“Yes, but only for you, Dr. Stevens. The featured dish will be Fruit Bat Meatloaf. I’ve heard it’s to die for.”
When the laughs subsided, Peyton continued in a more serious tone. “Two pieces of personal advice. If this is one of your first deployments, I would strongly encourage you to call your loved ones when you land. Whoever that is—your spouse, mother, father, siblings—they will be worried about you, no matter what they tell you. Let them know you’re all right and that things aren’t as bad as the movies. Second, a note on entertainment.”
This line always had the same effect: a majority of the men in the group perked up and began paying attention.
“Find a good book to read.”
The rapt attention from the men faded visibly.
“I’m serious. The days ahead will be long and intense. It’s great to have an outlet, a way to step out of this world and just relax and not have to worry about anything. Some days, you’ll just want to go back to your hotel room or tent and have a stiff drink. I encourage you not to do so. Staying hydrated out there is tough enough. For your own safety, keeping a clear head is imperative. If you want to have that stiff drink, do it when you get home. If you didn’t bring an e-reader with you, you can download a reading app for your smartphone. And if you’re too tired to read, I recommend downloading an audiobook on your phone. I can’t tell you how many nights in the field I’ve fallen asleep listening to a good book. But please download books only when you’re connected to WiFi. And do not, I repeat, do not watch Netflix, Amazon Prime, YouTube, or any video of any kind with the satellite sleeve attached. It costs us a fortune. I don’t know exactly how much, but two years ago an EIS officer binge-watched some TV show and consumed tons of data. When the bill came in, someone from finance flipped out. They actually walked over to Elliott’s office and threatened to limit our satphone access or set a data cutoff threshold. It became kind of a big deal. Elliott talked him out of it, but we’re still on probation. Remember: you watch Netflix, we lose satellite access, kids in Africa die. Got it? If you’re connected to wifi, knock yourself out, just not over the satlink.
“One last thing. We’re going to Kenya to stop this outbreak, and part of the reason we’ve been invited to help is because a lot of brave, hard-working Americans went to Kenya before us and built alliances and relationships. Some of them still work for the CDC in Kenya, building those partnerships each day. We should all keep that in mind.
“This is a particularly critical time for CDC relations in the region. I spoke with Joe Ruto, the head of our office in Kenya. In early 2015, we discovered that millions in funds the CDC had donated to the Kenya Medical Research Institute, or KEMRI, had gone missing. An audit uncovered mismanagement and fraud by officials at many levels at KEMRI. With the money gone, thousands of good people were laid off. There were protests outside KEMRI for days. And even though the CDC had no financial oversight, many of the protesters and laid-off employees blamed us. This deployment could be a big step toward rebuilding relationships.
“Every one of us is a representative of the CDC and the United States of America. Our actions could impact our relationships in the region. That could have consequences for us—and for the people just like you who will be on the next Air Force transport for the next outbreak. I’m not telling you to walk on eggshells or to be afraid to take decisive action. But if we can, we ought to do our best to leave our relationships there better than we found them.”
When the pilot announced that they were on approach for Jomo Kenyatta Airport in Nairobi, about half the members of the CDC team had surrendered to sleep for one last nap. The lights were dark in the passenger compartment except for a few glowing laptop screens at the back and several reading lights. Duffel bags and wadded-up clothes lay under the heads of those sleeping. Wool blankets covered the floor and were draped across team members.
Peyton had fallen asleep on a row of five seats. When she awoke, she realized her legs were intertwined with the person sharing the row with her. She looked up and found Phil staring back at her. He sat up quickly, held his hand out, and pulled her up. They looked at each other a moment, then set about collecting their things and getting ready for the landing, which was surprisingly painless.
She smoothed out her uniform, threw her duffel bag over her shoulder, and marched down the ramp off the plane.
It was night in Nairobi, and beyond the airport tower, the city lights twinkled. A gust of warm wind blew a few strands of her shiny black hair into her face.
Ahead, twelve Japanese SUVs waited on the tarmac. The front passenger door of the second vehicle opened, and Jonas stepped out. The look on his face stopped Peyton in her tracks.
Something was wrong.
Chapter 20
The black SUVs rolled through Nairobi, bunching up at stoplights and stretching out in between, like a black snake stalking through a field of skyscrapers.
In the second car, Peyton rode in the back seat with Jonas Becker, her counterpart at the WHO. On the tarmac, he had told her only that he had urgent news to share. Whatever it was, he didn’t want to share it in the presence of others.
“How was the flight?” he asked.
“Good. Long.”
“You sleep?”
“A little.”
“Sorry I woke you so early yesterday.”
“Don’t be. I needed the head start.”
At the hotel, Jonas offered to carry Peyton’s duffel, as he had a dozen times before. As always, she declined.
The hotel wasn’t fancy, but it was in a safe part of town, near the American embassy. Kenyan troops stood guard in the parking lot, and Nairobi PD had several cars along the street.
The moment the door to Peyton’s room closed, Jonas said, “It’s reached the villages.”