Chapter 25
TWENTY-FIVE
THE CLINIC
The clinic shifted from chaos to something closer to controlled motion. It wasn’t calm—nothing about the situation could be called that—but things were organized. The frantic edge from earlier dulled into something steadier.
Ford paused in the courtyard, watching the pattern of movement unfold beneath the floodlights. People moved with direction now. Orders were short and efficient. No one was standing still wondering what to do next.
Across the courtyard, the tents stood fully erected, glowing white beneath the floodlights. The level-three team worked fast. The triage flow was running the way it should: intake, assessment, oxygen, antivirals, isolation.
Ford stepped inside the first tent and then the second.
A whiteboard stood near each entrance with names; temperatures; pulse oximetry numbers; time of first antiviral med; and, if febrile, last fever-reducers.
It was all being kept well organized. Two level-three operators were partitioning a section of Tent 2 for the healthy people removed from the docks.
When he stepped back into the courtyard, the floodlights cast long shadows across the stone. Staff moved steadily between the clinic buildings and the tents, carrying supplies, adjusting IV lines, moving patients. Jobs rotated every two hours to avoid complacency and carelessness.
It was the only reason the island wasn’t already overwhelmed.
Ford crossed the courtyard toward the orphanage wing. Inside, the air felt different. Sick children slept in rows of beds, their small shapes barely visible beneath blankets. Well ones slept in the other wing. Unfortunately, the scale was tipping—more sick than well.
He hit the clinic last. In the pediatric ward were the sicker children. Kavi lay in one of the corner beds. His skin still held the heat of fever, but the monitor beside him showed stable numbers. Ford checked the display himself, watching the slow rise and fall of the boy’s breathing.
Across the room, Véronique slept beneath the soft hiss of oxygen. The mask covered half her face, making her look even smaller. Eira lay half across the bed. Even in sleep, she still held Véronique’s hand.
Ford stopped. Eira looked exhausted, her face pale beneath the dim lights, the fever still draining the strength from her body. But she didn’t let go of the little girl. He glanced again at the monitor above Véronique’s bed. The numbers were holding steady.
THE COURTYARD
Fifteen minutes later, Ford stood beneath the floodlights with a satellite phone in his hand. He dialed, and the call connected quickly. “Island Patrol Command.”
“This is Ford Cox from the Kasavoa clinic.”
“Yes, Mr. Cox.”
Ford stepped farther from the noise, eyes on the dark water beyond the shoreline. “I need the big picture.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean everything,” Ford said. “Fever cases across the islands. Respiratory distress. And I want to know how much boat traffic has been moving between harbors.”
The officer hesitated. “You think this is bigger than Kasavoa?”
Ford didn’t look away from the ocean. “I know it is.”
“What do you need from us?”
“We run door-to-door checks.”
“Across Kasavoa?”
“Across all three islands,” Ford said. “Cordon Noir. Arudon. Kasavoa.”
A breath on the other end. “That’s a lot of ground.”
Ford said, “Pair one patrol officer with two of my operators per team. We cover it fast and cleanly.”
“We’ll start organizing.”
Ford ended the call and lowered the phone.
“You’re pulling the net tight.”
Ford didn’t turn. He recognized the voice.
Kieran Chase stepped up beside him, hands in his pockets, eyes already scanning the same dark horizon.
“Too late for anything else,” Ford said.
Tate joined them a second later, posture controlled, expression unreadable. “I spoke to the clients.”
Ford glanced at him. “And?”
“They confirmed it,” Tate said. “Brokered network. High-net-worth clients. Layered payments. They claim they didn’t know the surrogates were underage.”
Ford let that sit.
“They know now,” Tate added. “And we need to talk about the trafficking side of this. Because this is not just a medical problem.”
Kieran nodded once. “Chase Legal is already moving. Interpol’s been notified. We’ve got international counsel coordinating.”
Ford shifted his weight slightly. That part was in motion.
Kieran looked at him then. “How are you holding up? You look exhausted.”
Ford didn’t answer the question. “We need numbers,” he said instead. “Now.”
Kieran didn’t push.
“Eira’s clinic is it,” Ford continued. “There’s no other medical authority between Arudon, Kasavoa, and whatever’s left operating on Cordon Noir and Tevenne.”
Tate nodded. “Which means everything routes here.”
“Exactly,” Ford said. “So we need to know what we’re about to absorb before we start pulling people off that island.”
He looked back toward the tents, the movement, the pressure building inside the system.
“Island patrol is setting up sweep teams, door-to-door. We pair them with our operators.”
Kieran considered it. “We’ll need staging points.”
“We use the harbor, the clinic, and the outer tents,” Ford said. “Triage forward. Move critical here. Keep the rest contained.”
Tate folded his arms. “And Tevenne?”
Ford’s gaze went back to the ocean. “We don’t touch it until we know exactly how bad this is.”
Kieran nodded. “Alright. We build the picture first.”
COMMAND CENTER – KASAVOA
The conference room was once a storage office for medical supplies. Now the walls were covered with maps, weather charts, and patient boards pulled from around the clinic. The table, plywood on sawhorses, filled the center, disappearing beneath lab reports, tablets, and handwritten notes.
By the time Ford stepped inside, the room was mostly full. It felt smaller. The wind hit the shutters again. Harder this time. Refusing to sit, he said, “Report.”
Hunt Montgomery looked up from the numbers in his hand. “Twenty-seven confirmed influenza cases. Both strains in about half. That’s the problem. Co-infection is hitting harder and faster. Walk-ins are increasing. Locals are waiting it out until they can’t.”
Liana didn’t look up from her tablet. “Five pregnant patients from the dock are in. Two already in labor. Beds are full. We’re spilling into tents.”
Dr. Rios added, “Fever curves are climbing. Not breaking.”
