The Malthus Pandemic by Terry Morgan - HTML preview

"That's it, David - I mean Dan. We use that key to open the main gate. The light here comes on. We use this key to unlock the rear entrance there. Inside we'll probably find a fork lift truck and a van. This key then unlocks the cupboard where Lucky kept his brushes and mops. It is not interesting and I know it very well. This key opens the door leading into the big room with the boxes of medicines and machinery which I found. It is where I found the boxes marked 'Malthus A Respiratory Virus.'

"This key opens the office where Luther and the Pakistani men worked - the room I cleaned. I think this key opens the second office where the Frenchman works. I've not been in there."

"OK," I said, "You go home, Jimmy. Come back to fetch me at 2am. Let's see what we can find."

"Uh, can I suggest something very important?" Jimmy sounded a little embarrassed.

"Of course, what is it?"

"Wear some black clothes. There is no moon tonight but white people make everything shine."

I lay on the bed and phoned Anna.

When we had been together in Thailand and Singapore I had found myself constantly looking at her - the way she dressed, the way she walked, the way she would glance over her shoulder and smile when she knew I was looking at her Now it was the sound of her voice and accent that was affecting me. Something had clearly happened to me. But it was her final words on the phone that caused me to choke a little. "Don't worry, I have many friends already, Daniel. Too many Thai people live here. I talk all day long. But please come home soon. It is not good for a new husband and wife to be separated for too long."

Lying on the bed and knowing I needed to be up again at two, I couldn't sleep. But around midnight, just as I was dropping off, the phone rang. It was Jimmy.

"Daniel?" Jimmy whispered.

"Yes, Jimmy. What's up?"

"Shhh! I am already outside Shah Medicals. I couldn't sleep so I came here to check. The lights were still on. Then I saw three people working outside. They are using the forklift truck and putting boxes into the van. But that's not all, Daniel. There are three other men here as well. They arrived in a big Mercedes. Two were white and one was not - I think he is Arab. One of the white men is the Frenchman, Dominique Lunneau but I don't know the other one."

I got off the bed.

"OK, stay right there, Jimmy. I'll get a taxi and join you. If any problems I'll let you speak to the taxi driver by phone and you can direct him to where you are. OK? I'll get the taxi to drop me somewhere close but not so close to attract attention."

Twenty minutes later, my late-night taxi stopped with its lights still on, beneath a lamppost on the outskirts of the Shah Medicals industrial estate. A minute later Jimmy was tapping on the car window. I got out, paid the driver and followed Jimmy down a dark side street and through even darker gaps between other small business units.

"I told you to wear something black, Daniel. I can still see you and there's no light here."

"Sorry, Jimmy. Live and learn," I said trying to follow Jimmy through a pile of wooden pallets.

"There," Jimmy suddenly stopped and pointed, "See the lights? Shah Medicals. Come."

As we headed towards the lights through gaps between two other buildings, Jimmy stopped again and pointed at a dark shadow. "My car," he said. "As you can see it's a black car." He opened the door and we both got in. It needed no further explanation but Jimmy then pointed towards the lights on a building behind a high wire fence. "Shah Medicals," he explained. I nodded. The building was lit by three lights fixed high up on the outside walls. Windows along the side wall were brightly lit by strip lights from inside. A big Mercedes was parked outside the front entrance. Alongside it a smaller car that looked like a Toyota.

"Whose car is the Toyota, Jimmy?"

"Lunneau's. See the van at the back and the fork lift? It must be full, Daniel. I think it's the boxes I saw. They've been working for an hour. There are only three of the Pakistani men left here. The others have gone."

"Are you sure they're from Pakistan, Jimmy?"

"Oh yes, it's the white trousers and waistcoat."

The driver's door was opened and a man got in. Two men closed the rear door of the building, walked around the van and got in on the passenger's side. The van's engine fired and it moved slowly around to the front entrance and stopped again. The driver got out and went up to the front entrance. A light came on inside.

"Binoculars." Jimmy said and handed me a pair that had been lying on the floor.

"Thanks," I said and trained them on the building. Jimmy may have been right about the nationality of the men but shadows were not making it easy to see detail.

"Camera." Jimmy said and put a cheap Sony digital camera on my lap. "Keys," he added. "Do we go in later?"

"Not sure, Jimmy. Let's hang around a bit. What time is it?"

"Twelve forty-seven."

