The Pestilence (3 page)

“That's enough; I'm calling a nurse.” Mariam pushed her tongue into her cheek and glared at Rami. And your new friend, he can leave.”

Rami spoke up. “Samuel speaks the truth. Yesterday I had cancer. Look at me; do I look like a dying man? It is because of him.”

“Mariam just let me show you what I can do,” said Samuel.

Mariam shook her head, trying to remove the absurdity of the conversation from her mind.

On his wanderings early that morning, Samuel hadn't visited the other floors of the hospital. The simple plan he hatched was for Rami to distract the staff so Samuel and Mariam could slip into the wards. Samuel first needed a change of clothes; he couldn't move round the hospital in only bare feet and a gown. Rami, a long-term patient, furnished Samuel with a plain white shirt and a pair of corduroy slacks. The shirt was a little tight across his back but the trousers fitted well; they had room enough to slip over the dressing on Samuel's thigh. Samuel didn't bother trying to squeeze into Rami's abnormally small shoes. For want of another option, Samuel would just have to go barefoot.

While Samuel changed, Rami bolted down a carton of orange juice and a packet of salted peanuts from the lobby vending machine. After months on an intravenous diet the high energy food should have the desired disruptive effect on his digestive system, forward planning for the task ahead.

The wards were similarly designed. An elevator led to an external waiting area where visitors would be buzzed in by staff. Through the access doors was a reception where most of the duty staff sat tending the wards beyond.

Getting through the access doors on the second floor was straight-forward. The three of them simply ghosted in by tailgating an orderly pushing an empty gurney. At reception, Rami moved straight towards the doctor on duty crying out in pain and clutching his chest. The doctor, a young woman, rushed to assist but slumped under Rami's weight. She quickly summoned her nurses and as Rami drew most of the staff in towards him, he bent over forcefully constricting his stomach and projectile vomited the orange juice and salted peanuts. Rami was meticulous in trying to splash as many of the nursing staff as possible. Cloaked by the confusion, Samuel and Mariam breezed into the ward.

Mariam would draw a curtain around the bed and to each patient Samuel simply said that he was there to heal them. Very few offered any resistance. One young man who had three fingers severed in a motorcycling accident filmed his fingers growing back on his cell phone. Mariam threatened to break his other fingers if he dared take any video of her or Samuel. The boy filmed himself unwrapping the heavy bandages on his damaged hand, delicately at first, then faster with increasing intent and vigour. His hand was a bloody mess, ghastly stitched wounds over his three missing fingers. The young man's stitches burst open and new fingers pushed out like seedlings on a time lapse camera breaking through fresh soil. Mariam's scientific mind struggled to assimilate the wonders she was witnessing.

It took Samuel and Mariam just over forty-five minutes to work through the second floor. They ended up losing a fair bit of time through their own sheer enjoyment of the spectacle they created, the sight of an ear regrown or the flush of blood in the face of a newly healed heart patient. Samuel was replacing the fear of the future with relief and hope. It was exhilarating.

Before they left the second floor they checked in on Rami. He was hooked up to a heart-monitoring machine being attended to by one of the nurses. He looked a little sheepish but flashed a thumbs up as they passed.

The second floor reception area was empty and they were about to head for the elevator when Mariam spotted that the young woman doctor had left her white coat draped over the back of a chair. In the chaos that was now a floor full of healthy patients the coat was the last of the young doctor's concerns. Mariam picked it up and put it on. It suited her. Helpfully the doctor had left her identification pass in the breast pocket. Mariam grinned, thoroughly pleased with herself. She had just solved the problem of how to access the remaining floors of the hospital.

Samuel met her at the elevator. “Nice coat.”

“Well, technically I am a doctor,” she replied.

***

ON the first floor they were told of a family who were on the verge of tragedy. Dina was born with severe disabilities, needing round the clock specialist care. In order to provide that care her parents had sold their home and moved in with relatives. Unable to speak, unable to move, Dina was a much loved child. Her family, a constant, tender presence in her life. Shortly after her sixth birthday Dina began picking up a series of small illnesses. Each none too serious, but together they had the effect of steadily degrading her fragile immune system. It was at this moment that Dina caught pneumonia. The disease struck Dina at her most vulnerable time and rapidly edged her towards death. The doctors had struggled to keep her alive but after a recent relapse hope was slipping away. Her family now sat in vigil in the hospital chapel, offering continuous prayers for the deliverance of their little angel.

***

Timeline: The Pestilence minus 15 days. Information source: BBC World News live broadcast.

