Authors: Alex Kava
Tags: #Mystery, #Thriller, #Suspense, #Contemporary, #Adventure
USAMRIID
Platt took over the small conference room next door to his office. He made a pot of coffee and ate an apple he found in his desk drawer. He started retrieving, sorting and compiling information. In no time he had the contents of file folders spilled across the tabletop. On his laptop computer he accessed documents, browsed and read and printed out pages that went into a separate stack. And on a legal pad he scrawled a series of lists and notes.
On one page he jotted bits and pieces about Ebola Zaire.
The symptoms:
First stage (within 1-2 days of infection): fever, severe headache, sore throat, muscle aches, weakness, nosebleed.
Next stage (within a week, as little as 3 days): vomiting, abdominal pain, jaundice, diarrhea, conjunctivitis (red eyes).
Final stage (7-21 days): tissue destruction, organ failure, massive hemorrhaging, shock, respiratory arrest, death.
On a separate pile was everything he could find about the vaccine, including a copy of the original report that first appeared in the
Journal Public Library of Science Pathogens,
January 2007. The research team that developed the vaccine had been from Canada’s National Microbiology Laboratory in Winnipeg and USAMRIID, right here at Fort Detrick.
On another page he scribbled pieces about the vaccine:
Most effective when giving injections in a series (comparable to rabies shots)
Administered after infection within 30 minutes—90% survival rate.
24 hours after infection—50% survival rate.
Administered before infection—potential for the vaccine to protect but unproven to date.
Tests to date all performed on macaque monkeys.
Human trials limited. Not enough data to establish survival rates.
Not approved by the FDA.
Would require an emergency “compassionate use” permit.
Platt underlined “compassionate use.” He wouldn’t have time to make an argument to the FDA, but as part of a military research facility he would try to find an exception. He’d do whatever it took. Janklow had said that there were sacrifices that often had to be made in war zones and in hot zones. The same was true about exceptions.
He remembered Afghanistan and a makeshift medical facility in the back of a truck. Every time they came under fire the protocol was to move, get the hell out, but in the middle of an amputation no way could you rumble to safety. So you sat in the line of fire, trying to keep the soldier on the gurney from bleeding to death and hoping all of you didn’t get blown apart.
No one ever questioned breaking protocol. You did what you had to do under special circumstances. Protect and serve. You certainly didn’t leave a soldier behind to bleed to death and you didn’t stand back and watch while four people under your care crashed.
In a short time, Platt was finished. He packed up what he needed, left the mess in the conference room to clean up later, locking the door behind him. Then he headed back up to the labs, the confidence back in his stride. As the head of the facility he required no other signature but his own. He didn’t need Janklow. He didn’t needed McCathy. All he needed now was the vaccine.
USAMRIID
Platt took over the small conference room next door to his office. He made a pot of coffee and ate an apple he found in his desk drawer. He started retrieving, sorting and compiling information. In no time he had the contents of file folders spilled across the tabletop. On his laptop computer he accessed documents, browsed and read and printed out pages that went into a separate stack. And on a legal pad he scrawled a series of lists and notes.
On one page he jotted bits and pieces about Ebola Zaire.
The symptoms:
First stage (within 1-2 days of infection): fever, severe headache, sore throat, muscle aches, weakness, nosebleed.
Next stage (within a week, as little as 3 days): vomiting, abdominal pain, jaundice, diarrhea, conjunctivitis (red eyes).
Final stage (7-21 days): tissue destruction, organ failure, massive hemorrhaging, shock, respiratory arrest, death.
On a separate pile was everything he could find about the vaccine, including a copy of the original report that first appeared in the
Journal Public Library of Science Pathogens,
January 2007. The research team that developed the vaccine had been from Canada’s National Microbiology Laboratory in Winnipeg and USAMRIID, right here at Fort Detrick.
On another page he scribbled pieces about the vaccine:
Most effective when giving injections in a series (comparable to rabies shots)
Administered after infection within 30 minutes—90% survival rate.
24 hours after infection—50% survival rate.
Administered before infection—potential for the vaccine to protect but unproven to date.
Tests to date all performed on macaque monkeys.
Human trials limited. Not enough data to establish survival rates.
Not approved by the FDA.
Would require an emergency “compassionate use” permit.
Platt underlined “compassionate use.” He wouldn’t have time to make an argument to the FDA, but as part of a military research facility he would try to find an exception. He’d do whatever it took. Janklow had said that there were sacrifices that often had to be made in war zones and in hot zones. The same was true about exceptions.
