Unlike her.
She stared at the wall ahead of her. Someone had stuck a sign up: “NORMAL PEOPLE DON’T PHONE THE DPA.”
Never a truer word was said. The phone next to her started ringing. She bent forward and automatically picked it up. It would be a long day.
Four hours later she’d spoken to three health officials, crazy bat lady—who phoned every day—two over-anxious school teachers, five members of the public, and two teenagers who’d obviously been dared by their friends to ring up. Right now all she could think about was a large cappuccino and a banana and toffee muffin.
Her stomach grumbled loudly as she lifted the phone when it rang again. “DPA, Callie Turner, can I help you?”
“This is Matt Sawyer at Chicago General. I’ve got two kids with suspected smallpox.”
She sat up instantly as her brain scrambled to make sense of the words. All thoughts of the muffin vanishing instantly. This had to be a joke. But the voice didn’t sound like that of a teenager, it sounded like an adult.
“Well, aren’t you going to say anything?” He sounded angry. Patience obviously wasn’t his strong point.
She took a deep breath. “Smallpox has been eradicated. It’s no longer a naturally occurring disease, Mr. Sawyer.”
“Listen, honey, you can call me Doctor. Dr. Matt Sawyer. Ringing any bells yet?”
She frowned. Matt Sawyer? The name seemed familiar. Who was he? And why was he speaking to her like that? She put her hand over the receiver and hissed at Maisey. “Hey, who’s Matt Sawyer?”
Maisey’s eyes widened instantly, the disbelief on her face obvious. She skidded her wheeled chair across the room next to Callie. “You’re joking, right?”
Callie shook her head and pointed to the phone.
Maisey bent forward and pulled the phone away from her ear, replacing it with her mouth. “Outbreak, dead pregnant wife, disappeared off the map.”
The pieces of the puzzle started to fall into place and become vaguely familiar. Of course. She had heard of this guy. In fact, everyone in the DPA had heard of this guy. He was like a dark, looming legend. But it had been way before her time.
Her training and natural instincts kicked in. There was a protocol for this. She pushed her chair under the desk and pulled up a screen on her computer. “Hi, Dr. Sawyer. Let’s go through this.”
The algorithm had appeared in front of her, telling her exactly what questions to ask, why and when. She started to take some notes.
“You said you’re at Chicago General. Whereabouts in the hospital are you?”
She could almost hear him sigh. “The ER.”
“What are the symptoms?”
“Two kids, returned from Somalia a few days ago. Ages six and seven. Very sick. Febrile, uniform red spots mainly on their faces, forearms, palms and soles. A few on their trunks. Low blood pressure, tachycardic, swollen glands.”
She was typing furiously. Somalia. The last known place to have a natural outbreak of smallpox. It did seem coincidental.
But there were a whole host of other diseases this could be. She started to speak. “Dr. Sawyer, have you considered chicken pox, herpes, scabies, impetigo—”
“Stop it.”
“What?”
“I know you’re reading from the list. I’ve considered all those things. It’s none of them. Check your emails.” He sounded exasperated with her.
“What do you mean?”
“Lady, do I have to tell you everything twice? Check your emails. I just sent you some photos. Have you ever seen spots like that?”
She clicked out of the algorithm and into her emails. Sure enough, there it was. Everyone in the DPA had a generic email address starting with their full name. He was obviously familiar enough with the system to know that. There was no message. She opened the attached photos.
Wow.
The phone was still at her ear and she moved her face closer to the screen to examine the red spots. No. She hadn’t seen anything like that before—except in a textbook.
“Show the photo to Callum Ferguson,” the low voice growled in her ear.
Callum Ferguson. The only person in their team who’d actually been through the last smallpox outbreak. The only person who’d seen the spots for real. Only someone who’d worked here would know something like that. This phone call was definitely no hoax.
“Give me two minutes.” She crossed the room in big strides, throwing open the door to the briefing room where the ebola team was assembling.
“Callum, I need you to take a look at something urgently.”
“Kind of busy in here, Callie.” The large Scotsman looked up from the floor, where he was packing things into a backpack. Callum was well past retirement age but nothing seemed to slow him down, and his age and experience made him invaluable on the outbreak team.
She lowered her voice, trying to avoid the glare coming across the room from Donovan.
“It’s Matt Sawyer on the phone. He needs you to look at something.”
Callum looked as though he’d just seen a ghost. His hands froze above his pack. He started to stutter, “Wh-what?”
She nodded and he stood up wordlessly and followed her out of the room.
In the few seconds she had been away from her seat, everything had changed. Her boss, Evan Hunter, was standing in front of her computer, staring at her screen, his two deputies and Maisey at his side. The phone receiver was still lying on the desk.
No one spoke. They just moved out of Callum’s way as he reached the screen. His heavy frame dropped into Callie’s chair and he glided under her desk.
“Well?”
Evan Hunter wasn’t renowned for wasting time. The scowl on his face was fierce and made Callie raise her eyebrows. Hadn’t someone told her there had been no love lost between him and Matt Sawyer in the past?
Callum, normally red faced, looked pale. He turned to Evan Hunter and nodded. “I’m sure. I never thought I’d see this again,” he whispered.
Everything around them erupted.
Evan pressed his hand on Callum’s shoulder. “You’re off the ebola team. This is yours—it couldn’t possibly be anyone else’s, seeing as Matt Sawyer is involved. You’re the only one who’s ever managed to assert any control over that loose cannon. I want you all over him. Pick your team.” He looked at his watch. “It’ll take ninety minutes to fly to Chicago. I want you packed and ready to go inside four hours.”
He turned and swept out the room, his deputies scurrying after him. Callie was shaken. Had this really just happened?
Callum’s voice continued in low tones on the phone. He wasn’t even looking at the algorithm she’d pulled up on the screen. His eyes were still fixed on the photo.
“You’re sure there’s no possibility that this could be intentional—a biological terrorist attack?” He was scribbling notes as he listened. There were a few more mumbled questions before he replaced the receiver.
“Was it him? Was it definitely Sawyer?” Maisey looked fit to burst.
Callum nodded. “It was him.” He stood up slowly, obviously still in thought. “I guess that means he’s all right, then.” He touched Callie’s arm. “Get ready, Dr. Turner. This could be the experience of a lifetime.”
“I’m on the team?” She could barely contain her excitement. It was only made slightly better by the look of disgust on Donovan’s face over the other side of the room.
Callum smiled at her. “You know the rules, Callie. You took the call—of course you’re on the team.”
“I’ll be ready in half an hour. Let me get the updated plans.” She rushed off, her heart thumping in her chest.
First official day on the job and she was on the outbreak team investigating an apparently eradicated disease. Isabel would have loved this.
&nb
sp; * * *
Callie shoved her bag in the overhead locker and sat down next to Callum. Everything was happening so fast. She hadn’t even had time to think.
The doors of the plane were already closed and they were starting to taxi down the runway. The cabin crew was already in their seats—the safety announcement forgotten. The normal rules of aviation didn’t seem to apply today.
This was the biggest team she’d ever been part of. There had to be around thirty people on this plane. Other doctors, epidemiologists, case interviewers, contact tracers, admin personnel and, most worrying, security.
Callum had the biggest pile of paperwork she’d ever seen. He was checking things off the list. “Vaccines—check. Protocols—check. N95 filtered masks—check. Symptom list—check. Algorithm—check. Three-hundred-page outbreak plan...” his thumb flicked the edges of the thick document “...check.”