"Describe the Arab looking guy, Jimmy."

"Medium. And he was on the other side of the other two. I was really focussing on the white man."

"So, not much to go on there then Jimmy."

"Sorry, Daniel. But he was medium, not big not small."

"Wearing a suit? A dishdasha? A kameez? A Hat? Swimming trunks?"

"Suit, Daniel."

"The other white guy, Jimmy. Describe him. Was he wearing sensible black?"

"Looked like a light suit - the sort they used to wear on safari."

"He's another one who didn't take your advice then, Jimmy. Do you think he's on holiday?"

"No. he didn't have the matching hat. But white head, black hair - bald I'd say."

"Tall, short, fat, thin?"

"Tall - like you and me."

"But fat, thin?"

"Big man, bigger than you, Daniel. Taller and bigger than Lunneau."

"Did you watch him through these?" I pointed at the binoculars.

"Yes, but he was moving around."

I fished in my pocket for my mobile phone. As usual I'd downloaded a few essential photos onto it from the laptop. Experience often pays a few dividends. "Change the dark blue suit for a light one. Could this be him?" I held the phone up in the pitch blackness for Jimmy to see.

"Could be," said Jimmy.

"How about this one?" I pulled up another shot of the back of the same man.

"Yes. That's his shiny, white head. If the moon had been out there would have been no need for the security lights."

I had to smile at Jimmy's use of words. He was often very funny but never laughed at his own humour.

"I last saw this guy in Bangkok, Jimmy. Unless I'm badly mistaken this is one of the top two guys - Greg O'Brian - come to inspect his warehouse stock at one in the morning. Nasty piece of work, Jimmy. Just as well you weren't inside when he turned up. If there was a garden fork handy you might have got it straight through your chest."

"There is a gun in there, though, Daniel. I saw it when I looked through the keyhole of Lunneau's office. It was lying on the floor underneath his desk. I forgot to tell Colin that."

"So perhaps they are planning to go on safari after all, then Jimmy."

In the darkness, I saw Jimmy grinning. Perhaps he liked my jokes better than his own. "But what do we do, Daniel? Wait till they've gone?"

"Are we going to learn any more by going inside, Jimmy? You've already found enough."

"Yes, and I also forgot to tell Colin I'd photographed the boxes."

"Good man. Are the photos on this camera?"

"Yes."

"Can I borrow the camera to transfer the photos?"

"Uh," Jimmy suddenly looked embarrassed. ""Yes, but let me delete some first." He grabbed the camera and as I watched he flicked through a backlog. The camera bleeped about twenty times and he then handed it back. "My aunty in Mombasa."

"Instead of going inside again I think we'll follow them, Jimmy. Find out where they're staying and get some more photos. Build ourselves a photo album about Shah Medicals, Nairobi. What do you think?"

 

 

CHAPTER 61

 

It was Monday. Kevin had reluctantly postponed his lecture on Thomas Telford that he had been looking forward to giving to first year students. On the advice of Tom Weston, he had also not attended his MPs so-called "meet the constituents" evening on Friday.

"I warn you, Kevin. She's a waste of space. You'll get nowhere. She won't even understand what you're talking about. If you're having a problem getting IVF treatment on the NHS she's red hot because she's had it herself, but don't expect much comprehension of what you want to talk about. In fact, she'll probably phone social services mental health team after you've left and ask them to come and check you out. Not only that, but she'll time you and her PA listening outside the door will phone her mobile just as you're getting going to deliberately ruin the flow.

"No, you come with me, Kevin. We'll do things proper, like, and have a chat with Lord Peterson. If there's anyone who might know where to go or what strings to pull it'll be Bill. Meantime I'll do a spot of reading."

So, Kevin was feeling highly dependent on an eighty-year-old second hand book shop owner and retired biology teacher to carry out the few responsibilities he had agreed to take on at the meeting with Daniel, Larry and Colin. It was doing nothing to improve the mood of despondency he had been suffering from for nearly a week. He hadn't even checked his Malthus website for days. Not only that but Tom had brought a large pile of science papers to read on the train up from Bristol and barely spoke for the whole journey. Instead, as he read the papers, he casually handed them to Kevin as if Kevin was interested in the latest advances in genetically modified oil seed rape. Kevin was glad when they arrived at Paddington Station when he suddenly found a use.

