bottle?”
She read it off, and he hesitated a moment, and then said he would need to check their records and call her back. He signaled the waitress and ordered the bill without finishing, hurrying back to the Institute. Something about the number baffled him. It didn’t seem to be from the sequences they’d established years ago at the Institute -- not the sequences for treatment drugs.
He drove too fast for the rain-slicked road in the dark. The windshield wipers were on their fastest speed, but the downpour was gaining intensity. Everything was black. The road blended with the brush alongside, and the white line disappeared under the glimmering sheet of black ahead. He was compelled, something resonated from his discussion with Abagael; something wasn’t right. He knew it was the number, but he wasn’t sure what it was that was wrong. Something had gone desperately wrong, but what was it? He’d been at GHI since the beginning, since he, Charlie and Lorne had pooled their resources to start the Institute. They’d worked for years after starting the Institute to earn the certifications and get procedures in place that were fail-safe.
He skidded to a stop in the parking lot, slightly askew between lines on the pavement and rushed rain-soaked into the lobby, passing the guard who was trying to enforce their sign-in policy. Jules could be abrupt and terrifying in certain moods and the guard was keen enough to back off. In moments, Jules was at his computer terminal pounding on the keys. No other people were in the executive offices that late at night. He logged into the ERP system – Enterprise Resource Planning – that kept track of all information related to their inventories. The number that Abagael had provided was not in the records.
His hand shook as he picked up the desk phone receiver and tried to remember Matt Hanson’s mobile phone number. He slammed it down in frustration and used his iPhone. It went to voice mail. “Matt, we have a problem. Call me; we need to talk, ASAP. Better yet, get your ass in here so we can figure something out.” His anxiety began taking hold of him. His hands shook, and he was seeing spots in his vision. Then his mobile phone rang.
It was Matt. “Jules, what’s wrong? I’ve never heard you like this before. You sure I need to come in? Jill and me are out at dinner; it’s our anniversary. Is it something that I can do over the phone?”
“Matt, I’m on this damn system of yours, and I can’t find a sample number.”
Matt spoke in a muffled tone, “Ah, Jules, did you check the shipping manifest? Maybe we forgot to enter everything.”
“What! Forgot! Are you a lunatic? We don’t ‘forget’ anything at GHI. Aren’t you the senior admin guru around here? Besides, if you ‘forgot’ something it would still show up somewhere. If you ship something, it deletes from inventory. If you don’t ship it, it still shows up. So, what is it? Is this thing on some notepad somewhere, and not entered in the system? If that’s true, then the inventory would still show it. If it’s not in the inventory records anymore, then it shows up in the shipping log and invoice register, but it isn’t there either.”
Matt wasn’t aware that Jules actually knew how the system worked. He’d never shown any interest in the past. “Jules, I’m sure it’s locatable. Can’t I just enjoy an evening out with my wife and figure it out in the morning?”
“Look, Matt, I don’t think you understand. There are people in Africa right now exposed to this stuff. It could be a life or death situation.” He began thinking about the impact on their sale price if this made the news. “Please, get your ass in here!” As an afterthought, he added, “And apologize to Jill for me.”
Matt looked across the table at his wife. He’d planned this special night weeks ago and had arranged the perfect table, located at a window overlooking the ocean. They had just ordered their main course and finished their second glass of red wine. He looked at her and could see that she already anticipated his words. “Jill, I…”
She interrupted, leaning forward so others couldn’t hear. “Shit, Matt. You work your ass off at the Institute, and the one night we want to spend together without that Hitler on your back, he still gets between us.” She wasn’t crying; she was just mad as hell, and the mood of the evening had soured.
He tried to take her hand, but she recoiled. “Jill, I’m not going to rush out of here for him, not this time. I’m going to sit right here and enjoy our meal together. Besides, he doesn’t know if we’re just down town or clear up in Delaware. Hell, I’ll just make something up.”
She didn’t smile. “So, we just eat, and you run to papa, is that it?”
Their meals arrived, and he didn’t answer. They didn’t talk again until it was time for desert. When the desert cart arrived, she didn’t consult with him, but said they were done and asked for the bill. Their special evening was destroyed.
Jules paced. He couldn’t stand being alone in the office with nobody to boss around, not with something this important. Abagael was stranded in a potentially dangerous situation and needed his help. Twenty minutes went by, and he was about to call Matt again when Irina Petronova came rushing into his office. “Jules, what’s wrong. Matt called me and said you needed help with our system. You know that I have the most understanding of it. What is the problem?”
He sighed. “Irina, there’s a shipment in Africa that has been shot up. Our WHO contact, Dr. Abagael Van Acker, is there and gave me this number (he showed it to her). This vial was damaged and there has been exposure. I’m not sure, but it looks like a virus sample, but I can’t find it in the system. I can’t tell if it shipped? It shouldn’t have shipped outside GHI. Matt says it might just not have been deleted from our system, in error. How could that be?”
He started to say more, but slumped back into his chair when she took over his computer keyboard. After about five minutes of methodically searching through several files, Irina didn’t have an answer either. Her Russian accent grew stronger. “Look, Jules. I think she must be mistaken. The number must be damaged.”
He was incredulous. “What are you saying, Irina? It’s a complete number. Look at the sequencing. It’s our numbering system. How could she make a mistake? This is a complete number, and it’s not like any others. This is a live virus!”
She looked stern, but had no answer. “Then it is a mistake somewhere. What am I to say?”
He started thinking about the sale of the Institute. “Mistake! MISTAKE! We can’t have mistakes here! Look Irina, we gave you the biggest stock option of all employees. You deserved it, and, we owners all agreed that your models were our most valuable asset. You could make a fortune when we sell. How can you be casual about this? It could be a live virus. Do you know how many laws and regulations could be broken? Do you know what this could mean?”
She remained unflustered. “Nevertheless, Jules, there is nothing we can do from here.” He didn’t answer. She just turned and walked away, back to her office. She had nothing planned for the evening, like all of her evenings. Internally, she was mad as hell, but she wasn’t going to let Jules see her that way. How could this get so screwed up! She wanted to scream.
Jules needed answers. He needed them now, but his two top system experts couldn’t help. What the hell is going on?
He was frustrated, but needed to give Abagael answers; she could be in danger if anyone had come into direct contact with the suspect vial. If someone touched anything and washed hands, the virus could be in the water supply or on anything else that was touched. He had to prevent anything from reaching the press if the vial contained what he suspected.
He dialed frantically. After only one ring, she answered, sounding flustered. The reaction from the ambush was setting in. She’d felt threatened before, but had never had anyone actually shoot at her. In past encounters, she was always between warring factions and could claim neutrality on humanitarian grounds. It had always worked before. This time was different. These men wanted to rob them. Her team had nearly lost their lives. She was sure of it.
Some of the other doctors, with less African experience, were so terrified they still couldn’t speak. She had to keep them all together and isolate the truck until Jules called back.
She felt hopeful when his number appeared in her display. “Jules! Tell me what we’ve got. What should I be doing next?” He could hear her frantic appeal for help, and then he heard something else, gunfire! The phone resonated with a distant echo then yelling and more gunfire.
Jules yelled. “Abagael! What’s happening? Abagael!” It was silent on the other end. He thought he could hear the sound of footsteps, and men using a language he couldn’t understand. He pressed the end button and sat silently, unsure what to do next.
International News
It was barely a filler item in the morning news. Armed bandits had attacked a UN sponsored medical mission to Sierra Leone. Four people had been killed, including three doctors from the World Health Organization. No further information was available. Jules and Charlie watched in horror as pictures from the scene were shown on the