Page 15 of Outbreak Protocol
Aleksandr finishes setting up communication equipment and secure data transmission capabilities. "We need immediate contact with ECDC headquarters and WHO alert networks. This situation requires international coordination."
As my team establishes our operational base, I find myself watching Felix organize patient files and prepare for evening rounds. His dedication is evident in every action—the careful attention to detail, the gentle way he handles documents containing patient information, the underlying sense of urgency tempered by clinical professionalism.
But there's something else I notice, something that has nothing to do with professional competence or epidemiological expertise. The way he explains complex medical concepts with unconscious elegance, how his hazel eyes shift from green to brown when he becomes animated about his work, the quiet authority he maintains despite institutional opposition to his efforts.
I force my attention back to the growing evidence spread across our makeshift command centre. Sarah's viral database searches, Yuki's transmission models, Aleksandr's containment protocols, and Felix's meticulously documented case histories all point toward the same conclusion: Hamburg is experiencing theearly stages of what could become a significant infectious disease outbreak.
The next few hours will determine whether we can identify the pathogen, implement effective control measures, and prevent local transmission from becoming regional spread. But success depends on institutional cooperation that has been notably absent so far.
As if reading my thoughts, Felix approaches my workstation. "Dr. Lindqvist, I want to thank you for taking my reports seriously. I know contacting ECDC directly was irregular, but—"
"Dr. Müller, you did exactly what responsible physicians should do when faced with unusual disease patterns. Your documentation and epidemiological analysis are exemplary."
His expression shows visible relief. "I've been wondering if I was seeing patterns that weren't there, if my concerns were justified or if I was overreacting to coincidental cases. Hartmann's opposition had me questioning my own judgement more than once."
"Your instincts were correct about everything—the case clustering, transmission patterns, and potential severity. The only error was institutional failure to respond appropriately. You did everything right, and now we're here to help."
We stand close enough that I catch the subtle scent of hospital antiseptic mixed with something warmer—soap or aftershave that speaks to personal care maintained despite crisis circumstances. When he smiles slightly at my validation of his work, I notice how it transforms his entire expression from professional concern to genuine warmth.
"I'd like to suggest we work closely together during the investigation," I continue, trying to maintain clinical objectivity despite unexpected awareness of his physical presence. "Your local knowledge and clinical insights will be invaluable for our epidemiological assessment."
"I'd welcome that collaboration. And Dr. Lindqvist—thankyou for understanding that some situations require bypassing normal channels when lives are at stake."
"Please, call me Erik. And given that we'll be working closely together on this, I think we can dispense with the formalities—Felix, isn't it?"
"Felix, yes. Much better." There's a slight smile that transforms his tired features, making him look younger despite the stress lines around his eyes.
The afternoon light filtering through the conference room windows catches the silver threads in his dark hair, and I realize that under different circumstances, in a setting that didn't involve potential epidemic disease, I might be noticing Felix for reasons that have nothing to do with professional competence.
But those thoughts must wait. Somewhere in Hamburg, an unknown virus is adapting, spreading, and potentially evolving toward even more efficient human transmission. Our job is to identify it, understand it, and stop it before thirty-six cases become three hundred.
The real work is just beginning.
CHAPTER SIX
Day 23
FELIX
The Petersen family sits huddled together in their small living room, grief etched into every line of their faces. Greta Petersen died three days ago, and her husband Klaus clutches a crumpled tissue while their teenage daughter stares at the floor.
"I know this is difficult," I begin, settling into the chair across from them. "But understanding Greta's activities in the days before she became ill could help us prevent others from getting sick."
Erik positions himself slightly behind me, tablet ready, observing with those pale blue eyes that seem to catalog every detail. His approach is methodical, precise—exactly what we need for contact tracing. But grief requires a different touch.
"She worked at the fish market," Klaus says, his voice hoarse. "Been there fifteen years. Never missed a day until—" His words break off.
"Papa loved her laugh," their daughter Frieda whispers. "She'd come home smelling like the harbour, but she'd alwayshave stories about the vendors, the customers. She knew everyone."
Erik's fingers move across his tablet, recording locations, timeframes, potential exposure sites. But I watch his expression soften slightly when Frieda speaks about her mother's laughter.
"The fish market—that's in the port district," Erik says gently. "Can you tell us which vendors she worked with most closely? Who she spent the most time around?"
Over the next hour, we piece together Greta's final week. The fish market, the community centre where she volunteered, the grocery store where she shopped every Tuesday. Erik maps each location while I focus on the emotional landscape—how the family is coping, what support they need, whether they're showing any symptoms themselves.
"Dr. Müller," Klaus asks as we prepare to leave, "will there be others? Will more families go through this?"
The question hangs between us. Erik could recite statistics about R0 values and transmission probabilities. Instead, he looks directly at Klaus.
