Haldane rolled his eyes as he sat down in a chair across from McLeod. "How is London?" he asked, but judging by his colleague's jovial mood he knew the reports about the stabilizing situation in England must have been true.
"It's a buyer's market, if you're looking for real estate." McLeod shrugged. "Hardly a soul on the street. But I have to hand it to Nancy Levine — delightful chatterbox that she is — her team has done a good job under trying circumstances. The new case rate has steadily declined for the past three days. And no deaths in almost forty-eight hours."
"What are the latest totals?" Haldane asked.
"A thousand give or take infected. Two hundred dead." McLeod pulled off his mask. "Christ! I'm tired of these things. I know you're no risk to me." He paused, before his lips broke into a crooked smile. "But do me a favor and leave yours on, all right?"
Haldane sighed a laugh. "What about the clusters in Europe, Duncan?"
"Far as I know they're all contained." McLeod scratched his beard. "But, Haldane, the entire damn outbreak was all caused by one lousy terrorist. Imagine what an army of the buggers could accomplish."
Noah nodded. "We are more prepared now. It would be — will be — harder for them to spread the virus."
"Harder. By no means impossible," McLeod pointed out, stretching in his seat. "What's the local news?"
"Latest report is that the virus is contained in Vancouver, too. The death toll stands stable at 45, with 240 infections. No new cases in the last day." Noah nodded. "The photo of the dead terrorist has paid dividends, though. She was spotted several places, including the U.S.-Canada border. She and a young male Arab were turned back when their papers didn't clear. And several people recognized her — traveling alone — on a flight in from Paris."
McLeod sat forward in his seat. "And from Paris?"
Haldane shook his head. "She was traveling under a bogus alias with a stolen passport. So far the trail dries up in France."
"Shite! The damn French!" McLeod said.
Haldane frowned. "Including Jean Nantal?"
"You mean the bugger who keeps dumping us in the middle of these plagues?" McLeod screeched. "He's the worst of the bloody lot."
They shared a long laugh. McLeod was the exact tonic Haldane needed for his state of mind.
Another knock came at the door. "I hope you ordered enough for two," McLeod said. "I'm famished."
Gwen Savard's voice drifted through the door. "Noah, it's me. I've got big news!"
Haldane was surprised by how much the sound of her voice pleased him, regardless of her news. He opened the door and Gwen flew in. She glanced over at McLeod with a look of surprise. "Oh, hello, Duncan." She offered a quick smile. "Good to see you."
"Lovely to see you upright, Gwen." McLeod grinned mischievously. "I was expecting to have to identify both of your sorry corpses in some drab Canadian morgue."
Gwen chuckled distractedly. "I just heard from Washington," she said with her back to the window. "We might have had a huge breakthrough."
Haldane followed her back to the couches and stood between McLeod and her. "What's up?"
She smiled widely. "We think we know who's behind The Brotherhood of One Nation."
"So tell us!" McLeod said.
"The CIA intercepted an e-mail sent by an Egyptian cop. In it he names the dead terrorist from Vancouver along with the leaders of the group." Savard spat out the words rapid-fire. "Says they have a base in Somalia."
"Oh, Christ," McLeod moaned. "They're going to dump us in Africa now."
Haldane ignored him. "Who are 'they'?" he demanded.
Gwen threw up her hands. "Some media mogul from Cairo, Hazzir Kabaal. And an ex-special forces army major. No one knows much about either of them."
"Where in Somalia?" Haldane pressed.
Gwen shook her head. "The e-mail didn't specify."
"Well, why doesn't someone bloody well ask the chap who wrote it?" McLeod piped up.
"Because he's dead," Gwen said. "He was found indented in the sidewalk below his nineteenth-floor apartment with a bullet in his back. Killed minutes after sending the e-mail."
"That's a reasonable excuse, I suppose," McLeod grumbled.
"It's all just happened in the last hour or so," Gwen said. "We don't know much yet."
"Somalia," Haldane said, falling back into his chair. "If I remember my geography that's a fair-sized country."
"And bloody hot," McLeod added. "Not to mention anarchic, flea-bitten, and exceptionally violent."
Gwen glanced at her watch. "Noah, our videoconference with the President is in ten minutes. Are you ready?"
Haldane nodded.
Gwen turned to McLeod. "Sorry, Duncan, you don't have the security clearance—"
McLeod held up his hand. "I know. I know. You damn Yanks are worse than the Chinese when it comes to this kind of high-level paranoia." He chuckled. "Much as it tears me apart, I'm going to take my leave of this merry little leper colony and find me some lunch."
