Viral Intent: An Alexandra Destephano Novel Book #3

by Judith Lucci

  "No, of course not, my little brother. I certainly don't think that at all." Nazir continued to talk softly and reassure his brother how much he and the local jihad cell appreciated his talents and contributions. “I know that, I know that, little one. But you know how the Americans are. Very seldom are there so many of them from all parts of their leadership gathered together in an iconic, easily compromised city such as New Orleans. This Operation Fix America meeting is a perfect time for us to strike. Washington is just too difficult to infiltrate. It is a fortress. But New Orleans? What can I say? It lives up to its name as The Big Easy for a terrorist attack. Ali, the place is a sewer, and half-underwater. It cannot be secured. Besides, they’ll have a hard time figuring out if the virus is endemic to New Orleans.”

  Nazir smirked to himself and continued, "They have so many bacterial and viral samples growing over there in Tulane’s lab, not to mention all that stuff they’re growing since Katrina, they’ll never detect us. Besides, we have hundreds of places where we can hide here, for years if needed."

  Ali was listening and nodded his head, but he was not in agreement with his brother's message.

  "The time is right and the place is perfect. Imagine the terror and fear it will cause in the hearts of Americans when we are successful so soon after Boston.” Nazir smiled and rubbed his hands together in anticipation of killing thousands of Americans, not to mention senior leadership and the President of the United States. “This mission will make 9/11 seem like child's play."

  Ali was being stubborn. “I like New Orleans. I like our friends here and where we live. I have fun. I am happier here than I have been in anywhere since we left home after our parents died. I like going to school at Tulane, too, and studying with Dr. Smith. I like being his lab rat, and he says he can get me financing for my PhD if I decide to continue my studies. He’s taught me a lot, and, in some ways, he has been helpful to our cause.”

  Nazir’s face had darkened and he shook his younger brother violently until Ali’s teeth chattered and his dark curls danced in the sunlight. He gritted his teeth and barked at the slightly built young man in a hoarse voice, “Ali, for the last time, don't you remember that it was the Americans who killed our parents and all of our friends. It was their drone that killed them. These people are our enemy. We are here to KILL them, not become their friends and help them in their labs. Do you get it, or do you need to go back to the Cadesus?”

  Ali was shocked at his brother's words. “I get it. I get it, Nazir. I am sorry. Now let me go. I must get to work. My shift starts in less than an hour.” Ali pulled back and shuffled out of his brother's arms, terrified, but trying hard not to show it. He left his Marigny apartment, quickly walking toward Canal Street and Tulane Medical Center.

  As Nazir watched his brother leave the house, he shook his head in exasperation. What could he do to make his brother understand their cause? Perhaps he was too young to remember the death of their parents.

  Ali's heart was heavy on his way to work. He didn't like the business of hurting others, even though his parents had been killed. Hadn't the Taliban killed the parents of many American children during 9/11 attack? Weren't the jihadist being just as destructive as the Americans had been over the years? He guessed his western education had made him question his supposed "mission".

  He was startled when his phone alarm sounded, signaling a text. The text was from Dr. Smith. It read, "ALI, CAN YOU COME ASAP? WE HAVE A VIRAL OUTBREAK IN ONE OF THE HOSPITALS. Tim."

  Ali quickly texted back, "I AM ON MY WAY. Ali." He didn’t feel good about this at all. There was nothing about a viral outbreak that could be good for Nazir, Ali or even Vadim, for that matter. At least, not today. He wondered what was up. His heart began to thud with anxiety. Things were just not right and that bothered him. It bothered him a great deal.

  Chapter 3

  Alex could hardly contain her excitement as she stared across the table at her dear friend and head of CCMC psychiatric services, Dr. Monique Desmonde. Monique was sitting quietly in her wheel chair, her shoulders surrounded by the big, beefy arm of Police Commander Jack Francoise. Only six weeks ago, Monique had been in a coma, having sustained a potentially terminal head injury when a psychotic CCMC employee attacked her with a lead pipe. But, that was six weeks ago, and Monique’s recovery was amazing. She was even better than last week when Alex had taken her to dinner and spent the evening while Jack was working.

