The Pestilence Read online

  Susan Saltman: Why debt, Victor? Other charitable foundations are targeting health programmes or educational access.

  Victor Pierre Chaput: I know this show is syndicated globally but many of your viewers are from the US so let me give you some numbers on US personal indebtedness. The average indebted household in the US has over $15,000 of credit card debt, $153,500 of mortgage debt and $32,000 of student debt. Student debt! What kind of society charges to educate its people? I am a strong believer in the concept of meaningful work as a key ingredient of a fulfilling life, but excess debt is ruining people’s opportunities. If you are working solely to pay back debt you are nothing but an economic slave. The foundation is offering people the chance to reset that debt, to wipe the slate clean and start afresh. Think about it, Susan, the productivity and creativity we could unleash if people got a second chance. We are attacking inequality by making the rich poorer and the poor richer.

  Susan Saltman: Those indebtedness numbers are big numbers Victor, especially if you extrapolate them out on a global basis. Aren’t you worried that no matter how big the foundation, you could never really hope to wipe all those debts away?

  Victor Pierre Chaput: You are right Susan. That is not our aim. We are trying to help the people most in need. People who are working two jobs just to pay the mortgage; families who are getting into heavy debt so their kids can go to college; people who perhaps have got in a little over their heads with credit cards; couples living in a house they worked hard to buy and through no fault of their own are in negative equity. These are ordinary, hardworking people Susan and we are trying to help them.

  Susan Saltman: Victor, tell me more about the foundation’s work.

  Victor Pierre Chaput: We have almost a thousand people now working full-time at the foundation. The majority are client-facing relationship managers. When we receive a request for help, the requester is assigned a personal relationship manager. It’s an important single point of contact with the foundation. Since the foundation launched, we have helped over 500,000 families and individuals across the globe. We don’t just cancel debt; we offer counselling and practical advice on how to avoid the debt trap in future. We have made agreements with the credit rating agencies that any people we help will have their credit records expunged of any defaults.

  We also deal with the lenders directly. Many of them have already written the debt off in their books so we can negotiate to buy it for much less than face value. It’s a very effective multiplier. For every dollar we raise, we are cancelling eight dollars of debt. We can reach more people, do more good, we really are helping people wipe the slate clean.

  Susan Saltman: If any of our viewers need to get in touch with the Chaput Foundation, we are scrolling the foundation’s website, email address and hotline numbers on the screens now. Victor, how much has your foundation raised so far?

  Victor Pierre Chaput: I have personally donated my fortune of US$20 billion and VPC Capital has donated US$5 billion. With the foundation now up and running I am now reaching out to captains of industry, entrepreneurs and global corporations to support our efforts. My aim is to become the largest charitable foundation in the world.

  Susan Saltman: That is incredible, ladies and gentlemen. I am sure with your drive you will get there.

  Victor Pierre Chaput: Thank you, Susan.

  Susan Saltman: What have been the highs and lows of this project?

  Victor Pierre Chaput: The lows, well, we have discovered that some people try to abuse the foundation’s good intentions: People maxing out cards at Macy’s and coming to us to have their debt cancelled. The foundation has access to powerful investigative capabilities. We do our due diligence on the people we help. Anyone trying to defraud the foundation is caught. Thankfully these cases are few and far between. For the highs I just think about the people we have helped.

  Susan Saltman: How has launching the foundation changed your life?

  Victor Pierre Chaput: I feel I’m giving back. I’m spending the majority of my time working for the foundation and plan to completely step down from VPC Capital within six months. Working for the foundation is the most fulfilling thing I have ever done.

