The SONG of SHIVA (10 page)

“This is Carmichael,” she said wearily.

“Nora! It’s Kosoy. We’ve been trying to reach you all night. Are you alright?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Sorry, but with everything going on ― I was only a quarter of a mile away when it happened ― and the phones have been jammed... I was going to call you as soon as the lines were open again. It’s been horrible, but I’m okay.”

“That’s fantastic. Let me tell you, we were really worried. Unfortunately, things aren’t so good at this end either. ”

The first thing that flashed through her mind was that something had happened to the girls or her sister. “Is everyone okay at home?”

“Your home? Yeah, they’re fine. But we’ve got real trouble here at the lab. Two of the folks in quarantine ― Mary Jarbeau from your team and Mike Gilbert, one of the cleanup crew ― presented with symptoms during the night.”

“What? How?”

“I can answer that one. Finally. Turned out to be a case of sloppy routine maintenance. An improper seal-gasket replacement a third-party crew performed a couple of weeks ago. We can link Cummings and Jarbeau directly to that. Gilbert was probably exposed transporting Jack to the makeshift isolation chamber. Seems to explain everything that’s happened.”

“What’s their prognosis?” Nora asked.

“I don’t know. We’ll do everything in our power, but… I really don’t know. No one does.”

“Okay, I understand. Did you get my reports on the WHO’s viral modeling technology? Maybe some of the archival data can help the people treating Mary and this other guy ― Gilbert?” Nora didn’t recognize the name. “Is there anything I can do?”

“Just keep on task. Lives are at stake. I’m sorry, I know I don’t need to remind you of that. Guess I’m fraying a little around the edges myself. ”

“Me too. I understand. I’m glad you called, Marty, but look, I’m about ready to call it a day here. You’ll hear from me again the minute I turn up anything important. Sounds like you’ve got your hands full. My prayers are with you all. Gotta go. Goodbye and good luck.”

“So’ long, Nora. Keep fighting.”

Setting down the receiver, she looked out the window. The sky had already grown dark. In the distance, searchlight beams were dancing.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

In the beginning, the noble caste was always the barbarian caste: their predominance did not lie mainly in physical strength, but in strength of soul – they were more whole human beings, which also means, on every level, more whole beasts.

Friedrich Nietzsche :
Beyond Good and Evil

Lyköan rose at first light, the stench of death heavy in the air. It was already too late to close the open window and keep the offending odor out. He closed the window anyway.

He had known two of the American consulate staff victims personally. They were more business acquaintances, not really friends, but he was convinced that both had been honest and ethical men, wishing only to live lives of meaning and purpose. Snuffed out like candle flames. It turned his stomach. How could meaning exist in a universe that included such obvious senselessness?

Terrorism had come of age in the last decade of the twentieth century. Now it was simply feeding upon itself, expanding with ever more bloody demands arising from illusory slights that could only be satisfied with heightened barbarity.

Unable to generate the resolve necessary for a morning run down the canal trail, he decided instead to visit Wat Tee Pueng Sut Taai. Yesterday had been a wake-up call. Anything could happen. Nothing was safe or certain. All anyone could ever hope to do was improve the odds, increase your  chances of avoiding injury. After downloading a backup disk containing every byte of Primrose-Innovac project data from his Ōkii, he hopped a motorbike taxi. The files were irreplaceable. He realized now that it had been a mistake not to have protected them sooner.

Arriving twenty minutes later, he was told that Sun Shi had already left on his
pai bintha bat
, a task that never varied even for even one day in seven. No matter, the jack-drive would be safe with the wat’s attendant, whom Lyköan knew well, until the abbot’s return. Before leaving, he dropped a hundred baht note in the attendant’s
bat
, placing more faith in human nature than any metaphysical
bun
or merit the generosity might warrant.

Returning to his apartment, he prepared a bowl of oatmeal piled high with sliced
durian
and
mamuang
fruit, allowing the approaching day’s anticipatory anxiety to course through him as he ate. Two hours and he’d be in the spotlight at the Primrose offices. He knew the butterflies would fade the moment he took the stage and fielded the first question, but right now the anxiety were raging.

On the trip to and from the wat, Lyköan had encountered armed military patrols at almost every strategic intersection, even in remote sections of Bangkok, kilometers from downtown and the American embassy. A citywide curfew had been considered and rejected. A string of similar embassy bombings during the past few years seemed to confirm that the target of this most recent attack had once again been America, not the Thai government. The conspicuous military presence today only indicated that the authorities were being vigilant, not that the city’s citizens were in any way vulnerable. That would certainly be the government spin.