  Monique was alert and seemed to be back to almost normal. By her own admission, she was still a bit forgetful and knew she couldn’t return to her position as chief of psychiatry at the Pavilion, CCMC’s psychiatric facility for several more months, and frankly, that was fine with her. Her luxurious long dark hair was beginning to grow back from her craniotomy and her face was unblemished from the massive trauma she had sustained. She looked beautiful, happy, and content. Alex was thrilled with Monique’s progress and anxious to have her back full time at the hospital.

  Jack was happy as well. The lines of worry, anxiety, and fatigue were temporarily erased from his face as he moved closer to protect Monique. In the background hovered Chef Henri, the executive chef of the Cajun Café who loved having Alex and her friends at the Café for lunch. Jack motioned Chef Henri, who immediately appeared at the table.

  “Commander, Dr. Monique, Alex, it is wonderful to have you back. Dr. Monique, you look very lovely. My heart is happy for you and the Commander,” Henri gushed and continued, “No one would ever know you had been ill!” Henri’s sincere voice exuded warmth as he welcomed them to his café.

  “Thank you, Henri,” Monique was gracious, but her speech was slow and focused, her smile a little crooked. “It is wonderful to see you, too,” she said in a halting voice. “I am so happy to be able to come in for lunch.”

  Alex loved Henri’s subtle French accent and his long slender fingers, which could have been those of a great pianist. Instead, she could picture Henri slicing and dicing vegetables for his city-renowned French dishes.

  Henri touched her shoulder warmly. “Dr. Monique, when will you return to work? We all miss you here.”

  Monique appeared a little hesitant as she responded, “I don’t know for sure. I am still a little slow talking and remembering things. I hope by the end of the year.”

  Jack glanced over and said, “Don’t worry, Henri, she will be back before you know it. Look at how well she has done and how quickly she has gotten better.”

  Monique glared at Jack and said impatiently, "Jack, you know it may be a while. I won’t continue to get better as quickly as I have so far. I believe I still have quite a lot of work to do on my speech and ambulation, not to mention my memory. I cannot practice psychiatry with a short-term memory and who knows if that will ever come back.”

  Although Monique was matter–of-fact, Alex could detect anxiety in her voice.

  Alex nodded her head but was startled by Monique’s impatience. Prior to her injuries, Monique had been the most patient woman on earth, spending hours of time carefully listening to every word in group sessions of her acutely and chronically ill psychiatric patients. After listening to just one group session, Alex had wanted to shoot herself in the head.

  “I know, honey,” the Commander said with assurance, “but it won’t be that long. We’ll continue to work on it every day and we’ll get there."

  Monique brightened a bit and nodded, “Sure we will, Jack, but just remember that it will take some time.”

  Jack nodded and squeezed her hand in response.

  Alex stared at the two of them and shook her head. “Wow, you all freak me out. Even now, I still have a hard time thinking of you guys as a couple. Remember, we had only known for several days when you got sick, Monique.”

  In truth, Alex had been surprised, almost shocked, when the beautiful, elegant Monique Desmonde and the gnarly, often officious, tough, and stubborn Police Commander Jack Francoise had fallen in love. Of course, they were both old New Orleans and had dated in high school, but that
still hadn’t prepared Alex or Robert, her former surgeon husband, for the unanticipated declaration of love between their two friends. They had happily celebrated the news just a few days before Monique had been critically injured by a sick and unhappy employee.

  Alex noticed the confused look on Monique’s face as she said, “What do you mean, Alex? I thought you were happy with our relationship. You always said you were. Hearing this makes me kind of sad.”

  Alex reached to take Monique’s hand in her own. “Of course I am happy, Monique. I couldn’t be happier for the two of you. I was just teasing. You took me too literally.” Alex felt guilty for failing to remember that patient’s with head injuries often don't understand colloquial speech or slang. She admonished herself to be more careful until Monique could differentiate between the seriousness and teasing that occurred in conversations.

  Jack backed Alex up. “Monique, you know she and Robert couldn’t be happier. Remember, they are standing up for us at our wedding! Maid of Honor and Best Man. Remember?"

