All Fall Down (15 page)

It was dark when he woke up, his mouth as dry as the desert he’d travelled through. He drank copiously from
the tap in the bathroom and felt a little better. It was 9
p.m. – he’d been asleep again for hours – and more than anything he wanted to talk to Kate, but his iPhone was dead. After plugging it in and finding that she hadn’t texted or attempted to call him, he opened his laptop and checked his email in case she had sent him a message – nothing.

He spent a while running searches for ‘Charles Mangold Sagebrush address’ but again drew a blank. Next, he searched for the address of Medi-Lab, but it had shut down so long ago the location wasn’t showing up in current records.

Kate often teased him for being a geek – ‘the best-looking geek in Oxfordshire’ she would laugh – but the work he did in computer security was challenging and important. Six months before, his team had helped break an international paedophile ring that had been operating a trade in vile videos. Paul’s combination of instinct and intellectual ability helped him crack layer upon layer of secrecy, and the head of the CEOP, the Child Exploitation and Online Protection Centre, had praised his work highly.

Somewhere in the vast depths of the internet would be the answers he sought. Mangold’s records, his address, everything he’d done online, should be out there.

If anyone in the world could find him, it was Paul.

He was about to start a new search when hunger drove him to abandon his laptop and head out for a bite to eat. There was an old-fashioned American diner across the street from the hotel, the kind of place he loved. He ordered a cheeseburger with fries and onion rings plus a bottle of beer. The waitress, a pretty teenager with auburn curls, giggled as Paul’s stomach rumbled audibly throughout his order.

‘Guess I’d better tell the chef to make it snappy,’ she smiled.

‘Like a crocodile sandwich.’

She laughed politely before disappearing, and Paul leaned back in his booth and tried to unknot the tension from his shoulders. He had a cold bubble of anxiety inside him. He wished he could get in touch with Kate – he was worried about her.

When the waitress returned with his beer, he asked her if she had heard of Medi-Lab.

‘Medi-Lab? It sounds familiar …’

‘It was a pharma company. Actually, it probably closed before you were born.’

‘Oh yeah. But my mom would know more – she’s lived here her whole life. That’s her behind the register,’ she said, gesturing towards the till.

A minute later a smiling woman came over. She looked barely older than the waitress, but Paul supposed she must be in her late thirties or early forties, with the same auburn hair as her daughter, but cut shorter, and cornflower-blue eyes. She was wearing the same figure-hugging blue-and-white uniform too. It suited her.

‘Lucy here tells me you’re asking about an old business in Sagebrush? I’m Rosie.’ She had that wary look in her eyes that many beautiful older women carry, made suspicious by a lifetime of men pursuing them, promising them the earth and letting them down.

‘I’m Paul.’ He had considered giving a false name but didn’t think it was worth it. He adopted his best charming English gentleman expression, friendly and guileless, aiming for Hugh Grant in the
Bridget Jones
films.

‘He looks a little like Daniel Craig, doesn’t he, Mom?’ Lucy said, nudging her mother with her elbow.

Paul smiled. He had always wanted to be compared to James Bond.

‘Now,’ Rosie said, ignoring her daughter. ‘What business did you want to know about?’

‘It was called Medi-Lab,’ he said, and the way her face changed was as if he’d told her he had just been let out of prison – a look he remembered well.

‘Jeez. I haven’t heard anyone mention Medi-Lab for years now. It’s practically a cuss word round these parts.’

‘You’ve heard of it?’

‘Sure. Everybody above a certain age around here has heard of Medi-Lab.’

‘You mean, like, really old?’ Lucy interrupted.

Rosie gave her daughter an affectionate smile. ‘I think table seven are ready to order.’

‘Aw, Mom, I wanted to listen.’

‘Go on, scoot.’

Lucy sashayed across the diner to table seven and Rosie turned back to Paul. ‘Sorry about that. What was I saying? Oh yeah – Medi-Lab was one of the biggest employers in the city. Pretty much everyone in Sagebrush either worked there or knew someone who did. But it’s ancient history now. What do you want to know about that old place for?’

He had his answer prepared. ‘I’m a writer. I’m researching a book about big business in Ventura County and the Medi-Lab story seemed like an interesting tale.’

