Page 60 of The Presidents Shadow

OUR DILIGENCE AND energy are leading to some lucky breaks, but they are not truly breakthroughs. What to do but keep on trying? What to do while the world stands on the very brink of destruction?

As the four of us ride toward Kastrup, the main Copenhagen airport, Margo says, “The world is completely on hold. People are frozen in decision-making. Should we have a baby? Should we plan a holiday? Should we get married? No one is planning their future, because they don’t know if any of us has one. ”

As we all pass through the private government security gate at Kastrup, I receive a text from Dr. Anna DaSilva: Conditions in Australia worsen. Deaths increase. Confusion reigns. Talk very soon.

Dr. DaSilva’s news is so simple and so depressing that we barely discuss it as we take our seats on the plane.

A few minutes later an attendant approaches us, I assume to take our beverage order.

Instead she says, “The captain is coming back to speak to you.” Sure enough, the captain appears within seconds.

“Mr. Cranston. We have been blocked from takeoff. I have no special information, but air traffic has informed me all aircraft must stay grounded. This is a worldwide order, because of a dynamic breakout of Newbola—”

Burbank interrupts. “Newbola? What the hell is that?”

“It’s the virus spreading—that is on the verge of becoming a pandemic. You don’t know about it?”

Margo says, “Yes, we know about it. We just didn’t know it has a new name. I thought it was called Austravid.”

“The media must have rechristened it as Newbola,” I say. Then I ask the captain to continue.

“The Newbola virus has shown up in Venezuela, Detroit, Honolulu, Moscow, Melbourne, Tokyo—it’s everywhere. So far, the death toll is low. But no one wants to take any chances. Nobody is being let in or let out of anywhere. The world has been shut down.”

As I look at my companions’ faces, I know they are having the same thought I am—we’ve recently been in some of those places.

“Is it possible that we could receive some sort of special clearance?” I ask the captain.

“Queen Margarethe is sitting on the tarmac a few thousand yards away from you,” the captain says in answer. “She’s supposed to be on her way to an audience with the pope.”

Well, if the queen can’t get off the ground, I’m sure Lamont Cranston can’t, either.