Finishing with breakfast, he tossed the geopolitical ruminating aside to concentrate on the day ahead. The necessary signatory release codes were already locked in his Ōkii. Contractual and billing arrangements requiring password input and bank transfer data would start the process, beginning with the release from customs of Innovac’s first containerized shipments from a bonded warehouse at the Port of Bangkok. Jimmy had secured the authorizing codes that would allow for simultaneous excise tax payment and customs inspection. Yesterday’s terrorist attack was unlikely to delay any of those activities since the containers had been prescreened and were already approved for release.

Once released, those five land-sea containers would be moved directly to the Primrose manufacturing facility in Phoa Khlong. Arrangements for riggers, electricians, and the other construction personnel necessary for setup in those temporary quarters had been made weeks ago. Innovac’s London engineers would handle the installation. Lyköan hadn't been informed of the exact contents of the initial shipment. The bill of lading simply read: “electronic and computing components.” They were substantial, however, weighing in at more than fifty gross imperial tonnes.

There were also e-contracts awaiting Primrose and Innovac, authorizations that would initiate the construction of a much larger facility, beginning with the gutting of an existing three-building complex in the Hai Pantip district on the outskirts of the city. That building would eventually house the entire Primrose-Innovac research and manufacturing operation. The purchase and transfer of title or
chanot tidin
would occur after the importation agreement had been approved. Immediately afterwards, demolition and construction work would begin, assuming Innovac approved the blueprints and cost estimates Lyköan had negotiated with the Primrose COO and Thai Phai Construction months ago when he had been told it was the first phase of a long-overdue Primrose expansion plan.

Gordon and Narayan had verbally approved the specs, but Lyköan had been led to believe Pandavas would want to review them before giving the final go-ahead. If weather permitted, the additional twenty-four thousand square meters of new construction would begin at the same time. Excavation and forming of the steel-reinforced foundation footings would require reasonably dry weather which, with the early arrival of the monsoon, could delay the process. Lyköan confidently ticked through the critical details in his head, all of it backed up by the data at his fingertips.

There’ll be no loose gravel on this critical path if I can help it
.
Time to get down to business
.

* * *

With a scattering of tufted clouds floating overhead, Lyköan turned onto the concrete walkway and stopped. It was quarter to nine and already a humid eighty-seven degrees.

Set back some distance from Thanon Bang Kruai, the two-story, unassuming Primrose main building lay half-hidden behind vegetation that had not been manicured in months. That unkempt appearance, Lyköan felt confident, would be tidied up shortly. Innovac, Plc. was not the kind of outfit to keep its lamp hidden under a basket.

The apparent disrepair, however, ended at the front door. Beyond that point, the facility was all state-of-the-art, room after room of modern office and manufacturing space. The building was not new, but the interior was well lit, diffused artificial daylight illuminators everywhere, polished faux-marble floors, seamless walls and textured, sound-absorbing ceilings. Once inside, a smiling receptionist directed him to the main floor conference room near the administrative offices at the front of the building. As he approached, he inhaled a final meditative breath and, switching on his game face, marched through the door.

Inside, an elliptical table was surrounded by bodies, faces both familiar and unfamiliar, one of them completely unexpected, the Thai Minister of Health, in animated conversation with Jimmy and the Primrose lame duck CEO, Apidech Thuandum.

What happened to Thai time this morning, Jimmy
? Lyköan wondered.

All of the Primrose people were here, but no one from Innovac and, surprisingly, no Harry Whitehall. Lyköan began waiing in succession to each occupied seat around the table. Just as he was finishing, Whitehall sauntered through the conference room doors with Gordon, Narayan, and another man and woman in tow. From the intake of breath the entrance received, Lyköan had no doubt about the gentleman stranger’s identity. The woman was gorgeous, an eyeful even under cover of her reserved dark grey business suit.

Whitehall was smiling ear to ear and dressed like the absolute picture of corporate success, but he looked a bit haggard, eyes more sunken, the bags under them puffier than usual. Not a breath before the full-court press began.

“Gentlemen,” Whitehall announced, “in the interest of economy, I’d like to suggest we dispense with protocol and begin by making self-introductions around the table, as soon as the recent arrivals can be seated.” He started the ball rolling with a brief, “My name is Harry Whitehall. I’ve been asked to offer risk management assistance related to the corporate transfer, a minor role really.”