‘Hmm. Well, “interesting” would be one word for it. You could also try shocking or downright shameful. I don’t even know if I want to talk about it, if I’m honest.’

‘It would be an enormous help to me if you could. It’s that shocking element to the story that I want to get across. I heard that the top man walked away scot-free.’

‘Charles Mangold.’ She stared into the middle distance, clearly remembering something that disturbed or upset her.

‘Did you know him?’

But Rosie had slipped into a reverie, nervously chewing a thumbnail until Paul said, ‘Are you OK?’

‘Huh? Yeah, yeah. Just remembering something …’ Paul waited, trying to contain his growing excitement. ‘But like I said, I don’t know if I want to dredge it all up.’ Lines had appeared on her forehead from where she was frowning so deeply and Paul felt a twinge of guilt. But if this woman could assist him, he had to press her.

‘It really would be an immense help,’ he said softly.

Rosie sighed and was on the verge of replying when the manager gestured to her from the counter.

‘Wait here,’ she said. ‘I’ll think about it.’

‘Please,’ he said, looking straight into her eyes.

She frowned again and he watched her return to the cash register to serve a customer, his mind racing. This was the best lead he had so far. If she said no, he would be back to square one. She
couldn’t
say no.

He stared into his beer, tapping his foot impatiently, thinking about what he could offer this woman in return for help. He would pay her every penny in his savings account if it led to finding Mangold.

A shadow fell over his table. When he looked up, the waitress, Rosie, was standing there. And from the way her gaze shifted when he tried to catch her eye, he had a horrible feeling she was going to say no.

Kate sat on her bed, wearing a pair of cotton shorts and a plain white T-shirt. The encounter with Officer Buckley had left her feeling shattered, but more determined than ever. She’d just given a blood sample that Chip was now testing. As she rubbed the sore spot on her inner elbow, she thought what a shock it would be if it turned out she
wasn’t
immune to Watoto-X2 – she had been taking it for granted that she would be. She had asked McCarthy, who she found twiddling his over-sized thumbs in the breakfast room, to let her know when Kolosine emerged so she could talk to him and find out – or at least try.

The wait dragged on for an hour, and Kate filled the time pacing the room and going over what she had learned about the virus, trying to figure out why it was so lethal, what had caused the mutation. She felt Isaac’s loss more than ever; she had grown accustomed to bouncing ideas around with him, and she missed his insight and those penetrating questions, testing her theories, suggesting avenues for further exploration. She didn’t know if BIT had got anywhere with the investigation into the bombing – she would ask McCarthy later.

Why had the terrorists done it? Presumably their aim was to take out the people who might potentially find a vaccine. But if the terrorists knew anything about what they had unleashed, they ought to have been aware that virus research was a painstakingly slow affair. Clearly, these weren’t rational people. Kate shuddered to think who was behind it. Was this the work of a rogue individual like Gaunt, or some kind of group? Either way, the bomb seemed a huge risk to take for something that was likely to have little effect. After all, there were many more virologists out there who
hadn’t
been in that reception room.

Unless the terrorists had been masking the true target behind a massacre. Had they been after someone in particular? Someone who had been at the conference …

A sudden chill rippled across her skin and her stomach lurched. Was it egotistical to think – to fear – that the targets had been Isaac and herself? After all, they were the leading experts in Watoto, and had recently published a paper on it. Kate’s name was on the delegate list. They might not have known she had cancelled.

She sat down, took deep breaths, trying to control her growing sense of dread. Could the terrorists really have been after her and Isaac? Was she just being paranoid? What if the attack had been prompted by their research paper, which detailed their latest findings into Watoto? If the bioterrorists considered them a threat that had to be neutralised at all costs, perhaps she and Isaac had come closer than they realised to making that final breakthrough.

Kate put her hand to her forehead, tried to concentrate. She could remember almost every word of the paper – nothing jumped out at her. But maybe if she showed it to the rest of the team, one of them might spot something. She was just reaching for her laptop when there was a knock at the door and Kolosine walked in, not waiting for an invitation.

‘Couldn’t you wait? I might have been getting dressed,’ she said, sounding more outraged than she really felt.

‘Want me to come back in a few minutes, give you a chance to get your clothes off?’