Hugh Feades: The human cost of the global Electrical Phenomenon has been high. Across the world police sources have estimated that over 150 people have been killed. The majority of these people were involved in automobile collisions as drivers were distracted by the events overhead. That dreadful toll is set to rise with the breaking news from Tokyo. We go live to our Japan correspondent Suki Minamoto.

Suki Minamoto: Thank you, Hugh. A tragic story is unfolding behind me. Police received a number of distressing phone calls from inside this residential compound. The compound belongs to the Church of the King of Light. They are a religious sect with close links to Aum Shinrikyo whose members were responsible for the Tokyo Subway sarin incident in 1995 in which thirteen people were killed and over 1,000 poisoned. Police have been unable to enter the compound due to the possibility of sarin gas being present. They have set up a cordon and evacuated the nearby residents. Police are waiting on officers to arrive with specialist protective equipment so they can breach the compound walls. As you can see we are being kept at a safe distance.

Hugh Feades: Suki, what is the estimate of the number of people living in that compound?

Suki Minamoto: Over 300 Hugh; families with children predominately. The sect is led by Hiritoshi Fuji, he is their high priest.

Hugh Feades: And the sarin reports?

Suki Minamoto: I have a transcript here of one of numerous emergency phone calls made by church members from inside the compound. From it you can see why the police are approaching the compound with such caution. Let me read it out to you:
Please help, we are being poisoned. We are in the King of Light compound. Fuji-san is preparing us for the Path of Light. He has locked us in. My family are trapped here with me. Many are deceased; other people can't breathe or are vomiting without control of bodily functions. The worst are in spasms, twitching and jerking. My wife is like this. Please for my family, my children. Please come.

Hugh Feades: That is truly tragic. Our prayers go out to these people.

Suki Minamoto: I can see smoke, Hugh, billowing out of the compound; thick, black, acrid smoke. This is a disaster.

***

THE chapel was a small, drab affair: Scant and austere, devoted to the world's three great religions yet representing the art, architecture and magnificence of none. A well of sorrow rose up to greet them as they entered. Dina's family, her grandparents, aunts, uncles and cousins were all bowed together in prayer. Fifteen people praying for the soul of the child they all loved. At the centre of the prayer circle were Dina's parents. The child's mother sobbing hard tears of pain, the father cradled the lifeless body of his only daughter, a broken man, his heart riven with grief.

“Oh Samuel, oh my life, we are too late.” Mariam's voice quivered and broke.

“She's dead, I can't heal her.” Samuel bowed his head, his broad shoulders slumping. He concentrated intently. “The child is gone, but her aura is still with us. It must be the prayers of her family that are keeping her here with them. Her aura is stunning. I haven't seen one so pure, so completely full of love; no hint of greed, envy or pride.” There was rapture in Samuel's eyes, quickly replaced by urgency. “Her aura was filling this place, but I can see it's starting to dissipate.” He thought for a moment. Then haltingly, “If her aura still remains then maybe I can save her. I think I might be able to.”

Mariam looked upon Samuel for the first time in her life with genuine fear in her eyes. “Do you realise what you are saying?” Mariam reached up and put her hand over Samuel's heart. “I have seen some miraculous things today but right now you need to be sure you can do this, absolutely sure. You can't give these people hope and then fail them.”

The uncertainty disappeared from Samuel's eyes and he spoke with a calm assurance. “I am sure. Quickly, her aura is fading.”

Mariam carefully made her way through the prayer circle to Dina's father. She placed her hand on his shoulder and whispered in his ear. “Please sir, my friend here thinks he can save your daughter, please can I take her just for a moment. We don't have much time.”

Dina's father gave Mariam a look of bewildered incredulity and then clutched Dina closer to his chest. He shook his head and a second later all the rage and despair that festered inside him erupted to the surface. “Are you out of your mind?” he hissed.

The ferocity of his gaze caused Mariam to instinctively step back breaking the physical connection between them. “I'm begging you,” she said. “We can help. Just give her to me please, I promise you she can be saved.”

“Shame on you for disrupting our prayers. Shame on you for hurting my family. Just leave us to mourn in peace.” His voice rose and his relatives broke from their prayers.

Mariam stepped further back from the prayer circle.

“Nobody can help her now,” Dina's father whispered. His tears fell into Dina's hair as sobs coursed through his body.

A few of Dina's relatives were rising to their feet. Samuel could see the auras in the room turning quickly from despair to anger and bitterness. He moved forward and from outside the prayer circle spoke directly to Dina's father.

