The Deadliest Strain

Chapter Twenty

No one knew how the media got word of the debacle unfolding at the law firm.

Clearly, though, the phone call to 911 had not been the only call made from the law office of Crandel and Smith after Leo Bolender's rapidly decomposing body was discovered in the men's bathroom. By the time Homeland Security had moved in their ambulances, equipment and personnel to quarantine the people and the building, news vans were pulling up across Pennsylvania Avenue.

Before Faas even reached the office building, news stations were already reporting another outbreak similar to the tragedy in Sedona. The intelligence chief knew it could have been anyone at the law firm. One call to a family member would be enough to start a media avalanche.

It no longer mattered. What did matter was that the word calm no longer applied in D.C. In less than an hour, chaos had taken hold of the city. Telephone systems and cell phone lines were jammed. The highways were a parking lot. Emergency dispatchers were inundated with calls from hysterical residents.

President Penn had already called out the National Guard. Government offices were ordered to close by midday. A state of emergency had been issued for the District of Columbia, and the governors of Virginia and Maryland were about to do the same thing. Airlines, trains and buses were not running. All bridges into and out of the district had been closed and a perimeter was being set up, with Georgetown, Q Street, Florida Avenue and Benning Road forming the northern boundary. Police and troops would keep vehicles from moving into or out of the city at that point. A mandatory curfew was in place from 8:00 p.m. tonight, and people were being encouraged to remain where they were.

In short, the president had clamped a lid on the nation's capital. Assured by his staff and the director of Homeland Security that they weren't overreacting, President Penn had gone on television with the mayor of D.C. to explain the actions that were being taken. Their first priority, he'd told the nation, was to safeguard the well-being of the people of Washington. To do that, they needed the cooperation of everyone in getting off the streets and into a secure location. What the president didn't say was that there were no safe zones that anyone could be certain of, and until they knew how far and how fast the plague could spread, no one would be allowed to run away, only to carry the horror with them.

Faas leaned against the mobile command unit parked in front of the building. The lines of vans and ambulances and police cars, four deep inside the police tape, provided some barrier to the news people. He crushed the cigarette he'd been smoking under his heel. He'd gone without one for eight months now. That had made his kids proud. Well, he thought, he'd just have to quit again.

The door to the vehicle opened. One of his agents held a phone out to him. 'The president. He wants an update."

Faas took a deep breath and looked up at the windows of the law firm.

"Yes, sir. Only one dead. No other infection that we know of. It appears no one touched the body of the victim," he told the president. They'd already spoken half a dozen times this morning, and Faas was glad he finally had something positive to pass on. "Everyone on the fourth floor, where the law offices are located, has been isolated. They're being transferred to one of our nearby facilities for more testing and observation, but that will take some time."

"What about the two people who were in the bathroom with the body?" Penn asked. "How are they?"

"No sign of infection, yet. Our experts here think that the ventilation in the bathroom might have reduced the chance of infection," Faas answered.

"But the same ventilation may have exposed others in that building, or expelled the microbes into the city," Penn snapped. "Isn't that true, Mr. Hanlon?"

"Yes, sir," Faas answered, looking up at the roof of the building. He had personnel up there checking the HVAC units now.

There was no getting around it. He didn't know to what extent the bacteria may have spread. He didn't know who was infected and who wasn't. He didn't even know, for sure, how long the microbe was dangerous. That was why he had recommended the extreme emergency measures be taken in the city. "A suggestion was made a few minutes ago by NIH that a special quarantine area be set up in a two-block radius from Crandel and Smith offices."

"Do it," Penn ordered.

"Yes, sir. That puts us only three blocks from the White House, Mr. President."

"I know that."

"Yes, sir."

There was a pause on the line.

"Hanlon, do you have any of the DM8A serum for the people who have come in contact with the victim over the past twenty-four hours? I'm thinking specifically about the two who had the closest contact to this victim."

"Yes, Mr. President. I have NIH personnel here who are ready to use their test samples on these people if it becomes necessary," Faas told him. "Also, our liaison at Reynolds Pharmaceuticals told me twenty-five minutes ago that the company is doing everything in its power to push the first production quantities out."

"But we still don't know if the serum will work, do we?"

"No, Mr. President. We don't." So much for being the bearer of good news. "The lab tests so far have been inconclusive. The serum may only have a thirty to forty percent success rate."

He glanced down at his watch.

"I wish I had something better for you, sir. I know you're going on the air again in fifteen—"

"Mr. Hanlon, I've made the decision to be completely forthright about what we know about the disease. I'm going to tell the people how important it is to avoid contact with anyone who may have been infected. But I'm also going to assure the public that very few cases have been discovered. I will stress that this is by no means an epidemic, and that our actions — and the cooperation of the American people — will keep it from becoming an epidemic."

"Very good, sir—"

"Mr. Hanlon, ignorance and rumor can breed far more fear than knowing the truth can."

"Yes, sir."

Faas hoped the president was right. There would be repercussions down the road, because the measures taken in Washington had not been taken in Arizona or Maine. And it was probable that what had happened in Maine would become news any moment. They had a total of sixteen deaths so far, but the president had not yet owned up to the ten bodies in Maine. The official position remained that the two outbreaks were unrelated. The American people would be extremely angry to think President Penn had kept such sensitive information under wraps for nearly two weeks.

"Not counting Maine, we have only six deaths to date, Mr. President," Faas said as a reminder. "Also, if I could make a suggestion, I don't think it would be a good idea to mention DM8A at this point."

"I agree."

Faas's fingers inched toward the packet of cigarettes in his pocket.

"You are to call me as soon as you have anything else, Mr. Hanlon."

"Yes, sir… and… well, good luck, Mr. President."

The phone clicked off. Faas turned toward the door of the command vehicle. As he reached for it, the door was pushed open from the inside.

"Bad news, sir." The same agent who had given him the phone poked his head out.

"Someone else in that office is infected," Faas guessed.

"Worse. We just had a call from Chicago."

"Another case?" he asked, dreading the answer.

"None of our agents are on the scene yet. But the cleaning crew going through a luxury apartment at a building called the Grand Plaza, right downtown, made the 911 call a few minutes ago. They found a decomposing body "