Miasma

Nineteen

There was no need for any more staring at the night skies or the undefined realms of the middle distance while he worked his way through a seemingly endless parade of unconnected puzzles. So much of it now made sense. The high number of Ebola outbreaks in DRC were first in line for scrutiny. The blame could not all be put on diets involving fruit bats, outbreaks were being caused deliberately and the perfect example were the deaths of Tally’s friend, Monique’s family and friends: they hadn’t been vaccinated against Ebola at all, they had been given implants of capsules containing Ebola virus. Three weeks later, Lagarde and his team had come back and triggered them off. They had been testing Petrov’s latest capsules and they had worked ‘perfectly’. All ten people had died, but not before infecting a further twenty-seven people in the village — an entirely artificial outbreak executed with all the cold objectivity of a laboratory experiment.

It just so happened that the capsules intercepted by Israeli Intelligence and triggered accidentally at Porton Down, had contained Marburg disease, obviously designed to trigger off an outbreak somewhere else in the world, but it could have been any killer disease that Petrov had brought with him to Beer Sheva University when he left CDC Atlanta, ostensibly to become an Israeli and work on vaccines. There was no indication of where these implants had been destined for. Uncovering that sort of information would depend very much on how many people were involved in promoting this nightmare... and, of course, why.

Despite all the progress he had been making, and at the rate he had been making it, Steven hit the buffers when it came to introducing money into the equation. When he considered the type of people involved — enormously wealthy Russians who had invested huge sums of money, the idea of creating worldwide mayhem could not be the motive. The sheer amount of money and the great risks involved dictated that they must be expecting huge returns on their investment. Where was that going to come from?

Steven looked at his watch and put an end to global thinking. Tally would be calling soon and he had to be careful. He wouldn’t be telling her any of this for the time being because she must be close to coming home and he mustn’t put her in any danger with a shock injection of frightening knowledge. There was no reason to believe that her regional manager, Marcus Altman, was a threat to her personally. She had found him pleasant and easy to get on with and that’s the way it should stay until she was safely out of the country.

There was one slight problem however, and it lay in Tally’s friendship with the teacher, Monique, and her claims that vaccination had been the cause of the deaths of her friends and family. Hopefully, Tally had accepted the coincidence theory they had spoken about and was also respecting Monique’s request that she stay away from her village. The last thing he wanted was Tally asking Altman lots of awkward questions about Ebola vaccination schedules.

He decided that he wouldn’t ask her about the type of vaccination Monique’s people had been given. He had intended to ask if it had been by upper arm intramuscular injection or had a small implant been used, but he was confident that he really didn’t need the confirmation and it would only make Tally want to know why he was asking. He had also planned to ask her why she had been reluctant to ask Altman for a second look at the WHO report on the 2014-16 Ebola outbreak: he wasn’t sure if he should still go there. If there was a chance that Tally had been alarmed by something else in that report and didn’t want Altman to know that she had, he needed to stop her taking it any further. He would ask.

Tally was an hour late in phoning, saying that she had been having a difficult conversation with fellow area managers. They were confused and frustrated over a lack of information about plans to wind down the operation in Equateur Province. This apparently was being caused by the time Marcus Altman was taking to travel round the region. ‘He was supposed to be away for three days, but it was now at least five,’ Tally complained.

Steven sympathised and told her she should have her bags packed, all ready to go when details were announced. ‘It can’t be long now,’ he encouraged.

‘I suppose not,’ Tally agreed, ‘but I think I might drive over to regional headquarters tomorrow, see if I can find out if anyone there knows what’s going on.’

‘Good idea,’ said Steven, ‘the logistics of volunteer repatriation can’t possibly all depend on one man, maybe the details are lying on his desk.’

‘That’s a thought,’ said Tally, sounding as if she had cheered up a little. ‘If it looks like they are, we should able to sort out permission from WHO directly to open them.’

‘Sounds like a plan,’ said Steven. ‘By the way, you never told me why you didn’t want to ask Altman for another look at the WHO report?’

