Lockdown

Eighty

Stafford’s stomach lurched with fear. He knew that the Ebola virus emptied your body from both ends. And when you had no more vomit or faeces left to expel, and you felt like things couldn’t get any worse, that was when the bleeding started. Ears, nose, mouth, anus. When multiple organ failure or hypovolemic shock showed up to put you out of your misery, it came as a relief.

But the process wasn’t instantaneous. Far from it. The virus took its time to take up residence in your body, secreting itself in your cells, lying in wait, giving you plenty of time to think about what lay ahead. And, as he stared at Richard’s upside-down features, unyielding behind the bio-suit, Stafford swore he could feel the Ebola variant dispersing through his body, hunkering down before it began its assault.

‘Give me the vaccine, Richard,’ he begged.

‘Give me one good reason why I should.’

‘You’re a doctor. You’ve taken an oath!’

‘That’s true. I did. But I need something from you in return.’

‘Anything. Name it. Listen, if this works, Meditech could be the first trillion-dollar biotechnology company. I’ll double your stock options. Treble them. Just name a figure.’

‘I don’t want money. I want you to go public on how you brought these people’ — he gestured round the room at Mareta and her companions — ‘into our country to use them like animals, and put the lives of millions of Americans in jeopardy, all so you could step out of your family’s shadow.’

‘Of course, of course. That won’t be a problem. Soon as I get that vaccine.’

‘No. Confession first, then absolution.’

‘But this stuff is already in me! The longer it takes for the vaccine to be administered the less likely my chances of recovery! You know that!’

‘Then we’d better move fast, hadn’t we?’

Behind the screen, Mareta was getting twitchy. Since she was wired to enough explosives to take them all with her, Lock figured twitchy was bad.

‘What are they talking about?’ she asked.

‘I’ll go find out.’

When he was halfway to the door it opened, and Richard emerged. He took off the helmet section of the bio-suit. Face flushed, he swiped at a curl of hair pinned flat to his forehead by sweat. ‘I’ve given him an ultimatum. He’s going to confess on live television.’

‘What was the ultimatum?’ Lock asked.

‘I just injected him with the Ebola virus. He keeps his part of the deal and he gets the vaccine.’

‘And how do you propose we get someone who’s a live carrier on the tube?’

‘Your friend’s a reporter.’

‘No chance. Way too risky. Carrie’s not setting foot in here.’

‘But this way people will know the truth.’

‘The truth? The truth is that someone importing terrorists to use as guinea pigs in a drugs trial aimed at neutralizing their biological capabilities would get a ticker-tape parade in every state in the nation.’

‘Excepting maybe Vermont,’ interjected Ty. ‘They’re commies.’

Mareta clapped her hands together. ‘Enough. I didn’t ask to plead for my life. But this new method’ — she turned to Richard — ‘this I like. Bring in the next test subject, give him the live agent too. Then we see if this vaccine really works.’