"Give me a hand, Kevin. Bloody steps. Why don't they have floors that lower like on the buses?"

Kevin had only been to the Houses of Parliament once and that was with a group of students. But Tom seemed to know where to go and what to do. Walking surprisingly quickly with his stick in one hand and a buff coloured folder in the other, Tom made a few enquiries, asked someone to phone Lord Peterson to say they had arrived and then they waited. Tom was given a seat to sit on. Kevin was left standing.

As the current Chairman of the House of Lords Science and Technology Committee Lord Peterson was much younger than Kevin had imagined. Perhaps it was the mental image of hereditary peers he still harboured or the fact that even politicians had started to look young these days, but Kevin cheered up a little. Introductions over, Peterson led the way.

"I've reserved us a space over in Portcullis House," he said as they walked. "You look as sprightly as ever, Tom. How long is it since we last met? Don't tell me, two years. I was in Bristol - couldn't possibly have missed visiting the bookshop."

Security and other time-consuming formalities over, they finally sat in a corner of a large room clearly meant for large scale committee meetings. A tray of coffee and biscuits was ready waiting. Kevin looked around. Tom put his folder on the table.

"So, science and biology still run thick and fast in your old veins does it Tom? And what's all this about research on viruses needing better controls. Don't we do enough these days?" Peterson said.

"No," said Tom abruptly, "nothing like enough." Then he sat back in his chair and placed his hands firmly on the table in front of him, the folder, at least for the moment, irrelevant.

"Malthus Society, Bill," he began. "Remember we once chatted about it? We're the dedicated followers of a fashion that never really fades away - innocent fans and groupies of Thomas Malthus, Paul Eyrlich and others who once spoke the truth and nothing but the truth. They got ignored then and they still get ignored because political leaders are only interested in getting re-elected and are afraid to both discuss and act on any of the biological challenges facing the human race."

Lord Peterson, Bill, smiled.

"I'm a founder member of the Malthus Society, Bill. Kevin here runs the website. Now don't ask me about websites because I haven't a clue, but it's got a membership now running into thousands across the globe. Naturally it has attracted its fair share of nutcases over the years but there's one nutcase that's causing us a big headache and making Kevin here look more than a bit depressed at present.

"The nutcase is called David Solomon. He once worked as a senior scientist for an American biotechnology company and his hobby was very similar to Kevin's and mine - studying the effects of population growth on world economies and the environment - the sort of stuff I've researched since the fifties and sixties.

"But Solomon is also one of these clever virologists who, with their modern technology, can pick up a virus as if it's a piece of Lego. They pull out a couple of bricks, replace them with a couple more with a different shape or colour and then sit back and play around with it. In the trade they call it "gain of function" research. As a biologist I call it bloody dangerous if it's in the wrong hands. And this is where the question of adequate controls comes in.

"In my opinion, and I know I'm far from alone here, virologists are going down a blind alley and the powers that be are blindly letting them go down that alley, which is tantamount to acquiescing. The end game could be viruses far more dangerous than the Spanish flu strain or anything else we've experienced before.

"But Solomon not only has a particular interest in gain of function research but he seems to have spent all his spare time slowly radicalising himself into becoming what I would call, for lack of a suitable word, a bio-terrorist. Solomon is hell-bent on taking direct to action to reduce the human population. His plan is to use a highly infectious virus created in the laboratory. His argument is that we've waited too long already for politicians to act, that there are still no signs of the problem being discussed let alone taken seriously and so someone has got to do it.

"Also, like all good terrorists, his whereabouts are currently unknown. He disappeared along with a few other virologists a year or so ago. That alone should have been enough to ring alarm bells."

Tom removed his hands from the table and then lay them firmly in his lap. His eyes had barely left Peterson's face.

"Now terrorists, from what little I know of them, Bill, do not usually act alone. To do anything significant they normally need financial backers and a way to deliver their weapon to their targets. My friend Kevin, along with some colleagues, is gradually building evidence about who these others are."

Peterson fidgeted slightly. Tom noticed and did his own fidget. There was a slight pause.

"We're into a very long and complicated scenario here, Bill, so please hear us out. Let me summarise the current situation:

"One - evidence exists of a group of businesses operating in Africa and the Middle East who intend to release a new virus that causes a fatal, flu-like illness. Why? Because they also have a unique drug that they claim is a treatment. They want to spread the virus to sell the drug. They see huge profits. Evidence suggests that one of the companies is run by a wealthy man on a number of wanted lists for fraud and worse. Then there is a dubious sounding Arab company with money and networks. The technical expertise comes from David Solomon.

