Patient Zero

Chapter Fifty-Six

The DMS Warehouse, Baltimore / Tuesday, July 1; 12:59 A.M.

ECHO TEAM CAME jogging into the big room at the warehouse looking very much awake. Wired, scared, and thoroughly pissed-off, but awake. I told them to gear up and they followed Gus Dietrich over to the arms locker. Alpha Team was already there.

Rudy turned to Church. “This is killing you, isn’t it?”

Church looked at him.

Rudy said, “I don’t know you, Mr. Church. We’ve only had some weird little talks.” He waved a hand. “Zombies and all that. But since what happened in Room Twelve I’ve been thinking about this situation, about this organization you’ve constructed. I know only enough about the military to know that this isn’t the way things are done; and I do know enough about governments to know that the DMS operates on its own schedule. It’s virtually red-tape free. Lots of authority, and it’s shared.” He chewed his lip for a moment. “Your background has to include some training or practical experience either in psychology, therapy, or psychological manipulation. Maybe all three. You know how to set a mood and cultivate trust; you apparently care about the well-being of your staff. You like toys, and you pride yourself on having the best toys in the schoolyard. The labs here are bizarrely overdone. You have equipment I’ve never heard of let alone seen in actual use. Everyone I’ve met here has an above-average IQ. A lot of individuals, not a lot of team players.”

“Your point being?” Church asked, though if he was impatient or unnerved it didn’t show.

“What Joe and I are seeing is probably DMS lite. I’ll bet your Brooklyn hangar is ay-jay squared away. The tightest security, checks, and double checks; a lot of security redundancies. But down here you’ve had to put this facility together in days. Mind you, what you’ve accomplished in those days is incredible, and I frankly would never have thought it was possible to do. You’re a remarkable man, Mr. Church.”

“I don’t need an ego-stroke, Doctor.”

“Nor am I in the mood to give you one,” Rudy said with a touch of asperity in his voice. “My point is that out of necessity you’ve had to put this whole thing together too fast and under too much pressure. The Brooklyn model is probably a good one but for it to be as tight as you want it would require time. More time than you have. You’ve probably had to call in markers, ask for favors from other agencies; you’ve probably had to go through channels in ways you normally wouldn’t, and as a result the local reality of the DMS station here at the warehouse has holes in it. And as a result of that people have died.”

“Hey Rude, c’mon, man,” I said softly.

He ignored me. “I’m not saying any of this to blame you, Mr. Church. Not at all. My point is that you are up against the wall, and all of the practiced cool in the world can’t change the effect that has on you as a physical being. Brain chemistry is only ever partially under our control. You are under tremendous physical and psychological strain and right now you are probably tearing yourself up inside because of what happened in Room Twelve.”

“I don’t think we really have time for this,” Church said, but his eyes never left Rudy’s face. I don’t think he even blinked.

“We don’t have time for us to get into it as deeply as we need to,” Rudy said, “but we have to address it, in part, right now. My friend’s life is being put on the line. For the third time today. My own life is potentially in jeopardy as long as I’m in this facility and as long as there is a traitor here.”

“We’re all at risk-”

“No. That’s not what I mean, and I think you know that. I’m not asking you to open up to me, Church, not here and not ever unless you choose to; but what I am saying is you have to acknowledge that these events and the presence of the traitor are connected to actions you’ve taken.” He held up a finger to keep Church from interrupting him. “Actions you have had to take. If we could wind this back and start over again I don’t know if there is anything that could have been done differently. This may be an inevitable occurrence given the circumstances. Therefore you need to bear in mind that today’s events may have been beyond your control. Yes, you need to tighten security in any way you can. Hindsight advises that. Yes, you need to conduct your search for the traitor, leaving no stone unturned. Yes, you need to triple-check the backgrounds of every single person in the DMS, especially recent hires. But-and this is the real point-you have to keep focused, eyes on the prize, and not let guilt or anger deflect you from the primary purpose here, which is to stop the terrorists from launching this dreadful weapon. If today’s tragedy throws you off your game, then we could all die. My advice to you, Mr. Church, is to take your guilt and anger and put them on a shelf, at least until Joe and his team are back from the crab plant. Stay focused and stay in charge.”

Church said nothing for maybe five seconds. “Do you think I’m unaware of these things, Doctor?”

“I don’t know what you’re aware of, Mr. Church. You keep your emotions under check better than anyone I’ve ever met. But no matter how tough you are, and I imagine you are one very tough hombre, you are still human. Inside you might be seething with rage, and if God is kind I hope he never puts me in your path when you’re enraged. You and Joe are a lot alike in that. Controlled most of the time, but there is a point where control goes all to hell and what is left is pure, lethal rage. That’s all well and good if you find yourself-God forbid-in a room full of walkers; but I would not like to think that the man directing the subtleties of an operation of this kind is going on rage and looking for payback. The problem is that with you I can’t tell how close to a loss of control you are. You aren’t a robot, so you have to be suppressing your emotions. Just remember that suppressing emotions is not the same thing as actually removing emotions from your physiological makeup. If you’re as smart a man as I think you are then you’ll consider what I’ve said. You have to recognize distracting emotions and make very, very sure that they don’t affect the decisions you make, and the time frame in which those decisions are made.”

Rudy took a small half-step back. It was as if he diminished in size from a giant to an ordinary man in that subtle move. He switched off his perceptual X-ray, withdrew his own energy from the moment, and left a gap for Church to fill. How Church filled that gap would make all the difference, and I wished I could be inside Rudy’s head to see how he was measuring the moment.

Church was silent for maybe fifteen seconds. I held my breath. Then Church gave one of his fractional smiles and a short nod. “I’ll take it under advisement.”

Rudy studied him and he must have found something in the stone mask that was Church’s face, because he nodded in return. “Fair enough.”

“Hey, guys,” I said, “I hate to break up this Dr. Phil moment but I kind have to go fight some zombies.”

Rudy said something very foul in Spanish and Church turned away to assess the teams, though I think he really did it to hide a smile.