“There was intense fighting the night Dina was born. Your wife was in labour but it was too dangerous to take her to hospital. The midwife wouldn't come. So your mother braved the shelling to come to your house to deliver your daughter. Dina has never spoken, she has never cried. It is only through her eyes that she communicates, through her eyes that she laughs and sings. Even though she couldn't tell you, her heart was full of love for the people who cared for her. For all of you who loved her completely, who loved her without reservations. That little girl you all loved, she has not gone. I feel her still with us. Please, give her to me. Let me save her. Let me bring her back to you.”

Dina's father slowly, mournfully, rose to his feet. Dina was wrapped in a white sheet, a sleeping angel with tears glistening in her hair. He gently placed Dina's body in Samuel's arms. Tears flowed like a river across his cheeks. Mariam now wept openly, a silent prayer on her lips.

Samuel sat. He placed Dina on his lap. There was just a shadow left of Dina's once brilliant gossamer aura. He placed his hands on Dina: Covered her eyes with his thumbs, closed his eyes and concentrated.

Mariam was instantly concerned. She had spent the last few hours watching Samuel heal. It was surreal but a relatively simple process: Hands to face, thumbs over eyes, a transfer of power and that was it. What was happening now wasn't the same, it wasn't right. Samuel was taking much, much longer. His body was visibly shaking, his bare feet bunching and curling beneath him. Mariam could make out the sinews of each muscle as he fought to retain control. Never before had she seen so much energy flowing from Samuel's hands. It lit up the chapel and light spilled out of every exit. Nobody moved, nobody dared breathe lest it extinguish the fragile hope slowly building in the room.

The light from Samuel's hands faded and he slumped forward in his chair. Mariam moved quickly to retrieve Dina's body. She felt joy stirring within her as she picked up the warm child. Mariam could feel Dina's breath against her neck. Over Mariam's shoulder Dina opened her eyes, yawned and for the first time, called for her mother.

***

AT 12.45 a.m. Paris time on the night of the Electrical Phenomenon, Victor Pierre Chaput had just wrapped up a conference call with his partners in New York. It was the last item on his schedule, the end of a seventeen-hour day. He dialled his assistant Celine and asked her to let his driver know he was ready to make the short trip from La Défense to his house in the sixteenth arrondissement of Paris. His driver duly forewarned knew to expect him in exactly thirty minutes.

Victor stood and walked over to the double height windows of his office. From the summit of the Tour First he had a majestic view looking east back into his beloved city. The Tour First was second only in height to the Eiffel Tower and Chaput's firm VPC Capital owned the entire fifty-second floor.

Standing here watching the city beneath him helped Chaput unwind from the maelstrom of his day. This dead time was allowed and very much part of his routine. Victor Pierre Chaput liked having routines. He felt they anchored him, removed distractions and allowed him to focus all of his considerable intellect on what had, until recently, been his driving motivation, VPC Capital. How times have changed, he thought with a smile.

The Chaputs were an ancient family originally making their living as cloth merchants by the Sea of Galilee. During the First Crusade, the family backed the defending Muslim armies but following the Christian conquest of Jerusalem in 1099 they fled Palestine. They went not east but west, leaving Palestine to settle in France. There they quickly re-established their links with the new Kingdom of Jerusalem and prospered, initially through mercantile trade and then turned to the more lucrative international finance. Throughout the centuries the family grew rich financing slavery, war and the business of colonisation. Their wealth and power peaked in the mid-fifteenth century but like so many family-owned enterprises they made the fatal mistake of never expanding their managerial talent pool beyond their own blood. Successive generations of wealth and prosperity robbed the Chaputs of the hunger, desire and vision that drove their founding fathers. Success also bred idleness and incompetence. By the beginning of the twentieth century, the wealth, influence and power of the Chaputs had waned to insignificance. On the death of his father Julien, Victor as sole heir inherited a few properties in Paris and a miserable 15,000 Francs.

Victor set up VPC Capital shortly after his father's death with funds initially raised from the mortgage of his father's Parisian properties. His first venture almost bankrupted him. He invested hastily in a friend's coal-mining business only for an industrial accident to render the mine unworkable. Victor learnt some hard lessons from this disaster. He never again let his personal relationships interfere with his business decisions. He learnt to prioritise caution over speed and would in future walk away from deals of which he was even slightly unsure. The third and most important lesson he learnt was the absolute necessity of due diligence.

