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disappointed for a variety of reasons, not the least of which was fear of losing the project. With the project gone, she wouldn’t be able to guide the resources of her department in finding out what happened to Austin.
    Into the silence, Eric said, “Imagine you work on the production line in the frozen chocolate-covered banana factory—”
    Olivia raised a hand to hush Eric. “A: I can already tell this is going to be a stupid analogy. B: I don’t need you to draw me a picture. I understand. I know it’s a success to have the project taken over by the CIA. I can know that and still be disappointed.”
    “Kind of bittersweet, like when your kids go off to college,” Eric said.
    She shook her head. “Are you drawing bad analogies to see if you can cheer me up? Because you need to know that I don’t need to be cheered up. I just need to work. And if you say anything else about me having college-aged children, I may throw this coffee at you.”
    Eric forced a laugh. “Okay.”
    “Okay,” Olivia agreed. “What do you want me to work on?”
    Eric yawned and stretched dramatically before taking a long hard look across the desk. “We both know that what you want to do is log into your computer and spend as much time as you can trying to figure out what’s going on with your brother, right?”
    Olivia involuntarily glanced away. “Umm—”
    “It’s okay,” Eric said. “I’d do the same if I was in your shoes.”
    She didn’t respond.
    “Let’s do this. Why don’t you spend the morning trying to find out what you can find out? Later today, I need you to get back to tracking the guys with American passports.”
    Olivia asked, “Didn’t you just tell me that project was with the CIA now?”
    “I’ll get you plugged into their team,” said Eric. “Barry is supporting them now. You’ll be back in a data gathering and analysis role.”
    “That works.”

Chapter 10
    Olivia sat in her cubicle, catching up on email, drinking her morning coffee, and reading through reports on the Ugandan outbreak. Most of what she turned up told the story of a government overreacting by trying to shut down the eastern half of the country, blocking all access in or out. The ramshackle infrastructure in the rural areas, in need of constant maintenance, foundered when busy hands weren’t immediately on station to put failing components back together again. Information became a luxury, and rumors filled in where facts and exaggerations once held sway. The name Kapchorwa came up again and again, with almost no specifics about what had happened there except for the nearly universal reference to it as the epicenter of an epidemic.
    Corroborating stories came out of Western Kenya about outbreaks in small towns like Kitale, Kisumu, and Kakamega. Olivia opened up Google Maps and zoomed in on the border region between Kenya and Uganda. The road from Kapchorwa led east around the base of Mt. Elgon and then southeast into Kitale. Further along that road lay Kakamega and Kisumu. Reports on the number of people affected were mostly dismissed. Nobody believed Ebola could spread so fast. However, one report speculated that a new, much more contagious strain of Ebola could be an explanation for what was happening both in Eastern Uganda and Western Kenya. Then, in a gush of inspired originality, the author named this speculative strain Ebola K .
    Olivia nearly spit out her coffee as she laughed, thinking it was a good thing the author of that report hadn’t been around when the first Ebola epidemic killed hundreds in Zaire. He might have labeled the newly discovered disease Ebola Z , a moniker that would drive the fans of the current zombie craze absolutely nuts.
    Getting back to business, Nairobi, with three million inhabitants, was in a state of panic. Depending on the source, Olivia found the low estimate for the number of confirmed cases at one hundred and eighteen. The scary number was the count of suspected cases. That number topped