Contagion (38 page)

     “Because we’ll have to grow the virus out,” Nicole explained. “We usually use ferrets, and it takes a good two weeks for an adequate antibody response which guarantees we’ll have a good harvest of virus. But once we have the virus in quantity, we can tell you a lot more than just its sub type. In fact, we can sequence its genome.”

     “I’ll keep my fingers crossed that my samples have a high titer,” Jack said. “And one other question. What subtype would you think was the most virulent?”

     “Whoa!” Nicole said. “That’s a hard question. There are a lot of factors involved, particularly host immunity. I’d have to say the most virulent would be an entirely new pathological strain, or one that hasn’t been around for a long time. I suppose the subtype that caused the pandemic of 1918 to 1919 that killed twenty-five million people worldwide might get the dubious honor of having been the most virulent.”

     “What subtype was that,” Jack asked.

     “No one knows for sure,” Nicole said. “The subtype doesn’t exist. It disappeared years ago, maybe right after the epidemic wore itself out. Some people think it was similar to the subtype that caused that swine-flu scare back in seventy-six.”

     Jack thanked Nicole and again assured her he’d get the samples to her that day. After he hung up, he called Agnes back and asked her opinion on shipping. She told him the name of the courier service they used, but she said she didn’t know if they shipped interstate.

     “Besides,” Agnes added, “it will cost a small fortune. I mean overnight is one thing, but you’re talking about the same day. Bingham will never authorize it.”

     “I don’t care,” Jack said. “I’ll pay for it myself.”

     Jack called the courier company. They were delighted with the request and put Jack through to one of the supervisors, Tony Liggio. When Jack explained what he wanted, Tony said no problem.

     “Can you come to pick it up now?” Jack asked. He was encouraged.

     “I’ll send someone right away,” Tony said.

     “It will be ready,” Jack said.

     Jack was about to hang up when he heard Tony add: “Aren’t you interested in the cost? I mean, this is not like taking something over to Queens. Also, there’s the question of how you plan to pay.”

     “Credit card,” Jack said. “If that’s okay.”

     “Sure, no problem, Doc,” Tony said. “It’s going to take me a little while to figure out the exact charge.”

     “Just give me a ballpark figure,” Jack said.

     “Somewhere between one and two thousand dollars,” Tony said.

     Jack winced but didn’t complain. Instead, he merely gave Tony his credit card number. He’d envisioned the cost would be two or three hundred dollars, but then he hadn’t thought about the fact that someone might have to fly round-trip to Atlanta.

     While Jack had been engaged in giving his credit card information, one of the secretaries from the front office had appeared at his door. She’d handed him an overnight Federal Express package and departed without saying a word. As Jack hung up from the courier service he saw that the parcel was from National Biologicals. It was the DNA probes he’d requested the day before.

     Taking the probes and his viral samples, Jack went back down to Agnes. He told her about the arrangements he’d made with the courier service.

     “I’m impressed,” Agnes said. “But I’m not going to ask how much it’s costing.”

     “Don’t,” Jack advised. “How should I package the samples?”

     “We’ll take over,” she said. She called in the department secretary and commissioned her to do it with appropriate biohazard containers and labels.

     “Looks like you have something else for me,” she said, eyeing the vials containing the probes.

     Jack explained what they were and what he wanted, namely to have the DNA lab use the probes to see if they reacted with the nucleoproteins of the cultures taken from any of the four recent infectious disease cases he’d been working on. What he didn’t tell her was why he wanted it done.

     “All I need to know is whether it is positive or not,” Jack said. “It doesn’t have to be quantitative.”

     “I’ll have to handle the rickettsia and the tularemia agent myself,” Agnes said. “I’m afraid to have any of the techs working with them.”

     “I really appreciate all this,” Jack said.

     “Well, it’s what we’re here for,” Agnes said agreeably.

     After leaving the lab Jack went downstairs to the scheduling room and helped himself to some coffee. He’d been so frantic since he’d arrived that he’d not had much time to think. Now, as he stirred his coffee, he realized that neither of the homeless men that he’d inadvertently run into in his flight from Reginald had been brought in. That meant that they were either in some hospital, or they were still out there in the park.

