by John Moore
“I’ve notified the Louisiana Department of Health and Hospitals about the infection as well as the CDC in Atlanta,” the intern said. “I’m sure both agencies will want to speak with you as soon as possible. Louisiana DHH will probably quarantine your residence.”
I looked at Sophia, panic-stricken. “Oh no. Where are we going to stay if they lock us out of our home?” I said. “We have nowhere to go.”
“I know it’ll be rough,” Sophia said. “But better safe than sorry. You don’t want to catch the plague or have any of the others get it. You can’t do any good for Piper if you are sick too.”
I called Tom’s cell again and told him about the condo.
“Whatever you do, don’t go back there,” Tom said. “It isn’t safe. If the fleas were in Piper’s bed they probably came from the cat. Department of Health and Hospital will quarantine the condo and the cat. Hopefully he didn’t get out while you were at the hospital. If he did, he could put the entire city at risk.”
“What are they going to do with the cat?” I asked.
“The cat’s blood has to be analyzed for disease. They might have to test the cat’s blood and put the cat under observation for a few days or euthanize himto run tests on blood and organs. The health department will make that call.”
“Poor cat, but whatever they have to do to get Piper well, they’ll just have to do,” I said. “Tom, they have isolated her and we can’t even see her. I can’t stand the thought of her being sick.”
“Me either,” Tom said, “but we have to be strong.”
Strong, I thought. How could I be strong with all of the crap going on now? It looked like Victor and Rogan had sabotaged my stevia company, I’d been kicked out of my home, and Piper was deathly ill. My world was falling apart around me, but what could I do? I had two choices; I could fight or flee. Those are the choices we all face when threatened. I caught my reflection in the glass from a picture frame. Flee? I thought as I stared at my reflection. Not Alexandra Lee. I will fight and fight with all of my might till my family is safe or I’m with my mother and Sarah.
“Alexandra, Alexandra . . . are you still there?” Tom said. “Did I lose you?”
I snapped back to reality.“I’m here. Sorry, my mind ran away with me for a while. You, Zach, and Maddy need to get to the hospital as soon as possible to get your blood tested. I’m going to find some answers to all of this,” I said and hung up the phone.
I left Sophia sitting in the waiting room talking on the phone to some of her colleagues as I walked to the elevator. I wasn’t quarantined yet, so I wanted to make a visit before they detained me. I was on my way to Jess’s room. Maybe she’d gotten better and could give me some guidance. I navigated the confusing halls of the hospital, reading the signs on the corridor walls till I found Jess’s room. The door was cracked open and I entered. Jess was sitting upright, fully awake.
She looked at me and said, “Have you written the article about the serial killer yet?”
That was Jess. Now that she was feeling better and able to talk, she was all business. She spoke with a determined tone that set me back a bit, making me wonder if she knew about me being thrown out of the Times. She must not or she wouldn’t be asking about the article. I didn’t want to burden her with more problems than she already was dealing with, so I tried to change the subject.
“Working on it,” I said. “How are you feeling?”
“I feel fine,” she answered. “I just need to get the hell out of here and get back to work, and that’s not going to be easy. A lot of shit’s gone down at the Times.”
I played dumb, hoping she’d fill me in without me having to question her. “What do you mean? What’s gone on at the Times?”
“Change of ownership. That’s what’s gone on,” she said. “That bastard Bart Rogan has found a way to purchase the Times. He’s partnered with that other low life, Garrett Morris, and they bought the paper lock, stock, and barrel. They’ve got some slinky bitch roaming the halls doing their dirty work for them. You know, you met her.”
I should have known I couldn’t get anything past Jess. She was far too sharp and connected for that. I’m sure she knew all of the details of the sale and who the slinky bitch was too. She had something on her mind that she wanted me to do. Should I ask or let her tell me when she was ready? It really didn’t matter because she was going to have it her way no matter what I did.
“What are we going to do?” I asked.
“First of all,” she said. “You’ve got a mole close to you. You’ve got to get rid of him.”
I knew she was talking about Michael, but she didn’t know what had happened to our stevia product and what Sophia had told me about Michael. I filled her in on both. She knew Rogan was behind it all, and wasn’t surprised that Victor had thrown in with him now that Clint wasn’t around to stop him. She growled some curse words under her breath that were either Haitian or ones I hadn’t heard before when I told her about the cat and Piper.
“That damn cat didn’t give her the plague,” Jess said. “Don’t you believe for one minute it wasn’t Rogan or one of the other devil’s spawn that did it. Did that Michael guy have access to your condo?”
Holy shit, I thought, he did. He must have brought the fleas with him when we met the other day. I wondered why he took his briefcase with him to the toilet. I thought it was his stomach problem. It finally dawned on me that he had the fleas in that over-the-counter stomach medicine bottle I saw in his briefcase. He’d done this to Piper. That’s why he volunteered to go to all of the locations that had Sweet Treat on the shelves. He’d accomplished his mission and was getting out before we figured out what he’d done. God, what I’d give to have my hands around his throat right now.
“I know who the mole is,” I said. “He was a Russian from Victor’s group of thugs. Charlotte showed Sophia a picture, and she recognized him immediately. His real name is Arkady Burak. He’s gone, and I don’t think he’s coming back.”
