I left Walt Daniels and John Wardley, headed out of the convention centre and took a taxi which went straight into a traffic jam. If for nothing else, traffic jams are good for thinking.
It’s surprising how quickly you can become an expert on viruses and epidemics. Amos Gazit was right. I sensed some genuine concern amongst these guys about new and deadly viruses, and that no effective treatments were available.
I thought about the two disappeared scientists, David Solomon and Guy Williams from Biox and found myself already drawing some sort of connection with the Virex case.
I was still deep in thought when my taxi arrived at the hotel. Feeling I needed some fresh air, I didn’t go inside but leaned over the railings by the riverbank where rafts of green lotus weed floated downstream.
Ploughing upstream was a long barge pulled by a single noisy tug, and amongst it all was the throaty roar of river taxis. Every free space beside the road at this point was taken up by food carts, and the pavements was crammed with rickety tables, chairs, and people eating, and I suddenly felt hungry.
Something hot and spicy appealed. But alone? No. I’m always alone.
Relaxing company was what I suddenly craved. Someone I could sit with in total unpressured comfort and absorb the heat, the sound, the smells, and the views of one of my favourite cities. So, what should I do about that other burning question? Goddam it, Anna was bothering me every few minutes, and she wasn’t even there.
Should I stay at this hotel or check out and return to my normal place off Sukhumvit Road? I had only moved to the riverside hotel because Virex had booked me the room so I could meet Amos Gazit. And I deliberately hadn’t sought out Gazit at the conference because I’d been complying with my arrangement with Virex. They didn’t want to be seen by anyone to be in any way connected to this guy Dr Mike Stevens from Kuala Lumpur.
I took the lift to my room, showered, changed and called Anna’s phone. There was no answer and so, somewhat dejected, I headed down to the hotel bar, thinking I’d have a beer and sit in the corner to think. I suppose I could have got drunk and forgotten everything. I could have taken a taxi to the airport and flown back to London. I could have ditched Virex and tried to forget about . . .
I couldn’t do any of that. And I didn’t order a beer. I only ever drink beer when I’ve finished a job or when sitting alone in dark corners. I bought myself a lime juice instead.