Drucker stared at the far wall, his eyes fixed on a spot about ten feet beyond it. “Do I gather that it is the consensus to mount an investigation on this condition?”
There was a show of hands in favor, and Jeff felt a surge of relief when he realized that his support was almost unanimous.
“We better get out to the West Coast and find out if the two diseases are the same thing,” Weyman said promptly. “First things first. And I hope it is the same thing—two brand-new toxic diseases is a little more than I want to handle.” He was one of three people who chuckled at his remark.
Drucker frowned and looked around the room with suspicion. “Is that really necessary? Wouldn’t it make more sense to send queries to other parts of the country, to find out if there are other reports of the disease, and then coordinate the search for the cause from here?” It was part of Drucker’s personality that he disliked having to leave Atlanta and his office, where he was secure in his power.
“I’ll go,” said Weyman. “Jeff and I will be on the next plane west. We can work as a team, or split up.” He smiled as he made the offer. “And we’ll report in, so that the rest of the group can add what we learn to what you find out from the other parts of the country.”
“That sounds like an excellent idea,” said Jeff at once. He held up the printouts. “Given the two geographical areas, we might as well decide now who goes where.”
“What about your family, Taji?” Drucker interrupted.
“My aunt has been running the household for years. The kids are old enough to take care of themselves.” He was determined not to let Drucker goad him. “If you’re really concerned, I can arrange for all of them to stay with my brother in Florida for the time I’m gone, but that seems a bit extreme, doesn’t it?”
“My neighbor will take care of my dogs and bring in the mail,” Weyman chimed in at his most laconic. “I’ll give them the milk in the fridge so that it won’t go bad while I’m gone.”
“That’s enough, Muggridge,” Drucker said, his chin coming up. “It’s not decided.”
DiCerni raised his hand. “I think we’d better act on this. If it turns out to be a general hazard, the sooner we get moving on it, the better. It’s a case of better safe than sorry.”
“I agree,” said Donna Howell, who spent her spare time working with the Committee for Public Utilities Responsibility. “There are more than enough victims in either location to justify our investigation; if we don’t act soon, we may have to justify our failure to do so later on.”
The tacit threat of governmental review was not lost on Drucker. He was silent; the others at the table remained still until he cleared his throat. “Perhaps I think it might be a good precaution. We will authorize one week’s travel pay. That will enable you to conduct a basic investigation. At the end of that time, we’ll have a review of your findings and relate them to anything that we discover in other parts of the country.” He patted the table with the flat of his hand, as if using a gavel to dismiss a session of court.
“When do we leave?” Weyman asked. “So I can arrange for the dogs?”
“Would tomorrow be all right?” Jeff asked. “I think that the sooner we act on this, the better.”
“You’re an alarmist, Taji. You don’t grasp the size and complexity of this country.” Drucker stood a little straighter, as if he were defending the United States from foreign corruption. “It’s not uncommon for physicians from smaller countries to see the U.S. on the same scale as what they’re used to.”
“Drucker,” said Jeff with as little irritation as he was able to achieve, “I’ve worked for the World Health Organization, as you are well aware. Are you telling me that your problems in the U.S.A. are more complex than those of the entire continent of Africa?” He did not wait for an answer. “I will agree that you have one complexity that is a particularly significant factor in a disease of this sort—mobility. Who knows how many persons have been exposed to the toxins and have traveled away from the area? If there is a long incubation period, while that cuts down the number of persons likely to have sufficient levels of toxicity to bring on the disease, it also complicates the search, in that those who could potentially become ill might have left the Pacific Northwest or Southern California two, three, four or even five years ago and gone—who knows where?”
“That’s rather an extreme view,” Drucker said stiffly.
“Do we dare risk having a less extreme one?” asked Jeff, taking in everyone in the room with his question. “I’m prepared to leave tomorrow. I think it’s necessary that we do something at once.”
“All right,” said Drucker, knowing that if he continued to refuse it would not look well on his record. “Tomorrow. I am sorry for this inconvenience, Muggridge.”
“Fine with me,” said Weyman blithely as he got to his feet. “Can we talk before we go home to pack?” he asked Jeff as the meeting began to break up.
“Sure,” said Jeff. “Do you know where you’d like to go?”
“Given a choice, San Diego. I’ve never been to Seattle when it hasn’t been raining, and the two times I’ve been in San Diego it was sunny and warm.” He smiled. “If I’ve got to go looking for a deadly substance that’s killing something, I don’t want to be depressed every time I look out the window.” His smile had become a grin.
“All right,” said Jeff, shrugging. “I’ll take the Northwest. But I think I’ll start in Portland and go to Seattle afterward. Damn,” he added as he considered it. “I wonder if there’s a direct flight or if I’ll have to change planes?”
“Probably in Denver, or Salt Lake,” said Donna, who had crossed the country nine times last year. “Take Denver, if there’s any choice.”
“Why?” Jeff asked, surprised to hear her express an opinion.
“Denver’s a little nicer if you get stranded there, and there are more ways to get out of it, if you have to make plans.” She had gathered up the copy of the printouts she had been given. “Do you really think this is going to be bad?”
