He spread a map out on one of the queen size beds and pointed to three highlighted areas outside Mandera.
Peyton got out her laptop, connected to WiFi, and pulled up the travel log from CityForge. “The two Americans videoed and posted their travel route,” she said. “We should cross-reference to see if they visited these villages.”
Jonas ran a hand through his short brown hair and looked away, as if dreading something. Peyton was five foot six, and Jonas was only a few inches taller, putting their eyes on a near equal plane. He leaned against the brown wooden dresser, searching for the right words.
“What?” Peyton asked.
“The American who first reported symptoms, Steven Collins, died while you were en route. The British employee of the aviation company is also dead.” Jonas paused. “And the other American, Lucas Turner, has now broken with the disease.”
It was Peyton’s worst fear. It took her a moment to realize he had said the disease instead of Ebola or Marburg or Yellow Fever.
“The Kenyan Ministry of Health sent a team yesterday. They’ve set up an Ebola treatment unit at Mandera,” Jonas added.
“Have they tested anyone?”
“They’ve tested everyone: the Americans, the British man, and most of the villagers. No one has tested positive for Ebola.”
“What did they use?”
“ReEBOV. It’s confirmed: we’re dealing with a new pathogen here.”
The ReEBOV Antigen Rapid Test could show a false positive or false negative in about one in ten patients tested for Ebola, but across a large sample group, it was likely to be correct. The fact that they had all tested negative sealed the case. This was a novel infectious agent.
Which meant Peyton’s entire plan had to be thrown out the window. It was impossible to know whether ZMapp would be effective against the pathogen. Flying Lucas Turner back to Emory also presented a much greater risk if they didn’t even know what they were bringing to the US.
Jonas helped her bounce a few ideas around. They worked out a tactical approach for after they landed in Mandera, assigning teams to contact trace at the airport and others to venture into the countryside to survey the villages. When they had a general plan together, they called the security advisors into the hotel room to get their input.
Their Kenyan military liaison, Colonel Magoro, informed them that a Kenyan army brigade had departed yesterday morning for Mandera County and was already set up. The Kenyan government was prepared to quarantine the entire county if needed.
The UN security officer reported that the African Union troops in southern Somalia had been alerted to the situation and were establishing checkpoints along the roads into Somalia. The Ethiopians were also in the loop and were taking similar measures.
There were also two men from the American embassy in the room. One was a State Department official who listened to the security preparations, asked a lot of questions, and encouraged Colonel Magoro to bulk up the units that would be guarding Peyton’s teams outside Mandera. The colonel granted the request without complaint.
The other American introduced himself only as embassy security, and despite listening intently to the briefing, he said nothing. Peyton assumed he was CIA. As the men filed out of the room, he handed her a card with a number in Nairobi. “Call us immediately if you run into any trouble. We’ll do everything we can.”
When they were gone, Jonas folded up the map and packed his things. Peyton thought he would leave, but he lingered, his demeanor changing, becoming a little more nervous.
“You’re going to miss Thanksgiving, huh?” he said.
“Yeah.”
“Parents disappointed?”
“Not really. They know I wouldn’t be out here if it wasn’t important.”
“I know what you mean. You… have a sister, right?”
“Yeah. Older sister, Madison.”
“And a nephew, niece?”
“Both now. Madison had her second child last year, a girl this time. Olivia.”
He nodded, still seeming uncomfortable. Peyton was surprised by his sudden personal interest. Jonas had been a great partner over the years, but their relationship had remained strictly professional.
“What about you?” she asked, unsure what to say.
“No one missing me back in Geneva. Or Heidelberg. Parents passed away a few years ago. I have a sister in London, but she’s got her career and family; keeps her pretty busy.” He fidgeted with his bag a moment, then said, “So no strapping young man counting the hours until you return to Atlanta?”
“No, not for a while.” Peyton looked around, wondering if he would say something else. Finally, she said, “What about you?”
“No, me either. Kind of tough with the job.”
“I know what you mean.”
Jonas’s mood seemed a little lighter, his nervousness gone. He put the backpack over his shoulders and walked to the door. “All right then. Lock up tight. See you in a few.”
“Will do,” Peyton said, watching him leave, a puzzled expression still on her face.
She took a triangular wooden block from her duffel and wedged it under the door. Just in case, she also moved a wood-framed chair from the desk and placed it against the door handle. She set a can of mace by her bed and hid a sheathed boot knife under the pillow beside her.
She assumed that the hotel washed the sheets regularly but figured the comforters were rarely cleaned, just wiped off and left to collect all manner of germs and bugs from hundreds of guests each year. So she took the comforter off the queen size bed she would sleep in and placed it on the dresser. She definitely didn’t want it near her face. Being germ-conscious sort of came with the territory in her line of work.