Containment (3 page)

"
Wasn't there a problem with the bodies? The morgue got hold of them first?"

Kraig nodded.
"The report is provisional, but I goosed them a little, and sent a couple of our techs up there. I think the data are pretty clean, at least for the major stuff. It doesn't say much, but what it doesn't say is pretty good news. I was afraid it was going to turn out to be influenza or some related virus."

Cecily shook her head.

"I know," said Kraig quickly. "That kind of bug doesn't exactly sneak up on you, and with all the physicians and hospitals looking out for new and unusual cases, you'd think we'd get early warning before bodies started dropping on the street. But it's possible to have a fast-acting strain."

"
Okay, I see your point. But why are you ruling out Vision Cell?"

"
I'm not ruling out anything. Just read the report, Cecily. If it's something from that company, I would think it'd be biological. But there were no signs of infection in the bodies."

Cecily stared.
"No inflammation? No surge in antibodies?"

"
Nothing. All the little bugs found so far were the usual species and strains that inhabit the human body. Nothing out of the ordinary, and nothing that the victims' immune systems seemed to be worried about. Pathologists are currently doing more sensitive tests on the tissues, but that's the way it looks now." Kraig rubbed his jaw again. "I don't know. Chet and I were talking earlier, and he seems to think it's something they ate. Some sort of chemical that got in their food, probably at the same restaurant or diner. CDC sent some of their people from Atlanta and they're checking out that angle. Maybe Chet's right. Maybe it's something bizarre, like an accidental substitution of sodium nitrate for sodium chloride. That's happened before, you know."

Cecily shrugged.
"Could be. If we're lucky."

"
First thing I want you to do is to find out all you can about the victims. Who they were, where they went, what they did, everything."

"
Kraig, that's the thing CDC's sure to do. Isn't it kind of a waste of time for us to do the same thing?"

Kraig shook his head.

"I know, I know," said Cecily. "They're too innocent."

"
You can dig deeper," said Kraig. "Get your hands dirty."

"
Who's going to be the lab guy on this case?"

"
Roderick Halkin."

Cecily frowned.
"Man, oh man. You really got it in for me.
Sherlock?
Why'd you give me Sherlock again?"

"
Because you two work well together."

Cecily stood up. Suddenly she looked tired. In a low voice she said,
"He's the only one who'll work with me. Isn't he?"

Kraig simply looked at her, saying nothing.

Cecily smiled as she walked toward the door. "Come on, Lisa. Let's get to work."

Montgomery County, Pennsylvania / 3:30 p.m.

When Gordon Norschalk reached his office the alarm was screaming an alert.

Frowning, he shut it off by hitting the escape key on his computer. He plopped into a plush chair behind his desk and wearily rubbed his forehead.

The experiments hadn't given the expected results. They never do, of course, not in exactly the way you'd hoped they would. But after eight hours in the lab, you'd like to have something a little better to show for your efforts than a bunch of data that were difficult at best to interpret. And at worse, he'd just wasted a whole day.

Gordon took off his eyeglasses. The close-up work
—poring over electron micrographs—had been killing his eyes and he badly needed touch-up surgery for his vision again. But he hadn't had the time to go in. It was an outpatient procedure but it would kill off an entire afternoon and he couldn't afford to lose that much time.

I
'm only forty-one, he thought. Am I already getting burned out?

Realizing that he should be hungry
—he hadn't stopped for lunch—Gordon slid his chair toward the refrigerator. The sensors detected the movement and the computer's speakers started screaming again.

Gordon sighed. What now? What else could go wrong? He removed a ham sandwich from the refrigerator and tapped a key on the computer keyboard.

A picture flashed on the large LCD screen, which was hanging over the desk. A synthetic voice began reading some text. Gordon unwrapped the sandwich and took a bite, scarcely listening.

Then he heard something about two bodies in Medburg. He glanced up, saw the screen. In a corner inset was a map, showing the location of the bodies.

Suddenly Gordon felt even older.

* * *

The boss's office was on the second floor. Gordon knocked twice on the door and then cracked it open.

Burnett Sellás, CEO of Vision Cell Bioceuticals, looked up.

Jeez, thought Gordon. He looks as tired as I feel.

"
What is it, Gordie?"

Gordon walked in, eying the CEO, who also happened to be an old friend. Burnett, a man whose determination and intelligence had gotten him into this country and then into big-money science, was now showing his age. The
formerly black and glossy hair was graying, the dark skin was wrinkled. And he was only a few years older than Gordon. Gordon, whose hair had prematurely turned white years ago but whose cherubic Nordic features were still youthful, smiled a greeting even though he didn't feel up to it.

"
There might be some trouble in Medburg," he said softly. He sat down on a comfortable, castered chair. Burnett didn't skimp when it came to the people who worked for him; the chairs for the visitors in his office were almost as nice as the one he used himself.

"
What sort of trouble?"

"
Two unexplained deaths."

Burnett kept staring. His bulky shoulders made a little shrug.

"They were found not far from Moshatowie Creek," added Gordon, with a tone of apology.

"
And you're afraid," said Burnett, "that it might have something to do with us?"

"
I doubt it very much. But it's possible."

Burnett bit his lip.
"How'd you come by the news?"

"
My news software turned up the story. One of the things it's programmed to look for is any news about the company, or something that might be related to the company."

The company
—the term always had an effect on Burnett. He straightened up.