‘Embarrassment,’ Tally replied, ‘When I read it the first time, I thought I’d spotted a big problem with the graph recording the progress of the outbreak in 2014. It looked as if there had been a sudden explosion in case numbers at one point. New cases were appearing all over the place. I pointed this out to Marcus...’

Steven swallowed, but stopped himself from saying anything.

‘... and he explained that this would be due to people using the rivers to escape the epidemic,’ Tally continued. ‘They were reaching their destinations and triggering off new waves of infection.’

‘Of course,’ said Steven, although there was now a very different explanation in his mind for the sudden leap in numbers and locations on that graph.

The call ended, leaving Steven feeling guilty about withholding so much from Tally, but knowing it was for her own good. If he had told her everything, Tally, being the open and honest person she was, would have been outraged and, he suspected, very bad at concealing what she knew, especially when Altman was around. To have her not know was the safest policy.

There were also unanswered questions surrounding who else among the volunteers out there were involved. For the time being, the nightmare would remain his and his alone.

Tally was not looking forward to the long drive over to regional headquarters, but the prospect of getting some new information sustained her over the lumps and bumps of Land Rover travel along jungle trails. There never seemed to be an appropriate speed to adopt. Too fast was unbearable and too slow was unbearable in slow motion. Either way, the safety belt chafed her shoulder through constantly restraining her and her teeth felt like they were being loosened in her gums. It was such a relief to bring the vehicle to a halt at regional headquarters that she sat with her head resting on folded arms on the steering wheel for a few moments, just to relish the quiet and the stillness.

Tally entered the building and immediately sensed that all was not well. People were standing around in small groups speaking in hushed tones. She caught the eye of another of the area managers from her region who detached herself from her group and came over. Helga Schmidt, a young trauma surgeon from Frankfurt, had had much the same idea as Tally and come over to see if she could get more information about a return to Germany.

‘It seems that new volunteers sent to Kivu Province have come under attack from the rebels and suffered heavy casualties,’ said Helga.

Tally shook her head and asked, ‘Who exactly are these rebels, what do they want?’

‘Originally, it was control of the mineral deposits they were after,’ replied Helga. ‘They thought foreigners were stealing what was rightfully theirs, ‘but the violence in Kivu has been going on for so long that I think killing has become a way of life for them. They have completely withdrawn from society and don’t seem to be too particular about who they attack and kill. Aid volunteers are seen as part of the conspiracy.’

Tally asked why everyone seemed to be waiting for something to happen.

‘The bodies of our people up in Kivu are being brought back here first before repatriation is arranged to their homelands.’

‘This puts a new perspective on things,’ said Tally. ‘I’m feeling guilty about coming here to ask about my repatriation.’

‘Me too,’ replied Helga. ‘They keep telling me that Marcus Altman is dealing with that, but he still hasn’t returned yet from his inspection tour.’

‘Does he have an office here?’

‘I’m not sure, but you would think so as a regional manager.’

Tally gave the reason for her question.

‘We could take a look,’ Helga suggested, ‘I don’t think I want to bring this up with the people who are waiting for the bodies.’

‘Absolutely not.’

The two women took a slow walk around regional headquarters, which comprised a number of wooden storage containers linked together in rows and traversed by other containers at right angles.

‘Here we are,’ said Tally as she came to a door marked, M. Altman. She knocked before trying the handle just as a voice behind them said, ‘I thought it was you.’

The women turned around to find Hans Weber standing there.

‘Hello, Hans,’ said Tally, hoping her feelings of guilt were not too obvious in her voice. Helga opted for a silly grin.

‘I caught a glimpse of you as I came in.’

‘We’re looking for Marcus,’ said Tally.

‘He hasn’t come back yet.’

‘Aren’t you worried about him?’

‘Travel is difficult.’

‘For us too,’ said Helga, ‘we seem to be stuck here with no information.’

‘The outbreak in Kivu took everyone by surprise: there is confusion at all levels of administration.’