  Susan Saltman: Victor, I know you are not expecting this, it is one of my little surprises. I would like to talk to the audience and tell them Beatrice’s story. Beatrice is a nurse in a public hospital; she has dedicated her life to helping others. She has two beautiful children both doing well at school, but Beatrice had a problem. Since her husband lost his job in construction the family have struggled financially. Things got worse for Beatrice when her husband started gambling in online casinos. While Beatrice worked nights, her husband ran up big gambling debts on their joint credit card. At first he would hide the bills then he got pay-day loans to pay off the cards. He kept gambling getting more loans and building a debt disaster for his family. When Beatrice found out, their savings had gone and they were US$124,000 in debt. The loan companies threatened to take Beatrice’s house and leave her and her children destitute. She wrote to the Chaput Foundation for help. The foundation heard her plea, cancelled her debt and got her husband into counselling. Beatrice is here tonight in person and she wants to thank you, Victor, for all you have done for her and her children. Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome Beatrice.

  Beatrice: Hello Mr Chaput.

  Victor Pierre Chaput: Hello Beatrice, call me Victor, please.

  Susan Saltman: Beatrice, do you have something you would like to say to Victor?

  Beatrice: Well, I came on here to say that you saved us, sir. You saved our home, you paid off our credit and my family has a future because of you. You, sir, are an angel, sent from the Lord to shine down on all of us.

  Victor Pierre Chaput: It is my great pleasure to assist.

  Beatrice: Thank you for everything, sir. Now I’m just gonna hug ya. Here I come.

  Susan Saltman. I will just leave those two hugging away. Ladies and gentlemen, how beautiful is that to see? I would like to thank all our guests on tonight’s show and thank you all for watching. I hope to see you next week. God bless you. Goodnight.

  Top Comments

  DrunKenMunkey:

  Just what the world needs, another benevolent billionaire sprinkling his fairy dust on the lumpen proletariat. We are all so grateful.

  AnnaKeremer:

  “I am a strong believer in the concept of meaningful work as a key ingredient of a fulfilling life.” Why not just let the people do some meaningful work to climb out of the debt hole they made for themselves. Surely he can find some better use for that kind of money. People are starving in the world.

  Nadia73:

  The man is a genius, this will help millions.

  TomC 256:

  Hahaha, look at his face when the fat woman goes to hug him. He looks like he is gonna throw up. He wants to run, far, far away.

  RVP RIP:

  Yeah LOL. I bet he never had a real person touch him before.

  ScepticOpportunist:

  He basically pushed her off him as soon as the credits rolled. Surprised his security didn’t jump in and club her to death like a baby seal.

  ***

  MARIAM looked at her watch as she slipped out of her apartment, 10.25 p.m. She walked down the three flights of stairs from her apartment to the entrance hallway and then continued out across the car park. It had only been minutes since they returned from the Sinai General but the empty refrigerator had sent Mariam straight back out for supplies. She welcomed the taste of the night air. She looked up at the clear sky and felt the irrepressible hint of the unknown. Mariam drew her doctor’s coat around her to keep the slight chill at bay. As she crossed the car park a man with close cropped hair and a muscular physique watched her. His weren’t the only pair of eyes observing Mariam leaving campus, but he was the only person to step out of his car and start after her.

  Mariam turned left at the main road and crossed at the next intersection. The man’s long stride rapidly closed the distance
between them. Tracking Mariam on a virtually empty road while she was wearing a white coat was beyond simple. Mariam’s footsteps echoed along the sidewalk, her pursuer wearing rubber soles made no sound. He was less than ten metres behind and even in the evening light he could see the detailing on the scarf Mariam used to tie back her hair. He approached her and as he did so he unbuttoned his suit jacket.

  Mariam abruptly turned left into the fully lit glare of a convenience store. She strolled through the obligatory fruit and vegetable section at the front of the store, making her way to the staples beyond. The man followed her into the store. He was close enough now to see the wisps of hair on the back of her neck. He raised his arm and reached for her. Mariam finally sensing his proximity turned to face him. He dropped his arm.

  “Jesus, you startled me. What are you doing here and what on earth have you done to your hair?” Mariam resisted the urge to reach up and touch the short, spiky crop.

  “A journalist called me asking questions about you.”

  “It’s a real buzz cut. You quitting astronomy to join the Marines?”

  “He said you had been in an airstrike for God’s sake, he was trying to track you down.”

  “It makes your head kind of bulbous.”

