Authors: Linda Wells
Lucas was following the news and had heard about the Century Air flight that was cancelled in Miami. It was the same plane that had two sick flight attendants, leaving one at Johns Hopkins in Baltimore and the other hospitalized in Miami. Apparently the captain had made the decision at the last minute to cancel the flight.
“What the hell,” thought Jim, “This whole thing is getting out of hand.”
He was worn out and prayed his hospital could get through this crisis. The practice drills and instructions were all well and good, but reality is never so simple. He had spoken with several other hospital administrators in Manhattan, and they were getting buried with new patients, some legitimately sick, others needing observation, many just frightened. If this was the beginning, where was it going to end?
His phone rang. “Yes, Dave. What is it?”
“I’m sick, Jim.”
“Are you in your office?” Jim asked.
“Yes, I am going over to isolation. Frank knows. Call Vicki, please. I think she needs to know. Tell her to stay home with the girls. They are not to go out under any circumstances. Also, tell Chris. She is with a patient. Take care of her, Jim. She has been exposed, also. Keep her away from me—do you understand? You need to lock down the hospital. Take care, Jim.”
“Yes, Dave.” Jim heard Dave start coughing and the phone disconnect.
“Oh my God,” he thought. “We are so fucked.”
He was checking his contact list, looking for Dave’s home number. As it was ringing, he felt the rush of cool air blowing on him, and he looked up at the vent directly above his desk. His stomach tightened in fear.
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M
ike Ryan was glad to hear the announcement that schools were closed as a precaution. Summer vacation was starting next week anyway. He wanted his boys at home, safe and sound, and Annie was available to babysit if he could get in to see Maggie tomorrow.
He was sick of listening to the repetitive news coverage and wasn’t sure what to believe. He hoped this was an isolated event, but he was realistic. The Mayor underplayed it, but it was a big deal. As a scientist, he knew the dangers and possibilities, but tried not to go to the “what ifs.” He would keep calm for his boys, and he would be there for them. He would do everything that Maggie would want him to do. He was praying hard and had faith that God would take care of his beautiful wife and their baby. They had talked about wanting another baby, hoping for a little girl. He was shocked but happy to learn that she was pregnant. His feelings were so mixed up. All he cared about was Maggie.
He wondered how Terry was doing. She was a good friend of Maggie’s and the fact that she was in the hospital in Miami was more than troubling. “What does all this mean?” he wondered.
The news continued to be disturbing. More cases of the avian influenza virus were being reported, not just in New York City, but in Miami as well. He hoped and prayed this epidemic wasn’t out of control, but he had sufficient reason to doubt. This bug was new and unpredictable. Its airborne characteristic made it even more dangerous. He hoped the CDC would find answers soon, but his main concern was for Maggie and the safety of their boys.
He was restless and eager to meet the boys after school and walk them home. They could stop by the deli and bring home sandwiches, potato salad, and snacks. He knew they would have plenty of questions, wanting to see their mom. He hoped he could keep his composure and be reassuring. Not just about Maggie, but about the subway attack. It scared the hell out of him. That would not be easy to hide. He would make sure Annie kept the boys inside. He checked the website about pandemics and found information about face masks and recommendations, including stocking up on supplies. He would stop at the market on the way home, also, and pick up some extra groceries. In case.
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G
eorgiana followed Chen and Adams into the refrigerated vaccine storage room. A large storage container appeared to be improperly sealed. Dr. Adams explained that all the vaccine containers were marked with certain code numbers, which defined the vaccines. George and Suzy stood quietly by as Eric cross checked the code numbers.
He said, looking at the list, “This vaccine is not on the list. The container number is correct, but the number on each storage vial is different. These particular numbers don’t appear to be anywhere on this list.”
Suzy, apparently perplexed, responded, “Let’s look at all the containers and see if we can get some sort of ID from them. Perhaps someone mistakenly marked these or moved a storage container.”
Neither Suzy nor Eric believed that was possible. They were searching carefully through the large storage container, wearing sterile gloves, trying to find a label that would identify the mysterious vaccine. This room was used infrequently, only as vaccines were needed. Most were for rare contagious diseases, such as polio, smallpox, and others.