"Two - the virus has already been spotted by WHO because there have been a few localised outbreaks. But WHO have said very little. Evidence through Kevin's contacts suggest these outbreaks may have been field tests carried out by the company or Solomon. There is also evidence that someone somewhere with a sense of humour has decided to call the new virus 'Malthus A - Respiratory Virus'.

"Three - what we have here is mounting evidence of a conspiracy to spread a lethal virus created artificially by a scientist with known extreme views on direct action to reduce the world population using a group of companies with international networks of distributors run by a man who sounds to me like a mafia Don."

Tom sat forward and placed his hands back on the table.

"Now," he said, "Who will sit and listen in depth to the growing amount of evidence? Is it you, Bill? If not who, in the official UK political order of things, should know about all this? Does the UK have a system in place for dealing with this sort of terrorism? Is it MI6? Does the EU have anything? The EU stifles most bits of commercial ingenuity by regulation so what piece of EU legislation will stifle this ingenious plot? Who can do something to stop this virus coming into the UK on board a British Airways flight from Nairobi tomorrow morning hidden in an asthma inhaler? And who is responsible internationally for dealing with a situation like this?"

Peterson leaned forward and smiled.

"If I didn't know you better, Tom, I'd have thought you were the nutcase and thrown you out."

Tom interrupted immediately. "That's precisely why I'm here with Kevin, Bill. You know me but if it was Kevin who had wandered in here straight from a lecture on Thomas Telford and dressed in his usual Liverpool FC sweater or even his best House of Lords suit you'd have thrown him out. Right Kevin?"

For the first time, Kevin said something.

"Too bloody right, Tom."

"So, will you give Kevin and perhaps a few of his friends - one of whom is a private investigator of international business crime and one a doctor working for the USA Embassy in Nigeria - a chance to explain what is known so far? Because I'm damned sure that someone in the government should know. Once it knows it can then decide what to do and who will deal with it. Perhaps it's a challenge for your House of Lords Science and Technology Committee, Bill. But don't hang around too long trying to organise a proper Committee meeting with a pre-circulated agenda. Why don't you go and speak direct to the Prime Minister?"

Then Tom laughed. "The PM might actually be quite pleased to hear of an impending flu pandemic. With the Chancellor looking to make yet more budget cuts and with the virus killing off two and a half million unemployed and six million elderly people like me on state pensions it could be their salvation."

 

 

CHAPTER 62

 

It was now almost 3am. The van parked outside the Shah Medicals front entrance was still there. The driver who had gone inside the building was still inside. His two colleagues who he had left in the van had got out and got back in several times as if bored with waiting. Both of them were smoking cigarettes. In the cool and still night air the smoke was drifting up towards the outside lights.

But then all of the lights at the rear of the building suddenly went out, followed by several of the strip lights along the side the building. Then the front door opened.

"Lunneau," said Jimmy. The Frenchman was also smoking a cigarette. He walked to the van, opened the passenger door and spoke to the two men inside. They got out and followed him into the building. Two more strip lights went out behind the side windows. The building was now in complete darkness except for the lights in what Jimmy called the "reception" office.

Until that moment it had been completely silent. Jimmy and I had heard nothing except a few normal Nairobi night time sounds - distant cars and trucks, dogs barking, a cockerel crowing well before its due time and some chirping from hidden insects. But then there was a sound that clearly came from the Shah Medicals building. Jimmy lifted his finger to his ear. I nodded. I had heard it too. It was a muffled shout. Then another, louder this time. Then silence again.

Jimmy pointed at the front door. Someone was moving behind it. The outside light was switched off so that the only light now was coming from inside the building - behind the door and the two front windows. I had the binoculars, but it was becoming difficult to see the van, the Mercedes or the Toyota except with the reflections of the inside lights.

The door opened and Lunneau appeared. He went to the smaller car, the Toyota and opened the boot. The boot light came on. He took out something that might have been a tool box. He put it on the ground. Then he pulled out a long sheet of what might have been plastic and lay it flat on the ground close to the van. Then he pulled out two other sheets and lay them next to the first sheet. Then he picked up the box and went back inside.

There was more movement behind the door - two men, perhaps three.