“Yes. I think it is possible that there are five thousand people out there who have been sufficiently exposed to the toxin, whatever it is, to contract the disease.”
“That sounds pretty high,” she said. “If that’s the case, why are we starting to see it only now, and only in those places?”
“We don’t know it’s only those places,” said Jeff, holding up his hand and ticking his points off on his fingers. “We don’t know if there are milder versions of the disease than the one we’re seeing, we don’t know why it has cropped up so suddenly, but it may indicate that this is a two-stage toxicity, in which case, it could develop spontaneously wherever both toxins are present.”
“Okay; okay,” she said, holding up her hand. “I don’t dispute the possibilities.”
“I hope I’m wrong,” Jeff added.
Weyman tapped Jeff on the shoulder. “Come on; we got to get a few plans made.”
“Excuse me,” said Jeff to Donna as he picked up his printouts and his attaché case.
“I didn’t want to give Drucker a chance to buttonhole you,” said Weyman as he held the door open for Jeff. “He’s itching to pull some kind of stunt; he hates it when he’s put at a disadvantage. He wants everything this group does to be his idea or an idea he can take credit for.”
“If that means we can get the job done, it doesn’t matter,” said Jeff, almost meaning it.
“Stop being so altru-fucking-istic,” said Weyman as he yanked open the door to his office. “And for God’s sake, think up something I can tell Jennie when I break our date for tomorrow night.”
“Tell her the truth,” Jeff recommended.
“What good would that do?” Weyman asked in mock distress. “She thinks that all we bother about here is smog levels and the occasional PCP leak. You know what that means. Medical emergencies d
on’t happen to doctors like us, not according to Jennie.”
Jeff shrugged. “Is she so important to you that you are concerned with her good opinion? Really?” There was a humorous and ironic note to the question; he knew Weyman’s history with women and sensed that Jennie was not much different than the other very pretty, very venal women he attracted.
“Not the way you mean, no,” said Weyman. “I wish you didn’t see through me quite so easily. Probably just as well that we have a trip like this. If we didn’t, God alone knows how difficult things might get with Jennie.”
Jeff studied his colleague. “Are you seriously involved with her?”
“No,” he admitted bluntly. “But it’s getting to be a little bit boring, all this independence and no-strings fun.”
“It doesn’t hurt so much when you lose it,” Jeff pointed out as gently as he could; his wife had died along with sixty-five others in a train wreck caused by terrorists, and though it was more than four years since it happened, his grief was still strong in him. He had stopped blaming himself for not being with her, and had almost forgiven her for being in Greece on her way to Bulgaria, and therefore in danger. “I beg your pardon?” he said, realizing that Weyman had spoken to him.
“I said I’m calling upstairs to get plane reservations. How early is too early for you?” Weyman held his receiver tucked between his ear and shoulder while he reached for one of his memo sheets.
“I wouldn’t like to have to leave before six; anytime after that would be all right.” He wanted to get back to his office and telephone Doctor Maximillian Klausen in Portland, to inform him of his plans, and to find out what more he could about the disease in Klausen’s report.
“Okay.” Weyman spoke rapidly to the coordinator, and promised to hang on while arrangements were made. “That’s one to San Diego and one to Portland, Oregon, honey,” he said, speaking with great care. “San Diego’s in California.” Whatever the coordinator said in reply made him grin.
“I’ll be in my office,” said Jeff. “Let me know what the schedule is as soon as you know.” He rose and left the room, his things slung under his arm in a haphazard way.
It took three different tries, but Jeff finally reached Klausen at the pathology laboratory of the Portland Center for the Study of Environmental Medicine. “Doctor Klausen?” he began tentatively, “this is Doctor Taji with the Environmental Division of the National Center for Disease Control in Atlanta.”
“Oh: hello, Doctor . . .”
“Taji,” he repeated. “We have your reports and we’re very concerned. I was hoping you might be willing to tell me anything more you’ve learned since you filed your report. If your first indications are typical of the disease, there may be some very real trouble coming.”
“I can’t help agreeing with you,” said Klausen with an edge to his words. “I’m helping in an autopsy of the most recent victim—female, aged seventeen. And it appears that her cousin also has the disease.”
“I’m very sorry to hear that,” said Jeff, so quietly that Klausen held back any sharp rejoinder he might have offered if Jeff’s response had been glib.
“So am I,” said Klausen. “The prognosis is pretty grim.”
“I gathered that from your report,” said Jeff. “And that’s one of the reasons I’m going to be flying out to Portland tomorrow. I don’t know what time I’ll arrive, but I hope to be there before noon, since I will have the time advantage with me. Perhaps you’d be willing to spare me some of your time around one in the afternoon?” He did not want to push Klausen, for he sensed the strain the Oregon doctor was under, but at the same time he knew that if he did not press, more crucial time could be lost. “I want to spend time in Seattle as well, but since the reports originated with you, I’m hoping—”
“Fine; one o’clock will be fine. And I’ll be happy to make time to go with you to Seattle. I want to see what they’ve got firsthand.”
