Authors: Daniel Kalla

Pandemic (29 page)

BOOK: Pandemic

2.34Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

ads

"Not enough," Clayton sighed. "We've got our bureaus in the Middle East working twenty-four/seven to identify the woman but so far
nada.
And the RCMP haven't figured out how she got into Canada." He shrugged. "One small break. We think we know how the terrorists got their hands on the virus in the first place."

"How?"

"Carnivore picked up an e-mail a couple of weeks ago sent by a deputy director of a hospital in Gansu to his supervisor. In it, he confesses to helping two Malaysians steal blood from an infected patient. We checked it out with the Chinese. Apparently, the guy killed himself after he sent the e-mail, and his supervisor hid the message out of fear of reprisal." Clayton interlocked his fingers in front of him and cracked the knuckles aggressively. "That weasel is going to learn the meaning of fear, but in the meantime the trail has gone stone cold."

"What about the Malaysians?"

"Could be from the militant group, Jemaah Islamiah. The same ones who masterminded the Bali bombing." He paused. "But our analysis tells us this is too sophisticated for them. And when you throw in the dead Arab woman in Vancouver and the other in London ..." He shook his head. "It's likely the Malaysian role was limited to getting the virus out of China."

Gwen studied her desktop, assimilating the details. "And from China to Africa?"

"It looks that way," Clayton said. "Especially when you add the executed terrorist to those missing African lab supplies."

"Al Qaeda?" Gwen asked.

"Always possible."

"What's next, Alex?"

He shook his head and his shoulders slumped. Even in the small video box, Savard saw the change in Clayton. He had lost much of his cavalier edge. She decided Clayton embodied the mood of his country: once cocky and invincible, the attack on Chicago had exposed vulnerability and shaken his confidence to the core.

"We've doubled the staff at Carnivore," Clayton said. "Our satellites are trained on all global hotspots. We're working with the RCMP to track the Vancouver terrorist's trail and find her accomplices. We're sending scores of agents and special ops people to the Middle East and East Africa."

"Are those governments cooperating?" Gwen asked.

He held up his palms and shrugged. "They always swear that we have their full and utter cooperation, but you know how it works. Half the time they're secretly funding the bastards."

Gwen's mind raced. She nodded at Clayton. "Okay, Alex. We need to organize a crisis conference call for the Bioterrorism Preparedness Council. Today," she said. "We better brace for a possible massive invasion of the Gansu Flu in the next few days. Worst-case scenario, we're talking about hundreds of thousands of potential victims. So we need to initiate the emergency response plan ASAP. Agreed?"

Clayton nodded. "Let's say 3:00 P.M., Washington time."

"Good. Thanks."

Gwen watched as Clayton patted around his desk before finding a pair of chopsticks to hold up to the camera. A glimmer of his old self resurfaced. "All things considered, I think you should have gone with me for sushi instead of flying off to play hero."

Savard laughed. "Have to admit, I would've even preferred
that
over quarantine."

"Stay well," Clayton said and then the video frame went black.

Gwen picked up her secure phone line and dialed the number from memory. The executive assistant to the Secretary of Homeland Security patched her call straight through. "Mr. Secretary?" Gwen asked.

"Hello, Gwen," the Secretary, Theodore "Ted" Hart, said in his gravelly, New England drawl. "You are still healthy, I trust?"

"Fine, Ted."

"Gwen, our office has been fielding a lot of questions," Hart said. "The press is looking for you."

"Of course," Gwen sighed. "They want answers from the 'Bug Czar.' What are you telling them?"

"The usual runaround. We can stall them for a few days." He paused a moment. "But when you're out of quarantine ..."

"I'll face the music, Ted. I promise."

"Fine. Are you up-to-date on the
situation
?" Hart asked.

"I just spoke to Alex Clayton."

"The CIA dropped the ball on this one," Hart said in response to the name. "We should have had more--hell, some--warning about this virus!" Savard wondered if the comment was for her benefit, or if Hart, ever the political animal, was already lining up scapegoats. "Listen, Gwen, it's up to us to minimize the impact of this attack. The President expects it. As do the American people."

Gwen was tempted to remind him that he was speaking to her, not the cameras, but she held her tongue. "Ted, we're not totally unprepared," she said. "But we have to enact our ERPBA for every urban center."

"The
what?
" he asked.

"The Emergency Response Plan to Biological Attack. It puts the emergency health-care command structure in place for responding to this kind of attack. We've already run at least one mock disaster in most cities with a simulated smallpox outbreak."

"How did we do in the dry run?" Hart asked.

"So-so," Gwen admitted. "But our big advantage with the Gansu Flu is that it is nowhere near as contagious as smallpox." She paused, before adding, "Of course, it is just as lethal if not more so than smallpox."

"Hmmm," Hart snorted, sounding unimpressed. "All right, consider the plan green-lighted. What else?"

"We need to coordinate with CDC and Department of Health to implement wide-scale screening facilities," she said.

"Fine," he said. "Next."

"We should issue a nation-wide alert," Gwen said. "People across the country should be instructed to go to a screening clinic at the first sign of fever or cough. And, Ted, I think it should come from the President himself."

Hart unleashed a wet smoker's cough into the receiver. Gwen imagined that her boss, a pack-a-day smoker at the best of times, would have doubled his consumption during this crisis. "Gwen, the American public is jittery enough as is. Did you see the papers this morning? Some poor Pakistani boy was beaten to within an inch of his life at a convenience store in Missouri because he was coughing. With the cold and flu season upon us, is it a good idea to send people into a panic at the first sniffle?"

"It has to be done, Ted," Gwen said firmly.

Gwen could hear Hart wheeze slightly as he mulled it over. Finally he said, "I will speak to the President. Anything else?"

