World Health Organization, Eastern Mediterranean Office, Cairo, Egypt
Sven Gunderson was a tired man. He ran his hands through his thinning white-blond hair and squinted at his computer screen again. The rumor in the ranks was that the organization was set to raise the retirement age from sixty to sixty-five. But they wouldn’t make it effective until the end of next year, so if he made his decision now …
He moved to his window overlooking the streets of Nasr City, Cairo. This was a quiet suburb, with safe streets and walled gardens shaded by palm trees. Yet, only a kilometer away were teeming streets and squalor.
He was fifty-nine now, almost sixty. If he announced his retirement soon, he would be in compliance with current rules and could use the long transition period to train his replacement.
His replacement … another issue to solve. Headquarters would want one of their own, but this region needed someone with real field experience, not some bureaucrat from Geneva looking to bolster his résumé.
The Eastern Med had been rocked by the Arab Spring. And where there was political chaos, disease followed. Syria, Yemen, Somalia, Tunisia—he’d been on the ground in all of them … and he was tired.
Sven deserved retirement. Someplace warm. Someplace that was not Cairo.
When he was a young doctor, fresh out of medical school in Stockholm, he wanted to save the world. Now he wanted to save himself from the world.
He turned back to his desk, decided. He would draft his retirement letter this weekend and schedule a sit-down with the secretary-general at the next meeting in Geneva.
The intercom on his desk buzzed. “Sven, Dr. Tahir is here. She doesn’t have an appointment. Should I set up something for later in the week?”
Sven hurried back to his desk. “No, I’ll see her now.”
Talia Tahir—she would be an interesting choice as his replacement, he mused. An unconventional choice, but with so many positive attributes. A woman, with deep experience in the region, and impeccable professional credentials. A magnificent young doctor, Madame Curie in the body of a supermodel, someone had once commented to Sven.
He pinched his lip. Yes, Talia Tahir could be a perfect choice as his replacement.
At the same time, Talia showing up for an unannounced visit with the head of the office was a flashing red warning sign. He’d seen this story play out many times in his career.
A young doctor joins the WHO wanting to save the world … until they get a taste of what the world can do. There was so much pain and suffering out there, and the WHO staff saw the worst of it. The Ebola outbreak of 2017, for example. He and Talia had been in Sierra Leone together, working side by side eighteen hours a day, seven days a week.
Most new recruits lasted no more than a few years before the world broke them. Talia had been here for eight years and most of it in the field. It was time she made a move into management, before the organization lost her to the private sector.
He punched the button on his phone again. “Shani, please bring in coffee, will you?”
The door to his office opened, and Talia Tahir stepped in. Tall and slim, with flowing auburn tresses and skin the color of molten caramel. An open white lab coat covered a sleeveless dark blue sheath dress that fit her figure like a glove and set off her brilliant blue eyes. She crossed the room with an easy, confident stride.
“Talia,” he said, as he kissed her on both cheeks. “You’re just back from Yemen, right?”
She smelled heavenly, a subtle mixture of jasmine and musk that evoked smoldering innocence. He ushered her to the sitting area in his office.
“I’m so glad you stopped by,” he said. “Please, have a seat.”
His heart sank at the sight of a manila folder in her hand. Talia would be one of the prepared ones, the kind who would bring a signed resignation letter to a meeting like this.
Shani brought in the coffee service, a welcome chance to gather his wits. Talia took over from the secretary, pouring the thick, sweet liquid from the copper cezve into two brightly painted cups.
“There’s something I’d like to discuss with you, Sven,” Talia said, her voice low and professional.
Sven accepted the cup and saucer. She had managed to achieve the exact right amount of foam on the top of the liquid.
“Well, that makes two of us,” he said. “I have something I’d like to discuss with you.”
A tiny crease formed on Talia’s brow when she thought hard about a problem. “You should probably hear what I have to say first.”
Sven eyed the manila folder. He needed to take charge of this situation. He could not afford to lose this doctor from his team.
