the man’s Islamic faith to bias him against such an intuitive leap—it was Rushdie whose eyes widened with sudden comprehension. He said in a tone of immeasurable sadness, “It’s a vaccine… Some misbegotten terrorists have released it among the Islamic world in the hopes of protecting those who follow Allah. At some point in the future, they plan to release a second, highly-lethal virus that’ll afflict those who haven’t been immunized by this one.” Shaking his head in dismay, he said, “How could anyone…” he broke off with a rasping sob.

  When Rushdie paused, no one seemed to know what to do or say. Finally Abe, wondering whether condolences would be considered appropriate coming from someone of the Jewish faith, leaned forward and put a hand on Rushdie’s shoulder. “Every faith has its radicals my friend. It falls on us to try to set this right. You’ve made a mighty contribution to our understanding of what’s happening. I hope that you’ll make an even bigger contribution by lending your shoulder to stopping the turn of this wheel…”

  Rushdie put his hand on top of Abe’s on his own shoulder, saying, “Thanks, you can trust that I will.” Then he turned his eyes to LaQua. “Do we know how the agent was delivered?”

  She slowly shook her head. “Sampling finds viral particles in the air. Actually, we found more particles outdoors than we do inside around sick people. The people who’re sick don’t seem to be shedding much of the virus into the environment. Assuming that someone’s dumping lyophilized virus here and there in the afflicted cities, it’s surprising that there’ve been no reports of ‘powders’ blowing on the streets. People are pretty sen
sitive to that kind of stuff.”

  Someone in one of the upper rows behind them said, “Hey, they just convicted that guy in Philadelphia of murdering his wife by sending carbon monoxide through a port. You think these guys could be sending viral particles through ports?”

  Abe felt an icicle form in his gut as he, Kelso, and Rushdie all turned to stare at one another in horror…

  Chapter Seven

  Zage got out of the car and started up the walkway to Carley’s apartment building. His mother’d had conniptions when he’d told her that he wanted to go to a grad student party. At first she didn’t want to let him go at all, then she’d decided he could go, but that she’d go with him! He’d pointed out that if one of her major concerns was about how he needed to learn to socialize, that if she wanted him to do so, she had to let him do it without his mother. Eventually she’d relented. She’d made some protests about how she wanted him to learn to socialize with kids his own age, but he’d retorted that he’d be happy to go to a party put on by one of the kids in his martial arts class if they invited him.

  She might’ve begrudgingly accepted the idea of him going to this party, but she and Steve’d been in a dither about how to do it safely. Several members of the security team had been over at the apartment building early that morning to install surveillance devices. He hadn’t been allowed to leave home until Steve had approved a condensed version of the video from the surveillance to make sure no one’d arrived at the complex that looked like they might be a threat.

  Though Zage had arrived by himself in an AI piloted car, five members of the security team had arrived earlier, some of them parking near Carley’s apartment and a couple of them pretending to be residents of the apartment complex who were sitting out by the pool drinking.

  Zage shook his head. He still thought all of this was way over the top, but at least he wasn’t showing up at Carley’s door with four guards standing around him. He really liked Carley and wouldn’t want her getting freaked out.

  When he approached Carley’s door, the door AI said, “Hello Zage Kinrais. Carley would like to apologize because she isn’t quite ready. It’ll be a couple of minutes.”

  In puzzlement, Zage checked the time on his HUD. It was 7:48, well after the invitation time of 7:30. His mother’d suggested that parties like this rarely started on time, so he’d shown up late, but he hadn’t wanted to arrive too late because his mother insisted he leave by 9:30 at the latest. She felt like some crazy things might happen later on at the party, but hadn’t wanted to explain to Zage what she thought they might be.

  Not knowing what else to do, Zage leaned up against the wall next to the door, trying to look casual. In his ear, Jerry, one of the newer, younger members of the security detail who’d been sitting by the pool spoke, “Is there a problem?”

  “The host isn’t quite ready,” Zage said, trying to sound calm despite his own nervousness.

  Fortunately, before Jerry could quiz him any further, the door opened and Carley said, “Zage! I’m so sorry. Come on in.”

  She was still adjusting the cuffs on her blouse, so Zage assumed she must’ve been getting dressed when he arrived. Trying to produce a bland look, he stepped through the door saying, “No problem. I brought some bean dip, where can I put it?”

  No one else arrived until five after eight, which was fortunate because Carley still seemed to have a lot of things to do to get ready. Zage made a concerted effort to help when he recognized things that he might do, however when he asked her whether there was anything else he could do, Carley didn’t have any suggestions. “Just take it easy,” she recommended, “get yourself a soda out of the cooler there.”

  He’d been kind of hoping that he’d have a few minutes to talk to Carley about something besides their research, so when Carley finally paused, seeming to have things arranged to her satisfaction, he seized the moment, “Where’d you grow up?”

  “Oh, here and there,” she responded, not looking him in the eye.

  Assuming that she might’ve moved around a lot, perhaps because her family was in the military, he said, “Where’s your family live now?”