Adams looked frantically for some confirmation of the contents of this container. This one had no known origin or label, but someone in the lab must have knowledge of this. How could this mix up be accounted for? Eric had no idea and was perplexed that he had missed this.
Trying to remain calm, Adams said, “Indeed, this is quite remarkable.”
He was looking deep inside the container, and then, on a boldly printed sticker, were the letters and numbers:
H5N1.
It was a large container, and in it were possibly innumerable doses of vaccine.
As the realization of what he may have found hit him, he turned to Dr. Chen and said, “What do you make of this?” He was clearly incredulous at the discovery.
Suzy reacted, “I have no idea,” and she seemed shocked as well.
George said, “Let’s check for fingerprints,” though George knew that was highly unlikely.
The forensics scientists would have to check out exactly what was in the vials. They would get the CDC to help as well. George didn’t want the Edgewood staff to be involved any further. Her bullshit meter was off scale.
George had been watching Chen and Adams very carefully, and her instincts were on high alert, big time. She wanted Dr. Ambrose here, or someone from the CDC, to oversee the work of his staff. The FBI needed to begin the interrogation process of the Edgewood department heads, specifically Chen and Adams, and others who might provide evidence as this situation was becoming more complex. She had ordered background checks on all those who worked at Edgewood and hoped something would stick out and give them a lead.
George stepped out of the room and called Ambrose on his cell phone.
“Yes, Agent Reed?” She explained the situation, and he said, “I’ll arrange to send extra staff there immediately.”
“The most experienced chemists from the CDC and FBI are needed to analyze the vials to determine if it is indeed the H5N1 vaccine,” thought George. “How the hell did it get there, if it was actual H5N1 vaccine? Was it somehow connected to the perpetrator or perpetrators of the terror attack? How brilliant but also an anomaly. What kind of desperate insanity would result in such action? There were many twists in this bizarre event, but George was determined to figure them out. If this was vaccine, it must be determined quickly. How many lives might be saved?” Her thoughts were scattered.
George’s cell phone rang. It was Jim Berger, one of the forensic techs who had been examining the stored vials of H5N1. He had stepped out of the viral storage room and removed his biohazard gear to place the call.
“Yes, Berger. What have you got?”
He responded, “We checked out the H5N1 vials, and after examination, we discovered one of the vials is empty.”
George said, “Are you sure?”
He said, “Yep, and the Edgewood lab guy confirmed it. He was pretty upset to say the least. Guess he came to the same conclusion I did.”
George said, “That the perp could be someone he works with and trusts, right?”
“Yep,” he said.
“Great job, Berger. Can you bag the evidence safely?”
“Done,” he responded.
“I want the room sealed and guarded. Got it?”
Yes, ma’am,” he said, pleased with the discovery.
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S
uzy didn’t get to her condo until after dark. It had been an exhausting day. The FBI interrogation was thorough. Suzy had been released, but they were still talking to Adams. Suzy had not requested an attorney, but Eric had called his immediately. He wasn’t sure what was going on, but as head of the department, he knew that if anyone was going to be held responsible, he would be the target, no matter what evidence, if any, was found.
From the news reports she heard when driving home, Suzy knew that the virus was spreading. She had done everything the Organization had required of her, and she hoped they lived up to their agreement. They didn’t know about the vaccine she had manufactured, and she hoped they wouldn’t. The Organization had provided a large sum of cash for her mother and father, the roundtrip airplane tickets to Hong Kong, and all documents necessary to allow Lee to enter the United States. Suzy hoped she had covered her tracks well enough that nothing could be linked to her. The Organization had promised protection.
“Max will be here soon,” Suzy thought.
All she had to hold on to was Max and the thoughts of her parents and Lee. Seeing him was dangerous, but she couldn’t say no. She needed him and the comfort of his loving arms. If only for one last time. For his protection, she must tell him nothing, only that there is an investigation. Nothing more.
