The nurse pushed through the double-swing doors. ‘This way.’
They followed a yellow line painted on the floor, and an arrow on the wall pointed to the right;
Non-Emergency
.
***
‘It’s done,’ announced Dr. Holden, replacing the receiver.
Magarth turned from the window. ‘And?’
‘And, I quote,
immediate action will be taken
. Strange, though, the Director didn’t seem surprised. Still, it was the right thing to do.’
Magarth’s thoughts went to Maria in London, to their unborn child, and to going home. His primary concern was getting out of this place. ‘What’s going to happen?’
‘A video conference with Peterson, myself, and a few others. After that, I’m not sure. You should probably be there, too.’
The idea of confronting Peterson brought mild apprehension. The pill he popped earlier wasn’t doing its job. He wasn’t sure a handful would have the required effect in these circumstances. ‘What time?’
‘Seven.’
He flicked his sleeve back to check his watch. ‘That’s only a few hours away.’
‘Really?’ Dr. Holden also checked his watch. ‘Well, I think I should get my head down for an hour or two. There’s a small ward on the third floor. Some of us use it as a rest lounge. You’re welcome to use it.’
The two men made their way to the stairs and the promise of a well-needed sleep.
Chapter 8
What We Left Behind
Seven o’clock arrived. Magarth and Dr. Holden made their way towards Peterson’s office for the video conference. If Dr. Holden felt rejuvenated from his rest, it didn’t show. He looked ready to drop. The curve at his shoulders was more pronounced. The dark circles beneath his eyes reached an intense version of black. For Magarth, his downtime had been a waking nightmare, staying alert, his mind in overdrive. It left him drained.
Magarth hung back from the door.
‘You’re not coming?’ Dr. Holden knocked three times.
‘Peterson doesn’t like me. Might be better if I stay out of the way.’
‘Peterson doesn’t like anyone.’
Peterson stormed out wearing his usual scowl. His eyes narrowed as they fell to Dr. Holden. Magarth was ignored. ‘You’re late.’ He brushed past, securing his ID to his shirt. ‘Let’s get this over with.’
It was obvious the planned meeting was to take place elsewhere.
‘Seems I’m off his Christmas card list, too,’ Dr. Holden whispered.
The three men formed a human train and headed along the corridor. An oval table orbited by eight chairs waited. Peterson seated himself in front of a TV while two women sat across from him. One was Alison, the other Magarth didn’t recognise. He took the seat furthest from Peterson.
Everyone at the table had been putting in excessively long shifts and it showed. They were a collection of haggard insomniacs.
Peterson flicked through a set of reports, shaking his head as he went. Before he could speak, Solomon entered and took the seat next to Magarth. From behind his reading glasses, Peterson sent the South African a cold glance.
Solomon leaned in. ‘Tough night?’
‘You heard?’ said Magarth.
He nodded. ‘You were lucky.’
‘An understatement. I thought everyone went through checks after a shift. Someone stuffed up.’
‘I think we’re about to find out who.’
Peterson cleared his throat. The low hum of conversation died. Dr. Holden pushed his glasses up onto his forehead. On the screen, DSD Head Director, Anthony King, materialised.
‘Let’s keep this brief,’ King suggested. ‘There will be a lot of details to work out in the next few hours. Peterson, I want an exact tally of infected you’re holding.’
‘Four-hundred-and-eighty-six. We’ve been taking them in at a rate of thirty per day.’
Seemingly unimpressed, King’s pale eyes shifted to Dr. Holden. ‘An increase in the infection rate?’
‘Yes,’ answered Dr. Holden. ‘In the last three weeks, the numbers have jumped considerably. If the current trend holds I would suggest that by next week the number of infected could double. We no longer maintain a cohesive operation here. Not with the minimal resources in place.’
Peterson’s white-knuckled fist hammered the table. ‘That is speculation. This occurrence will burn itself out in the next few days.’
‘
Your
speculation is based on what?’ King demanded. ‘By all accounts, what we are facing is unlike anything we’ve ever encountered. The DSD mission in Aberdeen is failing, and predominantly due to poor management. Peterson, you are the manager, is that correct?’
