“Kalani have anything to say about him?”
“A little. He doesn’t have a criminal record but does have outstanding warrants for illegal possession of a semi-auto and selling guns without a license.”
“And they’re sure he was the driver?”
“Positive. Seems that after he and Gautreaux rolled off the highway, they figure Gautreaux died instantly, but Delfino made it up the embankment and called a friend of his. She came and took him to the urgent care facility in Princeville, where they took x-rays, bandaged him up, and turned him loose.”
“Why the hell did they do that?” Marchetti said and slammed his fist on the table. “They must have asked him what happened; why didn’t they call the cops?”
Tom shrugged. “I don’t know; I wasn’t there.”
Marchetti wasn’t in the mood for cute answers. “What did Delfino tell the doctor?”
“That he fell asleep and drove off the road; a stranger picked him up and brought him to the clinic. The staff there hadn’t heard about the shooting, so they had no reason to question him further.”
“Who was the friend?”
“Her name’s Stacy Collins, a dancer at one of the local clubs, also from Port Andrews. She confirmed his story.”
“Of course,” Marchetti said and shook his head. “Kalani give you a description?”
Tom checked his notes. “Six feet tall, muscular, dark hair and tan complexion. Forty-one years old.”
“He tell you where he worked?”
“Yes, which was even more interesting. Kalani says Delfino’s in business for himself doing odd jobs and home construction, but he’s done work at the Barking Sands Missile Range, too.”
“What kind of work?”
“Civilian contract stuff–repairs, painting, that sort of thing.”
“Where’s Delfino now?”
“The cops went to his wife’s house and started asking questions. She even consented to let them look around, but most of his stuff was gone by then. Wife thinks he’s somewhere off the island by now.”
17
CDC personnel hurriedly established temporary offices in Lower Manhattan and the Bronx the next few days. Under Dr. Silverthorn’s direction they began tracing the steps of smallpox patients showing up at different hospitals in the area, trying to measure the success of their basic ring containment strategy.
The victims’ timelines puzzled Dr. Silverthorn, however. She made a note to herself to be certain investigators nailed down specific dates of exposure in interviews and not merely rely on estimates. Meanwhile, New York Mayor Martin Fuller ordered emergency procedures into effect and directed Chief Corso and Vice Mayor Rankin to take all reasonable steps to contain the outbreak.
Biohazard experts from the police and FBI set up command posts at Manhattan Metro and Belfair hospitals and then prepared to institute a mass immunization program for the five boroughs and Long Island. Mayor Fuller, meanwhile, ordered borough presidents in Brooklyn and Queens to send every available morgue truck to stand by at the large, five-deck parking garage near Belfair Hospital, the city’s newly designated smallpox facility. Mortuary facilities would be established off site to handle overflow from the smallpox facility. One building being considered was an air freight hangar at JFK Airport if they could get adequate refrigeration installed in time.
Television vans from four Manhattan area stations sat outside Belfair Hospital 24/7, ready to broadcast any updates from CDC or the mayor’s office. Reporters would be admitted to the ground floor briefing room for a news conference scheduled to take place in an hour–enough time before the evening news to write copy and get it to the station.
As usual in most emergencies that happened in the nation’s largest city, the mayor and staff were hoping for the best and preparing for the worst. This one, however, the mayor worried, could be the worst crisis since 9/11. It had all the earmarks of a major, terrorist-caused disaster that would test the limits of every utility company, hospital, and law enforcement agency in the city.
One of Mayor Fuller’s aides shuffled about the room, making sure everything was in place for the press conference. He moved a fold-up easel stand to the front of a large room closed to all but medical and emergency personnel. Doctors from area hospitals who specialized in infectious diseases sat silently as the aide placed a poster-board map of the city on the easel. It had a red star at the corner of 1st Avenue and East 62nd–the last-known residence of the most recent victim. He then added a black star where she died two days ago at Manhattan Metro Hospital on East 77th.
There were nine points of death in Manhattan alone, plus twenty active smallpox cases currently being treated at Belfair. But everyone knew the numbers would escalate. The only questions were, how fast and how large. They’d still hadn’t made a connection between the cases, other than that of Helen Seitz and Corrine Alberts, victims #1 and 4, who’d vacationed together in Hawaii.
A few minutes later, Dr. Silverthorn began the pre-press conference meeting, with other health and mayor’s representatives at her side. “One of the problems we have in projecting how fast the epidemic will spread is that the only relevant data we have as a reference point is based on cases in Germany forty or more years ago, when the population still had significant immunity. In that particular outbreak, despite isolating the initial patient and vaccinating all medical staff in the hospital, nineteen additional cases occurred.”
“Good lord,” Mayor Fuller whispered to his chief of staff.
“An interesting aspect of those cases was that the initial patient remained on the first floor of the hospital his entire stay, yet patients on all three floors became infected. Smoke tests revealed eleven of the cases were in rooms outside the smoke pattern. So if that many cases occurred in a relatively controlled environment in which much of the populace had immunity, imagine what we’re facing here. More people are traveling these days, and very few people on the planet have residual smallpox immunity.”