  “Your phone has been off all day. I couldn’t get hold of you. I was concerned.”

  “Shimon, you don’t have to worry about me but thank you for your concern. As you can see I’m perfectly fine. Sorry I didn’t get back to you. I just had a surreal kind of a day.” Mariam reached across and squeezed his arm. Shimon felt that the gesture was his cue to clumsily move forward and hug her. Mariam stood limp in his embrace, her hands by her side, her awkwardness increasing with every second he held her.

  “Am so glad you are safe.”

  “Yeah, I’m fine but you need to go. Samuel is here with me.” Mariam crushed him with those words and he reluctantly let her go. “Thanks for coming by, thanks for caring.” She reached up and kissed him quickly on the lips.

  ***

  MARIAM arrived back at the apartment with fresh bandages for Samuel’s thigh, eggs, milk, and bread for breakfast. Juggling her bags she fished out her keys and opened the door. Samuel was sitting on her living room sofa. It was the same sofa bulk bought by the university that graced every apartment in the complex, made of cheap foam and deeply uncomfortable to sit on for any length of time.

  Samuel was deep in conversation with a man she vaguely recognised and a woman she had definitely never seen before. The man rose to greet her proffering his name. “Bill Irons, how do you do.” His voice, its tones and accent, it came back to her now. BBC World News, a journalist.

  “Was it you who rang my colleague at the university and interrogated my mother this morning?” She dumped the shopping bag onto the kitchen counter with venom spilling some of the contents.

  Bill withdrew his hand. “It was; I’m sorry. I was just doing my job by following up on last night’s story. Your mother is delightful by the way; she insisted I stay for lunch.”

  Mariam said nothing firing a questioning glance at Hazel.

  “Hi, Dr Fara, I’m Hazel,” she said standing. “I’m not an arsehole reporter, I just do research.” Again Mariam didn’t offer her hand. “I have been tracking the events that have been happening since last night. You guys have had an incredible day. As you were coming in I was just explaining to Samuel how I have been keeping up with you through my news timeline. It’s important for you both that I show you the results. Please, just give us five minutes.” Hazel gestured to the seat on the sofa beside Samuel. She was holding her laptop, pencil and notepad. “Bill, I see Dr Fara has brought some milk; perhaps you could make us all some tea?”

  “Don’t bother. We are not thirsty. You have five minutes then I’m calling campus security.”

  Hazel powered up her laptop and logged into the campus Wi-Fi. She didn’t bother to ask for the password; she tapped the pencil onto her teeth for the seven seconds her machine took to hack into the network. She took Samuel and Mariam through the mechanics of the timeline, demonstrating how it tracked all the Internet activity starting from the airstrike and continuing to the hospitals they had visited. Mariam being the good scientist was naturally inquisitive, peppering Hazel’s presentation with questions. Samuel sat listening quietly.

  “Okay,” said Mariam. “Let’s say for a moment there is something miraculous happening. There is nothing in your timeline that proves Samuel or I were responsible for any of it. You have us in Jericho, fine, we were there. From then on you have nothing to link us to these things.”

  “After the airstrike, why did you go to Jericho and not the local hospital?” asked Bill.

  Mariam took a moment. “I wasn’t thinking straight, the Israeli Air Force had just blown us up.”

  “Don’t,” warned Samuel, her intentions becoming clear to him.

  Mariam ignored him. “We came straight back here after Jericho and have been in the flat since about 5 p.m.” Mariam sat back on the sofa defiantly crossing her arms.

  Hazel said, “You can’t have done. You just got back ten minutes ago. We have been sitting in the car park waiting for you since 7.45 p.m. What took you so long at the Sinai General?”

  Mariam looked at Samuel; he just shrugged.

  “You did this, didn’t you?” Hazel pushed her laptop towards them. It was the cell phone video taken at the Children’s Relief Hospital in Jericho. The screen showed a young man’s bandaged hand. As he props the phone on the side of the bed, the change of angle allows the viewer to catch a glimpse of the back of a man moving through the curtains followed by a woman with dark curly hair. The young man unwraps the heavy bandages on his damaged hand. His hand is a bloody mess, ghastly stitched wounds over three missing fingers. The camera stays on the mangled hand for a few seconds and then the young man’s stitches burst open. Three new fingers push out like seedlings on a time lapse camera breaking through fresh soil.

