Biowar

27

“It’s not E. coli at all. Nor is it a morph of Asian SARS, which was also suggested, though we can’t really rule anything out until we’ve been able to conduct better tests.”

“There’s no way it could be a virus, because other cases would have cropped up. It’s probably just a coincidence.”

“There may be a vector that we don’t understand. I still vote for E. coli—where did these guys go for lunch?”

“E. coli with a seven-day incubation period?”

“You don’t know it’s seven days. You don’t know anything, really,” said Westhoven, representing the FBI.

Rubens furled his arms across his chest as the video conference continued. Though mindful of the fact that he was on camera, he had a difficult time maintaining a neutral expression. There was such a wide gap between math and biology — opinion too easily mixed with fact here.

A dozen scientists affiliated with the NSA, the FBI, the Surgeon General’s office, and the CDC were debating exactly what, if anything, they were dealing with in upstate New York. Despite massive doses of penicillin and other drugs, Gorman was running a fever right around 104. He could not keep anything in his stomach, and his lungs were full of fluid. His body was covered with large purple welts.

The other man, a crime-scene technician for the state police, was in a coma. Two other cases in upstate hospitals were being investigated for similar symptoms.

A full battery of lab tests had thus far produced baffling results. The white blood cell count was extremely high, yet it wasn’t obvious what the immune systems were fighting. Tests for everything from Rocky Mountain spotted fever to the mumps had proven negative.

Meanwhile, the FBI’s investigation of Kegan’s work had thus far failed to produce anything that could be potentially used for germ warfare; his work was primarily concerned with breeding bacteria that could literally “eat” pollutants.

“We need a wider range of tests, and more resources to complete them,” said Dr. Lester finally, bringing the debaters to heel. “We need to define what we’re looking for — we’re not even sure whether it’s a virus or a bacteria at this point. In the meantime, we need to initiate a quarantine until we understand exactly what’s going on.”

“I agree with the tests,” said Westhoven. “I have a team that wants to look at potential crossover from Kegan’s experiments — granted, a long shot.”

“We can’t rule out long shots,” interrupted Lester.

“But I don’t think a quarantine’s a good idea,” continued Westhoven. “It’s premature.”

“It’s not your decision to make,” said Lester.

“If this is related to the Kegan case in any way,” said Westhoven, “then we have to proceed very cautiously.”

Rubens understood the dilemma. On the one hand, the doctors wanted to corral this before it got out of control — if it hadn’t already. On the other hand, Westhoven and the FBI were concerned that if the disease had been caused by something Kegan was working on, then a large-scale action by the CDC would demonstrate to anyone watching that he had a viable weapon.

Of course, publicizing it would also make the FBI look bad, which undoubtedly was in the back of Westhoven’s mind.

Would the NSA look bad as well?

Of course not. They were called in after the fact, almost by accident, to straighten the mess out.

“We still have only two cases,” said a doctor from the Surgeon General’s staff. “A quarantine would be premature — it’s not even clear whom we would quarantine.”

“The hospitals for starters,” said Lester.

Rubens decided it was time to take control. “We can’t jump to conclusions, but we do have to proceed cautiously,” he said.

“Proceeding cautiously means not setting off a panic,” said Westhoven. “Or jumping to conclusions. There’s no evidence that Kegan either was sick or made something that could make people sick. Panic, on the other hand, and—”

“How much of a panic would a thousand deaths cause?” asked Lester.

“There have been no deaths yet,” countered Westhoven.

“There are many considerations,” said Rubens. “We have to face the possibility that this disease — may I call it a disease?”

“For want of a better term,” said Lester.

“We have to face the possibility that this illness was caused by something Kegan had or has. If that’s true — I stress if — then it may be that someone else has this virus or bacteria, whatever it is. We have to act in a way that’s not going to encourage an attack, even as we stem the spread that we are already observing. Doing both at the same time does require a certain amount of delicacy, Doctor,” said Rubens, realizing Lester was the only person he needed to convince. “So how can we combine both goals?”

“Well, a soft quarantine, strict rules on the present patients, their medical teams.”

“You would do that as a matter of course, wouldn’t you?” suggested Rubens.

“Yes,” agreed Lester. “But if there are more cases—”

“How many more?” asked Westhoven.

A mistake, thought Rubens; best to leave the future ambiguous.

“Any more,” said Lester.

“Do you know how it’s passed?” Rubens asked.

“Well, the specifics really depend on the entity itself. Both of these people had contact with the dead man, and we’re assuming that that’s where they got it.”

“But the dead man didn’t die from it,” Rubens pointed out.

“No,” said Lester. “But he might have been carrying it. There’s a reasonable assumption of a long incubation period.”

“Or simply no connection at all,” mused Westhoven.

“We should have some better information within twelve hours,” said Lester. “We’ll at least know whether we’re dealing with a virus, as most of us suspect, or some sort of bacteria germ. I’ve also requested a full autopsy of the man who was found in Kegan’s house, and we’re flying in our people to perform it.”