Ford absorbed it. “How many critical?”
Hunt paused, seeming to answer carefully. “If resources hold, most of them will recover.”
It wasn’t reassuring.
“Delivery is the problem,” Hunt continued. “Rios, Flynn, and I are getting ultrasounds up now. If the fever breaks, we let them deliver vaginally. Less invasive, less risk.”
“And if it doesn’t?” Ford asked.
Hunt met his eyes. “With high fever, labor becomes a strain. We are leaning toward C-sections in those cases. Controlled environment. Less systemic stress.” He ran a hand through his hair. “But that means we need time, staff, and stability.”
“Those are things we don’t have in a plentiful supply,” Liana said.
“It’s watch, wait, and see,” Hunt finished.
Ford’s jaw tightened slightly. He hated that answer. “And the rest?”
Hunt flipped the page. “We have two octogenarians from Arudon. Respiratory compromise. They could go either way.”
Ford nodded once.
Hunt hesitated before saying, “I’m worried about Véronique.”
Everything in Ford went still for a fraction of a second.
“She’s not stabilizing,” Hunt continued. “Her infection is progressing instead of receding. With her asthma…” He didn’t finish.
Ford’s gut twisted. He kept his face neutral and his posture still, but the shift was there.
This was immediate and personal.
Rourke pushed off the wall. “So, we’ve got an outbreak, critical patients, and a storm coming in.”
Ford turned back to the map. The weather track had shifted.
Rourke pointed at it. “That storm from two days ago changed the pattern. This one is tracking toward us now.”
Kieran leaned forward. “How bad?”
Ford said, “The Seychelles rarely get hit by typhoons, but the tailwinds of Typhoon Queenie are moving toward the islands.”
Dr. Rios was the first to speak. “How strong?”
“Strong enough to shut down air evacuation,” Ford said. “There’s another system; Typhoon Rosal is forming behind it. It may pass north of us, but the track puts it close enough to be a problem. Bad enough to shut down air. Maybe boats too if it builds.”
They all understood what that meant. There could be no evacuations, no reinforcements, and no resupply.
“Liana, we need strict inventory control. We might be able to get a helo from Nairobi if they leave within the hour with more supplies. Kieran, can you check?”
Kieran scratched a note on his pad. “Legal has notified Interpol. We’re coordinating internationally. But that doesn’t help us tonight.”
Tate spoke next. “The clients confirmed trafficking. Broker networks. High-value contracts. This is going to explode.”
Ford nodded. “Then it waits.”
Tate looked at him. “You’re prioritizing medical.”
“I’m prioritizing survival,” Ford said.
The wind hit the building again, stronger than the last blast. Ford looked around the room. They all saw it and felt it. Everything was stacking up at once. The outbreak, trafficking, and a typhoon. And there was not enough time to solve any of it cleanly.
Ford turned back to the map and placed a finger on the small island marked Tevenne.
“If we’re going to get those girls and babies off that island, we may have to do it before the storm arrives.
” He could picture it—wealthy clients evacuating while staff and surrogates remained behind.
“Kieran, I need you to reach out to Tevenne.”
Kieran frowned slightly. “You think they’ll answer?”
Ford folded his arms. “I don’t know. But we need to understand what’s happening there. And the Chase International Ethics Board has some weight.”
Hunter nodded. “It’s not about wrongdoing yet; we need the numbers.”
“Exactly,” Ford said. “How many pregnant girls. How many newborns. How many are sick. And how many others are still trapped on the island.”
Ford turned toward Rourke. “Adrian.”
Rourke straightened. “Yes, sir.”
“You, me and five operators.”
Hunter asked, “What exactly are you planning?”
Ford shrugged. “We go look.”
The reaction was immediate. Hunter stepped forward. “You’re insane.”
Ford kept his tone level. “Six operators, preferably medically trained. A case of antivirals. That should get them through until we get them out. We move quickly, and we come back with real numbers.”
Hunter shook his head. “No.”
“I have Chase Security authority that the Seychelles police and Interpol recognize, and I’m a combat medic.” He looked at Hunt. “A certification the first chief medical officer of Chase Security insisted we maintain. And the policy continues.”
Hunt was that chief. “That doesn’t make it smart.”
“It makes it possible.”
Hunter crossed his arms. “And if you get infected?”
Ford held his gaze. “I started the prophylaxis after the first case. Eira insisted.”
Kieran shook his head. “I’m going with you.”
“No.” This came from Ford instantly.
Kieran stared at him. “Why not?”
“Because you are not expendable. You are the vice president of Chase International. You’re married with two children, and Ian would kill me.”
Hunter looked like he might throw something across the room.
Ford continued before the argument could escalate. “Hunt, Dr. Rios, and Liana are needed here.” He gestured toward the clinic outside. “You’re the only team on this island capable of managing the outbreak.”
Rios nodded reluctantly. “He’s right.”
Hunter let out a slow breath. “That doesn’t mean I like it.”
Ford looked back at Kieran. “What I need from you is communication.”
Kieran frowned. “What does that mean?”
“You start building contact lists,” Ford said. “Governments. Health agencies. Anyone with legal or medical authority over Tevenne.”
Kieran nodded slowly. “Cox, write this moment down, because I’ll only say this once: you’re right.”
Ford turned his attention back to the room.
“In the meantime, we prepare for the storm. Orphanage and clinic windows need to be reinforced.” He looked directly at Hunter.
“You’re creating sleep rotations for everyone.
” He gestured toward the tents outside. “The moment that storm hits, exhaustion becomes another threat.”
Hunter sighed. “You’re not wrong.”
Rourke crossed his arms. “When do we leave?”
Ford looked back down at the map. “Soon.”
Outside the clinic, the wind shifted again, stronger this time.