‘Yes, sir, but I would bring to your—’
‘You’ve had numerous opportunities to bring much to my attention. It boggles the mind why you have yet to report the severity of the situation.’
‘We can handle it.’ Peterson searched for allies around the room. Everyone ignored him. A sinking ship about to be abandoned before all hands went down.
‘I don’t think so. For all intents and purposes, the DSD mission in Aberdeen is terminated as of now. The complete lack of structured strategy in dealing with this outbreak has put lives in danger. Several operatives have succumbed to the infection. A fundamental failing at the top tier of management. The Prime Minister and Government are being briefed and a national statement will be posted this evening. It has been deemed necessary to bring the situation into the public domain.’
Peterson stood from his chair. ‘This is unnecessary. Given the right resources we can be on top of this problem in twenty-four hours.’
‘You should have requested the right resources before today, so sit down. You’ll be lucky if you escape criminal charges for this debacle. As for the rest of you, some will remain in Aberdeen, some will be sent elsewhere. Dr. Holden, you’ll receive an email with the details. You can prep those who are to leave. Be ready within the hour.’
The screen went blank. More than one person smiled, and none was Peterson.
‘That went better than expected,’ Dr. Holden mumbled, a little too loud.
‘You mongrel!’ Peterson shook a fist. ‘You couldn’t just keep quiet and come to me with your concerns, could you? You had to ruin me in the process.’
‘To the contrary. I did come to you, and more than once, and things continued to grow beyond our control. If I didn’t speak up, the blood of hundreds, even more, would be on my hands. I told you over and again you were underestimating this outbreak.’
‘You’ve ruined everything.’
Solomon stepped before Peterson. ‘If you want to pick a fight,’ he pushed Peterson in the chest, ‘then fight me. I called the Director in London and I was not alone. So take your shot, but be warned, I’ll gladly break your nose if you do.’
‘You’ll regret this, you turncoat.’ Peterson stormed from the room.
***
Magarth badgered Dr. Holden like an eager child.
‘Is my name there?’
Dr. Holden clicked away with the mouse.
‘Am I on the list to stay or not?’
‘No matter what this list says, you’re going home.’
‘What?’
‘You’re going home.’
‘You’re serious?’
‘I’ll make sure of it. What you went through should never have happened. You’ll be home for Christmas. The response teams will remain for the most part.’
‘So what about the infected in the tank?’
Dr. Holden clapped Magarth on the back. ‘That isn’t your worry. Go and pack your things.’
***
Samuel Peterson flicked the latch on his office door. The heavy musk of body odour hung in the air, a testament to the hours he had spent there, and for what? What would he achieve? What would come from his effort, his dedication? To be stabbed in the back.
With a sweeping motion, he levelled the towers of files and reports. His mind raced over the video conference.
This wasn’t supposed to happen!
The phone rang.
‘Yes,’ he blurted.
‘Samuel Peterson?’
‘Mr. Toth?’
‘Correct. It would seem that things are moving faster than we’d anticipated. Do you still have the USB stick?’
Peterson rummaged through his pockets. ‘Of course I do.’
‘It’s time to put our contingency plan into action. Now listen carefully.’
***
The control room on the top floor, usually a hive of activity, sat silent. Since operations had been suspended, there was little need for the control hub to be manned. Dr. Holden thought it a decrepit stillness. He did his best to remain good-natured. It was not that he was without compassion. Far from it. He wanted to help Magarth as much as possible. He had been through quite an ordeal after all. Yet, it struck Dr. Holden that he had no concept of responsibility. Since he had spoken openly, since he had taken him into his confidence, since he had promised home, Magarth demanded more and more. A spoilt child wanting and wanting.
‘You don’t seem happy we’re leaving,’ said Magarth.
‘This is still a very real threat.’ Dr. Holden took a seat in a nearby chair. ‘You of all people should realise after what happened to you. Are you sure you’re packed?’
‘Yes. There wasn’t much. Oh, that reminds me.’ Magarth pulled a taser from his rucksack. ‘What do you want me to do with this?’
‘First thing, don’t point it at me. Second, keep it for now. I’m sure someone will be allocated the job of securing assets. I had better go pack.’
‘Do you need any help?’
