Exit 9

that if it weren’t for Matt’s bum knee, he, at least, would have come along.

“What are we waiting for?” Michael asked, anxious.

“Billy,” Pax said.

Michael looked over at the staircase. “Somebody call him. See what’s taking so long.”

“I’m sure he’s on the way,” Pax said.

“I’m sure I’m on the way, too.”

They all looked toward the voice. Billy was heading toward them from the hallway off to the left. Behind him were three other men, all carrying plastic cases containing what Ash guessed were medical supplies.

Pax stepped toward the door. “All right, everybody. Let’s go.”

Fourteen minutes later, they were in the air, heading west.

11

NAIROBI, KENYA

Lawrence Mwerla was having none of it. As a rising administrator within the Ministry of Public Health and Sanitation, he’d been chosen to oversee Project Eradication. The project was yet another in a series of attempts to wipe out the malaria-carrying mosquito population, something that had been attempted over and over for decades.

Like most of the others who tried, the organization behind the chemicals to be used in Project Eradication had been confident that their method would prove to be the one that finally did the job. Given Kenya’s-for that matter, the world’s-history with such attempts, Mwerla was dubious at best.

That didn’t mean he wasn’t hopeful. To rid his country of malaria would be a miracle. Nearly every fifth child born in the country died from the disease. An unacceptable loss in itself, but deaths weren’t only limited to the young. Adults, too, were susceptible. That’s why any chance to curb the disease had to be tried.

But now the project was delayed.

“This is not acceptable,” he said to the representative from the Pishon Health Initiative. They were in the man’s office at Pishon’s temporary headquarters in Nairobi. “My government has already contributed significant amounts of money to facilitate Project Eradication. We have arranged for thousands of volunteers across the country, based, might I remind you, on a timetable you gave us when you brought the project to us. To change the date like this will necessitate further costs. We cannot afford to do this. We are not a rich country like yours.”

Hans Lesser, the Pishon rep, leaned forward in his chair. “Mr. Mwerla, we understand your concerns. The date change, though, is unavoidable and necessary. To truly guarantee the success of Project Eradication, dosing needs to be coordinated across the continent. All the target countries will be participating on the same day.”

“The same day? I do not see the importance of that. If our programs run a week or two apart or even a month, what difference could that make? I believe the timing is just a stunt you are doing for publicity.”

“I guarantee you, publicity is not our aim. Whether you get it or not, we don’t care. Ridding the planet of this deadly disease-that is our goal. According to our scientists, the best chance we have of doing that is by this coordinated effort. If need be, I can have one of them flown down here to give you a full technical briefing, but I’m hoping we can avoid that.” He paused. “The delay is only a few days, but we have no desire for this to be a burden on you. I have spoken with our team in Amsterdam, and have been able to pull together additional funds to cover whatever cost overruns the Kenyan government might incur.”

Mwerla calmed a bit. That was more than he’d been expecting. Still, there was much additional work that would need to be done because of this.

He stood up. “I will have to bring this up with the minister. He will have the final word.”

Lesser rose to his feet. “Of course.”

He held out his hand, and Mwerla reluctantly shook it.

As the Kenyan official turned for the door, Lesser said, “Please remember, Mr. Mwerla, what we’re doing here is a good thing.”

“Yes. I realize that.” Mwerla nodded grimly. “Good afternoon.”

Hans Lesser kept the smile on his face until the door shut behind the Kenyan. He then picked up the phone.

“Do it,” he ordered, and hung up again.

In all likelihood, everything would have gone smoothly and Mwerla would have played along, but taking that chance was not something they had time for.

Within the next thirty minutes, Lawrence Mwerla would be the victim of a tragic car accident, and his second in command-someone considerably more accommodating to the Project-would take over.

There would be no more talk of the date change.

BUENOS AIRES, ARGENTINA

School had come to consume most of Patricia Mendes’s time, and the long hikes through the city she used to take when she was younger were a luxury she could seldom afford anymore. But it wasn’t just school that was taking up her time. It was also her boyfriend, Sergio. Make that former boyfriend.

Sergio was pig, He knew nothing about what it meant to be in a relationship. Her friends had tried to warn her, but she hadn’t listened. She’d only gone down to the park a week earlier because she knew the latest thing they had told her was a lie. But instead of proving them wrong, she’d found Sergio right where her friends said he would be, hiding behind the old shack in the park with his tongue stuck inside Maria Blanco’s mouth.

She felt like a fool, like she had no worth at all. How could he have done this to her? She had been a good girlfriend-never fighting with him, always agreeing to do whatever he wanted to do. She had even let him put his hand up her shirt once, though when he’d tried for her skirt, she had quickly put a stop to that.

Was that Maria’s attraction? Did she let him touch her down there?

No. It’s not Maria’s fault, she told herself. It’s Sergio’s.

He was the one to blame.

Unable to focus on her homework in the days that followed, she had started walking through the city again, trying to work through the hurt and anger that had initially consumed her. On this particular afternoon, she had wandered into the old neighborhood where her family once lived. It was odd and yet comforting to be on the streets where she had played as a kid. Though she didn’t recognize any of the people on the sidewalks, the buildings were all the same, as if time had not passed at all.

Soon, she reached the corner of a dead-end street, and suddenly recalled with vivid detail the old abandoned building that used to be at the end of it. She decided to see if it was still there. It had apparently once been a small factory, but for as long as her family had been in the area, it had stood empty. She and her brother Rodrigo would play in it sometimes, pretending it was a secret fort full of hidden passages and buried treasure.

When the building came into view, her heart sank a bit as she realized someone had reclaimed it. Though she could only see the top of the building, the roof over the front area had been replaced.

She approached cautiously, assuming the building would be occupied, but the closer she got, the less likely that seemed. The layout of the old factory was such that there was a wide room in front where the work would have been done, and a row of rooms that had probably been used for offices with their own corridor in the back. The improvements she noticed appeared to be limited to only the roof over the front room. The brick walls looked just as rundown as before. The only other change she could see was the few windows that used to let sunlight into the front room had been sealed up.

She scanned the area. No cars around and no sign that anyone was there.

Partly out of curiosity, and partly because it was keeping her mind on something other than Sergio, she