Authors: Louise Voss
‘You’re gonna have to break this one down for me. I’m not a scientist, remember.’
She stared into the trees, thought she saw something move there. An animal, probably. She hoped it wasn’t a mountain lion. ‘OK. When you catch a virus, your body tries to fight it. It creates antibodies. With something like regular flu, your body usually wins. The period when you’re sick is when the antibodies are battling with the virus. But you know all that, right?’
‘Uh-huh.’
‘So when you fight a virus and win, your body never forgets. It knows which antibodies to create to kill the virus. That’s why you never get the same virus twice. Like with the flu – if you encounter a strain of flu you’ve had before, you might feel the first stirrings of symptoms but it never develops into the full-blown illness. It’s how a lot of vaccines work. You give somebody a weaker version of the virus, their body fights it off, and after that the antibodies remain to stand guard against the full version of the vaccine.’
‘But it doesn’t work with all viruses?’
‘No – if it did it would be easy. We would create a weak, non-fatal version of Watoto and use it to inoculate everyone.’ She took a final drag of the cigarette. ‘Kolosine’s going to take another blood sample and run my antibodies over a peptide library.’
‘What’s that?’
‘A peptide library? Well, in my body there will be huge numbers of antibodies that respond to every virus I’ve ever had. Among them, like a needle in a haystack, is the particular antibody that we need to fight Watoto. The peptide library should help us find that needle.’
McCarthy made a confused face.
‘Come on, it’s not that hard. The antibody is a key, but I have thousands of keys in my blood, and we have no
idea which key we need. The only way to find it is to work out which lock it fits. The peptide library contains a massive number of locks, including the Watoto lock. We pass all the keys over all the locks until bingo, one key fits the Watoto lock and lights up. And that’s it – you have found the Watoto key, which you can then use to make a vaccine.’
‘If I’d had you as a teacher at high school, maybe I wouldn’t have flunked science.’
‘Thanks.’ Her smile turned into a frown. ‘But the thing is, I’ve tried it dozens of times myself and the key will never show itself. The antibody must be really scarce in my blood. But Kolosine says he’s developed a turbo-charged process that he reckons will work.’
‘Which would be awesome, right?’
‘Yes, but … I don’t know, maybe it’s because I’ve taken a dislike to him.’ She threw down the cigarette and ground it into the dirt with her heel. ‘I will go along with it, and of course I hope he turns out to be right. Because if he is, this whole thing could be over already.’
‘But you don’t believe it?’
‘Nothing’s that easy, Tosca,’ she said. ‘Come on, we’d better get back.’
As Kate trudged back up the stairs and along the hallway to her room, a door opened.
‘Kate!’ It was Annie, peering exaggeratedly up and down the hall to check that nobody was looking. She jerked her head to indicate that Kate should come in.
‘Check out what I’ve got,’ she said in a stage whisper.
Kate smiled, and then laughed out loud when she saw what Annie had been concealing behind her back – a small half-f bottle of Jack Daniel’s.
‘Excellent!’ Kate said, feeling like a schoolgirl rebel; first the cigarette, now an illicit drink.
‘When’s your next shift?’ Annie asked, closing the door behind them and gesturing for Kate to sit down on her bed.
‘Not till eight thirty,’ Kate said, checking her watch. Annie was rinsing out another tooth mug in the en-suite, and Kate lay back on the bed, feeling herself unwind a little in anticipation of a drink and some female company.
‘Here you go,’ Annie said, unscrewing the bottle and pouring a generous measure into the mug. The sharp sweet smell of the liquor in Kate’s nostrils took her back to her student days. She laughed again.
‘I haven’t drunk JD out of a mug in the middle of the afternoon since I was at university,’ she said, accepting it.
‘Desperate times …’ said Annie cheerfully. They clinked mugs, and Kate took a sip.
‘Ah, that’s better. Thanks.’
‘You’re welcome. I could see the terror in your eyes when I said this place was dry.’
‘Ha, you’re making me sound like an alcoholic. I’m not – but it’s a bit of a stressful situation, wouldn’t you say?’
Annie’s expression turned serious. ‘Just a bit. So, how are you finding it here?’
Kate shrugged, not sure how much to admit to. She was glad Annie had asked her the question before she’d finished her drink. ‘Great facilities,’ she said neutrally. ‘Fantastic to be able to work with an unlimited research budget, too – I’m not used to that.’
‘I bet you miss your partner, though,’ Annie fished.