     Carrying his coffee back upstairs, Jack sat down at his desk. With both Laurie and Chet in the autopsy room, he knew he could count on some peace and quiet.

     Before he could enjoy his solitude, the phone interrupted. It was Terese.

     “I’m mad at you,” she said without preamble.

     “That’s wonderful,” Jack said with his usual sarcasm. “Now my day is complete.”

     “I am angry,” Terese maintained, but her voice had softened considerably. “Colleen just hung up from talking with Chet. He told her you were beaten up again.”

     “That was Chet’s personal interpretation,” Jack said. “The fact is, I wasn’t beaten up again.”

     “You weren’t?”

     “I explained to Chet that I’d fallen while jogging,” Jack said.

     “But he told Colleen...”

     “Terese,” Jack said sharply. “I wasn’t beaten up. Can we talk about something else?”

     “Well, if you weren’t assaulted, why are you sounding so irritable?”

     “It’s been a stressful morning,” Jack admitted.

     “Care to talk about it?” she asked. “That’s what friends are for. I’ve certainly bent your ear about my problems.”

     “There’s been another infectious death at the General,” Jack said. He would have liked to tell her what was really on his mind—his sense of guilt about Beth Holderness—but he dared not.

     “That’s terrible!” Terese said. “What is wrong with that place? What is it this time?”

     “Influenza,” Jack said. “A very virulent case. It’s the kind of illness I’ve been truly worried we’d see.”

     “But the flu is around,” Terese said. “It’s flu season.”

     “That’s what everybody says,” Jack admitted.

     “But not you?”

     “Put it this way,” Jack said. “I’m worried, especially if it is a unique strain. The deceased was a young patient, only twenty-nine. In the face of what else has been popping up over there at the General, I’m worried.”

     “Are some of your colleagues worried as well?” Terese asked.

     “At the moment, I’m on my own,” Jack admitted.

     “I guess we’re lucky to have you,” Terese said. “I have to admire your dedication.”

     “That’s kind of you to say,” Jack said. “Actually, I hope I’m wrong.”

     “But you’re not going to give up, are you?”

     “Not until I have some proof one way or the other,” Jack said. “But let’s talk about you. I hope you are doing better than I.”

     “I appreciate your asking,” Terese said. “Thanks in no small part to you, I think we have the makings of a good ad campaign. Plus, I’ve managed to have the in-house presentation put off until Thursday, so we have another whole day of breathing room. At the moment things are looking reasonable, but in the advertising world that could change at any moment.”

     “Well, good luck,” Jack said. He wanted to get off the phone.

     “Maybe we could have a quick dinner tonight,” Terese suggested. “I’d really enjoy it. There’s a great little Italian restaurant just up the street on Madison.”

     “It’s possible,” Jack said. “I’ll just have to see how the day progresses.”

     “Come on, Jack,” Terese complained. “You have to eat. We both could use the relaxation, not to mention the companionship. I can hear the tension in your voice. I’m afraid I’m going to have to insist.”

     “All right,” Jack said, relenting. “But it might have to be a short dinner.” He realized there was some truth to what Terese was saying, although at the moment it was hard for him to think as far ahead as dinnertime.

     “Fantastic,” Terese said happily. “Call me later and we’ll decide on the time. If I’m not here, I’ll be home. Okay?”

     “I’ll call you,” Jack promised.

     After they exchanged good-byes, Jack hung up the phone. For a few minutes he stared at it. He knew that conventional wisdom held that talking about a problem was supposed to relieve anxiety. But at the moment, having talked about the case of influenza with Terese, he only felt more anxious. At least the viral sample was on its way to the CDC and the DNA lab was working with the probe from National Biologicals. Maybe soon he’d start to get some answers.

     28

     TUESDAY, 13:30 A.M., MARCH 26, 1969

     Phil came through the outer door of the abandoned building the Black Kings had taken over. The door was a piece of three-quarter-inch plywood bolted to an aluminum frame.

     Phil passed the front room with the invariable pall of cigarette smoke and interminable card game and rushed directly back to the office. He was relieved to see Twin at the desk.

     Phil waited impatiently for Twin to wrap up a payoff from one of their eleven-year-old pushers and send the kid away. “There’s a problem,” Phil said.

