Page 2 of Viral Justice

“But, do you understand the pressure we’re all under?” Franz turned to him, suddenly intent. “We can’t fight a war against an enemy we can’t see. Your proposal is simply too expensive.”

“We’re facing a new era of biological weapons.” Max made direct eye contact with him. “Weapons that are in the hands of people who can and will use them against any target they choose.”

“We can’t arbitrarily begin a counteroffensive against an enemy we aren’t aware of yet,” Franz replied. “We have to have more information, more proof than two isolated incidents.”

Had hereadthe reports? “Akbar isn’t an incident. He’s a mass murderer who’s just getting started. Treating the sick after the fact is what’ll be expensive. You can’t just ignore the problem because no one is sure how to pay for it.”

“What I’m saying is, where do we start?” Franz spread his hands in a conciliatory gesture that didn’t fool Max for a second. “Which do you feel is more important, training existing medical staff, or increasing staff numbers in both military and civilian medical aid groups in Africa and the Middle East? We can’t afford to do both.”

Max held on to his temper with both hands. Stone was right. Franz had already made up his mind.

He had maybe ten more minutes to make his case before they arrived at their destination. Once there, he’d have to repeat his arguments to healthcare leaders from all over Europe, Africa, the Middle East, and Asia. Franz had probably thought he was going to catch Max by surprise by asking the question now, but Max had been considering solutions to the problem of worldwide infectious disease control for a long time. Ten minutes might just be enough time to change the German’s thinking.

There were other delegates in the vehicles in front and behind them, along with a military escort to keep trouble at bay. The decisions about to be made at this meeting would have a long reach, and there were many groups, extremists of one sort or another, who would do their best to disrupt and destroy any agreements or resolutions.

Max answered without hesitation. “Both.” He met his German counterpart’s gaze squarely. “If Akbar and Ebola have taught us anything, it’s that no one country, or even a few countries, can handle a large outbreak alone. There will be a domino effect and the resulting chaos will take even more lives. When the Spanish flu circulated the world one hundred years ago, it took a year and a half to make the trip. Now, it might take a week.” Max shook his head. “We can’t afford to do the minimum, Franz. There’s no time to build the support systemafterthe next deadly outbreak occurs.”

“But the cost...”

“The current cost of Ebola is estimated to be two point two billion dollars. That’s just monetary. We lost a lot of doctors, nurses and other healthcare workers too. It’s going to take years for Guinea, Liberia, and Sierra Leone to replace those people. If they get hit by a second wave, or a new infection, they’ve got no more than a skeleton crew to handle it. Which means it won’t be handled. It’ll be chaos.” Max shook his head. “With the Middle East hemorrhaging refugees into Europe, no one is in a position to help without a lot of prep time.”

“We can’t afford the plan you propose—” Franz began.

Max cut him off with a diagonal slash of his hand. “Then help me find another way.”

The German sighed. “I agree with you on principle, but without an imminent threat, my government won’t agree to spend that much time and money on an event that might never happen.”

Their vehicle slowed and the soldier driving it yelled back to them, “We’ve got an accident in front of us, sirs. I’ll have to take another route.”

“That’s fine, Corporal.” Max turned to Franz, determined to see the German’s not-quite-no as an almost-yes. “We start with a framework, an infrastructure—”

Shots and yelling from outside the vehicle cut him off. Their driver stomped on the brakes.

“What’s going on?” Max demanded.

The young soldier never had the chance to answer.

The vehicle in front of them exploded.

For a long moment, the world disintegrated into white noise.

Slowly, his vision and hearing returned. But nothing made sense. Smoke obscured everything, and there was such an uproar of shouting and sirens, he wasn’t even sure where he was.

Another, much smaller explosion farther away pulled him back into focus. Their vehicle was damaged—how badly wasn’t clear—and the way ahead was impassable.

He turned to ask Franz if he was all right and found the German slumped against the seat, blood dripping from his head.

Blood doesn’t flow when you’re dead.

He put his fingers on Franz’s carotid pulse and found it strong and steady.

Thank God.

Flames from the front of their vehicle caught his attention. They weren’t safe yet.

He kicked his door open, then dragged Franz out and back down the street several feet. He went back for the driver, but the young man’s head was all but disarticulated from his body by a piece of twisted metal.

Son of a bitch.

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