‘No, Tim. I don’t think I do. Excuse me.’
Dr. Holden managed only three steps when Solomon filled the doorway, his skin glistening with sweat.
‘Sorry to interrupt, but there are people here to see you.’
A man and a woman stepped into the room. He wore a dark suit and white shirt, looking every part a fictional government agent, and she had very short auburn hair, purple-rimmed reading glasses, dressed in the female equivalent. Both seemed unable to crack a smile.
A hand was offered. ‘Dr. Holden, I presume?’
‘Yes, and you would be?’
The gentleman looked down his nose at Dr. Holden’s grip. ‘Robert Lenman. We’ve been sent from London. Have all staff meet in the reception area.’
There was an air of indulgent superiority about this man that Dr. Holden disliked instantly. He breezed past, inspecting the control room, his words scribbled into a notebook by his female companion. She followed like an obedient dog.
‘Turned up along with fifty others,’ Solomon muttered. ‘I didn’t recognise any of them, and that’s for sure. I don’t think they’re with the DSD.’
‘No,’ said Dr. Holden, staring after them, ‘I don’t think so either.’
‘I’ll make the announcement,’ Solomon told him.
‘Come on, Tim,’ said Dr. Holden, ‘we’d better go to reception … just as Mr. Lenman requests.’
***
The forty-four people to be redeployed waited in reception. Dr. Holden noticed they were mostly data analysts and administration staff. From amongst the throng, someone called Dr. Holden’s name. A raised hand waved and drew his attention.
‘Dr. Holden,’ the airman called again, ‘I need you to go through the check list and make sure everyone is here for the uplift.’
‘Yes, of course. Tell me, how we are to be transported out? I don’t suppose it will be buses?’
‘No, sir. An airlift. Were you not informed?’
‘No,’ gasped Magarth. He rummaged through his bag. ‘My wedding ring … and the ultrasound image. Must have left them in my locker.’
‘How much time before we depart?’ Dr. Holden asked the airman.
‘Thirty minutes.’
‘You have time, Tim.’
‘You sure?’
‘Thirty minutes,’ the airman repeated.
‘Back in five,’ announced Magarth from over his shoulder.
***
Contrary to what Magarth expected the corridors were not deserted. New faces patrolled. He bumped heavily into a woman exiting the doctor’s room. Files fell from her hands and scattered across the floor. Were they the doctor’s files? Her files? What was she doing here if the doctor and other scientists were told to leave?
‘Oh dear,’ she apologised.
‘It’s fine,’ Magarth said in a rush. He crouched to sweep the papers into a pile. ‘You’re taking over here?’
‘That’s right. DSD Agents, and you are?’
‘Magarth, Tim. I’m heading home. I wasn’t an agent, but I still got to see … well, everything.’
‘Been quite tough, I’ve heard.’
She had a kindly voice. Serene. A strange quality in this place. She reminded him very much of his Maria. His Maria, kind and loving, and waiting at home for his return, and he’d be home soon.
‘You could say that. Have you been here long?’
‘New. Need to catch up to speed on what’s been going on.’
‘Hell. That’s one word.’
‘Then best I do a bit of reading, hey?’ She nodded to the retrieved reports. ‘See if we can send hell back to hell.’
‘Good luck.’
‘You, too, Magarth, Tim.’
She even smiled like Maria.
‘Aren’t you going the wrong way?’
‘Forgot a few things.’
‘You’ll need to take the long way then. We’ve blocked the corridor.’
***
Only two on the list were absent. Peterson, who Dr. Holden suspected was still locked away in his office, no doubt still trying to hold the reins of power for a little longer, and Magarth who would be returning soon. Five minutes, he had said.
‘Alright, people. Let’s move out,’ the airman announced. ‘Follow me and stay together.’
‘Wait,’ insisted Dr. Holden, ‘we’re missing two passengers.’
‘We have to go. Severe weather front moving in.’
‘We cannot leave without them.’
‘We have a supply bird due in thirty minutes. They can get out then.’
‘Is there no alternative?’
‘Afraid not, sir. I’ll tell the receptionist to inform …’
‘Tim Magarth and Samuel Peterson,’ supplied Dr. Holden.