     “There’s always a problem,” Twin said philosophically. He was recounting the ragged stack of greenbacks the kid had brought in.

     “Not like this one,” Phil said. “Reginald’s been tagged.”

     Twin looked up from the money with an expression as if he’d just been slapped. “Get out!” he said. “Where’d you hear that shit?”

     “It’s true,” Phil insisted. He took one of the several beat-up straight-backed chairs standing against the wall and turned it around so he could sit on it backward. The pose provided visual harmony with the backward baseball cap he always wore.

     “Who says?” Twin asked.

     “It’s all over the street,” Phil said. “Emmett heard it from a pusher up in Times Square. Seems that the doc is being protected by the Gangsta Hoods from Manhattan Valley on the Upper West Side.”

     “You mean one of the Hoods iced Reginald?” Twin asked in total disbelief.

     “That’s the story,” Phil said. “Shot him through the head.”

     Twin slammed his open palm on the desk hard enough to send the tattered stack of greenbacks wafting off into the air. He leaped to his feet and paced. He gave the metal wastebasket a hard kick.

     “I can’t believe this,” he said. “What the hell is this world coming to? I don’t understand it. They’d do a brother for some white honky doctor. It doesn’t make sense, no way.”

     “Maybe the doc is doing something for them,” Phil suggested.

     “I don’t care what the hell he’s doing,” Twin raged. He towered over Phil, and Phil cringed. Phil was well aware that Twin could be ruthless and unpredictable when he was pissed, and he was royally pissed at the moment.

     Returning to the desk, Twin pounded it again. “I don’t understand this, but there is one thing that I do know. It can’t stand. No way! The Hoods can’t go around knocking off a Black King without a response. I mean, at a minimum we gotta do the doc like we agreed.”

     “Word is that the Hoods have a tail on the doc,” Phil said. “They are still protecting him.”

     “It’s unbelievable,” Twin said as he retook his seat at the desk. “But it makes things easier. We do the doc and the tail at the same time. But we don’t do it in the Hoods’ neighborhood. We do it where the doc works.”

     Twin pulled open the center drawer of his desk and rummaged around. “Where the hell is that sheet about the doc,” he said.

     “Side drawer,” Phil said.

     Twin glared at Phil. Phil shrugged. He didn’t want to aggravate Twin, but he remembered Twin putting the sheet in the side drawer.

     Twin got the sheet out and read it over quickly. “All right,” he said.

     “Go get BJ. He’s been itching for action.”

     Phil disappeared for two minutes. When he reappeared he had BJ with him. BJ lumbered into the office, his pace belying his notorious quickness. Twin explained the circumstances.

     “Think you can handle this?” Twin asked.

     “Hey, no problem,” BJ said.

     “You want a backup?” Twin asked.

     “Hell, no,” BJ said. “I’ll just wait until the two mothers are together, then nail them both.”

     “You’ll have to pick the doc up where he works,” Twin said. “We can’t risk going up into the Hoods’ neighborhood unless we go in force. You understand?”

     “No problem,” BJ said.

     “You got a machine pistol?” Twin asked.

     “No,” BJ said.

     Twin opened the lower drawer of the desk and took out a Tec like the one he’d given to Reginald. “Don’t lose this,” he said. “We only have so many.”

     “No problem,” BJ said. He took the gun and handled it with reverence, turning it over slowly in his hands.

     “Well, what are you waiting for?” Twin asked.

     “You finished?” BJ asked.

     “Of course I’m finished,” Twin said. “What do you want, me to come along and hold your hand? Get out of here so you can come back and tell me it’s done.”

     Jack could not concentrate on his other cases no matter how hard he tried.

     It was almost noon, and he’d accomplished a pitifully small amount of paperwork. He couldn’t stop worrying about the influenza case and wondering what had happened to Beth Holderness. What could she have found?

     Jack threw down his pen in disgust. He wanted desperately to go to the General and visit Cheveau and his lab, but he knew he couldn’t. Cheveau would undoubtedly call in the marines at a minimum, and Jack would get himself fired. Jack knew he had to wait for the results with the probe from National Biologicals to give him some ammunition before he approached anyone in authority.