Among other duties as assigned, eh Whitehall?
Lyköan thought, risking a smile. It seemed odd that the purported Primrose-Innovac property and casualty insurance agent was acting as master of ceremonies, but everyone at the table immediately accepted him in this capacity and followed with their own introductions. First, the Primrose executive council stood and introduced themselves, possibly for the final time as rulers of this domain. They might be laying down their scepters, but Lyköan knew they were all walking away much richer men.

The Thai government representatives followed. Minister Intatha first, then his aide, an undersecretary of some sort. Lyköan was surprised the gathering had attracted the attention of an undersecretary, let alone the minister himself. Then Jimmy, dressed to the nines and as flamboyant as the rest of the room was reserved, made a short, effusive declaration.

Lyköan wasn’t listening. His attention had been drawn to Pandavas and the Innovac CEO’s retinue. Like a visiting dignitary, the great man was seated with Gordon to his right and Narayan and the unknown woman on his left. Unintentionally, Lyköan briefly locked eyes with her. She smiled. He smiled back. It was his turn.

“Egan Lyköan, Lyköan Import-Export. I’ll be managing incoming material transfer protocols, customs inspections and excise fees, with the assistance of Mr. Sawadviphachai,” he smiled at Jimmy, “and supervision of the Primrose facility expansion.” What a mouthful. He sat down, relieved as attention shifted to the group from Innovac.

The woman spoke first. “Julie Prentice, international counsel for Innovac Pharma. I’ve been asked to address the legal issues from both corporate and governmental perspectives so you gentlemen can perform your duties unhindered by the fine print.”

It may be a businessman’s world, Lyköan knew, but the lawyers permitted it to operate. Innovac’s attorney probably had as full a plate as anyone at the table. No doubt he would be working with her in some capacity in the days ahead. Not an unpalatable assignment by any means.

Narayan and Gordon came next, leaving Pandavas the final introduction, which was only befitting a corporate king of kings.

“No need to continue the suspense,” he said pleasantly. “Atma Pandavas, Chairman of Innovac Pharma. Thank you all for coming. I appreciate the allowances everyone has made to be here on such short notice. I won’t keep you long – no more than fifteen or twenty minutes, enough time to outline the process that will transfer Primrose Biologics into the able hands of its new managers and their assignees.

“For those of you who have worked so diligently on our behalf without my ever having met with you personally, I assure you, we shall rectify that shortly. Mr. Lyköan and Mr. Sawadviphachai, in particular, as critical members of our briefly tenured Thai staff, I want to personally welcome you aboard.”

He smiled at Lyköan and then Jimmy. Lyköan grinned back with a quick nod. So far, so good.

“Minister Intatha,” Pandavas continued, “considering recent events, I’m honored that you took time from your busy schedule to join us this morning. We at Innovac sincerely intend to work diligently towards building a strong, open relationship with the Thai government. Hopefully that effort can be extended to include developing a genuine, lasting friendship with you personally.”

The minister nodded, smiling self-consciously. Pandavas beamed. Lyköan’s research had placed the Innovac legend’s age at fifty-five, but he looked ten years younger. Well preserved, Lyköan thought. Another awe inspiringly tall, light-skinned Indian. Larger than life. Charismatic. A real force-of-nature presence. In fact, if he had claimed to be Narayan’s only-slightly-older brother, no one would have argued. Another almost perfect physical specimen. Hair either dyed or yet to display the first hint of grey. Lyköan assumed the former. Vain? Certainly. And justifiably so.

Shifting back to Ms. Prentice again, quite taken by her already, he thought he recognized a common theme. If all the Innovac employees were members of the same health club, perhaps his own contract would include membership. 

“After the transfer is complete, we intend to immediately embark upon the next exciting, transformational chapter in the Primrose story. I want to thank you all for your indispensable service and wish each member of the departing Primrose management team every success as you pursue opportunities outside the Innovac family.

“Ms. Prentice and Mr. Lyköan, let’s begin with the work order releases and transfer paperwork, shall we?”

Two hours of an almost mind-numbing mental obstacle course followed – flashing computer screens, clicking keystrokes and printers, whirling lightpens, even a few scratchings of ancient pen and ink on paper. The activating virtual documents circled the globe in an instant, simultaneously binding in Thailand and the UK, and spit out confirming copies and releases at various ministries, banks, customs and clearing houses around the world. Details as precise as the Thai spirit house religious ceremony were included in the blaze of activity, a prerequisite before construction could begin and coinciding with the
charnot tidin
title transfer and groundbreaking for the new manufacturing and research complex. Additional customs documents and authorizations would follow in the coming weeks, but this was the actual transfer of power.