“I would suggest, if we’re going to do a quarantine, we quarantine the people who have come in contact with that house,” said the Surgeon General’s doctor.

“Everyone?” asked Westhoven.

“It seems only prudent. Until we understand the vector, or the means of its transmission.” The doctor began talking about the ability of various viruses and bacteria to survive on different surfaces for a long period of time. The SARS virus, for example, could live for at least four days on a plastic surface as long as the temperature never rose above seventy degrees Fahrenheit.

“We’re back to a wide-scale quarantine,” said Westhoven.

“Doctor, wouldn’t it be prudent to contact the state police people involved who responded and check on their health?” said Rubens. “I would think that the reason you could give would be fairly vague — after all, you wouldn’t want to rule anything out. In the meantime, that would allow you to observe everyone — what was the term you used before? First tier contact? Well, whatever, you could proceed with that, and in the meantime the house could be secured for further investigation. As it happens,” added Rubens, “one of my people is already there.”

Not particularly by my wish, he might have added, though he didn’t.

“I don’t know,” said Lester.

“Well, I think that’s best.”

Lester visibly sucked air. The video feed from the CDC — he seemed to be standing in a lab area — was fuzzy and slightly out of sync with the audio. “Agreed.”

“I still think this fuss is premature,” said Westhoven.

“Perhaps,” said Rubens lightly, aware that the stance only made the Bureau look as if they had bungled the matter when Kegan contacted them weeks before.

Had they, though?

Probably not. Surely this was just a bizarre coincidence.

On the other hand, image was everything in Washington, or nearly so.

“We’re presenting the matter to the full NSC at six P.M.,” said Lester.

“You are?” said Rubens, barely able to keep the surprise from his voice. “Mr. Hadash has already been informed?”

“An hour ago. Given the other circumstances, I felt it absolutely necessary to take this to the highest levels right away. I’m afraid I have to cut this short,” added Lester. “I have to go over and see Sandra Marshall. Mr. Hadash recommended she be the point person at Homeland Security on this.”

Rubens soldiered the muscles in his face into blankness and even managed a smile as the conferees signed off. Before he could decide how to proceed — before, really, he could recover from his shock at the new political fault lines appearing around him — the Art Room rang with an update.

“We have Johnny Bib on the line,” said Chris Farlekas, spelling Marie as supervisor. “We’ve been waiting for your conference to clear.”

“Put him through,” said Rubens.

“It’s an open line.”

“Understood.”

“Mr. Rubens?” Johnny’s voice was uncertain, as if he’d never used a telephone before.

“Johnny — what the hell are you doing in New York?”

“I had a hunch that Kegan was using a substitution code and that I could find the codebook.”

There were many possible replies. Rubens might have mentioned that this wasn’t World War I — or, more accurately, any of the campaigns undertaken during the Roman Empire, which was about the last time that codebooks might be relevant. But instead he said simply, “And you discovered what?”

“My hunch was wrong,” said Johnny Bib, with such enthusiasm that he actually suggested the opposite.

“I’m shocked that you made a mistake, Johnny. I will circle the date in my calendar and play it in the lottery tomorrow.”

“You’re being sarcastic.”

“Very possibly.”

“Well,” said Johnny Bib. “Then perhaps I won’t tell you what I’ve found.”

If I get to pick my successor, thought Rubens, I will first scour the nation’s elementary schools for a seasoned kindergarten teacher.

“Johnny, unfortunately, it turns out that I have a great number of things to do this evening, just as I have every evening. And morning. And noon. And night.”

“More sarcasm?”

“I’d appreciate it if you could tell me what exactly you found. Expeditiously.”

“He’s looking at plants because he’s trying to find a cure for rat-bite fever.”

“For what?”

“Sodoku. It’s an Asian disease that was brought back to Europe during the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. There were apparently cures, and he’s researching them.”

“And you know this, how?”

“I have the books right here. Pages turned, things underlined. They were sitting right on the shelf. There are gardening texts and botany texts, historical references — it’s a mother lode.”

“A mother lode, yes. Have you talked to the scientists about it?”

“I passed it on to my team. I’d like to take the books down for them.”

“I’m afraid that won’t be possible. Do you have a digital camera?”

“Uh, no—”

“We’ll get you one, along with a secure hookup. Those books can’t leave the property,” Rubens told him. “Nor can you. I’ll get someone to ferry up the items.”

“I can’t leave?”

“I’ll have one of the medical people call up to explain the technical details. You can tell him what you’ve found. It’s probably just a senseless precaution.”

He thought of Dean and Tommy Karr — they had been at the house and should be quarantined as well.

But he couldn’t afford to lock them away for days. On the contrary.

“What should I do here?” asked Johnny.

“Keep reading. I’m told there’s plenty of material handy.”