Violet Black by Eileen Merriman

Author:Eileen Merriman [Merriman, Eileen]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780143775430
Publisher: Penguin Random House New Zealand
Published: 2013-04-08T00:00:00+00:00

THIRTY:

VIOLET

Marlow isn’t alone. When he enters the common room, a few minutes after the helicraft blades stop turning, he’s accompanied by Melody and a middle-aged man in a black suit.

‘I think you all know Doctor Marlow,’ Melody says.

What do you think would happen if I deck him? Phoenix think-asks, in his usual sardonic tone.

I think those big guys would sedate you and haul you off somewhere, I think-reply, noting the bodyguards in the corridor. Five of them versus five of us. I bet I know who’d come off better in a fight.

I wouldn’t be so sure about that, Phoenix think-says.

Marlow sits on the couch nearest to the door. Black Suit sits next to him, while Melody stays where she is, flanked by Thug One and Thug Two.

‘Let me introduce you to Hans Bauer,’ Doctor Marlow says. ‘Chief of Intelligence at the ITA.’

Told you, Callum says. Es-pio-nage.

Audrey lets out a small noise and curls further into the couch, as if she wants to disappear. I know that feeling.

‘ITA?’ Phoenix says. ‘Never heard of that before.’

‘It’s not something that is widely advertised,’ Bauer says. He has a faint accent, which I’m guessing is German, if his name is anything to go by. I can’t read his mind any better than I can read those of Marlow and his companions, and wonder, not for the first time, how they manage to block us.

Marlow, who is looking as crisp as ever in his bone-white suit and ice-blue shirt, says, ‘Let me ask you, what is the biggest threat to our society today?’

‘Infectious diseases,’ Audrey says, at the same time as Callum says ‘Terrorism.’

Marlow inclines his head. ‘Actually, you’re both correct.’ He points his PA at the screen on the wall and it lights up. A camera pans over a group of women, men and children lying on mattresses in what looks like a very basic hospital. A man with an English accent announces, ‘There have been four thousand deaths from a new strain of Ebola in the Congo since January.’ The image on the screen changes, and we see a picture of a leg with an open wound oozing with pus. ‘This patient lost both his legs and then his life due to an infection with a resistant strain of Staphylococcus. This strain, for the first time in history, is resistant to all known antibiotics,’ the English voice says. ‘Doctors fear that this will only be the first of many cases if a new antibiotic is not made available within the next year.’ The next image is of children in a more modern hospital, their skin covered in the characteristic M-fever rash, their eyes red and inflamed. ‘Meanwhile, despite modern medicine,’ the voice continues, ‘the M-fever death toll in Australia, New Zealand and Germany also continues to rise, with three hundred deaths registered in New Zealand since the first of January.’

‘Three hundred?’ Harper blurts, her shock reverberating within me.

‘It’s accelerating,’ Melody says softly. ‘If we can’t develop a vaccine soon, this could turn into a pandemic that will make COVID-19 look like the common cold.

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