Chaput was a fast learner. His second venture was launched almost a year after the first deal. He bought a struggling pulp and paper plant then shortly after, four of its closest competitors. He merged the five businesses to create a single global player. Three years later he sold the enlarged business to a Japanese firm for six times what he paid for the sum of its parts. This deal was the blueprint of VPC Capital's strategy from then on. The company would look for a competitive market and use leverage to buy a succession of businesses in that market and create a dominant market player with the tacit ability to control price and supply. Victor utilised his family's long-held financing connections to access credit at very favourable terms. Mergers and acquisitions brought the greatest benefit as two or more businesses could be merged, overlapping functions removed and significant synergies extracted. Ultimately the debt used to buy the businesses would be repaid out of the businesses' own cash flow, refinanced or paid down through a sale or listing on a stock exchange. VPC Capital executed its strategy ruthlessly and brilliantly. Victor Pierre Chaput would say that his job was to make the global economy more efficient by generating growth and removing inefficiency. In reality his firm had a simple but effective strategy that made each of the thirteen partners incredibly wealthy and the Managing Partner, Victor Pierre Chaput, stratospherically so. Twenty-six years on from that first mining deal VPC Capital now employed over 185 investment professionals in nineteen countries, controlled 45.2 billion dollars of assets and had invested, throughout its history, in over 245 companies.

Victor pressed his forehead onto the cool glass of his office window. At this altitude he could feel the buffeting of the wind against the other side of the window pane. He withdrew and inspected his own reflection. He saw blonde hair framing a handsome face with taut, youthful looking skin. With the exception of his silk tie and socks he was dressed in entirely English bespoke tailoring, wonderfully cut to highlight his physically strong yet lithe physique. He made a mental note to award his personal trainer a bonus. She was obviously doing him good. At forty-seven, he could still pass for early 30s and that pleased him.

A flash on the eastern horizon caught his eye. He was 225 metres from the ground and had once calculated that on a clear day he could see out almost fifty-eight kilometres before the earth curved from view. He watched with intrigue as the Electrical Phenomenon sped towards him expanding to fill the sky, night duly turning into day. He knew this was no storm; it was the sign he had been waiting for his whole life. A sign his family had been awaiting for more than two millennia. He took a moment to admire the sheer majesty of it.

With the phenomenon raging overhead, Chaput placed his left forefinger on the glass of his office window. Instantaneously a single bolt of lightning flashed down from the phenomenon and shattered the pane with concussive force. The explosion shook the paintings off his office walls and ushered in the howling wind. Utterly unmarked Victor Pierre Chaput stepped out into the smashed window frame some 225 metres above the streets of La Défense. He reached out his hand and at his command another single bolt snaked down from the phenomenon and struck his palm. He bathed in the power flowing through his body.

In the underground car park of the Tour First, Chaput's driver was looking anxiously at his watch. He had never known his boss to be even a minute late. At 1.40 a.m. Victor slipped into the car and ordered the driver home to the sixteenth. During the ride the driver was astonished by the sheer number of people milling around excitedly at that time of night. He grumbled, almost out loud, wondering what the world was coming to.

***

Timeline: The Pestilence minus 15 days. Information source: Email intercept between Hazel Sears and Bill Irons.

Subject: Information request

Hi Bill

I got your messages and below are the full specs of everything you requested.

Mrs Srour, Dalia – 972 2 555 779

Khalid Srour (middle son) – 972 4 555 141, address 15 New Republic Drive, Ramat Shaul, Haifa

Samuel Srour (youngest son) – 972 2 555 786

Dr Mariam Fara – 972 2 555 023

For background on Dr Fara, you could try her colleague from the Department of Physics at the University of Jerusalem. Dr Shimon Biram. University main number is 972 2 555 892.

Am at my desk let me know if you need anything else.

Hazel

***

MARIAM was driving her red Skoda. She edged slowly through Jericho's afternoon traffic. Samuel sat impassively in the seat next to her. He curled his bare toes into the black nylon carpet in the foot well. Neither had spoken since they had left the hospital. Mariam needed some time to organise her thoughts, while Samuel seemed to be quietly recharging some of the energy he had so spectacularly expended.

Mariam looked steadily out at the road ahead. “Samuel, have you looked into my aura?”

Samuel silently continued looking out of the passenger window.

“Samuel?” she prompted.

“Yeah I did. I just got curious. You're away a lot.” Mariam's grip on the steering wheel tightened. She looked out at the road ahead. “I'm really sorry, I know I shouldn't have,” he said quietly.

Mariam thought for a moment, trying to frame the right words. She didn't want to hurt him. “You are right, you shouldn't have. Some things are private, even between us.”

The lights turned green and Mariam shuffled the car forward a few metres.

“Look, I'm not perfect,” said Mariam. “I make mistakes and have doubts and regrets but I don't want you trawling through my memories trying to make sense of things that you have no business knowing about.”