‘Work partner or home partner?’ Kate asked, visualising Paul and Isaac with a pang of longing for each so strong that she almost downed a huge gulp of the JD before thinking better of it. Kolosine would skin her alive if she went drunk to her next shift. This didn’t seem to concern Annie; she was guzzling her liquor as though it was apple juice.
‘Well, both, I guess – but I was thinking of your research partner. I was so sorry to hear about that.’ Annie put a hand on Kate’s forearm and squeezed. ‘You had a lucky escape, didn’t you? How come you weren’t at that conference too?’
Kate frowned. ‘How do you know I was meant to go?’
Annie looked momentarily flustered. ‘Oh, sorry, Kate, I didn’t mean to pry. I just assumed you were meant to be going if Isaac Larter was. Weren’t you?’
‘Yeah, I was, as it happens. My son had chickenpox so I cancelled last minute. Anyway, can we change the subject? How did you end up in this team?’
Annie opened her mouth to speak, and then froze, pushing her blonde curls behind one ear as though this would help her hear better. ‘Wait – what was that?’
‘What?’ Kate hadn’t heard anything.
Annie put her fingers to her lips, placed her mug on the floor, and tiptoed towards the bedroom door. She slowly turned the door handle – and then wrenched the door wide open, dashing out into the hallway. ‘Can I help you?’ she shouted after someone.
Kate got up and followed her out, still clutching her mug. She saw a flash of meaty calf vanish around the corner towards the staircase, and a brief swish and crackle of nylon overalls.
‘It was Adoncia,’ said Annie in disgust. ‘That woman creeps me out. I swear she had her ear pressed against the door. What the hell was she hoping to hear?’
Kate looked down at her drink. ‘Maybe she suspected we had illicit alcohol in here,’ she said.
Annie giggled. ‘Maybe. Quick, let’s go get rid of the rest of the evidence.’
But Kate put her hand over the top of her mug when Annie tried to give her a refill. She’d only had half of the first one, and was already feeling woozy.
At this rate I’ll need a nap before my shift
, she was thinking, when there was a loud rap at the door.
‘Now what?’ Annie said, hastily concealing her cup again.
Junko stuck her head into the room. ‘Hurry, both of you, we’ve all got to get into the lab – now. Kolosine’s orders. It’s an emergency.’
‘What’s happened?’ Kate jumped to her feet, unspeakably relieved that she hadn’t had another drink. Annie stood up too, and visibly swayed.
‘You’ll see,’ Junko said grimly. ‘Just hurry.’
‘Thank you so much for agreeing to talk to me,’ Paul said to Rosie.
‘That’s OK. It was a shock to hear Mangold’s name again – I hadn’t thought about Medi-Lab in an awful long time.’
Paul had met her back outside the diner at eleven, having first returned to his hotel room for a shower and a shave. It was still warm despite the late hour and he put on a polo shirt and a clean pair of jeans, wanting to look respectable and trustworthy. He was wide awake now, his body clock so out of kilter it didn’t know what time zone it was in. He still hadn’t heard anything from Kate, so while he waited he’d emailed her, cryptically, saying he was safe but couldn’t tell her where he was, and asking her to reply and let him know she was OK.
He checked the news while he was online: the first cases of Indian flu had been reported beyond LA, in parts of Los Angeles County. A woman had died in Pasadena, another in Malibu. Twitter was full of LA residents tweeting about how they felt sick, and scared.
Back at the diner, he had been starting to worry Rosie had changed her mind and sneaked out the back door, but she came out at 11.30 and suggested they head to a nearby bar. She had changed out of her waitress’s uniform into a white blouse and denim skirt. The bar was quiet, but airless and sweaty. As he sat down opposite her at a table in the back, it struck him again how attractive she was. Attractive but haunted, the fine lines of her face mapping a history of adversity. Like Kate.
‘So what do you know about Medi-Lab?’ he asked, after they had exchanged a little small talk.
‘My father used to work there. Not in the lab or anything like that. He was a salesman – selling Medi-Lab’s drugs to doctors and whatnot. He wasn’t at home much when I was a teenager, on account of him always being out on the road. He’d come home, what, once a month? He called home a lot, though – every night before I went to bed.’ She rested her chin on her palm, her eyes misting. ‘Every night without fail.’
‘Do you know what kind of drugs he was selling?’
‘I’m not one hundred per cent sure. Antibiotics, mostly, I think.’