‘WHO is not part of the administration,’ Helga reminded him. ‘Do you know if WHO sent any details to Marcus about winding up things in Equateur?’

‘He didn’t say anything before he left.’

‘We were wondering if someone might have delivered details and left them lying on his desk,’ said Tally.

‘Ah,’ said Hans, ‘is it locked?’

Tally tried the handle. ‘Yes.’

‘Then I don’t think they could; Marcus has the only key.’

‘Who would have thought world health could be such a secretive business,’ said Helga and Tally noticed the look of annoyance that crossed Hans’ face. He didn’t get the chance to reply however, as the air was filled with sounds coming from outside the building. A number of heavy vehicles were arriving.

Hans left immediately, leaving Tally and Helga unsure of what they should be doing in their current uncomfortable situation. They had no wish to intrude on private grief, but the people who had died were aid volunteers, as were they, and therefore there was a bond.

Helga said, ‘They could only have been there a couple of weeks. Can you imagine? They were sent directly to a place like Kivu with the good wishes of their friends and families still ringing in their ears and now their parents, who are still probably feeling pride in their offspring, are going to be given... such awful news. What should they think? Was it all really worthwhile?’

Tally looked at her, wondering too about image and reality. She reckoned Helga was about the same age as she herself and asked, ‘Was this your first instance of voluntary work?’

‘Fourth,’ Helga replied.

Tally nodded. ‘Well done, you.’

The two women hung back as the groups of people broke up and moved outside to where the vehicles had cut their engines and the dust clouds from their wheels settled slowly back down to earth. Stretchers bearing shrouded figures were unloaded with as much dignity as possible in the circumstances and concerned people waited for their chance to identify them. Sobbing broke out followed by attempts to comfort those whose anxious wait had ended badly.

Tally noticed that a Land Rover was parked some way away from the heavy vehicles that had carried the dead and it seemed strangely familiar.

‘I think that’s Marcus Altman’s vehicle,’ she said to Helga.

‘Really?’ exclaimed Helga, sounding pleased. ‘I hope you’re right.’ She looked at the dead laid out on the ground, adding, ‘I need to get away.’

The two women walked over to the Land Rover, but were disappointed to see that it was not Altman sitting behind the wheel. The driver, cigarette in mouth, had noticed the pair of them taking an interest so Tally felt compelled to explain, ‘Sorry, we thought you were Marcus Altman.’

‘He’s dead,’ said the man.

‘What?’ exclaimed Helga. ‘He can’t be... what happened?’

The man shrugged and flicked ash off the end of his cigarette. ‘I was just asked to return him and his vehicle from Kivu along with the others,’ said the driver.

‘Kivu?’ exclaimed both women in unison, ‘What on earth was he doing in Kivu? That’s hundreds of miles away from where he was supposed to be.’

The driver shrugged again.

‘Where is he?’

‘Inside the building with the others. He’s not pretty... I mean, none of them are, but...’

‘Thanks for that,’ Helga muttered as she and Tally turned away and started towards the building.

‘I just don’t get it,’ said Tally, ‘what the hell was Altman doing?’

‘Maybe he had orders from WHO?’ Helga suggested.

‘In which case he would have told someone,’ said Tally. ‘but he told no one. ‘We should have had a good look in his Land Rover, there might be something there to tell us why he told people one thing then went off hundreds of miles in the opposite direction.’

‘Let’s go back and do it,’ said Helga.

Five minutes later Tally and Helga gave up on their search of the vehicle without finding anything to explain Altman’s actions.

‘Told you,’ said the driver, lighting up another cigarette

‘Yes, you did,’ said Tally. ‘Who do you work for?’

‘The police.’

‘You’re a policeman?’

The man smiled through a haze of exhaled tobacco smoke and said, ‘No, I work for the police from time to time. When they found out that the dead man was an aid worker, they asked me to return him and his car to this place.’

‘The rebels would have taken anything of value,’ said Helga, ‘I’m surprised they didn’t take the Land Rover.

