Pandemic

After exchanging brief pleasantries, Aziz and Sabri toured Kabaal through the facility. They started in the main building on the second floor, which once was a large open hospital ward and had since been divided into a series of offices and storage rooms. When they reached a set of sealed metal doors leading to a locked area, Aziz jabbed a stubby finger at them and said, "Subject evaluation." Kabaal did not require further explanation to know what went on behind the doors.

Aziz led Kabaal and Sabri down a different set of stairs from which they had come up. They walked out of the stairwell, through a small corridor, and into a large open laboratory on the main floor of the annex. The room buzzed. Everyone was in motion. No one stopped to acknowledge the visitors. White-coated technicians busied themselves at computers and workstations. Others worked under vented lab hoods, their arms slipping through holes in the glass and into long, orange rubber gloves that allowed them to manipulate the test tubes and containers inside without risking self-contamination.

Following Aziz around the makeshift virology lab, Kabaal tried to digest the stream of rapid-fire information, but much of the jargon-laden explanations sailed over his head. Still, he felt giddy, delighting in the technological trappings his money had assembled. Centrifuges, freezers, incubators, vented lab stations, and computers were everywhere. The sight filled Kabaal with a sense of purpose. Silently he thanked Allah for choosing him for the pivotal mission.

After finishing the tour, Aziz, Sabri, and Kabaal met in Aziz's office on the second floor. Aside from the wooden desk and chairs, two bookshelves stuffed with medical texts, and the prayer rug covering a small portion of the tile floor, the room was empty to the point of austere. Aziz insisted that Kabaal assume the seat behind the desk. The scientist took the chair across from him, but Sabri remained standing.

Hazzir Kabaal made a circular waving gesture with a finger, indicating the complex. "Dr. Anwar, Major Abdul, I am most impressed by what you have accomplished here."

Sabri nodded distantly while Aziz kept his eyes fixed on the tabletop and shrugged, either embarrassed by or indifferent to Kabaal's praise.

"How are the experiments proceeding?" Kabaal asked.

"So far very promising, Abu Lahab." Aziz called Kabaal by his Arabic honorific that literally meant "father of the flame, a reference to his handsome features.

"Promising?"

"Our facilities have been more than adequate to preserve the virus," Aziz said, his eyes never leaving the desktop. "The original Asian serum samples have not lost any of their infective potential."

Kabaal shrugged. "I am sorry, good doctor. 'Serum'?"

"Serum is what is left of the blood once you remove the cells and clotting factors, Abu Lahab," Aziz explained. "So far, we have injected eight subjects with the serum of the original Chinese patient."

"Subjects," Kabaal repeated, realizing that Aziz meant his own men. "And?"

"Every one of them has acquired some degree of infection."

"How many are dead?"

"Two."

Kabaal nodded solemnly. "And the others?" he asked, willing away the twinges of doubt.

"Four have recovered fully. To be truthful, three showed only a slight increase in temperature but otherwise had little more than colds. And two others are still symptomatic but showing signs of recovery."

Kabaal leaned back in his chair, ignoring the tip of the screw that pressed into his back. "So, this virus kills twenty-five percent of those infected?"

Aziz's head shot up and his eyes fixed on Kabaal's. "We don't have close to enough of a sample size to make that assertion. Besides, we have selection bias. We've only infected healthy men, ages seventeen to twenty-nine. We do not know what effect it would have on the rest of the population."

"Of course, Doctor." Kabaal waved away the scientist's quibble. "But it is safe to say that early figures suggest one in four young adults would die from this infection."

"That's what the very preliminary results would suggest," Aziz hedged.

"You have had no problem passing the infection through blood," Kabaal said. "But what about through the air. In the…" He struggled for the words.

"Respiratory droplets," Aziz offered.

"Yes," Kabaal said.

"This virus is not smallpox." Aziz sighed, sounding almost disappointed. "I would classify it as only moderately contagious."

Kabaal leaned forward again. "Can you elaborate, Dr. Anwar?"

Aziz chewed his lower lip, thinking. "We chose an index case who was at day two of symptomatic infection, when we estimated he was carrying the highest viral load—" When Kabaal shrugged, Aziz explained further. "When we assumed him to be most infective. We put this man who was actively coughing in a room roughly the size of a large elevator with ten other subjects for thirty minutes. Three days later, only two of the subjects showed signs of infection."

"Allah be praised." Kabaal smiled.