“Some military going overseas have gotten the vaccine and may be still immune,” a Homeland Security representative interrupted, “but if it’s been more than ten years, they’ll need to be revaccinated.”
Silverthorn continued, “One step we believe mandatory is that public schools be closed immediately–and kept closed until the danger has passed. That will both lessen the chance of the virus jumping our ring of contagion and let us use the schools for immunization clinics.” The mayor agreed and promised to direct his chief of staff to draft instructions to school superintendents, principals, and local TV stations. “We may also need to consider commandeering a few of the city’s medium-size hotels for use as quarantine facilities, in case things get out of hand in the next few weeks.”
“What also scares the hell out of me are the other effects,” Chief Corso said. “People leaving the city in droves, causing even worse traffic jams than usual; residents making runs on stores to stock up on food; more demands on the police and yet fewer police available because of the threat; possibly even civil disorder.”
The mayor added, “I spoke to the governor an hour ago. He’s called in National Guard troops to keep order at vaccination sites and grocery stores around the city. He assures me he’s ready to assist in any way possible. The president is also ready to issue federal travel restrictions, if necessary.”
“A big unknown, however, is how the public will react to a mass immunization plan, given their general distrust and suspicion of government. Will they panic? Rebel?”
The city health commissioner voiced similar concerns. “Mandatory vaccinations are controversial–particularly in this case where the vaccine is a live virus and could kill someone with a compromised immune system. Do we mandate HIV testing in questionable cases? Getting consent in situations where we’ve got every type of family relationship imaginable is also problematic.”
“I agree,” said Chief Corso. “All these plans we’re considering are based on people acting rationally and calmly–and that may not be the c
ase.”
“Absolutely,” the city health commissioner added. “How many citizens will calmly accept being taken to a quarantine facility? How many nurses will volunteer to treat infected patients when they could stay home or go visit Aunt Bea in another state?”
Silverthorn said, “I’m also concerned about the PR aspect. Reporters from every major daily in the northeast and some in the south are already clamoring for information about how we’re handling the crisis. Who’s doing the investigating? Who’s in charge? How will we contain a possible epidemic? We’d better be ready with satisfactory answers or watch the situation get even worse.”
“What about hospital staff?” Mayor Fuller asked. “Are they still onboard?”
Dr. Ross McKinley, Manhattan Metro’s chief of infectious diseases, said, “Medical personnel at our hospital are still at a hundred percent, but we’re starting to hear about a few applying for leaves. Some will undoubtedly go home to their families once they hear talk of a long-term quarantine. Support staff–cleaning crews, kitchen workers, janitors, et cetera–are already not reporting for work. We had twenty percent no-shows this morning and expect that number to go up if the contagion spreads.”
Dr. Silverthorn confirmed that the second batch of vaccine arrived by overnight courier from CDC that morning. Shipments to Baltimore, Memphis, and New Orleans would go out that night. “The goal is to have everyone in this and every other major city immunized as soon as possible–five days max.”
Dr. Jonah Hill, Manhattan Metro’s chief of hospital operations stood up and said, “We must make sure all medical personnel have been immunized. We don’t want to have to tell a nurse to ‘go ahead and treat this patient; we’ll have you immunized in the next few days.’ We need to get it done before they start treating patients.”
Silverthorn agreed. “I’ll remind you, too, that FBI agents will be onsite, most likely asking questions. Using smallpox as a weapon is a terrorist act, so their primary responsibility is to find out who did it.”
“Will federal authorities be coming into our hospitals and ordering doctors and nurses around?” Corso asked. “If they start pulling crap like that, it’ll only add to the chaos and put an end to any hope of cooperation.”
McGraw answered, “No, of course not. The only thing they’ll be permitted to do is inform doctors and hospital staff of what they need for subsequent criminal investigations.”
Dr. Hill looked around for further comments. Since there were none, he checked his watch. “All right, then. The press will be in here shortly. We’ll also be setting up a joint information center in the first floor meeting room by this evening. Representatives from the FBI, New York City police, CDC, and public affairs specialists will be available on a full-time basis to answer questions, issue statements, and hold regular news conferences. We’ll be making every effort to coordinate consistent and credible information.”
The mayor nodded. “Many of you who have been through health crises before know that reporters will be tugging on your sleeves every five minutes asking for updates, and they’re liable to pass on unfounded rumors. We feel it’s imperative that no one outside the joint information center gives a statement to any member of the media about anything. That’s not your job. It’s hard enough to reach a consensus on how best to handle this outbreak, considering our lack of experience dealing with it, without unnamed individuals giving alarming opinions about the seriousness of the crisis, or how we should respond.”
“And I’ll remind you, no mention of the words ‘terrorist’ or ‘terrorism,’” the FBI representative said. “Not until we’re able to make a definitive statement about it.”
“But we know that’s the case here,” the city health commissioner said. “I hope we don’t try to sugarcoat or evade the issue. Otherwise, we’re liable to have even more panic when the truth comes out.”