Then Lunneau's back appeared as if he was carrying something with the help of a second man. He was. A body was dragged out of the door, across the ground and rolled onto one of the sheets.

A third man then appeared at the door. He was a big man with a light suit and he stood with his hands on his hips as if giving instructions. He pointed.

"Mister O'Brian?" whispered Jimmy.

"Yes, that's definitely him," I said peering intently through the binoculars. I then trained them on the other man helping Lunneau but it was far too dark to see detail. But as O'Brian continued to watch, Lunneau and the third man wrapped the sheet around the body, tied it with something and lifted it with a struggle into the open boot of the Toyota.

I looked at Jimmy who did not have the advantage of the binoculars but he had clearly seen what had happened. His mouth was open. He nodded at me and I handed him the binoculars to watch.

"Have they finished, Daniel?"

"I suspect not. Keep watching."

"They've gone back inside. O'Brian has gone inside. No, they are bringing out another. Your turn, Daniel."

The whole process took ten minutes. The second body was put in the boot with the first. The third body was placed on the back seat of the Toyota. Finally, O'Brian emerged completely from the front door from where he had seemingly been giving instructions. He stood, taller than Lunneau and several inches taller than the third man. But he was much bigger and broader than both of them.

"So how did they die so quickly, Daniel?" Jimmy whispered, clearly troubled by what he had just seen.

"No idea, Jimmy, but O'Brian could easily have done it himself.

"And why?"

"When you run an operation like O'Brian's there are only a very few people who are entitled to know what is going on. The others do their job and are then dismissed before they get to know too much."

"So lucky Lucky - and lucky Luther."

"Yes, you might well have saved Luther's life, Jimmy.

"So, what now? We follow them?"

"We can't follow three vehicles with just your car, Jimmy. Let's focus on the car that GOB takes - obviously it'll be the Mercedes."

"GOB?" asked Jimmy.

"Colin's nickname for Greg O'Brian. Let's see which of Nairobi’s smart hotels GOB is staying at."

O'Brian appeared once more and got into the Mercedes. Its headlights came on and floodlit the area where they had just wrapped up the bodies. Then the second man emerged and got into the van. Finally, all the lights in the building went off and Lunneau came out, locked the front door and climbed into the Toyota. All three cars, led by the Mercedes, then drove off. It was almost 4am.

As the two cars and van - the big Mercedes containing Greg O'Brian, the smaller Toyota with its cargo of bodies and the white van loaded with boxes drove off, Jimmy started the engine of his own car and, without any lights on, edged along the side road towards the main road.

We quickly caught up with the van, overtook it, and then came up behind the Toyota. But as we did so, the Toyota, indicated left and turned off.

"Shall we still follow GOB or the hearse?" asked Jimmy.

"GOB," I replied, "that looks like his Mercedes in front."

At a discreet distance we followed O'Brian's Mercedes along Waiyaki Way and into the Westlands area of Nairobi.

"Sankara Hotel, Daniel. Nice hotel." Jimmy announced and stopped the car on the roadside near the entrance to the five-star hotel.

"I told you, Jimmy. The Best Western could never match GOB's needs. But I assume he'll now sleep for a while. Let's do the same and meet for breakfast."

 

 

CHAPTER 63

 

Rightly or wrongly, Larry felt his meeting with New York Senator Mary Collis had gone much better than expected. Having extracted, what he took to be a firm commitment to ask a few questions and then get back to him, Larry thanked her and walked back to the Quincy Hotel. Hoping he could now snatch a few hours’ sleep, he had only just picked up his key and stepped out of the lift to his room when his phone rang.

"Doctor Brown? It's the US Embassy, Abuja. Would you please hold the line, the Ambassador wants a word.

Still holding the phone, Daniel clicked open the door to his room and sat on the bed. "Well, whatever," Larry thought to himself. "I gave him the best part of a week to get back to me. Perhaps he's done something."

"Larry!" The voice of the Ambassador boomed out of Larry's phone as if he was sitting next to him on the bed. "Been trying to get you. Office in Lagos said you must be out and about. They hadn't seen you for three days but your phone was off. Had a problem with it or something?"

"No, sir, it's OK " said Larry. "Just been out and about as the office said."

"Well now, I promised to get back to you on this virus thing. But we've had a whole bunch of Nigerian politicians here this week, including the President himself - Boko Haram giving everyone headaches, th