‘Not antivirals? Antibiotics treat bacteria. I thought Medi-Lab predominantly worked on virus research?’
‘Hmm … well, like I said, I’m not totally sure. Drugs. That was all the detail I knew. Daddy helped doctors cure sick people. Some months, he’d help a lot of doctors and I’d get presents and my mom would get a lot of new clothes and everyone would be smiling. But most months, things would be tight, the refrigerator would be half-empty and my mom would sit around looking sick with worry …’
Paul waited for her to continue.
‘Then, when the big scandal happened with the virus and the company went bust, my father lost his job. After that, the refrigerator was pretty much always half-empty.’ She smiled suddenly. ‘Listen to me. What a drama queen. Talking like some character from a Charles Dickens novel. But it was shitty – excuse my French – back then. Daddy was always raging about Mangold, about how it was all his fault the company had gone under, and how he’d gotten away with it, was still living in his big old house with plenty of money.’
‘Do you think I could talk to your father?’
Her voice was quiet. ‘He died.’
‘Oh. I’m sorry. How, er … what happened?’
‘He died of pneumonia. It was a long time ago now – a couple of years after he lost his job. He was only forty-three. But he got sick a lot in that couple of years, I think because he was so depressed, drinking a lot.’
‘That’s really sad. I’m sorry to dredge all this up. It must have been hard for you.’ He knew these were platitudes, but he didn’t know what else to say. And while the sympathy he felt for Rosie and her late father was genuine, he couldn’t help wondering how useful this information might be in locating Mangold.
‘How much do you know about the big health scare that led to Medi-Lab being closed down?’
‘Only what Daddy told me and what was on TV at the time. They were working on a cure for some nasty African virus when there was a breakout. It was contained, but a couple of people died.’
‘Was it the Watoto virus?’
‘I don’t know … The name kind of sounds familiar.’
From living with Kate, Paul had a good knowledge of nasty viruses. ‘Or could it have been Ebola, or Marburg?’
Rosie shook her head. ‘I don’t know. Maybe the second one you mentioned. Anyway, whatever it was, a couple of the scientists who worked in the lab there caught it and died. I remember there were journalists all over the place. Daddy said the place was crawling with secret agents.’
‘FBI? I thought the Department of Health were responsible for closing it down?’
‘Hmm. He definitely said secret agents. But maybe he was mistaken.’
‘And do you know what happened to Mangold? Apart from continuing to live in his big house?’
‘No, not really. Except Daddy … I just realised I keep calling him Daddy. Huh. How about that? My
father
used to cuss him so much I started to hate him myself. I know he lived out of town. Still does, for all I know.’
Paul took his iPhone out of his pocket, ready to type in a note. ‘Do you know where?’
Disappointingly, she said she didn’t. ‘Are you trying to find him?’
‘Yes, I want to try to interview him.’ He hated being disingenuous, especially when Rosie was being so open.
‘Can’t you just look him up on the internet or something?’
‘I’ve tried – believe me, I’ve
really
tried. He seems to be completely off the radar. Any idea how I can find out where he lives? I
need to know
.’
He had raised his voice and her body language changed in an instant. Where previously she had been leaning forward, now she sat upright in her chair, shoulders back, her eyes narrowing. ‘OK – what’s really going on here?’ she demanded.
‘What do you mean?’
‘Well, you seem pretty worked up about finding Mangold. Beyond the call of journalistic duty, I’d say. Are you really writing a book about him?’
Paul exhaled. What was the point in lying? ‘Actually – no … Sorry. It’s a long story.’
‘I think I’d better go.’ She stood, briskly gathering up her purse.
‘No, please!’
Paul didn’t know how much Rosie could really help him, but he didn’t want her to leave. He was enjoying her company, more than he’d enjoyed anyone’s company for a long time. With the exception of Kate and Jack, of course. The thought of her running out alarmed him, and he fleetingly regretted telling the truth.
‘Please,’ he said. ‘Sit down and I’ll tell you everything.’
She hesitated, then sat back in her seat, tracing with her fingertip the edges of a stain on the table in front of her. ‘Sweet Home Alabama’ came on the jukebox, and Paul noticed her finger tapping in time to the intro. He was surprised that she’d stayed. She didn’t know him, had no idea if she could trust him. But there was something about her that made him think she was lonely, that maybe she didn’t have anyone to talk to apart from her grown-up daughter and her customers. And that maybe she was enjoying his company too.