Exit 9

“And who would watch the shop?” Kusum’s mother asked.

“Is no one else coming today?” He already knew the answer. On Thursdays it was just the two of them.

“Do you see anyone else?”

Sanjay bowed his head. “I’m sorry. I had only been hoping. You cannot go, so I understand.” He glanced at Kusum, then back at the mother. “Unless…it would be okay…”

The mother raised an eyebrow. “For you to take Kusum alone?”

“It would only be for lunch.”

“And how long would you be gone?”

“An hour. Two at the most.”

“Two? And I am to be here alone the whole time?”

“Mother,” Kusum said. “Don’t worry. I will stay with you.”

Her mother huffed under her breath. “You would only mope around here all day if I don’t let you go.”

“So she can?” Sanjay asked.

The mother gave him a sideways glance. “As if this was not your plan all along. Yes, she can go.”

“Thank you,” Kusum said, smiling.

“Don’t tell your father. He won’t be happy.”

“Of course.”

Sanjay wanted to rush Kusum out, but he let her take her time making sure there was nothing else her mother needed her to do. Finally, they were walking through the market toward the street.

“And where will we go to eat?” she asked.

“Someplace special.”

“Really?”

He nodded, worried if he said anything more, he would give himself away.

When they reached the street, it took him only a few minutes to find someone who would rent a motorbike to him.

Surprised, Kusum said, “Are we going far?”

“A little far, but don’t worry. You’ll like it.”

She seemed a little hesitant, but climbed onto the back of the bike and put her hands on his waist.

An hour later, as they were riding-now heading east out of the city-she demanded to know where he was taking her. It was another hour, though, before he pulled onto a side road and they got off.

“Take me back! Take me back right now!” she demanded.

“I can’t.”

“Why not? Are you kidnapping me? My parents do not have any money.”

“I’m not kidnapping you. I’m saving you.”

“What do you mean? Saving me?”

Without warning, he stabbed the needle into her arm and depressed the plunger. She tried to pull away, but he injected all the vaccine before she did.

“What is this?” she asked, staggering back from him. “Are you drugging me? What is wrong with you, Sanjay?”

“I’m not drugging you. I told you, I’m saving your life.”

He put the other needle into his own arm.

“What is that stuff?”

“A vaccine.”

“A vaccine? For what?”

When he told her, she didn’t believe him.

Not at first.

33

I.D. MINUS 9 HOURS 29 MINUTES

LOCAL TIME 8:31 PM

Palmer groaned. The phone was ringing again. How was he supposed to ever get out of there if he had to keep answering it?

As usual, he was the last one in the office. He’d been hoping that in another five minutes, he’d be out the door and on his way to his friend Curtis’s house for the waiting beer and steak he’d been promised. But the damn phone! Every time it rang, it pushed his departure back further and further. Unfortunately, as the owner, he couldn’t quite bring himself to let calls go to voice mail if he was actually there. You never knew when the opportunity for new work might come in.

On the third ring, he grabbed the receiver. “Palmer Transport amp;Shipping. This is John Palmer.”

“Mr. Palmer, thank God you’re still there. This is Jordan Evans with the World Health Organization.”

Palmer paused, caught off guard. “I’m sorry. Where?”

“WHO. The World Health Organization.”

Palmer leaned back. Maybe this was more work.

“And what can Palmer Transport do for the World Health Organization?”

“We understand that you may have been hired to do some work for a company called Hidde-Kel Holdings. Is that correct?”

Frowning, Palmer said, “I don’t make it a habit to talk about clients.”

“But Hidde-Kel is a client, right?”

“I’ve done some work for them. Why is that important?”

“Did it involve the transportation of any shipping containers?”

“That’s a large part of the work we do here, so it wouldn’t be unusual.”

“And where did you take them?”

“Listen, Mr. Evans. I don’t care who you are with. If you don’t tell me why you’re asking these things, I’ll hang up right now.”

Silence at first, then, “There was apparently a mix-up when Hidde-Kel’s containers were loaded. We believe the contents have been contaminated with material that was meant to be shipped to the Centers for Disease Control in the States.”

Centers for Disease Control?

“What kind of…material are we talking about?”

“Contagious material.”

“What?”

“Mr. Palmer, some, if not all, of the containers you handled for Hidde-Kel could be extremely harmful to whoever opens them up.”

“This is a joke, right? Who is this, really?”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Palmer. I wish it were a joke.”

Palmer was stunned.

“There’s another problem,” Evans said. “According to our experts here, there’s a good chance that by tomorrow, the contamination will leak out of the containers and affect anyone nearby.” He paused. “Are you there?”

“I’m here,” Palmer said.

“Listen very carefully. We need you to collect all of the containers that came through your facility and-”

“I’m not going to let my men near those things!”

“I understand your feelings, but I can assure you that at this point, your men won’t be harmed. You have a chance to do something about this. If you don’t, and it starts to affect others tomorrow, you will be responsible.”

“Don’t you try to put this on me.”