Neither spoke for a while; they both sat helplessly as the traffic snarled around them. Mariam broke the silence. “I'm sorry if you saw something that upset you.”

“I'm not upset; I always knew that a simple farmer like me could never expect to hold on to someone like you.”

Mariam said nothing. Samuel had a habit of speaking the simple, unfiltered truth.

“I didn't know you had a crush on my brother,” said Samuel with a sly grin.

Mariam laughed. “When I was nine. He was better looking than you.”

“I think I understand you a little better now,” he said. “I never appreciated how hard it was for you after your father died or how painful it was to leave your mother and move to Jerusalem.”

“And also to leave you, Samuel,” Mariam interrupted. “You and Mama tie me to a place that has so many bad memories for me.”

“I know we do and I'm sorry for that, but I'm happy for the time we have. When I'm with you, I do not wait for life. Do not long for it. I'm aware, always and at every moment, that the miracle is in the here and now.”

Mariam smiled. She loved it when her farmer quoted Proust to her. “Speaking of miracles, we need to talk about your new superpowers. Let's pull in somewhere and get some food, I would love some falafel or can you magic us lunch out of the glove compartment?”

“Yes, let's stop to eat but can you buy me a pair of shoes first? When I get out of the car, I don't want to look like a complete hobo.” Mariam looked across at Samuel's bare feet and ill-fitting shirt. He had a point.

***

Timeline: The Pestilence minus 15 days. Information source: Telephone intercept between Bill Irons and Hazel Sears.

Bill Irons: Hazel, it's Bill.

Hazel Sears: Oh hi, you get my email?

Bill Irons: I did, excellent work thanks. I won't ask where you got the info from.

Hazel Sears: Good, please don't.

Bill Irons: Hazel, do you need to be at your desk to run your investigative work?

Hazel Sears: No, I have most of the programs I use on my private laptop. The BBC machines are hopeless. I just need to access the Internet.

Bill Irons: Okay, good. Things are getting interesting here. I need an extra pair of hands on the ground and real time access to your research talents. I assume you have the relevant visas? Can you check the time of the next flight to Jerusalem?

Hazel Sears: Leaving Heathrow in two hours, my passport is in my desk drawer and I have both Israeli and Palestinian journalist visas.

Bill Irons: Good. Get on that plane, bring your laptop. You can buy everything else you need once you get to Israel. I just met Dr Fara's mother; she said her daughter returned home shortly before 2 a.m. That leaves only Samuel Srour at the farm at the time of the strike. Dr Fara went back to the farm after the bombing. Her mother hasn't seen or heard from her since. I'll try the doctor's colleague on the number you provided, but her mother said she is on some sort of research leave so that's a long shot. Mrs Fara also gave me an address in Jerusalem for Dr Fara and the licence plate of her red Skoda. I will send you both. Look, you have a five-hour flight coming up, I want you to try and use that time to piece this together. Let's track these two down.

I will head back to Jerusalem and pick you up from the airport. See you in the Holy Land.

***

BILL climbed back into the Jeep and set off on the return journey to Jerusalem. He expected Hazel's plane a little after 5 p.m. and planned on getting a few hours' rest before it arrived. He juggled his phone as he drove, trying Samuel and Mariam on their cell phones. Both went straight to voicemail. He tried Dalia Srour's cell and hit the jackpot. He explained to Dalia that he was a BBC journalist following up on the airstrike on her home. Dalia recognised Bill from the television and was initially reasonably open with him. She told him how the family had been duped. Bill sympathised and promised that he would stress their innocence in his subsequent piece. Dalia became a little coy when Bill enquired as to Samuel and Mariam's whereabouts. She said she had a message from Mariam overnight saying they were both safe and uninjured and that was all the information she had. No location. Bill could sense she was being economical with the truth but couldn't really press the matter over the telephone. On the subject of the phenomenon Dalia did not offer any explanation or know why it had originated on her farm. Bill thanked Dalia for her time and left his number in case she had any further thoughts.

When Bill reached Jerusalem later that afternoon he filed copy on his efforts so far. He kept his promise to Dalia and typed and submitted a sympathetic 350-word piece about the attack on the farm. He confirmed that the farm was the one shown in the video images from Haran but was yet unable to verify how or why the Electrical Phenomenon began during the airstrike.

***

BILL'S article was published as a follow up piece on the BBC website. It did not make the main page of the news but was tucked away in the relatively obscure “BBC News Middle East” section. As soon as it was published the article was flagged by Decapolis Inc.'s cyber security unit as information pertinent to an existing investigation. The article was copied, the source noted and was sent to the relevant Decapolis case officer.