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I continue to be confused. I am especially confused by the title of “subordinate,” but I want to engage immediately with Dr. DaSilva.

“I wanted to let you know that the medication you sent me is, in a word, wondrous.”

She reacts with neither joy nor satisfaction, which makes no sense.

“I am thrilled to hear this, Lamont. However, we have a related problem. One that I fear may be unsolvable.”

“Go on,” I say.

“There is an extraordinary infestation of Newbola Strong in West Africa. Check your geo-monitor.”

Margo, who has been monitoring this conversation, adjusts an adjacent screen to reveal a map from DaSilva’s team of the affected area.

“The areas shaded in burgundy are the major areas of the viral horror. The areas in green are predicted to be hours away from the same medical crisis. We are talking about thousands of victims, perhaps hundreds of thousands, who will—as you yourself have now experienced—suffer incredibly, perhaps even die.”

I take in the map quickly. Both Niger and Nigeria are completely painted in the color burgundy. The color extends through all of neighboring Mali and begins to slacken off—but only slightly—as it encroaches on Mauritania. The rest of the map’s western corner consists of blotches of green.

“How fast can we get your remarkable medicine to these people?” I ask.

“That’s the problem. This is the worst viral invasion the world has ever known. So many people are stricken. We have absolutely no manufacturing capabilities available,” she says.

“But, Doctor,” I say. “Only minutes ago, not more than a half hour, we received these miracle capsules from your Upper Manhattan pharma manufacturer.”

“Have you not seen the news?” Dr. DaSilva asks.

“No, I was busy dying,” I snap back.

“Lamont,” she continues. “The world has changed in that half hour. The building that housed the capsule maker was struck by multiple explosions. They leveled the building. Even worse, they killed all seven of the people who were working on production.”

“Surely, there’s someplace else—”

“Certainly there’s someplace else. We have sent our analysis and formulae to our partners in Bloomington, Indiana, and Casper, Wyoming. But they won’t be able to supply us with anything for at least three days. Part of the difficulty of creating—”

I interrupt.

“Save the explanation about what we can’t do,” I say. “I need to focus on what we can do.

“And what is that, Lamont?” Dr. DaSilva asks. I know the answer, and I give it to her.

“I’ve got to go there.”

CHAPTER 103

I TELL MY colleagues of my decision to go directly to Nigeria. Their response? A combination of extreme apprehensionandextreme understanding. I am personally highly gratified that all of them, without exception, volunteer to accompany me on this enormously challenging journey.

I tell them (and I mean it) that the plan is far too dangerous to risk the lives of anyone else. Since my Dache-taught superpowers are almost completely restored, I remind them that I have manipulative skills such as shape-changing, mind control, internal speed, and energy mechanisms that they do not share.

“Indeed,” I say to them, “even though Margo and Maddy have gradations of powers similar to my own, I will not permit them to confront such a dangerous situation.”

Then I share with everyone my plan. As of right now, all signs are pointing toward Africa. We know that’s where Ambrose is, and the fact that the largest outbreak ofNewbola Strong is located there proves to me that he is responsible for the virus as well as the natural disasters.

If I can find Ambrose, there’s a chance I can destroy Terrageddon and end the plague at the same time, as he certainly has an antidote on hand, if only to keep himself safe.

I have to throw caution to the wind. Plan or no plan, I have to go to Africa.

Right after I end the meeting with my team, I connect with an old friend. Gutta Linderson is a former colleague of mine now teaching science at a private university in Helsinki, Finland.

Gutta is way beyond delighted to help. He is ecstatic.