Десмонд Бэгли - Bahama Crisis

Philips jerked his thumb towards the ceiling. ‘Doing his rounds.’

‘Has he any help?’

‘A load of doctors from Nassau and some nursing staff from the hospital.’

‘Track him down; I want to see him in Fletcher’s office five minutes ago.’

When I saw Tony Bosworth he looked tired and drawn, his eyes were reddened as though he had not slept, and he swayed a little on his feet. I said, ‘Sit down before you fall down, and tell me what the hell we’ve got.’

He sighed as he sat down. ‘The tests aren’t through yet, but I’m fairly certain it’s legionellosis.’

‘Damn!’ I mopped the sweat from my brow and loosened my tie. It was hot and humid and I realized why. The airconditioning in the public rooms was not working. ‘It’s hitting faster this time, isn’t it?’

‘It’s the Pontiac fever form, I think. It hits sooner and harder, in the sense that more people exposed to it contract the symptoms — ninety-five per cent is the usual rate.’

‘My God!’ I said. ‘Then we still have a long way to go. Did you see what was happening in the lobby as you came through?’

He nodded. ‘I’m not sure it’s wise to allow those people to leave. They could go away and still come down with the bug.’

‘I don’t see how we can stop them. You can’t expect people to stay in what they think is a pest house. What’s the position of the Public Health Department?’

‘They’re still making up their minds.’ Tony’s eyes met mine. ‘I think they’ll close you down.’

I winced. ‘How could this happen?’ I demanded. ‘You know the precautions we took.’

‘Tom, I don’t know.’ He, too, took out a handkerchief and wiped his brow, then ran it around the edge of his collar. ‘What’s puzzling me is the spotty spread. We’re not getting an incidence of ninety-five per cent — it’s more like thirty per cent.’

‘Then perhaps it’s not Pontiac fever.’

‘All the symptoms check.’ Tony scratched his head. ‘But all the Italians have gone down, seventy-five per cent of the Americans, but only twenty-five per cent of the British.’

I blinked at that. ‘You mean it’s attacking by nationality selectively? That’s crazy!’ I had a thought. ‘It’s tending to give Bahamians a miss, too. Only four of the staff have gone down.’

‘Four? Who’s the fourth?’

‘Jack Fletcher — I’ve just packed him off to bed. I’d like you to look at him when you have time. Who are the other three?’ He named them, and I said slowly, ‘They all live here in the hotel.’ Most of the staff had homes of their own, but a select few of the senior staff, like Fletcher, had staff flats.

It was as though I had goosed Bosworth. He jerked visibly and sat up straight from his slumped position, and I could see the Big Idea bursting from him. Someone has christened it the Eureka Syndrome. He leaned forward and grabbed the telephone. A minute later he was saying, ‘Nurse, I want you to go to every patient and ask a question — Do you habitually take tub baths or a shower? Make a tabulated list and bring it to the manager’s office. Yes, nurse, I’m serious. Get someone to help you; I want it fast.’

He put down the telephone, and I said dryly, ‘I’m not surprised the nurse asked if you were serious. What is this?’

‘National habits,’ he said. ‘Do you know the Russians don’t have plugs in their wash hand basins? They don’t like washing their hands in dirty water so they let the taps run.’

For a moment I thought Tony had gone completely round the bend. ‘What the hell have the bloody Russians to do with this?’ I said explosively.

He held up both his hands to quieten me. ‘I once talked with an Italian doctor. He told me the Italians consider the English to be a dirty race because they bathe in their own filth. He said most Italians take showers. Now, every Italian in the hotel has gone down with this bug — every last one of them.’

‘And seventy-five per cent of the Americans, but only twenty-five per cent of the English.’

‘Whereas, if the infection had been coming from the air-conditioner as at the Parkway, it should have been ninety-five per cent overall. You know what this means, Tom; it’s in the water supply, not the air-conditioner.’

‘That’s bad.’ I sat and thought about it. If the water supply was contaminated the hotel was sure to be shut down. I said, ‘It won’t work, Tony. Everybody has been drinking the damn water, and they sure as hell don’t drink their shower water.’

‘But that’s the point. You can drink a gallon of water loaded down with this bug and it’ll do no harm in the gut. To be infective it must be inhaled into the lungs. At the Parkway the air in the lobby and on the pavement outside was filled with drift from the air-conditioner — an aerosol loaded with L. pneumophila which was inhaled. Exactly the same thing happens when you take a shower; the water is broken up intovery fine droplets and you inhale some of it.’

‘Jack Fletcher takes showers,’ I said. ‘I was in his apartment once and his wife said he was in the shower. I could hear him; he has a fine bathroom baritone.’ I blew out my cheeks. ‘So what do I tell those people out there? That everything is okay as long as they don’t take a shower? I really don’t think that would work.’

‘I’m sorry,’ said Tony. ‘But I really think you’ll have to close if my theory turns out to be right. I’ll lay in some sodium hypochlorite to flush out the system.’

Three-quarters of an hour later we had the answer; all the patients, without exception, had taken showers. Tony had sent some of the older people to the Princess Margaret Hospital and they were interrogated, too. Same answer. ‘That does it,’ he said. ‘It’s in the water supply.’

I said, ‘We have to retrieve something out of this mess, so we’ll turn it into a public relations exercise. I’ll notify the Department of Public Health that we’re closing before they tell me I must.’ I grinned at Tony and quoted,’ “His cause is just who gets his blow in fust.” Then there are the customers. We’ll get them into other hotels, preferably our own, and stand the expense.’ It would break Jack Cunningham’s heart, but would be good business in the long run.

‘What about all the people still here and sick?’

‘They can stay if you and the other medicos can look after them. My worry is how many of them are going to die here.’

‘None,’ said Tony. ‘No one has been known to die of Pontiac fever yet. They’ll be up and about in a few days — a week at most.’

‘Thank God for that!’ I said fervently. ‘Now for the big question. I know we can get this bacterium out of the water system. What I want to know is how it got in.’

‘I’ll check into that,’ said Tony. ‘I’ll need your maintenance engineer, and I think we should have one of the Public Health people along.’

‘And you’ll have me,’ I said. ‘I want to know exactly what I happened so I can make sure it never happens again.’

We began the investigation that night. All afternoon I had been helping Philips and the rest of the managerial staff to organize the future wellbeing of our departing guests. It took a lot of telephoning around but it got done, and although my competitors were pleased enough to take the business they did not really like it. We all knew it would be bad for trade in the future.

Then I had to quell a minor revolt on the part of the staff. Word had somehow got around that there was something wrong with the hotel water and I was in danger of losing some of my best people. It took some straight talking on the part of Tony Bosworth, including a demonstration in which he drank a full glass of water straight from the tap — and so did I. I was glad he believed his own theories but I was not so sure, and it took some effort to drink that water without gagging.