Virus Hunters 3: A Medical Thriller

by Bobby Akart

  “See? Wolf kisses. I’ll send these to my girlfriend. You know, wish you were here. That sort of thing.”

  “Very lame, mate. But it’s a good snap.”

  Maclaren looked around the room. “What are we gonna do with this thing?”

  Mooy shrugged. “Here, fill out this inventory tag and tie it around one of his paws. I’ll set the freezer back on negative ten. When they come in on Monday, they can figure out what they want to do with it.”

  “Not our problem,” mumbled Maclaren for the third time.

  When, in fact, it had become their problem, as well as one for the rest of the world.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  CDC Headquarters

  Atlanta, Georgia

  “Well, look who’s here,” Harper began sarcastically as she entered Dr. Reitherman’s office. She was the last to arrive after spending a final minute or two with Dr. Sales and followed by last-minute instructions to the epidemiologists led by Becker. She smiled at the shorter agent, who returned the gesture.

  “Good afternoon, Dr. Randolph,” greeted the CIA agent who’d met with Harper on two prior occasions. Each time, he’d used a different surname. Once, it was a city near East St. Louis, Illinois. The second go-around, he’d chosen a name based upon a small town east of Augusta, Georgia, that was easily recognized by Harper.

  Harper couldn’t resist. “You know, your counterparts in Beijing and Kathmandu are far less mysterious than you two. But, let me say, they were every bit as helpful. Listen, I never quite understand the standoffish, you-look-suspicious-to-us approach you guys take. Maybe they teach you that at Quantico? I don’t know. Anyway, if it wasn’t for you speaking to your superiors, Kwon and I would never have been able to locate Doggo.”

  “We try to help when we can,” the senior agent replied. “We’ve spent some time with Dr. Li already. He’s provided us valuable intel on this underground network of dissidents operating in Urumqi. That will be very useful to our psyops people.”

  Since the Korean War, the Central Intelligence Agency had engaged in psychological operations designed to convey selected information to citizens in foreign countries to influence their emotions, motives, and objective reasoning.

  Likewise, in the present day, the Russians and Chinese were extraordinarily adept at manipulating the American public and its government officials. The advent of social media and its users’ reliance on news reports posted to sites like Twitter, Facebook, and Reddit made Americans especially vulnerable to disinformation campaigns.

  By the time Facebook became the largest social media network in the world with more than one billion users in 2012, there were signs of moral decay and societal collapse. During 2020 as the nation was battling the deadly COVID-19 pandemic, animus was so high, pundits and historians alike wondered aloud whether the U.S. was headed for a second civil war.

  Harper asked, “Can we use those people to get the word out in Tibet and Xinjiang about this virus? Many in Lhasa are aware of what’s happening, but those in the countryside are kept in the dark. The same seemed to be the case in Xinjiang.”

  “Absolutely,” responded the senior agent. “Obviously, the agency uses psyops to effectuate regime changes in dictatorships around the world, but we also have humanitarian motives. Your experiences in China are very valuable to our approach and to the nation’s foreign policy.”

  Dr. Reitherman glanced at his watch. A conference call was scheduled with the mayor of Las Vegas in thirty minutes. “These gentlemen wanted to get your final take, or at least your educated opinion, on any bioterror component to this.”

  “I know that was a concern of yours early on. Truthfully, the facts don’t support it. I firmly believe the disease originated with the canine host—Doggo. However, that doesn’t mean it wasn’t studied and manipulated by their scientists. It’s still too early in the outbreak, at least in our country, but a telltale sign to watch for in the future is whether this novel virus mutates.

  “Because it is so new, mutation is to be expected. If it doesn’t, then there’s a chance it was engineered by the Chinese scientists. The next logical conclusion, of course, is that they used human carriers as weapons to introduce the virus onto our soil.”

  “But not with the four soldiers whom we confirmed to be part of their elite Siberian Tigers unit?” asked the younger agent.

  Harper replied, “No. They just happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time. Due to their lack of experience with handling disease-infected patients, they easily contracted it from patient zero, or each other.”