“You are going to have to use your website to battle these guys. Run the story about the new serial killer, and I’ll use my contacts to get one of the national news services to pick it up,” she said. “Once we have their attention, we will be able to get them to help us with follow-up stories. If we can prove that they’ve introduced the bubonic plague to New Orleans before it’s blamed on the kitten, things will burst wide open.”
“OK, Jess, but my article is on my computer in the condo. They won’t let me in to get it,” I said.
One of the nurses walked in and told me to leave. She said Jess needed to sleep. I had to leave over Jess’s protests, notwanting to do anything to make her condition worse. She was sick enough, and I was on my own. I had to figure a way to get into that condo to get my computer, or write the stories all over again. Writing them again would be impossible without my notes on the computer.
As I walked down the hallway from Jess’s room, I heard anews broadcast from another patient’s television.“Hurricane Miguela has shifted its course and now appears to be headed to the Gulf of Mexico. Anxious residents of New Orleans are concerned that the National Weather Service models show the possible tracks include the Crescent City . . .”
Oh, right. There was a hurricane out there somewhere, and I had a wedding planned in about a week. As much as I wanted to have my wedding, I couldn’t see any possible way with all that had happened. Piper would not be well enough to attend, and she had to be there. She was my family now. And there was a hurricane threatening the city.
Tom texted me that he was in the hospital waiting room. Iwalked little faster and was there seconds later. When I entered the room, I spotted Tom pacing the floor. I ran to him and he gave me one of those reassuring hugs that I had wanted all of my life. He must have held me for a full minute before speaking. I could have used another ten. Sophia joined us and we held hands and said a silent prayer for Piper.
After we’d prayed, Tom turned to me and said, “My parents are at the New Orleans Airport. They want to know where to meet us. I told them to stay where they are till they hear from us. We can’t deal with them now.”
“Tom, we can’t just leave them at the airport,” I said.
While we stood in the waiting room, a nurse asked Sophia and me to follow her. She escorted us to a small patient conference room where we all sat at a table. My heart was racing, wondering if I had the plague and if in my recklessness I had given it to Jess. Sophia was remarkably calm, which I attributed to her career choice and experience.
The nurse riffled through the medical files in her hands and showed Sophia and me the lab reports that confirmed we didn’t have bubonic plague. I was relieved beyond belief. I needed to be at full speed to fight Victor, Rogan, and maybe a serial killer. I couldn’t afford to be in a hospital bed with a fever.
We walked back to join Tom. He knew from the expression on my face that I’d gotten good news. “What was that?” he asked.
“The lab confirmed that Sophia and I don’t have the plague,” I said. “I’m sure you, Zach, Maddy, and Charlotte don’t either. I don’t think the little kitten is the culprit. Jess told me that there aren’t any cases of plague in LaPlace, so she didn’t think the kitten was the cause. She believesit’s Rogan’s doing.”
Charlotte walked into the waiting room, and the staff drew her blood to be tested. Shortly after, Zach and Maddy arrived and all three were cleared. No one except poor little Piper had the plague. I wanted to stay with her, but it didn’t matter what I wanted, because the Department of Health was calling the shots now. They had sweeping authority in cases like disease containment, and we had to do what they said. Still, I needed my computer from the condo and had to find a way to get it.
I remembered that I was in New Orleans, Louisiana, and you could get anything done if you knew the right people, so I called Detective Baker. He told me he knew some people in the Health Department and would make some calls for me. I told him exactly where my computer was so the crew going in could retrieve it.
My attention returned to Tom’s parents. They had traveled a long way for our wedding, which wasn’t going to happen. I took Tom into a private area to talk to him.
“Tom, you know I love you and want to marry you as soon as I can,” I said.
“OK,” he said in a questioning voice. “Why do I sense that there is a huge but coming?”
I paused to choose my words carefully, but none came to mind, so I blurted, “We can’t have a wedding in the middle of all of this crap. Piper’s sick, my business is in jeopardy, I’ve been locked out of the newspaper and our home, and if that weren’t bad enough, a hurricane may hit us right when the wedding is planned.”
Tom reached out and drew me in with his strong arms. “It’s OK, Alexandra. I was thinking the same thing. I just didn’t know how to bring it up. We have a lifetime to be married. We’ll do it when it feels right. I’ll call my parents and tell them to get a hotel room. We can talk to them later tonight.”
We rejoined the group in the waiting area and told them of our change of plans. They all knew that none of us could go back to the condo. Zach and Maddy said they could stay at the house in LaPlace, and Charlotte asked us to stay with her.
The hospital public address system blared, “Would the family of Constance Sanders please come to the intensive care unit?”
Chapter Twenty-Six:
ICU
Tom and I raced to the intensive care unit, not knowing what to expect. My heart pumped furiously as I ran, my mouth dried, and my hands began to sweat. Each step filled me with more terror. A doctor in a white lab coat met us at the door of the unit. He sat us down, never losing eye contact. His calm demeanor reassured me that his next words were not going to tear my heart from my chest. Tom sat next to me holding my hand.