  Monique laughed, “Of course I do. You all had better go with us to City Hall. Nobody else even likes us."

  “Don’t be so dramatic, silly. Everyone likes you and besides, you’re covered. Just tell us when and we will be there." Alex turned her attention to Chef Henri who remained patiently waiting by the table. "Henri, what do you have today that is good for lunch?” Alex asked, giving the Chef a bright smile.

  “Why, Miss Alex, it is all good.” Henri looked hurt, crushed in fact.

  Oh my gosh, I am really striking out today. Maybe I can hurt Jack’s feelings too and then I'll be three for three, Alex thought. “Of course it’s all good, Henry, but what is the special? You know I eat here all the time because I love your food.”

  Henri’s crestfallen face brightened. “Gumbo, Seafood Gumbo! It’s the special today. I made it myself. The roué is from scratch.” Henri beamed proudly.

  Jack looked at Monique and Alex who nodded, and he said to Henri, “Three Gumbo and sour dough bread with ice tea. Then we’ll order desert.”

  As Henri hurried off to fill their order, Alex’s cell phone rang. As she checked the digital display, she noted it was Dr. Robert Bonnet, the interim CCMC chief of medicine who was covering for Dr. John Ashley who was on a clinical sabbatical.

  “Hey, Robert, I am with Jack and Monique at the Cajun Café. She was here for rehab this morning and we are having Gumbo. Can you join us? Henri just took our order.”

  Robert’s heart quickened and warmed as it always did when he heard the soft, gentle, Virginia accent of his former wife, Alexandra Lee Destephano, the legal counsel for CCMC. Every day when he awoke, he chastised himself for divorcing her years ago when he had been a surgical resident at the University of Virginia Hospital in Charlottesville. He had been so young, dumb, and arrogant in those days. He had wanted Alex, a registered nurse pursuing a law degree, to quit school and stay at home to become a hausfrau like his mother had done for his father, a former Louisiana Governor, and current Senator.

  For a brief moment, Robert shifted his thoughts to better days. Robert and Alex had married in a lavish wedding ceremony on the Lawn at the University of Virginia and had settled in Charlottesville. Their marriage represented one of the most powerful political unions in the South, the Lees of Virginia and the Bonnets of Louisiana. Alex’s grandfather was Senator Adam Patrick Lee of Virginia, and Robert’s father had been active in political circles in Louisiana for years and was currently the senior United States Senator from Louisiana.

  “Oh, wonderful, how is Monique?” Robert asked, delighted that his friends were all together. Jack and Monique had known Robert for years, and even though Jack was older, they had all grown up together in New Orleans.

  “She is wonderful, looks beautiful. Can you make it?” Alex persisted, even though her feelings about Robert remained unresolved.

  “I can stop by, but I cannot eat. We have a worsening situation over here in the ED. I need to fill you in. I’ll stop by shortly.”

  “Oh, no, not again,” Alex said dismally.

  “Damn, now what,” Jack demanded, looking angry that someone could mess up his almost perfect lunch. When Commander Jack Francoise was angry, a big black cloud hovered over everyone in his presence and everyone was affected.

  Monique gently touched his sleeve to calm him down, a frequent gesture for her in her constant effort to control his stress.

  Alex looked apologetic. “I don’t know. There is something going on in the ED, and he said he needs to come over to update me. I am sure it’s nothing, probably some irate patients, someone screaming law suit, or complaining because they had to wait more than 15 minutes.”

  “Well, I hope it’s medical and doesn’t concern police work. CCMC needs to hire me two new detectives to help solve their crimes,” Jack grumbled. “I spend more time here than I do anywhere else.”

  “Except for the French Quarter,” Monique reminded him. “You were there again last night.”

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah. Damn stupid people getting themselves mugged and beaten up. At least we haven't had any murders lately. If they would just follow the safety guidelines located in all the hotels and restaurants and stay out of the deepest parts of the Quarter after midnight we could cut the crime rate in half. Ain’t nothing good doing on the Quarter after one a.m. Trust me.” Jack’s face darkened as he remembered the mugging several night ago. It was particularly horrific. St. Germaine-like. The victim had survived but was still in shock and couldn't tell the police anything. Damn, he’d like to get that bastard. He was brought back to reality after he noticed Robert Bonnet entering the café.