She touched the garage door opener and pulled in, parking her Lexus in its usual spot. She grabbed her purse and briefcase, opened the car door, and stepped out. The silent figure slipped into the garage, crept up to her car, two feet behind Suzy, and placed the muzzle of his BerettaTomcat .32 ACP, loaded with hot FMJ rounds, at the base of her skull and fired one crisp, clean shot into her brain stem. She fell instantly onto the concrete, her purse and briefcase scattering, her legs askew, one black high heel resting near her small stockinged foot.
The figure slipped out, undetected, hidden in the darkness behind her condo. He reached the street and began a light jog, looking casual, just another jogger out for his evening run, in black baggy running shorts and lightweight gray nylon jacket. The Tomcat was invisible in the palm of his hand. The passive surveillance tracking device he had placed on her Lexus several months ago had paid off. He smiled.
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M
egan Evans, the charge nurse, was checking Joey’s IV. He was in the military hospital at Edgewood Medical in isolation and on a ventilator. He had pneumonia, high fever, and unstable vital signs. The anti-viral medications were so far ineffective. Though young and healthy, Joey had a high exposure volume of the toxic virus. His prognosis was bleak. Megan was worried, having never seen patients reach such a severe stage of infection so quickly.
Captain Sanders was the attending physician in charge of Joey’s treatment as well as the other stricken members of the subway crew. They were all struggling with fevers and acute respiratory symptoms. Marty, Joey’s boss, was extremely ill with pneumonia. Sanders had never seen or heard of such a virulent strain as this H5N1. Onset was sudden, and the duration of the infection was unpredictable. He had spoken to Dr. Ambrose from the CDC, but Ambrose had no definitive answers regarding duration or incubation period of this particular mutated strain of the avian flu virus.
Sanders walked into the isolation ward and spoke to the unit clerk, Barb. She smiled a hello, and he sat down next to her, looking at the computer screen, reading the patients’ charts. His concerns were growing. Megan had recorded their recent vital signs, and they were unstable. Joey was worsening rapidly. The anti-viral medications had not helped, and Sanders was running out of treatment options.
Sanders walked over to Megan, and asked, “What do you think?
Megan responded, “It doesn’t look good.”
Sanders said, “Let’s get the families on the phone. Damn, I hate making these calls.”
Megan looked up and said, “Are you going to have them come here?”
She was worried about the contagion, even for herself, but she tried to hide her fears. She didn’t feel the families should be near this facility, in spite of the imminent deaths of their loved ones.
“It will be their decision, but they need to know the status. Please ask Barb to get them on the phone. Joey’s family first.”
Megan knew, just from the obvious physical signs, that it wouldn’t be long. Dr. Sanders was facing some tough phone calls, but the families were facing far worse.
Suddenly, a loud beeping noise came from the monitor next to Joey’s bed.
Sanders said to Megan, “He’s coding! Get the cart. Stat!”
Megan grabbed the cart, and she and the other nurse rushed to his bedside. Joey was in cardiac arrest.
They administered drugs into Joey’s IV to stimulate his heart, and Sanders began CPR, but it was futile.
“Damn!” said Sanders under his breath.
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W
ally speculated, “Could be a shadow terrorist cell pulling all the strings.”
Wally, George, and Mark were in one of the vans in the parking lot, discussing the interrogations. Dr. Adams was still being held inside the lab, but they had released Chen. She seemed to have little to contribute, and her laptop was clean. Adams denied any knowledge of the incriminating e-mail. He was nearly out of control with rage and indignation. Adams was asked to remain in his office, not charged, at least not yet.
Mark said to Wally, “Somehow, I don’t think Adams is lying. That’s my gut.”
“But what about the e-mail draft on his laptop?” asked George.
“‘Mission accomplished. You will be wearing diamonds very soon, my love.’
That is concrete evidence in my book,” she said.
Wally, sucking down another cup of stale coffee, said, “I hear you. Maybe a ‘dead drop?”
He paused, wondering who picked it up. Then Wally asked, “Mark, your take?”
They were all exhausted and felt they were close but missing something.