“Then we’re in accord, Doctor Klausen?” Jeff said, looking up as Weyman came in the door and handed him a memo. “Doctor Klausen? I’ll arrive tomorrow at eleven-seventeen on Western Canadian from Denver.”
“I’ll have someone meet you, Doctor Taji,” said Klausen at once. “Hell, I’ll come myself.”
“You needn’t, but I’d be most grateful if you would,” said Jeff, fighting the vertigo that threatened to overwhelm him; whatever was ahead, it terrified him already.
“I’ll be there,” said Klausen with more force. “We can talk on our way here.”
“Excellent,” said Jeff. “I’m looking forward to it.” That was just short of a lie, but he consoled himself with the reflection that it was not Dr. Maximillian Klausen that sent a grue slithering up his spine, but the thought of that new and malign disease.
“Thank you for calling, Doctor Taji. To be frank, I didn’t expect Atlanta to do much about this.”
Jeff closed his eyes and nodded. “Unfortunately there are times your doubt is justified. I hope that in this case I can vindicate the NCDC.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow, Western Canadian from Denver, eleven-seventeen,” said Klausen, not bothering to comment on what Jeff had said.
“Tomorrow,” Jeff agreed with the dead line.
—Jeff Taji, Sam Jarvis and Harper Ross—
FOR SEATTLE it was warm; from their vantage point, they could watch the ferry pull away from Mercer Island, churning toward the pier at the foot of the hill.
“Why don’t they simply build a bridge?” Jeff asked. It was a question that had puzzled him the day before, when he had arrived at SeaTac early enough to be caught in traffic.
“All kinds of reasons,” said Harper, “mainly that Seattle doesn’t want one.” He was holding the printouts Jeff had given him yesterday. “I went over these last night. They’re not very encouraging.”
“No, they’re not,” said Jeff. His first trip to the Pacific Northwest, only two weeks ago, had filled him with an abiding dread. “We’ve had confirmation on over a thousand cases now, and the number is climbing.”
“And the fatality rate is still as high as it was?” Harper asked, the image of his dead son still fresh in his mind.
“Yes. There may be those with resistance or immunity, but so far we haven’t been able to locate them.” He turned away from the window and went back to the head of the conference table. “How are your other children?” he asked, with the uncanny knack of reading Harper’s face.
“Grant’s still in the rehab program in California. Susan’s there with him.” This last statement did not come easily, and he shifted in his chair as he spoke, his hazel-green eyes moving away from Jeff’s face. “Other than the drug thing, he seems to be fine.”
“And your youngest?” Jeff did not want to prod, but he had a deep sense that he needed every bit of information he could gamer from this man. “Is he all right?”
“He’s fine. Sam checked him out last week, and there’s no sign of anything wrong with him.” He sighed, not quite in defeat but a long way from hope and acceptance. “It helps, you know.”
“But there are more cases of the disease in Seattle, aren’t there, most of them concentrated in the north, in your end of the city.”
“Strictly speaking, Bellevue is a separate city from Seattle proper,” said Harper.
“So I understand,” Jeff said. “But it’s a little like other large centers, isn’t it? everything gets lumped together.” He looked at his watch. “Jarvis isn’t due for another ten minutes.”
“I’m sorry he had to be late.” Harper fiddled with the edge of the printouts. “Barry McPhee is in the hospital with this shit.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” said Jeff, automatically and sincerely. “Who is Barry McPhee?”
“Our next-door neighbor. He and his wife Caroline have been friends of ours ever since we moved here, before Mason w
as born.” He shook his head slowly. “I went to the hospital before I came here. He looks just like Kevin did —pale and listless and so enervated that anything can be too much to deal with. He’s in quarantine, of course.”
“Does that bother you?” Jeff hoped that Harper would talk about it, clearing out the complex emotions that were draining him of purpose.
“Of course it bothers me.” He shoved the printouts across the table, watching the paper slide out, wave-like, toward Jeff. “Everything about this disease bothers me, especially that we haven’t found out diddly about it, and it keeps getting worse and worse and worse.” He jammed his knuckles together and glared up at the clock. “This is supposed to be one of the four best medical facilities on the West Coast. It cost over a billion dollars to build and they aren’t finished yet. You’d think with everything top of the line and state of the art that there’d be some headway by now.”
“It would be wonderful,” said Jeff. “It would be better if it never happened, or if the agents that cause it—whatever they are—had never been created. But that is out of our hands now. We have to accept the fact that we’re caught up in a crisis that is very close to becoming an epidemic. There’ve been eight news items about it already, none of them featured stories as yet, but the day is coming.”
“Sam said that you’ve confirmed several centers of infection,” Harper said, making an obvious effort to put their conversation on a less personal footing.
“Yes: Southern California, Wyoming, Montana, Utah, Texas, along with the Oregon sites you already know about.” He pulled out his old-fashioned agenda book. “I have colleagues in Southern California, in Montana, in Twin Falls, and in Dallas. We’re doing everything we can to speed this investigation.” No thanks to Drucker, he added mentally. “We have filed fourteen requests with the Pentagon for information on military toxic stockpiles—”
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