It was while working on his thesis, on the discrete mathematics of open-pit mining, he recognized an opportunity. In the late nineties, the mining industry in the DRC had fallen into disarray following the First Congo War. Identifying this, Nolan had secured scores of mining contracts throughout the Congo’s copper belt at nearly no cost. Over the next decades, he leveraged those rights into interests in cobalt, tantalum, coltan, diamonds, and oil. Others had tried to rush in, but he was already well established, ensuring his dominance.
Until recently . . .
The Chinese had arrived a few years after the Second Congo War. The new fighting had left the country’s infrastructure in ruins. The communist politburo came in with wheelbarrows of capital. They cleverly tied their construction of new roads, railways, and hydroelectric dams to the acquisition of mineral rights. They offered with one hand and took with the other. Backed by the might of the communist state, western companies could not compete.
Not even De Coster Mining & Industry.
Nolan had tried to negotiate with the Chinese, to work out mutually beneficial contracts, but he quickly recognized the futility. Chinese economic development was fueled by copper and cobalt—and they were ruthless in their pursuit to control those resources.
Eventually, Nolan had sought help from the United States, who were certainly invested in stopping the Chinese takeover of Africa. But America had its hands tied, requiring democratic reforms and fiscal transparency before they would offer aid to the DRC. And in a country that was ranked 168 out of 198 on the Corruption Perceptions Index, such reforms were an impossibility.
Fortunately, De Coster Mining & Industry had no such qualms. It could not be so discerning and survive. It didn’t just turn a blind eye to deforestation, wastewater pollution, and child labor—it encouraged them. The company had no choice. There was no other way to hold one’s ground here. Meanwhile, Western corporations were happy to turn that blind eye, as long as the flow of cobalt, coltan, and copper continued for the production of cell phones, rechargeable batteries, and other high-tech gadgets.
But now a new opportunity beckoned.
A knock on the office door drew his attention. “Come in,” he called out.
The door opened, and the tall figure of Captain Andre Draper entered, dressed in his usual green camo, black boots, and holstered Heckler & Koch pistol. The man led Nolan’s personal army, a force necessary to protect his corporate interests in lands ruled more by militias and warlords than the Congolese government. Draper was a former French soldier with MONUSCO, the U.N.’s peacekeeping force established here during the Second Congo War.
“How are our guests faring?” Nolan asked, waving the man to a chair in front of his desk.
“I’ve situated them in the med ward.” He shrugged. “We’ll see how they do.”
“And you still think it’s wise to keep them alive?”
“For now. Beyond their medical expertise, they could prove useful as hostages. If it becomes necessary, we could always offer some proof of life to further reinforce that last night’s attack was perpetrated by a militia in a kidnap-for-ransom plot. Either way, I’d like to keep our options fluid and open regarding them.”
“I see.”
“And who knows? Maybe their skills will prove useful. Especially with time running short. We can’t keep a lid on what’s happening for much longer. I think we’ve kept this secret for as long as we can.”
Nolan nodded. The first few cases of the debilitating disease—one that left the afflicted in a dull, cattle-like state—had occurred at a corporate copper mine in the Sankuru province to the south. As isolated as it was, it had been easy to keep word from spreading. Then neighboring villages had begun showing similar symptoms. Instead of panicking, Nolan had recognized an opportunity.
The devastation of the First Congo War had opened the door for Nolan’s corporate ambitions, then the strife of the Second Congo War had allowed the Chinese to elbow their way in. For De Coster Mining & Industry to prevail again, another regional disaster was needed. The spread of an unknown pathogen throughout the DRC offered a unique chance. Such a threat would undoubtedly discourage the Chinese’s efforts in Africa, especially for a people who had grown so germophobic after going through so many pandemics of late.
Still, for that to work, the contagion needed to gain a firm foothold throughout Central Africa. Nolan couldn’t risk a global effort being mobilized against the outbreak, not until it was too late. So, he had assigned Draper to stifle knowledge of the disease. Nolan had wanted the illness to spread silently, a smoldering fire working through the jungle. To maintain that silence, Draper’s forces had firebombed clinics in the forest, razed villages, always leaving behind a false trail to militias, terrorist organizations, or tribal conflicts.
Then came the alarm from the U.N. relief camp.
At that moment, Nolan and Draper had known that their containment efforts were nearing an end. The attack last night, along with a few more today, would mark the conclusion of that agenda. It had served its purpose. From Nolan’s network across the region, he knew the disease had reached its flashpoint. The smoldering forest fire was about to become a blazing inferno.
When it did, Nolan intended to take advantage of the resulting chaos and disruption to reestablish the dominance of De Coster Mining & Industry throughout Africa. To help ensure that, he had set up this research camp. He wanted as much intel as possible, about the pathogen, about the disease, about possible treatments. With a jump-start on those details, he planned on wielding such knowledge to his benefit, to prove his corporation’s benevolence. Where the Chinese made inroads by literally building roads, De Coster Mining & Industry would win hearts by protecting lives.
The logistics going forward would be daunting. Still, for a former mathematician, it was all about numbers and variables.
He glanced at his laptop, which was running with algorithms and models. He had a team of statisticians crunching the necessary numbers. The mortality projections were intimidating, staggering even for him. Nolan did not consider himself to be callous. He didn’t employ child labor in his mines out of cruelty. He paid families well when a son or daughter was killed or crippled.
It was simply a means to an end.
Like with this disease.
“Now that the two doctors are settled,” Draper said, “I’m going to check in with the two teams who are heading out to clean up those last few hot spots.”
“Of course. Keep me updated.”
Draper stood, turned crisply, and headed to the door.
As Draper left, Nolan cracked a kink out of his neck. He caught a glimpse of the gold crown in its case behind him. It was a reminder that his own ambitions stretched beyond the financial stability of his company.
But that would have to wait.
He returned his attention to his laptop. He watched the graphed projections flipping through various forecast models, incorporating the information gleaned from the medical team: on prognosis, disease progression, possible treatment regimens. Everything was a variable. Still, too much remained unknown. He could collapse many of those forecasts if he could get a handle on a cure, but it wasn’t vital to his plans.
He squinted at the various graphs. The wild fluctuations between them nagged him. The differences remained too large, more than could be blamed solely on a lack of a treatment.
Something was wrong.
I’m missing a variable.
There was something intrinsic to all of this that had escaped them. He came to one firm conclusion, one vital to a man holding a doctorate in mathematics.
I need more data.
7:22 A.M.
Charlotte sat on the edge of Disanka’s bed. The Lubu woman wore a loose hospital gown, which was presently pulled aside, exposing a breast. Disanka struggled to get her child to latch on to her nipple, made all the more difficult with her wrist cuffed to her bed.
But being bound wasn’t the real problem.
The child’s head lolled backward. Tiny eyes stared at the roof. Drool ran down one cheek. Disanka murmured to the boy, shifting to try again. Plainly the child had returned to a near catatonic state.
“What do you think?” Jameson asked as he stood at Charlotte’s shoulder.