The Maverick Doctor and Miss Prim

She could almost hear him sigh. “The ER.”

“What are the symptoms?”

“Two kids, returned from Somalia a few days ago. Ages six and seven. Very sick. Febrile, uniform red spots mainly on their faces, forearms, palms and soles. A few on their trunks. Low blood pressure, tachycardic, swollen glands.”

She was typing furiously. Somalia. The last known place to have a natural outbreak of smallpox. It did seem coincidental.

But there were a whole host of other diseases this could be. She started to speak. “Dr. Sawyer, have you considered chicken pox, herpes, scabies, impetigo—”

“Stop it.”

“What?”

“I know you’re reading from the list. I’ve considered all those things. It’s none of them. Check your emails.” He sounded exasperated with her.

“What do you mean?”

“Lady, do I have to tell you everything twice? Check your emails. I just sent you some photos. Have you ever seen spots like that?”

She clicked out of the algorithm and into her emails. Sure enough, there it was. Everyone in the DPA had a generic email address starting with their full name. He was obviously familiar enough with the system to know that. There was no message. She opened the attached photos.

Wow.

The phone was still at her ear and she moved her face closer to the screen to examine the red spots. No. She hadn’t seen anything like that before—except in a textbook.

“Show the photo to Callum Ferguson,” the low voice growled in her ear.

Callum Ferguson. The only person in their team who’d actually been through the last smallpox outbreak. The only person who’d seen the spots for real. Only someone who’d worked here would know something like that. This phone call was definitely no hoax.

“Give me two minutes.” She crossed the room in big strides, throwing open the door to the briefing room where the ebola team was assembling.

“Callum, I need you to take a look at something urgently.”

“Kind of busy in here, Callie.” The large Scotsman looked up from the floor, where he was packing things into a backpack. Callum was well past retirement age but nothing seemed to slow him down, and his age and experience made him invaluable on the outbreak team.

She lowered her voice, trying to avoid the glare coming across the room from Donovan.

“It’s Matt Sawyer on the phone. He needs you to look at something.”

Callum looked as though he’d just seen a ghost. His hands froze above his pack. He started to stutter, “Wh-what?”

She nodded and he stood up wordlessly and followed her out of the room.

In the few seconds she had been away from her seat, everything had changed. Her boss, Evan Hunter, was standing in front of her computer, staring at her screen, his two deputies and Maisey at his side. The phone receiver was still lying on the desk.

No one spoke. They just moved out of Callum’s way as he reached the screen. His heavy frame dropped into Callie’s chair and he glided under her desk.

“Well?”

Evan Hunter wasn’t renowned for wasting time. The scowl on his face was fierce and made Callie raise her eyebrows. Hadn’t someone told her there had been no love lost between him and Matt Sawyer in the past?

Callum, normally red faced, looked pale. He turned to Evan Hunter and nodded. “I’m sure. I never thought I’d see this again,” he whispered.

Everything around them erupted.

Evan pressed his hand on Callum’s shoulder. “You’re off the ebola team. This is yours—it couldn’t possibly be anyone else’s, seeing as Matt Sawyer is involved. You’re the only one who’s ever managed to assert any control over that loose cannon. I want you all over him. Pick your team.” He looked at his watch. “It’ll take ninety minutes to fly to Chicago. I want you packed and ready to go inside four hours.”

He turned and swept out the room, his deputies scurrying after him. Callie was shaken. Had this really just happened?

Callum’s voice continued in low tones on the phone. He wasn’t even looking at the algorithm she’d pulled up on the screen. His eyes were still fixed on the photo.

“You’re sure there’s no possibility that this could be intentional—a biological terrorist attack?” He was scribbling notes as he listened. There were a few more mumbled questions before he replaced the receiver.

“Was it him? Was it definitely Sawyer?” Maisey looked fit to burst.

Callum nodded. “It was him.” He stood up slowly, obviously still in thought. “I guess that means he’s all right, then.” He touched Callie’s arm. “Get ready, Dr. Turner. This could be the experience of a lifetime.”

“I’m on the team?” She could barely contain her excitement. It was only made slightly better by the look of disgust on Donovan’s face over the other side of the room.

Callum smiled at her. “You know the rules, Callie. You took the call—of course you’re on the team.”

“I’ll be ready in half an hour. Let me get the updated plans.” She rushed off, her heart thumping in her chest.

First official day on the job and she was on the outbreak team investigating an apparently eradicated disease. Isabel would have loved this.

Callie shoved her bag in the overhead locker and sat down next to Callum. Everything was happening so fast. She hadn’t even had time to think.

The doors of the plane were already closed and they were starting to taxi down the runway. The cabin crew was already in their seats—the safety announcement forgotten. The normal rules of aviation didn’t seem to apply today.

This was the biggest team she’d ever been part of. There had to be around thirty people on this plane. Other doctors, epidemiologists, case interviewers, contact tracers, admin personnel and, most worrying, security.

Callum had the biggest pile of paperwork she’d ever seen. He was checking things off the list. “Vaccines—check. Protocols—check. N95 filtered masks—check. Symptom list—check. Algorithm—check. Three-hundred-page outbreak plan …” his thumb flicked the edges of the thick document “… check.”

He leaned back in his seat. “And that’s just the beginning.” A few minutes later they felt the plane lift off. Ninety minutes until they reached their destination.

“What have you done about containment plans?”

He nodded at her question. “I’ve identified a suitable building for a Type-C containment. Arrangements are currently being made to prepare it. In the meantime we’ve instructed Chicago General to switch their air-conditioning off. We don’t want to risk the spread of the droplets. They don’t even have suitable masks right now—only the paper ones, which are practically useless.”

He shook his head. “Those spots were starting to erupt. These kids are at the most infectious stage of this disease.”

Callie shuddered. A potentially deadly disease in an E.R. department. Her mind boggled.

It didn’t matter that she was a completely rational person. It didn’t matter that she specialized in infectious diseases. There was still that tiny human part in her that wanted to panic.

That wanted to run in the other direction.

The strange thing was that there were colleagues at the DPA who would kill to be in her shoes right now. Her very tight, uncomfortable shoes. Why hadn’t she changed them before they’d left? Who knew how long she would be on her feet?