“Tennis, my favorite. You play?”

“I did. Varsity-level at college. Loved it. It was my favorite release. But I can’t serve a ball now without dislocating my shoulder.”

“A shame. We could’ve played. My game is only so-so, but I’m a world-class cheater.” His grin dissipates. “So once you couldn’t operate anymore . . .”

“Didn’t know what I was going to do with myself. One day, I ran into my favorite prof from med school. A microbiologist. Dr. Crawford. He was ancient and eccentric as hell, but he always made the field of infectious diseases feel so vital. He used to portray it as a microscopic battleground as important as any war. Dr. Crawford convinced me to give it a whirl. After finishing my residency, I ended up at the WHO because, in my mind, it embodied the battle.” She laughs self-consciously. “Or maybe the truth is that I just love to travel. My whole life, I’ve never really settled in one place. Even as a kid, I was always on the move with my parents from base to base and country to country.”

“So why NATO?”

“My last mission with the WHO in Liberia, it . . . disillusioned me. And I’m nothing if not pigheaded—just ask my dad. I quit on principle. Or maybe impulse? On my way out of Geneva, at the airport, I had another chance encounter, with an old family friend who works for NATO. He encouraged me to speak to his colleague Monique Olin, who happens to be the assistant secretary general. My medical and military background fit what Monique was looking for. One thing led to another, and here I am . . .” She runs a hand over her gown. “In this fumigator getup.”

“It suits you. You look like a sexy beekeeper. Now I understand why you have Nico so flustered.”

“He’s married, Claudio.”

“Technically, yes.”

Alana squints in suspicion. “What does that mean?”

“He never told you about Isabella?”

“Very little. What about her?”

“There was another man.” Claudio shrugs. “Nico and Isabella were already separated when he found out she was pregnant with Simona. He thought it would be a good idea if he stayed and gave it another try. I didn’t think so. I still don’t. Things are not good between them.”

Alana says nothing. She can’t even discern her own response to the news. She wonders why Nico wouldn’t have told her any of this. While she’s still digesting it, her phone vibrates in her pocket under her gown. The rapid triple buzz identifies Byron as the sender.

She bids a quick goodbye to Claudio and heads out. As soon as she strips out of her protective gear and clears the final security hurdle, she calls Byron and arranges to meet him across the street from the hospital.

Outside, Alana weaves through the hive of media at the main door. She crosses the intersection to where Byron and Justine wait on the sidewalk.

As Alana approaches, Justine shakes a finger at her. “Your friend went and did it!”