He remembered Afghanistan and a makeshift medical facility in the back of a truck. Every time they came under fire the protocol was to move, get the hell out, but in the middle of an amputation no way could you rumble to safety. So you sat in the line of fire, trying to keep the soldier on the gurney from bleeding to death and hoping all of you didn’t get blown apart.
No one ever questioned breaking protocol. You did what you had to do under special circumstances. Protect and serve. You certainly didn’t leave a soldier behind to bleed to death and you didn’t stand back and watch while four people under your care crashed.
In a short time, Platt was finished. He packed up what he needed, left the mess in the conference room to clean up later, locking the door behind him. Then he headed back up to the labs, the confidence back in his stride. As the head of the facility he required no other signature but his own. He didn’t need Janklow. He didn’t needed McCathy. All he needed now was the vaccine.
Reston, Virginia
Tully rummaged through the kitchen cabinets. He had spent the afternoon fast-forwarding through security tapes from Quantico. He had looked at three-days’ worth and found no one entering who didn’t belong and nothing remotely close to a doughnut box being carried in. He was exhausted. He wanted simple and easy like paper plates. They had to have paper plates.
Emma leaned over the service counter, watching him, not helping, of course, just watching. Then out of the blue she asked, “How did you and Mom meet?”
“Excuse me?” The question startled him so much he bumped his head on an open cabinet door.
“Mom. Where’d you meet her?”
“I think it was at a party or something.” He made it sound like no big deal instead of adding that Caroline had been wearing a baby-blue sweater and pearls. He remembered thinking she was the classiest act he had ever met. “She was with a buddy of mine.”
“You stole her away?”
He found paper plates, an unopened package. “Not exactly,” he told Emma. “I guess she thought I was charming or something.”
He pulled out a shaker of hot peppers and grated parmesan cheese and suddenly remembered that Caroline hated getting any hot peppers on her side of the pizza. Then he realized he didn’t know whether or not Gwen liked hot peppers or grated parmesan. He still put them out on the counter.
“When did you stop?” Emma asked.
“When did I stop what?”
“Being charming.”
He quit rummaging and glanced back at her. “You’ll have to ask your mother.” Then he turned to give her his full attention. “Why the sudden interest in all that? I thought you were happy your mother was getting married?”
“I guess I’m glad she’s happy. It’s just…I don’t know. He’s so different from you.”
“Evidently your mother wanted different.”
“I guess. But he’s such a dork.”
This made Tully smile. “So I’m not a dork?”
“For sure not. You’re like…I don’t know, like Indiana Jones.”
“Indiana Jones?” It seemed an odd reference for his teenage daughter, but then he remembered there was a new movie in the series. Strange to have his daughter referencing someone, even if it was a movie character, that he actually knew.
“Indiana Jones. Rugged but cool, not so smooth sometimes but funny…all in a good way.”
“Well, Conrad makes your mother happy. That’s the important thing, right?”
“Yeah, I suppose.” She came around the counter now and started helping him, getting napkins out and silverware. “And Dr. Patterson…I guess she makes you happy?”
Tully watched her tuck a strand of hair back behind her ear as she busied herself with pulling drinking glasses out of the cabinet.
“Yes, she does.”
“What about Maggie?”
“What about Maggie?”
Emma shrugged. She avoided looking at him. There was another swipe at her hair. “I don’t think she’s interested in that Nick guy.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Like get real. He didn’t even know she wasn’t coming home. She obviously hadn’t called him.”
“Good point.” Tully nodded, keeping that in mind and reassuring himself. He hadn’t told Morrelli where Maggie was or why he was taking her dog. He had figured the same thing as Emma—if Maggie wanted the guy to know, she would have told him herself.
“You like her, don’t you?”
“Maggie? Of course I like her. Sweet pea, Maggie’s my partner, my coworker.”
“Mom worked with Conrad for a while before they started, like, dating or anything.”
“That was different.” He wasn’t sure where all this was coming from. “They didn’t work for the same company. Your mom is the CEO of an advertising agency. He’s what? The vice president of a pharmaceutical company.”
He opened the refrigerator to check for sodas, when he really wanted to sit Emma down and ask what was going on. He knew better than to make a big deal of her questions or else she’d never ask questions again. “Maggie and I are friends,” he said and moved on to check the ice maker. “You’re gonna really like Gwen. I promise.”
