each year. Hospitals had rows of iron lungs, the imprisoning mechanical respirator in which some victims were doomed to spend the rest of their lives. There was no cure for polio, but the near elimination of the disease caused by the introduction of the Salk and Sabin vaccines was one of medicine’s great triumphs. As Jürgen knew, however, a population with almost no exposure to polio also created an opportunity: the virus’s high rate of infectiousness and its unpredictable effects on the central nervous system made it an object of interest as a bioweapon.
Henry turned his attention to a common childhood infection called hand, foot, and mouth disease—also known as enterovirus 71—which was closely related to polio. Symptoms were normally mild, although severe cases sometimes occurred, especially in Asia, causing permanent neurological damage. Although Henry’s mandate was to explore the enteroviruses as a potential weapon, as a doctor he thought that if he could understand the mechanism that caused a harmless disease to become catastrophic he might unlock one of nature’s jealously held secrets.
Henry found a way to marry EV 71 with poliovirus. The hybrid had the most peculiar effect on the mice first exposed to it: three days later, they collapsed and remained in a state of unconsciousness for several hours, then they recovered with no apparent ill effects. It was transient and benign. Mice in the same cages that had not been inoculated with the hybrid suffered a similar reaction, demonstrating that the virus could pass from mouse to mouse. Indeed, it was extremely contagious.
Jürgen immediately saw a use for the hybrid, and he enchanted Henry with praise for his genius, giving him credit for applications that Henry hadn’t yet arrived at. We will change the ways wars are fought, Jürgen said. Not by conventional weapons or nuclear bombs, but by germs and viruses and toxins. Carefully targeted, scrupulously prepared, an aerosol version of Henry’s—what should we call it? An incapacitant? A narcotic of some sort?—could render the enemy disabled long enough to be arrested or made harmless. It would be bloodless, to all appearances a natural event. Made possible by your discovery, Henry, your brilliant discovery.
An incapacitant. A narcotic. A kind of sleeping potion. It seemed so benign when Jürgen described it. Actually, no one knew exactly what it was; it hadn’t been tested in humans. But Jürgen was in a rush, and in the private world, operating covertly in deserts and jungles and the unpoliced hinterlands, shortcuts could be taken. Here is a perfect opportunity, he told Henry, the human trial you’ve been asking for. Imagine this: in a rain forest on the border of Bolivia and Brazil, there is a group of narcoterrorists. Wicked sorts, a renegade spin-off from the Colombian FARC. They have evaded capture for years, raiding villages, burning crops, raping, plundering, imposing a regime of fear. The Brazilians have come to us for a solution, and you have created it!
Henry met the AGT team in São Paulo, where the operation was being staged from a military air base. The team was brisk, muscular, and efficient, and there could be no doubt of their success. They would load the “agent,” as they called Henry’s invention, into a crop duster and land on an airstrip in the Amazon forest near the village of Corumbá. They would wait until nightfall. The target was isolated, so there was little risk of spreading the infection beyond the objective. The lights of the cabins where the terrorists hid out would guide them, and darkness would confound any response. The crop duster would make several passes over the village. Unlike anthrax, which has to be inhaled directly, Henry’s agent was contagious, so the infection would spread quickly. Three days later, the army would move in. Jürgen and Henry would follow as the medical team to document the effect. All would go well.
Henry did have misgivings. It wasn’t scientific, not at all. On the other hand, there would have to have been a human test of volunteers anyway—the “agent” was at that stage—and temporarily paralyzing a group of terrorists seemed a much better use of Henry’s invention (if it worked at all). Moreover, the Brazilians were urgent in their need, and Jürgen was confident of success. These encouraging thoughts did not entirely set Henry’s mind at ease.
Henry and Jürgen spent the third night in the rain forest. There was a welcome breeze that pushed the humidity aside and made the forest breathable. They drank corn wine and listened to the