A Heartbeat Away

CHAPTER 21

James Allaire and his advisors had absorbed a direct hit.

Flanked by Secret Service agents, he left the House Chamber to a chorus of appalled cries from those who had watched the murder of Harlan Mackey. Through the microphone, he had promised to provide a full explanation, but his words were nearly drowned out.

The moment he got clear of the lectern, he ordered Sean O’Neil to detain both Gladstone and Ellis for questioning. It was a decision Gary Salitas staunchly opposed.

“You’re going to divide the people into camps by doing that,” Salitas warned, “and not just by party affiliation. If you isolate Ellis, you’re just going to give her that much more power.”

Allaire grumbled under his breath.

“Well, what do you suggest I do, Gary?”

Salitas reaffirmed his loyalty by placing a gentle hand upon Allaire’s shoulder.

“I suggest we figure out a way to explain what that punk just broadcasted. But tread lightly here, Jim. Ursula Ellis is not someone to be underestimated.”

Allaire grudgingly rescinded his order. Then he bit back his anger at the House speaker, and returned with his team to the Hard Room. There were other pressing matters on which they needed to focus.

“So what you’re saying, Hank,” he said to the chief of the Capitol Police force, “is that you’ve rechecked the official attendance list for possible fraud.”

Tomlinson nodded.

“I have, sir.”

“And you found no anomalies, nothing out of the ordinary.”

“That’s correct,” Tomlinson replied.

“And the security cameras? You’re suggesting playback showed no suspicious activity inside the chamber prior to the start of my address.”

Again Tomlinson nodded.

“Yes, sir. There was no suspicious activity whatsoever.”

Allaire gritted his teeth. He felt his anger at Tomlinson growing, and drew in several calming breaths. WRX3883 could cause erratic behavior and even serious aggression. Was he just upset at Tomlinson’s lack of progress, or was he experiencing a physiological change? He shuddered at the possibility. Subtly, he checked for telltale markings on his palm.

Nothing.

What would he do if they suddenly showed up?

“Well, where does that leave us, Hank?” he managed. “These aren’t phantoms we’re dealing with here. These are real flesh and blood terrorists. We need to know what vulnerability of ours they exploited. It may be our best way of tracking them down.”

“My team is open to suggestions, Mr. President,” Tomlinson said. “We want to catch who did this as much as everyone here.”

Cameras monitoring the space outside the Hard Room picked up the arrival of Griff and Angie along with the six armed men accompanying them. Allaire motioned for Salitas to let the group inside. Griff and Angie entered, each carrying a box of what Allaire assumed would contain the collected blood samples. A sea of blue biocontainment suits followed Griff and Angie into the secret room. For several tense moments the hum of breathing apparatuses punctuated an otherwise silent gathering.

“What’s the status of C Group?” Allaire asked Griff.

Griff turned toward the president. Though Griff’s face was partially obscured by his suit’s visor and thick beard, Allaire could see the distress brewing in the man’s eyes.

“They’re starting to show signs of respiratory difficulty and disorientation,” Griff said. “No fatalities to report, but it’s still early.”

“And Admiral Jakes?” Allaire asked.

“He’s not well. None of them are.”

“Thank you.”

Griff hesitated a moment, then added, “I heard about what happened in the House Chamber. I heard about a video—”

Allaire raised his hand.

“Not now, Dr. Rhodes,” he said. “We’re trying to figure out how these terrorists got the virus inside the Capitol in the first place. You know this virus best. Any theories how it could have been done?”

“I’ve been trying to figure that out myself,” Griff said. “I have to believe there’s a connection between Genesis obtaining WRX3883 and my being framed for the theft.” Griff paused there. He and Allaire held an uncomfortable stare for a moment before he continued. “As to how they pulled this off, well, I have no good theories at this time.”

The president rose from his seat and turned his back to the room. Allaire stayed silent while his mind worked feverishly to concoct a plausible scenario. Then he spoke aloud, uttering a Latin phrase, one his medical school professors often quoted.

“Res ipsa loquitur,” Allaire said. He repeated the phrase twice more, once with his back to the room, and again after turning around to face them all.

“What are you saying, Mr. President?” Tomlinson asked.

There were other confused looks.

“Res ipsa loquitur is Latin. It means ‘the thing speaks for itself,’ ” Allaire explained. “In malpractice lawsuits, prosecuting attorneys who successfully argue res ipsa loquitur are guaranteed a significant payday. You see, our court of law is based upon the premise that we’re innocent until proven guilty. Res ipsa loquitur turns that premise on its head. It says, because something happened and normally that something shouldn’t have happened, you, the accused, are guilty of causing it to happen. Therefore, you are guilty of malpractice. Res ipsa loquitur.”

Jordan Lamar appeared even more confused.

“I’m sorry, Mr. President. I don’t see how that helps us.”

Allaire turned his back again and walked over to a three-foot-high black metal filing cabinet. He opened the cabinet, which was stocked with just-in-case office supplies.

“It helps, Jordan,” Allaire said, reaching inside the cabinet, “because it means that the attack speaks for itself. It happened. That’s the given, just like an attorney can argue that the patient entered the operating room for a toe operation and left with one leg missing.” Allaire stood up, still with his back turned to the room. “Tell me,” he said, “what did Genesis do that speaks for itself?”

Allaire turned around, and though he had reached for something inside the cabinet, he held nothing in his hands. He waited for somebody to speak.

Bethany Townsend finally responded.

“Genesis placed the vials of WRX3883 inside the bags of select persons attending the State of the Union Address,” she said.

“Exactly, Doctor,” the president replied. He stood in the center of the room, his arms folded across his chest. “That’s precisely what they did. The thing speaks for itself.”

With that, Allaire lowered his crossed arms. A wooden ruler, measuring one foot in length, slid out from where he had hid it up the sleeve of his suit jacket. The ruler clattered noisily on the wooden table before settling with the inch markers up.

There was no triumph in Allaire’s expression.

“Hank, I want a full accounting of your security personnel. I am sure you’ll find that one of them is missing.”

Tomlinson still looked puzzled. “What are you suggesting, sir?” he asked.

Allaire was patient.

“Somebody working our security checkpoint wasn’t looking for contraband being brought into the Capitol,” he said. “He was using his post as a means of bringing the vials inside and inserting them into the bags as he was searching them.”

Tomlinson lit up as the new realization took hold.

“On it right away, Mr. President,” he said.

Quickly, the room emptied out. Griff was the last to leave.

“Nice going,” he said, turning back at the doorway. “I would have every inch of this place swept for cameras. These people have been preparing for this for a long time.”

“Dr. Rhodes, how do you think I should handle the Mackey situation?”

“You sure you want the opinion of a terrorist?”

“Doctor, you and I are up against it enough without clawing at one another like this. We need to call some sort of a truce.”

Griff studied the man, who seemed to have aged years in just a few hours.

“In that case,” Griff said, “I would consider separating what you know from the customary rules of politics. Hard as it may be, that means no more lying.”

Allaire held his gaze.

“I’ll consider it,” he said finally.