  “Anything else, gentlemen?” asked Dr. Reitherman.

  “No, sir,” replied the senior agent. He managed a smile. “Dr. Randolph, it was a pleasure to work with you and I trust you’ll keep us abreast of your findings.”

  “I will.”

  The other agent spoke up. “Also, will you please send my regards to your husband. I’m sure he wouldn’t remember me, but before I joined the agency, I was with the Secret Service assigned to the Longfellow building where his office is. We crossed paths many times in the hallways and he always took the time to say hello. I can’t say that for most of our elected officials.”

  Harper beamed. She loved to hear nice things said about her husband. After they’d spoken last night before bed, she’d googled his name to see what kind of news stories were written about him. She was furious within minutes after scanning the headlines and ended up tossing her iPad across the room into an overstuffed chair. Politicians and the media disgusted her most times.

  The two agents left and Kwon excused himself to check in with his superiors at DARPA. After he left, Dr. Reitherman gestured for Harper to get comfortable before Dr. Boychuck arrived.

  “Do you realize this is the first time you and I have been alone all day?” he asked.

  Harper scowled and thought for a moment. “You know what, you’re right. It’s been a helluva day.”

  “Tell me about Kwon.”

  “He’s an aberration. He’s part robot, part supercomputer, part warrior, part human. In that order.”

  Her description drew a laugh from Dr. Reitherman. “He was brutally honest and detailed about your time in Beijing. Had I known you’d be going through all of that, I would’ve strapped you to that chair and fed you through a tube to keep you from leaving for China.”

  “I haven’t told Joe everything. Might not for a long, long time. Then again, I suspect he knew I’d be facing trouble, which is why he chose Kwon to come with me. He pulled me out of the line of fire more than once.”

  “I heard. Kwon also said you had to use a gun. He didn’t provide details, but it was clear you shot and killed people. Are you okay?”

  Harper averted her eyes and shrugged. She really hadn’t had time to think about it. “You know, everything happened so fast and we were constantly on the run defending ourselves. Look, the way my brain processed everything, it all was simple. I didn’t want to die, so I had to make the person trying to kill me die first. I believe it would be different if I tried to walk up to an innocent human being and shoot them. I doubt I could pull the trigger in that case. Over there, it was almost second nature.”

  Harper had a déjà vu moment during which some recognition of those words seemed familiar. It wasn’t that she might have said them, but possibly she’d heard them before.

  “Well, I bring it up because I know you will start to get back to a normal life, at least for you anyway. If you find yourself having difficulty with, you know, that part of your investigation, we have people on staff to talk to.”

  Harper shook it off. “Nah, I’m good.”

  There was a gentle knocking at the door, and Dr. Reitherman’s secretary stuck her head in the door. “Doctor, that charming Dr. Boychuck is here to see you.”

  From the reception area, the eccentric pathologist could be heard. “Yes. Yes. Yes. Charming, suave, and debonair!”

  Harper chuckled. If Becker had been there, her eyes would have rolled right out of
her head.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  CDC Headquarters

  Atlanta, Georgia

  “Woolie, please come in.” Dr. Reitherman heartily greeted his new friend. In the short time Dr. Boychuck had spent on the CDC campus, he’d made quite an impression with his knowledge of forensics and pathology. Certainly, the CDC’s own team of pathologists were top-notch, but Dr. Boychuck brought a level of street smarts with him because he’d examined so many different kinds of cases.

  “Thank you, good doctor.” The eccentric medical examiner was in a jovial mood. He turned to Harper. “Ah, Harper. I must say the unearthing of that ancient animal was quite an accomplishment. Watching your talented pathologists work alongside Dr. Sales was a real treat. He has promised me an opportunity to perform a necropsy with him in the future if the situation arises.”

  “I hope it yields the results we need. Doggo’s discovery by the two Aussies may have been a zooarcheologist’s dream, but it has turned into an epidemiologist’s nightmare.”

  Dr. Reitherman gestured for them to take a seat. They still had a few minutes before the mayor was supposed to call in, so he initiated some small talk.