“Constance is stable but in serious condition. In a minute I am going to take you to her isolation room where you will be able to see her through a glass window,” he said. “We have given her a large dose of antibiotics and are working to bring her fever down. Her body is waging a heroic battle with the plague infection. Her lymph glands are swollen and her muscles are cramping. You may see her breathing heavily. All of these are normal symptoms of the disease.”
“Doctor, will she be OK?” I asked.
He gazed into my eyes with a sympathetic look. “We are doing everything we can for her. She is young and healthy except for the disease she contracted. Her general physical condition will help her fight. We are hopeful, but I’m sorry, I can’t predict any outcome at this time.”
“What are the possibilities?” Tom asked.
“I don’t like to speculate, but since you asked, she could recover fully or we may lose her,” he answered. “It’s going to be touch and go for a few days.”
Tears streamed down my face as my head dizzied and I nearly fell out of my chair. Tom and the doctor gave me a minute to cry before helping me to my feet. I walked with Tom and the doctor deeper into the bowels of the intensive care unit. I contained my sobbing as we walked past the station occupied by a group of dedicated nurses. I wondered how they could witness so much suffering every day and remain sane. I couldn’t do it. We slowed as we approached Piper’s isolation room. A nurse drew the curtains to expose the stark-white sheets covering her tiny frame. The sheets and her face were the same color, and she looked much like Sarah did when I saw her in the morgue. I wanted to go into the room and hold her, but I couldn’t. The IV in her arm dripped slowly as the machines surrounding her blinked in rhythm. I had watched similar machines blink in my father’s hospital room before that horrible morning when the blinking stopped. I couldn’t bear the sight of her lying there helpless, so I grabbed Tom’s right arm. His left hand was wiping tears from his eyes as he gently led me out of the unit.
I was filled with sadness and growing anger. I had convinced myself that Bart Rogan and Victor Ivanovich had intentionally given Piper the plague, and I wanted to kill both of them. I wanted my hands around their throats and my eyes locked to theirs as I choked the life from their evil bodies. I wanted to be the one that sent them back to the devil’s lair where they were spawned.
All of our group had been tested and cleared of any infection when Tom and I returned to the waiting room. “Is she OK?” Charlotte asked as we entered the room.
I couldn’t speak. My trembling lips were welded shut and I drew heavy breaths through my nose. My head began to swirl around and around before my knees went weak and I crumpled to the floor.
I don’t know how long I was out, but I awakened to the sight of a nurse on her knees beside me with smelling salts under my nose. “Honey, take it easy. Just take a moment to breathe,” she said. “Don’t try to get up too soon.”
After a minute or two they lifted me into a chair, Tom sitting beside me holding my right hand. The others stood back, giving the nurse room to place the blood pressure cuff around my arm and check the pressure. She made small talk as she performed the test, asking my name, my date of birth, and where I lived. I knew she was testing my awareness. I must have passed because she said I’d be fine and went about her other duties.
“Why don’t you come home with me?” Charlotte asked. “You can lie down for a while. Have you even eaten today?”
“I’m alright,” I said, addressing the entire group hovering around me. “Charlotte, I’m going with Sophia to talk to Detective Baker right now. I appreciate everyone’s concern, but I’m fine. I just got a little overwhelmed.”
Tom deciphered the tone of my voice. “Hey, guys, I’m headed to work. Zach, you and Maddy take this money and go get bedding for the farmhouse in LaPlace. There’s no telling how long you are going to have to stay there. The Department of Health will decide when we can get back into the condo, but it’s off-limits for now.”
“If you promise you’re OK, Alexandr
a, I’ll go to my place and get your and Tom’s bedroom ready, then make calls to the locations that have Sweet Treat on the shelves,” Charlotte said.
I looked at all of them and cracked a small smile.“I promise. Come on, Sophia, let’s go see Detective Baker. I need to get out of here for a while.”
Everyone went their separate ways, leaving Piper all alone in the hospital. I hated leaving her, but I could do nothing to help her. I couldn’t even be close to her. The doctors, nurses, and orderlies had my cell number and promised to call if her condition changed. I needed to strike back at the devils that put her here.
We walked into the precinct amid chaos and confusion. The buzz about the French Quarter condo quarantine filled everyone’s conversation. We walked straight to Detective Baker’s office without any interference. Baker stood as we entered, walked around his desk, and hugged me.
“I’m sorry to hear about Piper,” he said. “Jess told me she’s sure Rogan had something to do with it. I’d love to nail that bastard.”
Sophia stood up and closed Baker’s door. “Detective, Alexandra knows that you are my liaison with the New Orleans Police Department in our ongoing investigation into Victor Ivanovich’s hacking activities. So you can speak freely with her.”
“Yes,” I said. “I know the NSA is after him and using my family and me as bait. I know that Piper is lying in a hospital bed fighting for her life because of it. I know I’ve been fighting these demons for too long, and I want to end it.”
Detective Baker rolled his eyes and gritted his teeth. “I know you’ve been through a great deal, Alexandra,” he said. “It isn’t fair for you to be in the position you are in. But whether it’s fair or not, that’s where you are. What do you want me to do for you?”
