“Thank you, Madam Deputy Director. I’ll let Dr. Randolph know.”
“I’m not finished,” she barked. “Also, please inform Dr. Randolph that she’s to return to Atlanta post haste and that under no circumstances is she to have any conversations with the media. Understood?”
“Is she being sidelined?”
“No, not necessarily. But let’s face it. She’s a lightning rod now. We need her out of the hot zone.”
“Is she confined to the campus?”
“No. She can continue to work on this outbreak. I just want her out of Las Vegas.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
The deputy director wasn’t finished. “One more thing, Dr. Reitherman. Keep her on a short leash.”
He gulped for the second time during the meeting. Dr. Harper Randolph wouldn’t stand for any leash, much less a short one.
Chapter Nine
Underground Great Wall
Urumqi, Xinjiang, China
Dr. Zeng and his wife took up residency in a small karez, sleeping among the young people who worked tirelessly to gather information. Within the larger cavern beneath the hospital, a war room of sorts was created for him to work. Information was received from around China, reviewed and cross-checked for accuracy, and then analyzed by Dr. Zeng. Another puzzling message had just come in from Lhasa although this time its encryption was more sophisticated than the first one.
Fangyu stood and retrieved his laptop off a box. He approached his uncle, who had been given his own desk, chair, and laptop computer. An enterprising young woman had even managed to hack into his office computer located on the fifth floor of the hospital above him.
Fangyu opened it and turned it around so his uncle could view the screen. “This is the new message we’ve received from Lhasa. I want you to see it for yourself and let me explain the encryption.”
“Yes, please. It is mixed with gibberish.”
“That is true, but their capabilities have improved. So you know, several of us have compared it to the first message to look for similarities, or common markers. We must be careful to disregard the government’s own disinformation being spread across the social media platforms.”
First, Fangyu showed his uncle a series of photographs from inside the People’s Hospital. One video depicted a body left under a blanket outside the emergency ward entrance. Just inside the doors, a dead man was propped up on a wheelchair, head hanging down and face deathly pale.
The physician who took the video had covered his head with a surgeon’s cap, a mask and dark sunglasses. He turned the camera to himself and spoke, his voice trembling with emotion and tears dripping below the sunglasses.
“I am scared for myself and my coworkers. We have the virus all around us, and on our backs, we have the legal and administrative power of the government.”
He paused for a moment to look around the room where he was hiding, and then he continued. “I vow to continue my efforts to save patients, but I will also continue to provide the truth to anyone who will listen for as long as I am alive. Death doesn’t scare me. Do you think I am afraid of the Communist Party?”
“Very powerful,” commented Dr. Zeng. “How do you know this is the People’s Hospital?”
Fangyu replied, “Our friends in Lhasa recognized the entrance. One of them is a nurse in the hospital. She has studied the portions of the man’s face that are showing and cannot make an identification. However, she did say the room in which he was filming was not part of the hospital.”
“How does she know this?” asked Dr. Zeng.
“The walls,” responded Fangyu. He pointed to the screen. “Do you see the stainless steel? Our contacts say this does not exist in the People’s Hospital.”
“Where, then?”
“We don’t know yet. We are looking for clues.”
“Why don’t you just ask him?”
“We don’t wish to frighten him away, and for now, it is not necessary.”
Dr. Zeng stood from his chair and wandered toward the chalkboard that was created by taking three partial sheets of plywood and painting them with chalkboard paint. The furnishings in the Underground Great Wall were almost always scraps and cast asides from above.
He studied the reported cases and pointed toward Lhasa. The numbers were disproportionately higher than Urumqi.
“The answers are here,” he said as he circled Lhasa several times with his chalk.
“Then we should plan on going to Tibet,” offered Fangyu.
“Not yet, nephew. We must learn more about this doctor who is willing to risk his life to provide us this information. We must determine if there is a connection between him and the helicopter pilot who died.”
“Yes, Uncle. I will work on that personally.”
Dr. Zeng appeared pensive, prompting his nephew to approach him and place his arm around the much shorter man’s shoulders.
“Uncle, there is more to your concern. Am I correct?”
“This is only the beginning. Soon, the CDC will begin the cover-up, and that means doctors and nurses will be put at great risk. I must warn them.”
“We are. Through our posts.”
“It is not enough. I must explain in great detail what I know, and what my experience has been in the last week. Only then will the medical community understand they are at risk.”
“I will help you. With the proper encryption, we can—”
“No!” Dr. Zeng was forceful in his outburst, drawing the attention of the citizen journalists working nearby. “I will not hide any longer. I must tell the truth as I know it, or I will be forever nailed on the pillar of shame.”
Chapter Ten
Gold Palace Hotel
Fremont Street Experience
Downtown Las Vegas, Nevada
Harper and her team were getting antsy. It was after four o’clock that morning and almost an hour since she’d received the cavalry is coming text. She’d tried several times to call the person who’d sent her the message, but the result was always the same—a full voicemail box. Whoever it was, she lamented, needed to get better organized.
“What happens if we just throw open the doors and bum-rush out of here?” asked Becker as she strode toward the exit with her hands balled up in fists.
Harper was deep in thought, so Becker’s question caught her off guard. “Bum-rush?”
“Yeah, you know. Plow right through those guys and make a run for the casino exits.”
Harper chuckled. Becker had consumed the last of the Diet Cokes, her beverage of choice. They might have been diet, but they were not, however, caffeine-free.
“Are you gonna lead the way?”
Becker bowed up. “I’m not afraid. They’re not going to shoot us.”
“They might,” one of the epidemiologists countered.
Becker stared at the doors separating them from captivity and perceived freedom. “Nah, they won’t. Those guys don’t wanna be here any more than we do. I say we go for it.”
“No, Becker. Let’s give the cavalry, whoever that might be, a chance to—”