She hesitated, vacillating on whether to mention her mentor's work.

"What is it, Gwen?" he demanded.

"My old professor, Dr. Isaac Moskor, has been developing a new treatment for influenza. The early results are encouraging."

"For the Gansu Flu?" Hart breathed excitedly.

"No, for the common flu, but the Gansu strain is related," Savard said. "I've set him up in a secure level-four lab at the CDC to run tests on infected monkeys."

"Good," Hart said. "You make sure whatever he needs is top priority there. Am I clear?"

"Will do. Believe me, Isaac will do everything possible to make this work." Savard couldn't keep the pride out of her voice. She cleared her throat. "One last thing," she said, bracing for Hart's response, "we should consider the borders."

Another heavy cough. "What about the borders?"

"I think it would be wise to suspend travel into and out of the U.S. for everyone except those with special clearance."

"Christ, Gwen!" Hart growled. "We've already gone to the highest level of alert. We've canceled half the international flights and delayed the others for hours. The airport, harbor, and border screening couldn't be more rigorous."

"Mr. Secretary, with all due respect, that is not enough."

"Do you realize the implications of this?" Hart asked quietly.

"So far, only one U.S. city is affected," Gwen said evenly. "Until we know where it's coming from, this 'Killer Flu' could spread to a new city with every flight or ship we allow into the country."

Gwen thought she heard a cigarette lighter clicking in the background. "I have heard that this virus is relatively easy to incubate," Hart said. "How do you know they aren't already established somewhere inside our borders, infecting more suicide carriers to dispatch throughout the country?"

"I don't," Gwen conceded. "But odds are that their infrastructure is still based abroad."

There was a long moment of silence, broken by a hacking cough. Then Hart said, "No. No. No. Listen, Gwen, as it stands our economy is paralyzed. The Dow has already dropped twenty percent in two days." She could picture her tall boss with his graying temples and distinguished features, his face creased into that disappointed father-knows-best look he had mastered. "We cannot fence America off from the rest of the world," he said.

"Why not?" Gwen asked.

"Because it would be tantamount to admitting that the sons of bitches have won!"

"Mr. Secretary, let's be honest. Right now they are winning the battle," she said authoritatively. "If we don't act decisively, they might win the war."

"Then goddamn it, let's act decisively!" Hart said. "We will protect our citizens. And we will hunt down the monsters behind this and wipe them off the face of the earth. But in the meantime, we will not cower behind barricades."

Gwen knew Ted Hart well enough to realize there was no point in arguing further. "Okay, Ted, but you ought to keep it in mind."

"We'll see," he said. "I'm off to meet the National Security Council. And then to see the President. I'll call you after."

She dropped the receiver into the cradle and slumped back into the chair at her desk. There were so many people to coordinate, but she couldn't escape the growing sense of futility. Until they got to the source of the deliberate spread, they were just a bunch of rats running on wheels.

Her phone rang. She picked it up and said, "Gwen Savard."

"I got a bit of a hole in my social calendar," Haldane said. "Okay if I drop by?"

She let out a tired laugh. "I might be able to squeeze you in."

Gwen had barely secured her mask when she heard the rap at her door. Haldane stood on the other side in a T-shirt and jeans. Aside from his face mask, he looked as if he were on his way out for a coffee and a newspaper on a lazy Sunday morning.

As soon as he stepped into the room, he tore off his mask. He wadded it into a ball in his hand. "I hate these things."

"Odd for a doctor who specializes in communicable diseases," Gwen said, instinctively taking a step back from him.

Haldane flashed a mischievous smile. "Yeah, well, I now realize I might have made a fundamental mistake in career planning."

"You too?" She laughed. "Aren't you gambling with us by removing the mask?"

"I don't have a fever or cough; besides, I haven't touched a Caesar salad in days, so chances are my breath won't kill you."

Gwen pulled off her mask and folded it on her desk. "How are you holding up?" she asked.

"Going stir crazy. I'm already sick of the room-service food, not to mention the way we have to exchange trays with them like we're radioactive. Otherwise, I'm terrific. You?"

"Same." She nodded. "I've got so much to do. Hard to know where to begin."

Haldane sat down on the couch across from her chair and leaned back with his hands folded behind his head. "Let's start by comparing notes."

Gwen admired his calm. And she found it difficult not to notice his blue-gray eyes. When he had turned to sit down, she caught herself noticing the way his jeans clung to his muscular rear end. Snap out of it, Gwen! she told herself, but she wrote the inappropriate thoughts off as a symptom of her isolation. Forcing them from her mind, she focused on summarizing for Noah her discussions with Clayton and Hart.

When she finished, Haldane said, "The Secretary might be right. No guarantees we could stem the flow of the virus even if we could shut down the borders."

Gwen didn't feel like arguing the point again. "And you? What have you learned?"

"Mixed news on the global front." Haldane shrugged. "Hong Kong, maybe because of their SARS experience, has been the most successful in limiting the virus's spread. Less than one hundred total cases and no new ones reported in forty-eight hours. The story is not so rosy in London." He shook his head and sighed. "Over 700 infected with 145 dead so far. Sporadic clusters of infections have spread to mainland Europe--six in Amsterdam, two in Brussels, three in Hamburg--all traceable back to that first woman in the elevator. You heard about Chicago. And here in Vancouver, there are at least fifty-five infected and thirteen dead."

Gwen sighed. "Which could rise to fourteen very soon."

Haldane looked down at his feet. "Yeah, Jake is not doing well," he said softly.

"It's so damn unnecessary!" She studied him for a moment without speaking. Then she bit her lower lip. "Noah, are you scared?"

BOOK: Pandemic

2.34Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

Read Book Download Book

ads