  “Harper, are you aware that Woolie and I both have roots in the Old Country?”

  “Which one?” she asked innocently.

  “Germany, of course,” replied Dr. Boychuck. “My family was originally from the Bojko mountains in Western Ukraine. When the old Soviet Union forces overran Ukraine in the early 1920s, my family fled across Poland and settled in Bavaria outside Munich.”

  Dr. Reitherman joined in. “My great-grandfather lived in Munich, where he raised four sons. As Hitler began his rise to power in the early thirties, the entire family emigrated to New York. He saw the threat posed by Hitler’s brand of nationalism and left the country they loved.”

  “Yes. Yes. Yes. A very smart decision, indeed. My family, as Ukrainians, only knew oppression and overbearing government. The Soviet influence over Ukraine prior to our leaving for Bavaria was becoming unbearable. As we Americans say now, the Boychucks jumped from the frying pan into the fire. Two of us died in World War II, ironically, on the Russian Front in Poland.”

  Once again, Harper marveled at how the people from seemingly different backgrounds and personality types came together for a common goal—fighting disease. She had a question about those last days of Hitler’s reign of terror when Dr. Reitherman’s secretary buzzed in. Mrs. Mayor was on the phone.

  Dr. Reitherman placed the call on speaker. “Good afternoon, Madam Mayor. I’m Dr. Berger Reitherman. Thank you for calling.”

  “Well, now,” she began. “It appears my diplomatic emissary has fallen down on the job. Woolie, are you there or at least partially present?”

  He laughed. “Yes. Yes. Yes. I am here, Mrs. Mayor.”

  She briefly chastised him. “Why have you not instructed this nice doctor to refer to me as Mrs. Mayor? Hmm?”

  Dr. Boychuck began to stammer. Mrs. Mayor had an effect on him that Harper couldn’t quite place her finger on. She wondered if they had some kind of history other than that of mayor and coroner.

  “Yes. Yes. Yes. Of course, Mrs. Mayor.”

  Dr. Reitherman was enjoying watching Dr. Boychuck squirm. “Mrs. Mayor, my apologies. Woolie did tell me this and I forgot.”

  “Hmmm. Well, you’re excused, but Woolie is not. That will be determined by this phone call.”

  “Hi, Mrs. Mayor! Dr. Randolph here.”

  “Harper, you lovely young woman, it’s good to hear your voice. I want you to know that I ripped a new one in that overweight, windbag governor of ours in Carson City over the way you were treated while in our fair city. When this is over, I hope you’ll be my guest sometime. I’ve seen your husband on television. He’s quite the firecracker. We need a passel more like him in DC, I’ll tell you that.”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Mayor. I’ll tell Joe he’s got your vote.” Harper inhaled as if she were trying to draw that last statement back into her mouth. It was such a common phrase as it related to politicians. She doubted—no, she hoped the others didn’t place a broader meaning to it.

  “Count on it,” she said. “Anyway, I’ve got the governor on the run as it pertains to his stupid lockdown maneuver with the National Guard. People in the valley, from dishwashers to casino operators, are up in arms. Not just the ones working the Fremont Street casinos and hotels. This had a chilling effect on our entire economy. Tourism dropped seventy-five percent immediately. Despite our best efforts, we couldn’t convince people to come back.”

  Dr. Reitherman took the lead during the conversation with the somewhat cantankerous mayor. That was fine by Harper, as she hadn’t fared so well in a prior conversation with a politician while in Las Vegas.

  “We understand, Mrs. Mayor. How may we help?”

  “Can you issue a statement to the effect that there is no cause for panic or concern? We need the CDC to quieten down the frightened mob.”

  Dr. Reitherman glanced at Harper, who remained silent. While she agreed the National Guard presence on Fremont Street had been premature, it was also impossible to declare an all clear at this juncture.

  “Mrs. Mayor, the investigation has developed rapidly over the last twenty-four hours, but there is still work to be done. Once our final determination is available, there are channels to follow. In this case, the director of the CDC will be in communication with the White House.”

