Callsign: King (Jack Sigler) (Chesspocalypse #1)

Perhaps “hate” was too strong a word. If her antipathy had been that strong, she surely would have chosen a different line of work.

Most of what she did as an infectious disease investigator for the CDC took place in the relatively safe confines of the laboratory, but like any other war, the battle to stop disease outbreaks before they could blossom into epidemics required her to be present on the front lines, and that meant travel, usually to unfamiliar and often remote locations around the world.

That, in and of itself, did not bother her. She wasn’t the least bit xenophobic; the world was a veritable buffet of diverse cultures, and she treasured each unique new encounter…well, most of them. Sara’s dislike for world travel and her preference for lab work, derived from a condition known as Sensory Processing Dysfunction, specifically a type of the disorder called Sensory Discrimination Disorder.

Normally, when a person receives sensory input, the signals travel from the sensory organs—eyes, ears, nose—to various parts of the brain where the stimuli is processed and reconciled with information already stored in that person’s memory. Smells and sounds and sights are compared with things that person has already experienced, and a sympathetic response is triggered. The smell of baking cookies might stimulate a person’s appetite. A loud noise might cause a release of adrenaline. But for someone with Sensory Discrimination Disorder, the nervous impulses don’t go where they’re supposed to. They might hear smells, or experience a seemingly unrelated physical reaction when exposed to a particular visual or auditory stimulus.

Because she had lived with it all her life, Sara didn’t really see her SDD as a liability. Indeed, it gave her an advantage in certain situations. Her heightened sensory abilities had saved her life during a mission with Jack Sigler and his team—several times, in fact—and when she had later been temporarily “cured” by exposure to an unusual quartz crystal, she had felt an acute sense of loss. Sometimes, she almost thought of the disorder as a “superpower.” But that didn’t make dealing with it in on a day-to-day basis any easier.

She had developed effective strategies for coping in the familiar environs of her home and at the CDC headquarters in Atlanta where she did most of her work, but going out into the field was always a challenge. Invariably, she would be exposed to a host of unfamiliar stimuli, and there was no predicting just how her nervous system would react.

She took a deep breath, bracing herself for the worst, then exhaled and opened the door of the rented SUV.

Addis Ababa was relatively modern. Despite the fact that some of the first humans on the planet had probably lived in Ethiopia, the city had only been founded in the late nineteenth century, and its founder, Emperor Menelik II, had envisioned it as an Imperial capital. Because of its remote location and relatively sparse resources, the city had not grown organically like most cities in the developing world, with small villages of farmers gradually coalescing around an urban core. Instead, it had immediately become a center for education and other professional endeavors. Nevertheless, the economic hardships that persistently plagued the region—the entire continent, really—had intensified the flood of migrants from rural areas into the city. Poverty was endemic, and despite the efforts of the government, some of the streets through which the CDC team had passed were thick with beggars. But unlike many cities in the developing world, the roads were paved and there wasn’t a camel, ox, or donkey to be seen.

Sara took a cautious breath, but the expected sensory onslaught did not occur. There were sounds—traffic on the streets around the hospital—and smells—vehicle exhaust and something else…eucalyptus trees, she realized—but these weren’t unfamiliar to her.

So far, so good. She caught a glimpse of her reflection in the SUV’s window. With her spiky dark hair and trim, athletic physique, she didn’t look like most people’s idea of a lab rat. At least she didn’t look as tired or anxious as she felt.

“Doctor Fogg?”

She turned to find a nervous looking Asian man, wearing short-sleeves and khakis, approaching her vehicle. “I’m Sara Fogg.”

“I am Dr. Hideoshi Nakamura, with the World Health Organization.” The man smiled, but his anxiety did not abate. “I am pleased to welcome you. But I will confess, I am uncertain why you have come.”

That caught Sara by surprise. When the CDC activated an investigative team to respond to an international incident, it was almost always at WHO’s instigation. “Uncertain? I don’t understand. Didn’t you request our help?”