“Like?”
“Many of those who became ill did not develop symptoms until several weeks after the initial cases of the illness. I am not a medical doctor, but it seemed that the illness was spreading, like an infection. Our alphavirus vaccine produces a simple antigen — it cannot spread from person to person. And more importantly, no one in any of the other three villages suffered an illness similar to what occurred at Mayakital.”
“I saw this illness. What I saw isn’t an infection.”
“Well, now we will never know what it was. Mayakital was destroyed by a flood.”
“I heard.” Luke wasn’t ready to reveal the evidence of cold-blooded murder that he’d found at the village. At least not yet.
“You said you took the photograph, the one at the village,” he said.
She nodded. “A few months ago, Kate called me. She wanted me to persuade some of the sick villagers to go to the University Children’s clinic in Santa Lucina. I am not supposed to have any contact with test subjects, but she sounded desperate. I agreed to do it if she would not tell anyone. To be honest, I did not think that I would convince any of the villagers to go to the clinic. Most Mayans living in these remote villages choose to live in seclusion.”
“Even when they’re dying?”
“Sometimes, even then. Most have lived through epidemics of malaria and cholera.” She shrugged. “But Josue Chaca’s mother agreed to take her son to the clinic. Later, I called Kate, told her about the boy, and e-mailed her one of the pictures I had taken at Mayakital. From that point on I do not know what happened.” Her eyes lost focus for a moment. “That was the last time I spoke to Kate.”
Luke now understood Kate’s contacting him on the same day that Josue Chaca arrived in the E.R. She must have monitored the boy’s travels. Kate was fluent in Spanish and could have easily called the clinic in Santa Lucina, using a ruse to learn of his trip to the U.S.
“I still don’t understand how this works,” he said. “You say that your group, the people here, aren’t directly involved in the clinical trials.”
“That is correct.”
“And Kate’s team, the people that analyze the data, are located in your U.S. office.”
She nodded.
“So who administered the vaccines in the villages? And who’s doing the blood tests? I assume you have to collect blood samples to monitor things like titer levels.”
“CHEGAN FOUNDATION. We pay them a fee, and they do the fieldwork for us.”
“Who are they?”
“An international healthcare foundation. They work under a United Nations charter and provide basic healthcare services in several developing countries. They have a contract with the Guatemalan government to provide immunizations in outlying areas. The Health Ministry makes an effort to immunize every person, but it’s just not feasible with their limited resources. Without CHEGAN, the people living in the more remote areas would have virtually no access to healthcare. They make a big contribution, especially to Mayan tribes that are on the bottom of the social ladder.”
“Explain to me what they do, how they work with you.”
“It is a straightforward arrangement. They have medical technicians who visit these villages on a regular basis. Many of their people are trained to draw blood samples, and almost all of their technicians can administer a vaccine. I don’t know the exact financial terms, but we pay them a fee for their services.”
“How do they take delivery of the vaccines, and where do they send the blood samples they collect? How does it work, exactly?”
“We store the malaria vaccine samples here, for quality control reasons, and CHEGAN’s medical technicians pick them up on their way to the villages. When they return, they deliver the blood samples here. Everything coming from, or going to, our U.S. office stops here first. Why?”
“What kind of vehicle do they drive?”
“Vehicle? I am not sure.”
“Think. What type of vehicle?”
Her face was a bundle of puzzlement. “A truck, maybe. But I haven’t paid any attention. Why are you asking about this?”
“Any logo on the side?” Luke pointed at the men on either side of her. “Ask them if they’ve seen the vehicle. Ask them what color it is, and whether there’s a logo on the side.”
She went back and forth with two of the men, then said, “The men from CHEGAN, they drive a tan truck. It has a red symbol on the side. From their description, I think it’s a caduceus.”
The medical caduceus symboclass="underline" two snakes curled around a wooden staff. Close enough to Paco’s red snakes, Luke thought.
“CHEGAN — where are they located? Where’s their office?”
“What?”
“Their office,” he said. “Where is it?”
“Río Dulce. It’s a port city—”
“Pack your things. We’re leaving now.”
46
Calderon stared at the young man standing on the other side of his desk. Despite his anger over the bungled mission — McKenna would flee the forest lab long before he and his men could get there — he took no pleasure in what he was about to do.
The truth was, he had underestimated McKenna. He wouldn’t do that again.
Hector was standing at attention, trembling like a frightened child. He wasn’t much older than a child, Calderon realized for the first time. The young man had been one of his better students at the training center for the Guatemala Special Forces in Poptún. Most of the security force at the CHEGAN site had come from there. They were men disillusioned with their military careers, and easily enticed by the kind of money that he offered them.
Developing a talent pool to draw from was the only reason that Calderon had spent two miserable years in Poptún as a civilian trainer, working alongside corrupt officers who pocketed the money that was supposed to pay for the state-of-the-art equipment his trainees lacked.
“So, Hector,” he began in Spanish, “tell me again why you fired your weapon when you were instructed not to?” Calderon didn’t wait for the answer. “Didn’t Mr. Kong tell you to hold your fire?”
Calderon glanced at the Asian who was standing in the corner of the room with his arms folded across his chest, his eyes indifferent and unblinking.
The young man choked out a response. “I–I thought the sentry was firing at Raoul.”
“I see. So you had a good reason to ignore orders.”
“No, no, I did not mean—”
“You see, I wanted you to wait for me to get there. But instead, McKenna has escaped, and Raoul and Jorge are dead. What am I going to say to their families, Hector?”
“I am sorry, sir. It will never—”
Calderon’s eyes went to the Asian. “And what am I going to say to Hector’s family, Mr. Kong?”
When he looked back at the young man, Calderon’s hands were face up in the manner of a question. Resting in his right palm was a serrated steel blade.
But only for an instant.
Hector’s eyes grew wide when the blade pierced his throat. He stumbled backward, grabbed at the metal haft and pulled the knife from his neck.
But that wasn’t going to help him. His windpipe was already severed. Pulling the knife out only meant that blood would flood into his lungs — he was going to drown rather than suffocate to death.
Calderon watched the young man slump into Mr. Kong’s waiting arms, but his mind was busy replaying his phone conversation earlier that evening with Sammy Wilkes.
It was now or never, Megan realized. If she was going to have any chance of escaping, she had to make her move now. Kaczynski was improving rapidly, his temperature curve receding, his delirium clearing. He had responded after only thirty hours of penicillin, more quickly than she had anticipated.