  At the conclusion of the video, the only sound in the room was Hazel tapping her pencil on her teeth.

  “How long can you do this in secret?” said Bill. “The news is already out there. People only need to join the dots and they quickly will. We just did our homework and got to you first. By tomorrow you are going to have thousands of people practically kicking in your door. All I am asking is that you let us break the story together, your way, with you having full control.”

  “No,” said Mariam. “There is nothing, no news to break. Your five minutes are up.”

  Samuel said nothing. Hazel looked at Bill and made up her mind to try another approach.

  “Samuel, I believe you are the worker of these miracles.” Hazel placed her note pad on the settee and kept the pencil twirling through her fingers. She stood and moved over to stand beside Bill. “Something remarkable happened to you, Samuel and now you are able to do remarkable things.” Hazel slipped her left hand into Bill’s. He didn’t outwardly register any surprise, just pleasantly held onto Hazel’s hand like he was sixteen again. “You’ve been chosen, haven’t you Samuel?” Hazel turned her palm so Bill’s hand was above her own and she interlocked her fingers tightly with his.

  “I can read your intentions,” said Samuel softly. “Don’t do it.”

  “I have been thinking about this for hours and there is no other explanation for what we have seen today and I really need to know if I’m right. I’m so sorry Bill.”

  Hazel stabbed Bill through the back of his hand with her pencil. She drove it with as much force as she could muster, snapping it in two. Hazel felt the pencil punching through Bill’s hand and then continuing on to gouge a hole in her own palm. Hopping around the apartment in agony, his injured hand clamped between his thighs, Bill let out such an absurdly high-pitched scream that Samuel couldn’t help laughing.

  Hazel calmly looked down at her own unintended stigmata, the extent of her own strength surprising her. “Well?” she said to Samuel expectantly.

  Bill withdrew his injured hand
from his thigh and screamed again when he saw the end of the pencil still embedded in it.

  “Bill, stand still so I can fix this.” Samuel placed his hands on Bill’s face with his thumbs covering his eyes. Energy began to flow and the pencil was pushed out by the regenerating bone and tissue. The wound didn’t even leave a scar.

  “Hey, what about me?” said Hazel holding up her wounded palm.

  “You’re a reckless idiot,” smiled Samuel and pointed to the bandages that Mariam had left on the kitchen counter. “You can use those.”

  ***

  MARIAM rested her head on Samuel’s chest, her arm draped across his sleeping torso. Jerusalem was still, her apartment quiet, but Mariam found it hard to settle. A dedication to astronomy had made her sleeping rhythms unpredictable. Samuel’s breathing was slow, relaxed and peaceful. He shared the same strength of character as her late father. It had been so many years since she had seen him alive she had to think hard now just to picture his face. Mariam felt that she was looking through a pool of rippling water to find him; his reflection appearing for a moment and then lost to the depths. She recalled the years of Sunday school classes she would feign sleep to avoid. Her father insisting she learn scripture. An element of his devoutness was embedded within her, un-conflicted by her love of science. It was almost 2 a.m. Jerusalem time: Six hours until Bill and Hazel would return and the circus would truly begin; twenty-four hours since the airstrike; twenty-four hours since the lightning. She began to sink into sleep. Her mind flitted to Sister Teresa, her Sunday school teacher, earnest face and warty hands. Twenty-four hours since her world was turned upside down. Twenty-four. 24:27 Matthew: For as the lightning comes from the east and shines as far as the west, so will be the coming of the Son of Man.

  ***

  Chapter 6

  THE bell rang at exactly 8 a.m. Samuel was still dressing in some old clothes he had previously left at Mariam’s apartment. He was able to dispense with his bloodied shirt but the leftovers didn’t extend to shoes so he had to keep his deeply unfashionable sandals.