Gordon we
nt on. "And if the software made the connection...."

"
Yes." Burnett nodded sadly. "People will as well. It will not take them long. Yes, it will not take them long to come here. And you know what they will be thinking."

"
Does it really matter? We've got no hot labs here, we don't work with dangerous viruses. And we have nothing to hide." Gordon knew Burnett too well to make it a question. They'd started the company together, five years ago; Burnett got the nod as president and CEO because the ideas were mostly his.

"
Yes, it matters," said Burnett, "even though we have nothing to hide. Not just because of the disruptions, although there will surely be plenty of those."

Gordon shrugged.
"So the CDC shows up. They ask questions, poke around—"

"
No, no, Gordon. It won't be that simple. The CDC I can handle. But with the deaths...two, you said? They'll be afraid. They'll be afraid of another epidemic. Other agencies will become involved. Other agents, the ones belonging to those investigative units that treat you like a bug that needs to be stepped on."

"
Come on, Burnie. It won't be like that." Gordon stared at his old friend. He'd never known Burnett to exaggerate.

"
That's not the worse of it." Burnett shook his head. A small amount of loose flesh from the jowls quivered. "Some of those agents could be spies."

"
Spies?" Gordon choked off a laugh.
Spies?

Burnett looked up.
"I see you're not taking me seriously. Well, my friend, you'll find that I'm right. We may have nothing to hide but we certainly have some trade secrets that I'd hate for our competitors to get their paws on."

Gordon got a sinking feeling. The patent he
'd been wanting to apply for....

"
There will always be corruptible agents," said Burnett. He waved a hand. "Not the government's fault, I guess. But it's a fact." After a pause, he added, "What did you say they died of?"

"
What? Oh, the Medburg victims." Gordon had to think a minute. "The story I read didn't say. Maybe they know something more by now."

"
Could be. Or maybe they already know and aren't telling the journalists." Burnett called up his address file. "Media contacts," he muttered.

Gordon sat quietly, watching Burnett
's worried face as the boss flipped through screens of names and numbers. Suddenly Gordon felt a twinge of sadness and frustration.

"
Times sure have changed," he said out loud.

Burnett didn
't look up. He'd apparently found a media contact he believed to be discreet, and was quietly composing a message.

Gordon glanced around the office. He patted the comfortable chairs.
"It's not like old times, Burnie. I remember having many conversations with you, though not like this. You remember the good old days? Back when you were a postdoc and I was a struggling graduate student. We'd get together for coffee late at night, sit on hard seats or benches, and talk about how our experiments were going."

Burnett
's gaze drifted to Gordon. "Under the circumstances, a wave of nostalgia is not the best—"

"
I was just thinking. You know, it's funny. The old Burnie I used to know...." Gordon frowned. "If I'd told the old Burnie about two deaths, he would have said something like, 'We need to find out what happened to those people. I hope it's nothing we did.' But now, the new Burnie, he's quite a bit different. Burnie the CEO, I'm talking about. When Burnie the CEO hears about two deaths, he says, 'We need to find out what's going on. I hope nobody steals our company's data.'"

There was a pause. Burnett blanked the screen, then leaned back in his chair.
"Five years is a long time, Gordon. We've got almost 40 employees who've invested a lot of time, effort, money, and careers in this company. And you and I...we've invested what seems to me a lifetime of sweat and tears."

Gordon nodded
.

"
And still," said Burnett Sellás, "you're suggesting we open ourselves up to potential theft."

"
Yes." Gordon was pleased that the word came out clearly and firmly. "Two people
died
, Burnie, and there's just the remotest chance that it's something we did. God, I hope not, and I don't think so. If it is, then it was surely accidental. But no matter, we have to convince ourselves—and other people—that we've done nothing wrong. Or, if the unthinkable has happened, we have take responsibility. And we have to make sure it doesn't happen again."

Another pause followed. For Gordon it stretched uncomfortably long.

Finally Burnett said, "Noble sentiments indeed." He sighed deeply. "Very well. We'll do it your way. I suppose you'll want us to contact the government ourselves, just to make sure that no one overlooks us?"

Gordon detected a hint of sarcasm in Burnett
's voice. He ignored it as best he could. "It wouldn't hurt."

"
Then I'll send out a message shortly." Burnett nodded and went back to work.

Gordon left the office with mixed emotions. He knew he
'd done the right thing and was proud of it, though he realized that it had taken a while for the right thing to suggest itself to him. The image of Burnett, his long-time colleague and friend, fretting about the company—that image had shaken him out of his worry about his patent application. Burnett, a man who'd previously always placed a priority on people rather than things, had acted selfishly, and when Gordon saw his own selfishness reflected in Burnett's behavior he'd been able to shake loose from it. Still, it had been a close call.

But there were other thoughts crowding into Gordon
's mind.

Some of the thoughts were alarming. One of them was absolutely petrifying. And if it were true....

The sinking feeling Gordon had gotten earlier returned in full force. Was he really so sure that the company had nothing to do with the two deaths?

Breaking into
a run, Gordon raced down the hallway toward the company laboratories.

Medburg, Pennsylvania / 11:45 p.m.

They are creatures of the night. Hardly ever seen by humans, they spend their year or two of life—if they're lucky—feverishly supporting their racing metabolism. And making lots of babies, litters of them, which mature in eight weeks. Enough of them for a population explosion, if left unchecked.