Ed Bates, the CEO of Bates Communications scowled. “Commissioner Rex Longworthy is here…again? Where the hell is he?”
“In the waiting room.” Bates’ administrative assistant was standing in the doorway to the Chair’s private bathroom.
“Put him in the small conference room. Get him coffee. Leave him alone.”
“Yes, sir. Sorry.”
The door closed and Bates sighed. “Can’t even take a piss alone,” he mumbled, zipping his pants. We are so screwed, he thought. It was only a matter of time.
Half an hour later, he stepped into the bare, windowless conference room. “Rex,” he said. “To what do I owe you the pleasure of this visit?”
“Something I didn’t think should be handled on a lower level.”
“How flattering. Out with it. I have a business to run.”
“We’ve reviewed tonight’s coverage of the new tuberculosis cases.”
Bates sat down across from Longworthy. “So?”
“We found it inflammatory and irresponsible.”
“My God, man,” Bates said, slapping the table. “This is a straight story. We have our facts right.”
“Your reporter used the word epidemic.”
“No kidding. He should have used the word pandemic. Half a million cases on the East Coast alone. And doubling every eight weeks. What would you call it?”
“Suspected cases.”
“Of TB 6!”
“There is no TB 6. That is an urban legend. Surely you don’t want to be a panic-monger, Mr. Bates. This kind of irresponsible journalism has no place… Let me rephrase that. Our Retirement order exception was predicated on a degree of voluntary restraint of your organization that this piece does not reflect.”
“Facts are facts, Longworthy.”
“And power is power, Mr. Bates.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
“Let me be blunt. Pull the story or we pull the plug. Thank you for the coffee.” Longworthy rose to leave.
“Sit down, Rex. Let’s not be so hasty. The story doesn’t need the word epidemic.”
“Good. But the report states that these new cases are TB 6 as if it were absolute fact.”
“How about ‘some of the cases are suspected TB 6?’”
“That is better. But your number estimates are far too high.”
“Estimates, my ass. Those were reports.”
“Really, Mr. Bates,” Longworthy said, getting up.
Bates waved Longworthy to sit. “Fine. Fine. You win. How about we run the local angle? That leaves out the national numbers entirely.”
“Better. What would the report say about the rest of the country, then?”
“We’ll just say that new cases are showing up, mostly in the coastal cities, and not give out numbers.”
“There,” Longworthy said, beaming. “Partnership is better than conflict, don’t you agree?”
“So the show runs with those changes?”
“Provided I get some air time.”
“A short interview?”
“Two minutes at the end.”
“One minute,” Bates said. “Near the end.”
“Agreed,” Longworthy said. “You drive a hard bargain, Ed.”
“Screw you.”
——
Dinner was in John Owen’s personal dining room on New Kona. While construction noises growled and beeped outside, the meal was held in the cozy corner of a huge den, built inside an immense metal shed, filled with dining tables and an antique diving bell. A full scale model of an Orca whale was suspended from the corrugated steel ceiling by invisible wires. A Chopin polonaise came from a grand piano next to the diving bell, where a vivid hologram of a woman in a black gown seemed to play and smile at the guests.
“Where are your daughter and grandson?” Dornan asked as he approached the glass and driftwood table.
“I think Elisabeth and Little Josh are still asleep,” John said. “It’s so wonderful to finally have them around.”
“And where is Ken?”
“He’s with the King of Tonga, reviewing the latest construction.” Then Dornan noticed a distinguished man with sharp ebony features sitting next to Dr. Owen.
“Is this…?” Dornan began.
“Bill, do you know our new scientist-in-residence, Dr. Sing?” The geneticist held out his hand.
“I do now,” Dornan said, gripping the man’s hand. Sing’s name had been a household word in biotechnology before the Treaty, until he had gone to ground. Dr. Owen beamed as if he had a secret.
“Mr. Dornan, I understand I will be working for Dr. Owen and you.”
“It’s an honor to meet you. We all work for John, Dr. Sing. I am here to run security. Please call me Bill.”
“Dr. Sing has reconstructed all the research done by the late Dr. Fischer, and is moving ahead,” John said. “We need to stay at least two steps ahead of the bugs, and this is the man who can do it.”
“Outstanding,” Dornan said. “The epidemics are dangerously close to pandemics, even worse.”
“I believe that we can stop them,” Dr. Sing said.
John stood. Across the room, a giant Polynesian man with regal bearing had entered the room from the verandah. He was accompanied by Ken Wang. “Gentlemen, I would like to introduce King Joseph Jones.”
Dinner was served in the corner of the large room. While an attendant brought the first course, the holographic pianist began playing Gershwin.
Dr. Owen made small talk until dessert; then he clinked his water glass. “Time to get down to business, my friends,” he said. Silence fell across the table and ten key friends and allies looked up. “As you know, King Jones, on behalf of Tonga, has graciously agreed that we may move Vector Pharmaceutical to this site. As a result of his generosity and courage, we have been shipping small quantities of lifesaving drugs all over the world from this island for the last eighteen months. Demand exceeds our manufacturing capacity. Today King Jones has now graciously agreed that Edge Medical, and all of our other worldwide research and manufacturing operations, can also move to this site. As a result, we will be able to step up production a thousand fold.”
John’s face turned solemn. “That will draw attention and increase risk. We all know that his kingdom has not signed and will not sign the Earth Restoration Treaty. As a result he has placed his kingdom at some risk. Because we take care of our friends, Edge Medical is funding enhanced security. This month we will be able to provide around the clock robust paramilitary protection to the nation of Tonga and all our employees.”
“I am happy that Tonga will host the new facilities,” King Jones said. “And I was even happier that Tonga was completely ignored in the Treaty process. The Commission’s mistake is our gain.” The king’s smile was huge and toothy.
——
Later in the day, and a mile away, on a section of beach concealed by a berm, two helicopters laid out cable from the site of a portable generator into a long wound in the red, tropical earth. At the same time, the walls and roof of a prefabricated building were lifted from a cargo ship a thousand yards off shore onto a barge. A winch anchored in lava rock and a reinforced aluminum pier slowly began to pull the barge toward shore. Near the foundation of the new site of Vector Pharmaceutical, fifteen workers and two trucks waited.
Dr. Owen, dressed in tan shorts and shirt, Seattle Mariners’ baseball cap, dark glasses and sandals, stood outside a portable office, holding a clipboard balanced on his left arm. Little Josh, now a toddler, stood next to him. “What’s that?” Josh asked.
Owen stopped writing, reached down and patted Josh on the head.
“They’re putting wire for Grandpa’s new building.”
“Can I see?”
“When they’re done, Josh. You can help me check it all out.”
“Okay.”
Dornan walked up the crushed lava path to the portable. “I see you’re right on time!” he shouted. The project foreman, who was standing in the doorway of the portable, turned in Owen’s direction and gave a thumbs-up.
“Can anyone pick up this work from a satellite?” Owen asked.
“Very few eyes in the sky still work,” the foreman shouted. “Nothing overhead here.”
Josh looked skyward. “Where are the eyes, Grandpa?”
Dornan chuckled and picked up Josh. “Invisible eyes, Josh, far away.” Josh continued to stare.
Owen grinned at Josh and finished writing. He was using his right hand again. “I almost became a real southpaw,” he said.
“What’s a southpaw?” Owen handed Dornan the clipboard and took Josh.
“Your Mom’s a southpaw,” he said, tickling Josh under one arm. Josh squealed. “Let’s go see her…”