  Tall and thin, with sandy hair and chiseled features, Robert was particularly handsome in his physician's white coat. He was on the radar of every woman in the Cajun Café. Alex was well aware of the attention her ex was generating as he walked toward their table. She smiled brightly as he kissed her warmly on the cheek.

  “Monique, you look good, great in fact. How is therapy?” he inquired, as he maneuvered around Jack to give her a gentle hug.

  “Rehab is the hardest thing I have ever done, Bonnet. When I graduate, it will be better than getting my medical degree,” Monique lamented. “I’ve never known how painful fatigue could be. Sometimes, I get so tired I cannot remember anything, and that is so frustrating.” Monique had tears in her eyes.

  Robert nodded his head in understanding as his grey eyes connected with Monique’s dark ones. “I’m sure, Monique, but it is paying off. You are doing incredibly well. What you are experiencing is normal, and I know you know that.” Robert smiled, his gentle eyes holding her green ones.

  “I do. I am just ready to close this chapter in my life. I’m really OK, don’t worry,” Monique offered as she gave them all a hopeful smile. “Now, what’s up in the ED?”

  Robert motioned Henri for some iced tea and looked at his friends. His voice was low.

  Jack, half deaf in one ear from the rifle range and too stubborn to wear a hearing aid, leaned in close.

  Robert looked worried. "I’m not sure, but it is potentially very bad. We have a man in the ED, probably dead by now, who has some sort of bad virus. He came in earlier this morning with a high fever, vomiting, and a sore throat. He just got worse and worse until he coded. They were working on him a few minutes ago, but they were about to call it."

  “What the hell did he have? The flu? I didn’t know the flu could kill you so quick,” Jack commented. The police commander's eyes were wide with fear. Hospital germs and things he didn’t know about scared him, but no one was braver in a pursuing criminals and advocating for victims than Jack Francoise.

  “I hope it’s only the flu,” Monique said. “We would be really lucky if that’s the case. Robert, what do you think it is? Are you thinking what I am thinking?”

  Robert noted the intense fire in Monique’s eyes. She was absolutely putting it together. Robert briefly thought about just how well Monique was doing. Not many physicians recovering fro
m a serious head injury could have put the possibility of a viral contamination together as quickly as Monique.

  Alex stared at Robert and Monique, paralyzed with fear. “Oh my goodness, Robert, you all don’t think ... Oh, no! Please tell me you are not thinking we have a hemorrhagic virus?"

  Robert shook his head. "I don’t know, Alex. I certainly hope not, but we have called the CDC and the military. Jack, HAZMAT is on their way."

  Jack immediately stood and grabbed Monique’s wheel chair. "We’re getting the hell out of dodge, Monique. If there is something going around, I surely don’t want you to catch it.” With Monique's wheelchair handles firmly in his grip, Jack turned to Alex and Robert and added, “Be back soon. This could be bad. Don’t forget the President is due here in two days. You know, Operation Fix America and all that crap. I’ve already met with the advance team and they’re rattling on about some terrorist stuff.”

  Alex felt her stomach sink. She’d forgotten the President was coming. But so was her grandfather and half of Congress. Adam Patrick Lee was one of the most influential Congressmen in Washington and was part of a powerful bipartisan ad hoc committee assigned to clean up Washington. In additional, he was a critical member of almost all committees for national defense.

  Robert nodded, turned to Alex, and said, “He’s right. The infectious disease docs are meeting me in a few minutes in the ED conference room. Can you gather up administration and attend? ”

  “Of course. There's not many of us. Don’s on vacation, but I will get the others. Pretty much it's just Liz." Alex smiled only for Robert. “Ain’t it nice?” she said jokingly, as she referred to missing CEO, Don Montgomery.

  Robert gave her a half smile and said sardonically, “Don’s on vacation, huh, perfect. He’s generally a pain during these kinds of things anyway.”