Most attendees nodded, and Dr. Silverthorn ended the discussion by instructing those at the meeting to prepare to set the mass immunization program in effect. “If there’s a problem or question about procedure, contact my assistant, Dr. Joseph Garcia, or me at our office on the second floor.” She breathed a sigh, closed her notebook, and looked around the room. “Thank you for your efforts–and may God be with us all.”
18
Maggie Winthrop climbed the six steps of the brownstone on West 84th Street, Upper West Side, and rang the bell. She heard steps slowly make their way to the door. Moments later, the door cracked open and a sixtyish woman in blue flannel robe and slippers showed her face.
“Is this the Seitz residence?” she asked. “Dorothy Seitz?”
“Yes,” she answered, tentatively.
“My name is Maggie Winthrop,” she said and flashed an ID. “Physician’s Assistant with Centers for Disease Control and Prevention in Atlanta. I’d like to ask you a few questions.”
Dorothy Seitz nodded and opened the door. “Please come in.”
Maggie put on a mask and gloves as casually as she could and removed the iPad from her purse.
Dorothy led her to a small step-down living room off the entryway and gestured toward a white wing-backed chair for Maggie. Dorothy briefly straightened a stack of magazines on the coffee table and took a seat of her own on an upholstered sofa.
“I am so sorry about the passing of your daughter.”
“Thank you,” Dorothy said, clutching the top of her robe.
Winthrop decided earlier she’d avoid the subject of Helen’s funeral altogether. A city health officer ordered the body cremated due to the risk of infection, and she assumed Mrs. Seitz might have wanted a traditional burial. Maggie understood why she may still be upset–angry even–and there was no reason to bring it up.
“I know it’s hard for you to talk about,” Winthrop said, “but we’re trying our best to trace her activities the past few weeks–where she’d been, what she’d done, and with whom she’d spent time.” Maggie spotted an eight-by-ten picture frame propped up on an oval side table next to the sofa. It had a photo of a stunning woman dressed in evening gown. “Is that Helen?”
Dorothy nodded. “Doctors say it was smallpox,” she said, her voice barely audible.
“That’s right, which is why it’s so important we find where and how she contracted the disease. We need to contain it as best we can.” Dorothy indicated she understood, and Maggie continued. “I understand she had just been to Hawaii?”
“Yes.”
“Was that on business or vacation?”
“A long overdue vacation. She’d been looking forward to it for months.”
“And a woman named Corrine Alberts went with her?”
“Yes, they were very good friends.”
“Before they left did she say where they planned to go or stay?”
She pulled out a handwritten sheet from a side table drawer next to the sofa to refresh her memory. “Two nights at the Marina Grand Hotel in Honolulu, June ninth and tenth. Seven days on an inter-island cruise; another two nights in Honolulu at the same hotel; returning here on the twentieth.”
Maggie jotted down the dates and name of the hotel. “Was she taking any prescription medication that you know of?” Seitz shook her head. “Any other friends she may have had in the city besides Ms. Alberts?”
She nodded. “A boyfriend at work she’s been seeing off and on–John Scheppers–and a girlfriend named Gail who lives in the same apartment building as Helen. Haven’t met either of them, but Helen spoke of them often.”
Maggie entered the names in her iPad and again checked her notes. “Are Helen’s things still in her apartment?”
“Yes. I plan to remove them as soon as the medical people say it’s okay and my son can get down here from New Hampshire.”
“You have a key to her apartment?”
Helen nodded.
“I’d like to look around her place if I may, check her correspondence, address book, cancelled ticket stubs–things like that–see who else she may have spent time with the past few weeks. Con
fidentially, of course. I assume the manager has a key, but I’d like to take yours just in case. I’ll make sure you get it back promptly.”
Dorothy rose from the sofa and retrieved a key from the desk drawer.
“Thank you,” Maggie said. She tagged the key with Helen’s address on it and slid it into her purse. “Where did Helen work?”
“At a firm downtown named Heritage Investments, near the new World Trade Center. She’d been with them about five years and was finally getting to take a decent vacation, like I said, when this happened.”
Maggie shook her head at the heartbreak written all over Dorothy’s face. “I am so sorry for your loss,” she said, lightly touching Helen’s forearm. She paused while Dorothy wiped away a tear. “Just a few more questions. Did you see Helen after she got back from Hawaii?”
“Yes, briefly, the night she got in.”
“And that was June twentieth?”
She thought for a moment. “Correct.”
“Did she come from the airport by cab, or did someone pick her up?”
“She and Corrine took a cab together from JFK. Helen wanted to check on me, so she got out here, and Corrine went on home.” Dorothy thought for a few more moments and then continued. “Helen and I talked that evening for a while, but she didn’t feel well and called another cab to take her to her place uptown.”
“Did you see or talk to Corrine when she dropped off Helen?”
“Not really. She waved to me from the cab, but that was it.”
“And that night was the last time you saw Helen?”
She shook her head. “Saw her one last time at the hospital–when she was covered all over with scabs and bruises and in terrible pain.”
“Do you remember what day that was?”
She thought again. “Must have been Tuesday or Wednesday, a week ago.”
Winthrop checked the calendar on her iPad. July first looked about right. “Did you come in close contact with Helen either of those two days, June twentieth or July first?”
The Omega Covenant Page 11
