from Scotland. I know you appear to be quite bright, and maybe even a little bit of a humanitarian.” She put her elbows on the table and leaned toward him. “Think you could cut it at the DPA?”
He gave a lazy kind of smile. “Not if you call chips fries.”
She sighed and waved her hand. “Oh, well, that’s it. Interview fail. I’m sorry, Dr. Campbell—looks like you have to work on your interpersonal skills.”
He nodded in agreement. In the corner of the room one of the conference staff had a phone in her hand and was talking quietly to one of the waiters and pointing toward their table. After a few seconds she approached. “Dr. Berkeley?”
Amber turned around in surprise. “Yes?”
“Would you mind taking a call from one of your colleagues from the DPA?”
Amber stared down at her bag for a few seconds, and then her face crumpled. “Darn it. I switched off my phone before I came down because I knew I’d be in the auditorium. I hope nothing is wrong.”
She held out her hand for the phone. “This is Dr. Berkeley.” He heard it instantly. The change in her tone, her professional persona slipping back into place. He wondered if he should move to let her take the call in privacy, but she didn’t seem to mind the fact they were still sitting together.
“Hi, Warren. Yes. No. Really?”
He watched as he could see her concentrating. After a few seconds she fumbled around in her bag. Jack reached into his fatigues and pulled out his pocketbook and pen, pushing them across the table toward her. She nodded gratefully as she flicked open the book and started to scribble. “Yip, what’s the name? Oh...how awful. Which strain? Yes. Do you have a contact at the local agency? At the admitting hospital? Okay. Can Drew give me a lab contact I can work with? I might have more experience at identifying the strain. Sure, no problem.” She glanced outside at the darkening sky. “No.” She gave a little smile, then met his gaze. “Things have been a little different than expected. Let me get on this.” She clicked the phone and sighed as she set it down on the table.
“Something wrong?”
She nodded. “A new unidentified strain of meningitis. One affected teenager. A request for assistance has been made to the DPA and since I’m here...”
She let her voice tail off. Jack spoke carefully. “It’s your specialty area—of course they should call you.”
She nodded. “I know. I’m lucky it’s meningitis. In the DPA you have to do a bit of everything. I’ve been in Africa looking at polio and sleeping sickness, Chicago, when we thought we might have a smallpox outbreak, and Washington and Texas for flu.” She gave a resigned kind of smile. “We get all over.” She stared over toward one of the windows. “Let’s just hope it’s only one case. I’m here by myself. If there’s any more and it turns into an outbreak, contact tracing could be a nightmare.”
It was all he needed to hear and he made his mind up instantly. Jack was never going to schmooze his way around this conference trying to find a suitable job. No matter how much his head told him he should, it just wasn’t in him to do it. He couldn’t do it. He was far more interested in finding out more about the woman sitting opposite him. It had been so long since he’d felt like this. She was sparking his interest in so many ways—so many ways that he hadn’t acknowledged in such a long time. He stood up. “Okay, then, let’s go.”
Amber’s eyes widened. “What?”
He shrugged. “No point in you going alone. And I guess you could always do with another pair of hands even though it’s not my specialty. If it turns into more than one case, you’ll need help. I can be that help. Why don’t you change, I’ll grab a few things from my room and I’ll meet you back down here in ten minutes?”
Amber looked a bit lost for words. She waved her hand toward the doors to the foyer. “But don’t you have to work the room, find a job?”
“I just flunked my last interview.” He gave her a wink. “I’ve been told I need to work on my people skills. No time like the present to start.”
She stood up and picked up her bag. “Are you sure about this?”
He gave the briefest of nods. “Let’s face it. You’re the most interesting person I’ve met here. Better stick around.”
He could swear that was relief on her face. “Okay, then, Dr. Campbell. I’ll meet you in ten.”
* * *
She’d never changed so quickly—just kicked off her heels and let her expensive suit crumple across a chair. She pulled on a pair of stretchy dark trousers, a short-sleeved shirt and a pair of flats. Because her wardrobe was mainly formal clothes for the conference—none of which she wanted to wear to the local hospital—she grabbed her least formal jacket, a khaki military-style one. She shook her head as she pulled it on. At this rate, she and Jack would look like a matching pair.
She dumped her purse and stuffed her wallet, phone and notebook into a small backpack. She’d learned over the years to travel lightly.
She still couldn’t believe he’d volunteered to come with her but she was secretly pleased. It didn’t matter that she was confident in her practice. It didn’t matter that she’d handled contact tracing for meningitis on numerous occasions. This was the first time she’d actually represented the DPA on her own. And it made her a tiny bit nervous. But from what little she knew of Jack Campbell, she hoped he would have her back.
He was already waiting as she walked back out to the main foyer. It was busier than she’d expected. Filled with anxious faces. Jack was standing among some other people.
“What’s happening?” she asked.
“Look at that rain.”
“What did they say about a weather warning?”
“I’ve never seen black clouds like that before. What happened to the sun?”
Jack was still wearing his fatigues; for the second time she tried not to notice how well they suited him. He smiled as he noticed her similar garb. “Are we ready to get started? I think we should move. Something seems to be happening.”
She nodded. “We need to go to the Hawaii Outbreak Center and Lahuna State Hospital.”
They walked across the foyer and out to the hotel main entrance. Both of the suited doormen were standing inside. They looked at her in surprise. “What’s your destination?”
Almost immediately the sharp wind whipped her ponytail around her face and she had to brace her feet to the ground. She glanced around as her jacket and shirt buffeted against her. Rain thudded all around her, bouncing off the ground. The streets were almost empty and she could feel the stinging sand on her cheeks picked up from the beach across the road. All of the straw beach umbrellas had tipped over and were rolling precariously around. No one seemed keen on rescuing them.
Hawaii had never looked like this in any of the photographs she’d seen.
The doorman looked down at the deserted street. When she’d arrived the day before it had been packed with cars and taxis.
He gave a wave. “Come back inside and I’ll