She shrugged like it didn’t matter. Flipped her hair back to reinforce that it didn’t matter.
As if on cue the doorbell rang and Harvey came running into the kitchen, circling Emma, making sure she was okay. Emma smiled but Tully knew it was because of Harvey and not anything he had said. He went to answer the door and took a deep breath when he knew Emma couldn’t see him. Everything would work out. Of course the two women he cared about would like each other.
Reston, Virginia
Tully rummaged through the kitchen cabinets. He had spent the afternoon fast-forwarding through security tapes from Quantico. He had looked at three-days’ worth and found no one entering who didn’t belong and nothing remotely close to a doughnut box being carried in. He was exhausted. He wanted simple and easy like paper plates. They had to have paper plates.
Emma leaned over the service counter, watching him, not helping, of course, just watching. Then out of the blue she asked, “How did you and Mom meet?”
“Excuse me?” The question startled him so much he bumped his head on an open cabinet door.
“Mom. Where’d you meet her?”
“I think it was at a party or something.” He made it sound like no big deal instead of adding that Caroline had been wearing a baby-blue sweater and pearls. He remembered thinking she was the classiest act he had ever met. “She was with a buddy of mine.”
“You stole her away?”
He found paper plates, an unopened package. “Not exactly,” he told Emma. “I guess she thought I was charming or something.”
He pulled out a shaker of hot peppers and grated parmesan cheese and suddenly remembered that Caroline hated getting any hot peppers on her side of the pizza. Then he realized he didn’t know whether or not Gwen liked hot peppers or grated parmesan. He still put them out on the counter.
“When did you stop?” Emma asked.
“When did I stop what?”
“Being charming.”
He quit rummaging and glanced back at her. “You’ll have to ask your mother.” Then he turned to give her his full attention. “Why the sudden interest in all that? I thought you were happy your mother was getting married?”
“I guess I’m glad she’s happy. It’s just…I don’t know. He’s so different from you.”
“Evidently your mother wanted different.”
“I guess. But he’s such a dork.”
This made Tully smile. “So I’m not a dork?”
“For sure not. You’re like…I don’t know, like Indiana Jones.”
“Indiana Jones?” It seemed an odd reference for his teenage daughter, but then he remembered there was a new movie in the series. Strange to have his daughter referencing someone, even if it was a movie character, that he actually knew.
“Indiana Jones. Rugged but cool, not so smooth sometimes but funny…all in a good way.”
“Well, Conrad makes your mother happy. That’s the important thing, right?”
“Yeah, I suppose.” She came around the counter now and started helping him, getting napkins out and silverware. “And Dr. Patterson…I guess she makes you happy?”
Tully watched her tuck a strand of hair back behind her ear as she busied herself with pulling drinking glasses out of the cabinet.
“Yes, she does.”
“What about Maggie?”
“What about Maggie?”
Emma shrugged. She avoided looking at him. There was another swipe at her hair. “I don’t think she’s interested in that Nick guy.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Like get real. He didn’t even know she wasn’t coming home. She obviously hadn’t called him.”
“Good point.” Tully nodded, keeping that in mind and reassuring himself. He hadn’t told Morrelli where Maggie was or why he was taking her dog. He had figured the same thing as Emma—if Maggie wanted the guy to know, she would have told him herself.
“You like her, don’t you?”
“Maggie? Of course I like her. Sweet pea, Maggie’s my partner, my coworker.”
“Mom worked with Conrad for a while before they started, like, dating or anything.”
“That was different.” He wasn’t sure where all this was coming from. “They didn’t work for the same company. Your mom is the CEO of an advertising agency. He’s what? The vice president of a pharmaceutical company.”
He opened the refrigerator to check for sodas, when he really wanted to sit Emma down and ask what was going on. He knew better than to make a big deal of her questions or else she’d never ask questions again. “Maggie and I are friends,” he said and moved on to check the ice maker. “You’re gonna really like Gwen. I promise.”
She shrugged like it didn’t matter. Flipped her hair back to reinforce that it didn’t matter.
As if on cue the doorbell rang and Harvey came running into the kitchen, circling Emma, making sure she was okay. Emma smiled but Tully knew it was because of Harvey and not anything he had said. He went to answer the door and took a deep breath when he knew Emma couldn’t see him. Everything would work out. Of course the two women he cared about would like each other.