  “They live in Cary, at least, my adopted parents do.” She flashed him a sad smile, “I’ve lost track of my brother.”

  Zage hoped the shock didn’t show on his face. A second later he realized what she spent a lot of her spare time in the lab doing. “Is that the ‘Eli’ you’ve been looking for?”

  “Yes,” she said looking surprised. “How did… Oh, you’ve probably seen some of the searches up on my screens, huh?”

  Zage nodded. “You’re not having much luck?” he said, then blinked. “Of course you’re not, or you wouldn’t still be looking. Are you doing database searches?”

  She sighed, “Yeah, I’ve even paid for access to some of the commercial people finder databases, but none of them’ll let me search for just a first name and a birthdate.”

  “You don’t know his last name?”

  She shook her head, “Our last name was Bolin, but mine got changed when the Heunes adopted me. I imagine the same thing happened with his.”

  “Um, my dad’s really good with computer stuff, maybe he could…”

  “Oh!” Carley looked mortified at the thought, “I couldn’t ask him to do that! He’s…” Carley ran down and waved her hand as if ushering the notion away.

  Zage wasn’t sure what she meant, but supposed that she thought Nobel Prize winners were so special that they never did ordinary things. He thought about asking for Eli’s birthdate anyway, but decided she wouldn’t want to give it to him. Instead, he said, “We’re DNA scientists, have you thought of searching any of the DNA databases for someone that matches you well enough to be your brother?”

  She’d gotten up to rearrange the napkins she’d laid out, but now she turned, head tilted as she considered him. “That’s a great… No, wait, most of those databases are anonymized so even if we found him, we still wouldn’t know his name or contact info.”

  “No, but you might learn his approximate location, for instance it might confirm that he lives here in North Carolina.” Zage shrugged, “Or, maybe it’d tell you that he lives in Wyoming. Either one’d narrow your search quite a bit.”

  “At least I’d know he’s still alive,” Carley said, a happily awed look on her face. “Maybe I could even get the database to send him my contact information.”

  The house AI interrupted then, “Rick Klein’s at the door with a number of other people.”

  “Let him in!” Carley said excitedly, making Zage wonder if she was so happy not to have to talk to him. Maybe she was just worried that no one else was coming to her party?

  Rick came in with four other grad students Zage didn’t know. Alice showed up a minute or two later with several more of their friends and the party was soon in full swing.

  Parties that Zage had attended so far in his life had usually been organized by one of the kids’ mothers with various games and events happening in some regimented fashion. His mother’d tried to warn him that this’d be quite different from what he’d experienced so far, but he still felt surprised to see people just wandering around talking to one another. Most of them brought food like he had, but they also brought beer and wine. Zage thought they were drinking a lot more alcoholic beverages than they were eating food. He wondered whether this was common at these kinds of parties. The music had been turned up loud enough that it was difficult to understand what people were saying and people were almost shouting to be heard over it. Three girls were dancing and laughing in one corner.

  Zage was sitting by himself at one end of Carley’s couch and trying to take it all in. He was wondering whether he should get up and walk around trying to talk to people himself. That’s what everyone else seemed to be doing, but he wasn’t sure what he’d talk to them about. Other than research, he feared he didn’t have much in common with them. Especially, because many of them seem to be consuming large quantities of either beer or wine. From his u
nderstanding of the biological effects of large amounts of alcohol, he felt surprised that some of them weren’t throwing up or passing out. He reflected that many of them might have built up a significant tolerance if they drank this much on a frequent basis.

  Trying to stop treating the students at the party like research subjects, instead he tried to eavesdrop on some of the nearby conversations in hopes of recognizing a topic to which he might contribute. Two of the guys standing near him were watching the girls dancing in the corner but arguing about the music. The shorter one disliked what was playing while the taller one thought the artist was a genius. Zage focused on the music for a minute and decided it sounded much like any other music he might hear playing in almost any location. Not bad, but not inspiring.

  Somebody dropped onto the couch next to him and he looked to his left. It was Terry, one of the girls from his Molecular Genetics class. He was wondering whether to say something to her when she said, “Hi, cutie who’re you? One of Carley’s relatives?”

  Zage could smell alcohol on her breath and wondered if she was actually drunk or merely on her way. He shook his head slowly, “Hi Terry, I’m Zage Kinrais. I’m doing research in Dr. Barnes’ lab with Carley. You and I take Molecular Genetics together.”

  She drew back and tilted her head as if she were having some difficulty seeing him. Sudden recognition dawned across her face and she said, “Oh! Yeah. I recognize you now. You’re the little genius.”

  Zage thought her words parsed like a compliment, but might not be. Unsure how to react, he said, “I wouldn’t say that. Everyone’s good at something, I just happen to be good at science.”

  She snorted, then said, “Yeah, but there aren’t any other seven-year-olds taking molecular genetics, I’ll guaran-damn-tee you that.”

  Zage didn’t think he should correct her about his age and felt like there was a slightly ugly undertone to her words, so he didn’t say anything more. After a few seconds, she shook her head, said she needed another beer and got up to wander away.