She thought about it. "No. I think it's much more likely that Badri caught it from someone at that dance in Headington. There may have been New Hindus there, or Earthers, or someone else who doesn't believe in antivirals or modern medicine. The Canadian goose flu of 2010, if you'll remember, was traced back to a Christian Science commune. There's a source. We'll find it."
"And what about Kivrin in the meantime? What if you don't find the source by the rendezvous? Kivrin's supposed to come back on the sixth of January. Will you have it sourced by then?"
"I don't know," she said wearily. "She may not want to come back to a century that's rapidly becoming a ten. She may want to stay in 1320."
If she's in 1320, he thought, and went up to see Badri. He had not mentioned rats since Christmas night. He was back to the afternoon at Balliol when he had come looking for Dunworthy. "Laboratory?" he murmured when he saw Dunworthy. He tried feebly to hand him a note, and then seemed to sink into sleep, exhausted by the effort.
He stayed only a few minutes and then went to see Gilchrist.
It was raining hard again by the time he reached Brasenose. The gaggle of picketers were huddling underneath their banner, shivering.
The porter was standing at the lodge desk, taking the decorations off the little Christmas tree. He glanced up at Dunworthy and looked suddenly alarmed. Dunworthy walked past him and through the gate.
"You can't go in there, Mr. Dunworthy," the porter called after him. "The college is restricted."
Dunworthy walked into the quad. Gilchrist's rooms were in the building behind the laboratory. He hurried toward them, expecting the porter to catch up to him and try to stop him.
The laboratory had a large yellow sign on it that read "No Admittance Without Authorization," and an electronic alarm attached to the jamb.
"Mr. Dunworthy," Gilchrist said, striding toward him through the rain. The porter must have phoned him. "The laboratory is off-limits."
"I came to see you," Dunworthy said.
The porter came up, trailing a tinsel garland. "Shall I phone for the University police?" he asked.
"That won't be necessary. Come up to my rooms," he said to Dunworthy. "I have something I want you to see."
He led Dunworthy into his office, sat down at his cluttered desk, and put on an elaborate mask with some sort of filters.
"I've just spoken to the WIC," he said. His voice sounded hollow, as if it were coming from a great distance. "The virus is a previously unsequenced virus whose source is unknown."
"It's been sequenced now," Dunowrthy said, "and the analogue and vaccine are due to arrive in a few days. Dr. Ahrens has arranged for Brasenose to be given immunization priority, and I'm attempting to locate a tech who can read the fix as soon as immunization has been completed."
"I'm afraid that's impossible," Gilchrist said hollowly. "I've been conducting research into the incidence of influenza in the 1300's. There are clear indications that a series of influenza epidemics in the first half of the fourteenth century severely weakened the populace, thereby lowering their resistance to the Black Death."
He picked up an ancient-looking book. I have found six separate references to outbreaks between October of 1318 and February of 1321." He held up a book and began to read. "'After the harvest there came upon all of Dorset a fever so fierce as to leave many dead. This fever began with an aching in the head and confusion in all the parts. The doctors bled them, but many died in despite.'"
A fever. In an age of fevers — typhoid and cholera and measles, all of them producing "aching of the head and confusion in all the parts."
"1319. The Bath Assizes for the previous year were cancelled," Gilchrist said, holding up another book. "'A malady of the chest that fell upon the court so that none, nor judge nor jury, were left to hear the cases,'" Gilchrist said. He looked at Dunworthy over the mask. "You stated that the public's fears over the net were hysterical and unfounded. It would seem, however, that they are based in solid historical fact."
Solid historical fact. References to fevers and maladies of the chest that could be anything, blood poisoning or typhus or any of a hundred nameless infections. All of which was beside the point.
"The virus cannot have come through the net," he said. "Drops have been made to the Pandemic, to World War I battles in which mustard gas was used, to Tel Aviv. Twentieth Century sent detection equipment to the site of St. Paul's two days after the pinpoint was dropped. Nothing comes through."
"So you say." He held up a printout. "Probability indicates a .003 per cent possibility of a microorganism being transmitted through the net and a 22.1 per cent chance of a viable myxovirus being within the critical area when the net was opened."
"Where in God's name do you get these figures?" Dunworthy said. "Pull them out of a hat? According to Probability," he said, putting a nasty emphasis on the word, "there was only a .04 per cent chance of anyone's being present when Kivrin went through, a possibility you considered statistically insignificant."
"Viruses are exceptionally sturdy organisms," Gilchrist said. "They have been known to lie dormant for long periods of time, exposed to extremes of temperature and humidity, and still be viable. Under certain conditions they form crystals which retain their structure indefinitely. When put back into solution they become infective again. Viable tobacco mosaic crystals have been found dating from the sixteenth century.
"There is clearly a significant risk of the virus's penetrating the net if opened, and under the circumstances I cannot possibly allow the net to be opened."
"The virus cannot have come through the net," Dunworthy said.
"Then why are you so anxious to have the fix read?"
"Because — " Dunworthy said, and stopped to get control of himself. "Because reading the fix will tell us whether the drop went as planned or whether something went wrong."
"Oh, you'll admit there's a possibility of error then?" Gilchrist said. "Then why not an error that would allow a virus through the net? As long as that possibility exists, the laboratory will remain locked. I'm certain Mr. Basingame will approve of the course of action I've taken."
Basingame, Dunworthy thought, that's what this is all about. It has nothing to do with the virus or the protesters or 'maladies of the chest' in 1318. This is all to justify himself to Basingame.
Gilchrist was Acting Head in Basingame's absence, and he had rushed through the reranking, rushed through a drop, intending no doubt to present Basingame with a brilliant fait accompli. But he hadn't got it. Instead, he'd got an epidemic and a lost historian and people picketing the college, and now all he cared about was vindicating his actions, saving himself even though it meant sacrificing Kivrin.
"What about Kivrin? Does Kivrin approve of your course of action?" he said.
"Ms. Engle was fully aware of the risks when she volunteered to go to 1320," Gilchrist said.
"Was she aware you intended to abandon her?"
"This conversation is over, Mr. Dunworthy." Gilchrist stood up. "I will open the laboratory when the virus has been sourced, and it has been proven to my satisfaction that there is no chance it came through the net."
He showed Dunworthy to the door. The porter was waiting outside.
"I have no intention of allowing you to abandon Kivrin," Dunworthy said.
Gilchrist crimped his lips under the mask. "And I have no intention of allowing you to endanger the health of this community." He turned to the porter. "Escort Mr. Dunworthy to the gate. If he attempts to enter Brasenose again, telephone the police." He slammed the door.
The porter walked Dunworthy across the quad, watching him warily, as if he thought he might turn suddenly dangerous.