“If you don’t mind, Talia, I insist on exercising my prerogative as your supervisor.” He put his drink down and rested his folded hands on his crossed knees. “You know how much I appreciate the work you’ve done for this organization.”
Talia started to protest, but he stopped her with a gesture.
“You are a gem,” he said. “You’ve been to Yemen—what? Three times in the past six months? Before that, Syria, the Congo, Sierra Leone. There is no assignment too tough for you, no ask too big.
“I think it’s time this organization showed its appreciation for your truly remarkable work. I’m leaving in the new year, and I want you to take over this office.”
He returned to his coffee, enjoying the surprised expression on her face.
It was Talia’s turn to set down her saucer. She picked up the manila folder, and Sven’s heart dropped. He’d missed the warning signs. Big Pharma would snap up this experienced doctor in a split second. He’d been so wrapped up in his retirement planning, he’d blown it.
“Now I feel like a heel,” she said. “I need a favor. For a friend.”
Sven was so relieved he almost dropped his cup. He took a sip of the sweet dark liquid.
“The Brazzaville office is moving into a new facility,” Talia began, “and my friend was in charge of the sample transfer.” She gave him a pained smile and blushed. “There were problems and the samples were destroyed.”
Sven knew about the new location for the WHO Africa office in the Republic of the Congo.
“Problems? I didn’t hear anything,” Sven replied, trying not to gush at the fact that she didn’t want to resign.
“There was a power failure and … Oh, I’ll just tell you the whole story. It’s going to come out eventually.” She threw up her hands.
“There was a malfunction in one of their freezers and they lost all their samples. It wasn’t her fault, but she’ll get blamed. A woman in that office … it’s not like here, Sven, with you.”
Suppressed tears made Talia’s blue eyes sparkle. She took a deep breath and wiped her eyes. “I’m sorry to put you on the spot like this, Sven. She’s like a sister to me and this could ruin her whole career.”
Sven toyed with his coffee. Each regional office in the WHO was entrusted with a full slate of biological samples of the world’s most deadly viruses to use for quick-response comparisons in regional outbreaks. Cryogenic storage was an imperfect solution in places with challenged infrastructure.
Field offices like his struggled to maintain a professional reputation beside better-funded establishments in Europe or the US, where things like stable utilities were taken for granted, or backup power generators were funded without a second thought.
Talia was right. A mistake like this would mean embarrassment and possible dismissal for the responsible employee.
“I can call down to Brazzaville and see what we can do to help,” he said.
“I was hoping we could take care of this quietly,” Talia said with a shy smile. She put her hand on his knee. Her touch was electric.
“We have extra samples here,” she said. “I’ve prepared a list. If we could spare a few, that might be enough to get them on their feet.” She held out the manila folder to him.
“I just need your signature,” she said. “The samples are packed. I can take them myself, tonight.”
“But the job?” he said. “What about the regional director position?”
Talia unleashed a dazzling smile. “Well, I suppose, if I was the regional director, I could just sign over the samples myself, right?” She laughed as she poured him another cup of coffee. “I’d be honored, Sven, really.”
Sven opened the folder and scanned the contents. Ebola Zaire, Nipah, Lassa fever, smallpox, SARS, some of the worst epidemic diseases in the world.
Talia handed him his refilled coffee cup, her smile still brilliant.
Sven scribbled his name at the bottom of the paper and handed the folder back.
When Sven got to the office the next morning, Shani was not at her desk.
But even that inconvenience was not enough to dampen his mood. In a burst of enthusiasm, he had written and sent his resignation letter last night, along with an email recommending Dr. Talia Tahir as his replacement.
He hummed to himself as he made his own coffee and walked back to his office. Shani was behind her desk, but instead of her normal sunny smile, her face was chalk white.
Sven stopped in the doorway. “What’s the matter?”
Shani opened her mouth, then closed it again and began to cry. “Talia—” she began. Sobs took over.
Sven set his cup on her desk. “What about Dr. Tahir?”
Shani gathered herself.
“There was a plane crash. She’s dead.”