‘The rebels didn’t kill him,’ said the driver.

Helga and Tally exchanged surprised looks, having made the same assumption.

‘He was killed in an apartment in the city of Beni where he was staying.’

‘I give up,’ said Tally.

Tally and Helga returned to the headquarters buildings where muted arguments were going on between senior reps of the aid organisations over how long they could be expected to store the bodies without refrigeration facilities and how they were going to overcome the problem.

Tally managed to catch the eye of Hans Weber and he broke off to come over.

‘We’ve just heard about Marcus,’ she said.

‘A tragedy,’ said Weber, shaking his head and looking down at the floor, ‘but an occupational hazard, we all live with that. He was unlucky, they all were.’

Tally noted that Weber seemed content to let them think that Altman’s death had been at the hands of the rebels like the others. She found it odd. She also took on board that Helga had said nothing about that to Weber: she apparently also found it odd.

‘Can we see him?’ Tally asked.

Weber’s face registered surprise.

‘He was our colleague, we should pay our last respects.’

‘Come.’

Weber led the way through to the shaded side of the building and paused outside a door with a hastily prepared WHO notice pinned to it to explain, ‘The victims have been separated by aid organisation, five were ours.’ He opened the door, causing Helga to involuntarily put a hand to her face.

‘There’s no refrigerated facility here,’ said Weber. ‘Marcus is the one at the far end, I’ll give you a few moments.’

Helga waited until Weber had left before whispering to Tally, ‘Why are you doing this?’

‘I want to see how he died, it may help to work out why he was in Kivu in the first place.’

Tally pulled back the shroud to expose Altman’s face and both women recoiled.

‘Look at the colour of him,’ said Helga, ‘He’s...’

‘had the blood drained out of him,’ completed Tally.

‘His throat hasn’t been cut,’ said Helga, taking a closer look at the corpse.

‘Do you have a knife or scissors on you?’ asked Tally urgently.

Helga came up with a small pair of scissors and handed them over. ‘What on earth are you doing?’ she asked as she watched Tally make an opening in the shroud in the area of Altman’s upper thighs. She had to do it on both sides, causing Helga’s alarm to heighten, before she found what she was looking for.

‘They cut their way in to his femoral artery,’ said Tally, handing the scissors back and disguising the cuts in the shroud as best she could.

‘Are you all right?’ asked Helga, seeing that Tally seemed suddenly preoccupied.

‘I’m not sure...’ Tally answered vaguely. ‘I think Steven Dunbar may have some explaining to do...’

At that moment, Hans Weber returned. ‘All done?’

‘What was Marcus doing several hundred kilometres away in Kivu, Hans?’ asked Helga.

‘I’m afraid I don’t know.’

‘He didn’t tell you?’

Weber shook his head.

‘After telling everyone else he was going around Equateur Province making a final check that all was well?’

Weber looked away.

Tally said, ‘Maybe a check on his room will tell us more.’

‘I think that is best left to the proper authorities,’ snapped Weber.

‘Of course, Hans,’ said Helga, ‘perhaps you would remind the proper authorities that the living would like some attention too?’

‘I’m sure everything is in hand. Now, if you will excuse me, there is a lot to do.’

As Weber locked the door of the makeshift morgue and walked off, Helga turned to Tally and asked, ‘How did you know the killer targeted the femoral artery?’

‘Call it intuition,’ said Tally.

Tally and Helga walked slowly to their cars to face their challenging drives back to their respective areas. Tally noticed that Helga was clearly upset. ‘Are you going to be all right?’ she asked.

When Helga looked directly at her she could see that she wasn’t. Her eyes were showing a mixture of uncertainty, even fear.

‘There’s something very wrong here, isn’t there? Marcus murdered in Kivu, you knowing how he was killed before you looked for the injury, the look on Hans Weber’s face when we questioned him. He’s going to find the cuts you made in the shroud. What’s going on, Tally?’

‘This is not the place to talk, come over to my place tomorrow, I might know more by then.’