For the second time that morning, her jaw dropped.

‘I need to talk to you,’ Kolosine said, unashamedly scanning her bare legs beneath the brief shorts.

‘Oh, good because I want to—’

‘My office.’

He hurtled out of the room, leaving Kate no option but to follow, having to break into a jog to catch up with him.

Downstairs in his office, a spare space with a desk, computer, printer and a scattering of thick books, Kolosine threw himself into an office chair and gestured for Kate to sit too.

‘Tell me, Dr Maddox, how long have you been working towards a vaccine for Watoto?’

Kate put her hands on her hips. ‘All my adult life, pretty much.’

‘All your adult life, huh? Well, you know how long we’ve got to find a vaccine now? Let me tell you. We got a couple of weeks before it kills pretty much every man, woman and child in LA. A month before it wipes out the West Coast. Even though the LA airports have been shut down, it won’t be much longer than that before it reaches the walls of Buckingham Palace. This thing spreads fast. It’s ultracontagious and the incubation period is four days, a good amount of time for the carrier to infect a ton of other people.’ He leaned back in his chair and put his hands behind his head. ‘If you’ve been working on Watoto for twenty goddamn years, how the fuck are we gonna find a cure in two weeks?’

Kate kept her voice level. ‘It’s your team, you tell
me
. And I’m well aware of all that. I believe that we were – are – so close. The people who unleashed this virus must have thought we—’

‘The people who unleashed it? What are you talking about?’

She blinked at him. Hadn’t Kolosine been told about the message BIT had received after the bombing? Did he not know that someone had deliberately started the outbreak? She decided not to confuse matters right now. ‘Kolosine, I know this virus better than anyone.’

‘Yeah, it killed your folks, huh?’

‘And I survived it.’

He scratched his beard and rubbed his eyes in a blur of motion. ‘Clearly. Listen, Kate, I’m not saying you’re not useful to us. I was thrilled when I heard you’d be joining the team.’

‘Really?’

‘Yeah. I would have asked for you if it hadn’t already been arranged.’

‘Thank you.’

‘Not because of your “skills”’ – he waggled two fingers in the air – ‘but because I want your antibodies. I want your blood. The test results are in, and yes, you are immune. You’re one of the lucky ones.’

Kate needed some air. She strode through the building and out into the sunshine, walking past the chicken enclosure to the edge of the clearing in the forest. Beyond the gate, the road stretched into the trees. Out there, bad things were happening. But here, it was peaceful, silent apart from a gentle chorus of birdsong.

‘Hey, Kate.’

She jumped, holding her palm to her chest. It was McCarthy, walking down the path towards her, a pair of sunglasses concealing his eyes. He’d startled her, but it was nice to see a friendly face.

‘Tosca. Did you follow me?’

‘Came out for a smoke.’ He produced a pack of Marlboro from his jacket pocket, lighting up in one fluid motion. ‘And you can save the lecture for a man who gives a shit.’

‘Let me have one.’

He looked surprised but offered her the pack then lit the cigarette for her. ‘Didn’t take you for a smoker.’

‘I haven’t had a cigarette since I was at university.’ She inhaled, felt the soft smoke fill her lungs. ‘Whoa. Head rush. But I needed one.’

‘Rough morning, huh?’

‘Rougher than a cat’s tongue.’ It was an expression of Paul’s.

‘I hear you. That poor mother … That poor sucker – ah, you know what I’m trying to say.’

She took another drag on her cigarette. It tasted bad but she was going to smoke it all the way down. ‘It’s that dick, Kolosine. He told me the only reason they asked me out here was because I survived Watoto. That meant I was likely to be immune to the new strain. I was tested today and I
am
immune. Kolosine thinks he can use my blood cells to create an antivirus.’

‘Well … that’s a good thing, right?’

‘In theory. I mean, of course, if he’s right and my blood can help stop this outbreak, I’ll be ecstatic. I won’t care that they didn’t actually want me for my expertise. My priority is to find a cure, whatever it takes. But the thing is, I’ve been working with my own blood for years. I’ve spent two decades trying to do what he’s suggesting for the original strain of Watoto, and it doesn’t work. I can’t identify the right peptide. Not to mention that this is a whole new strain.’