  “He started this debacle! You know that, right? That fool in Carson City doesn’t take a crap without Taylor’s approval. Just the other day, he was interviewed on the local news demanding everyone stay six feet apart and wear masks practically twenty-four seven. Lo and behold, some locals snapped a picture of him maskless at the Bella Vita down in Henderson, yuckin’ it up with some of his political cronies. Busted!”

  Dr. Boychuck burst out laughing and Dr. Reitherman’s face broke out into a huge smile.

  Harper covered her mouth to stifle her laugh. She instantly imagined Ma, Mimi, and Mrs. Mayor having tea in the ladies’ parlor at Randolph House. Those three would send the ghosts to the neighbors’ for a few days.

  Dr. Reitherman continued. “Mrs. Mayor, if you could hang tight for a few more days, we might be able to issue a statement one way or the other. Might I suggest a few measures that aren’t too restrictive but might also provide your visitors a level of comfort?”

  “Yes, absolutely.”

  “You know, they are pretty extensive. I’ll have Harper’s assistant email them to you by the end of the day. Implementing things like thermal temperature cameras, plexiglass shields at the gaming tables, and having EMTs on site go above and beyond the expected safeguards like disinfectants, social distancing, and free face masks.”

  “I’ll take all the advice you can give us. We need people’s fannies back in those casino seats.”

  Dr. Reitherman continued. “Mrs. Mayor, I have a request if it is okay with you.”

  “What would that be?” she asked.

  “May we borrow Woolie for a little while longer? We have more presumptive positives being sent to us from around the country, and I’d like him to be a part of each autopsy. He has an eye for detail that will help expedite our investigation.”

  She began to laugh. “You can keep him as long as you’d like, but you have to feed him!” She burst out laughing as she finished her statement. Dr. Boychuck sat a little taller in his chair, attempted to suck in his protruding belly, and shoved a half-eaten Snickers bar into his lab coat pocket.

  “You’ve got a deal. Thank you, Mrs. Mayor. I look forward to speaking with you soon.”

  “T-T-F-N,” she said as she disconnected the phone.

  Both men in the room had a perplexed look on their faces, so Harper explained, “T-T-F-N. Ta-ta for now.”

  She’d heard Mimi say it a million times, and Tigger did, too.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  CDC Headquarters

  Atlanta, Georgia

  Harper stole aw
ay from her coworkers for the first time all day. Everyone was assigned a task and she was the quarterback, roaming from floor to floor of the main building, asking for updates and giving direction. This was crunch time. That critical period where all the facts came together and the CDC was prepared to make its official determination.

  So many questions ran through her mind as she sat on the floor of a vacant conference room with a can of Red Bull in her hand. How lethal is this virus? Whom does it kill? Why are some spared? Are the new patient counts accurate—and, if not, are they overstated or understated?

  Estimates derived from their early cases indicated a lethality slightly higher than influenza. Becker’s most recent numbers pointed to an infection fatality rate as high as one and a half to two percent. A death rate in that range meant this novel virus might kill more than six million Americans.

  Naturally, Harper knew that even under the worst-case scenarios some people would never be exposed, and others might develop a natural immunity, preventing them from being infected at all.

  Calculating fatality rates was complex, and the numbers were almost always skewed early on in an outbreak because seemingly healthy, asymptomatic patients don’t get tested for a disease even though they were carriers. Harper had observed this with the COVID-19 pandemic.

  Some people who were infected had no symptoms or only mild ones. Even those with more severe symptoms resisted going to the hospital due to lack of insurance. Many of those recovered on their own. Others didn’t fare so well.

  With the data received thus far, Harper was comfortable that she had a clear view of the tip of the iceberg—those seriously infected patients who required hospitalization. The troubling number, the unknown, was the number of Americans who had mild or hidden infections. She referred to them as the a-syms, for asymptomatic patients. Like the silent but deadly pathogen within them, the a-syms walked among healthy people, wholly capable of spreading the infection to others.