[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
McCathy to corroborate?
He was tired. He was being paranoid.
He rubbed at his eyes. Sat back. Tried to clear his mind.
But he couldn't shake Janklow's words, "What if they all disappeared?"
Platt checked his wristwatch. It was late. But hopefully not too late.
He fingered a piece of paper, folding and unfolding the already creased
three-by-three that had ten numbers scrawled on it, the personal cell-phone
number for Roger Bix, the CDC's chief of Outbreak Response and Surveillance
Team.
Platt knew Bix from conferences, a few formal dinners and a few less formal
rounds in the hotel bars. Fortunately the two had only shared war stories and
never had to work on a case together. If nothing else, Bix might be able to
confirm or deny whether there was any Ebola missing from another lab. Platt
knew he could do this without admitting or confessing.
It took only two rings despite the late hour.
"This is Bix."
Platt sat up straight.
"Roger, it's Benjamin Platt."
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ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
Before he could respond, Roger Bix said, "So how much of the vaccine are you
able to scrape together?"
"Excuse me?"
"The vaccine."
Platt was stunned. Had Janklow gone ahead and called the CDC? What the hell
was going on?
"Look, Ben," Bix continued, misreading Platt's hesitation. "I appreciate the
dilemma you all are facing." His normal, slow Southern drawl held a tinge of
panic."But like I explained to Commander Janklow, we can't afford to wait too
long. I have a full-blown case of Ebola Zaire right here outside of Chicago.
They opened up this poor son of a bitch in surgery. Who knows how many people
have been exposed. I'm not just talking about hospital personnel. We've got
visitors, patients, even newborns down in the maternity ward."
Platt shoved the cell phone closer to his ear. He couldn't hear above his
heart pounding in his head. He sucked in air. Moved the phone away from his
mouth. Let the breath out. There was another case. Another exposure.
"He was here at the hospital. Schroder, Markus Schroder. Here for three or
four days. An accountant, for Christ's sake. How the hell does an accountant
come in contact with Ebola?" But Bix wasn't waiting for an answer. He wasn't
finished."This is a fricking nightmare and it's only gonna get worse. I've got
Homeland Security up my ass trying to keep it quiet. Everybody's worried about
the fricking media starting a panic. I tell you, Ben, I don't get that vaccine
soon and we won't have to worry about the media starting a panic."
"Let me get to work on this, Roger. I'll get back to you as soon as I have the
vaccine ready to go."
"Make it soon, Ben. We both know how quickly this virus moves."
The click that followed sounded like a trigger hitting on an empty chamber,
abrupt and hollow. Platt felt paralyzed.
There was another case. As far away as Chicago. Had he sent other packages
with microscopic bits of Ebola, preserved and sealed in Ziploc plastic bags
waiting to be opened? This was bigger than any of them had imagined. No way
Janklow could make it all disappear.
Then Platt remembered something. Something Janklow said McCathy had told him
about the virus. That it would take as little as a microscopic piece,
preserved, sealed and delivered, perhaps even through the mail, to start an
epidemic. That was before Maggie handed over the mailing package. Before they
knew how the virus was delivered to the Kellerman house. Did McCathy know
that's how it was delivered? Or was it a lucky guess?
CHAPTER
62
Artie tried to think of someone to share the news with. Someone who would
appreciate the brilliance of his puzzle-solving skills. He'd been able to
answer a question that cold-case sleuths and law-enforcement officials across
the States hadn't been able to figure out for twenty-five years. It was as big
as unveiling Ted Kaczynski as the Unabomber.
Almost as if his wish was being granted, he heard a door close. Not a slam.
Just a soft tap.
It was probably nothing. Could have been his imagination. No one was around
down here on the weekends.
He started flipping through his pages again, jotting down notes in the margins
of his notebook.
Footsteps down the hall. He was certain.
Crap!
He stood frozen in place, eyes darting around him. The light switch. He needed
to flip the fucking light switch.
Too late.
The footsteps were closing in. Right outside the door now.
He twisted around, looking for something to use as a weapon, and grabbed the
closest thing he could find. A syringe. He pulled off the plastic needle guard
Page 90
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
just as he heard a key card slide into the door's security lock.
"What the hell are you doing here tonight?"
Artie let out a sigh of relief that almost included, speak of the devil. "You
scared the crap out of me," he said instead.
"Don't you realize you can see the light on underneath this door from the
hallway?"
"Nobody's around," Artie defended himself. "It was your idea that I use the
lab on the weekend."
"I thought you were supposed to make the delivery yesterday."
"I did," Artie said, slipping the syringe into his pocket and trying to
nonchalantly stack his paperbacks onto the incriminating pages of his notebook
and the articles beneath it."I went to Connecticut yesterday. Mailed them from
there."
"Them?"
Damn! This probably wasn't the time to reveal his contribution.
"I meant the package. I mailed it yesterday." [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
zanotowane.pl doc.pisz.pl pdf.pisz.pl fopke.keep.pl
McCathy to corroborate?
He was tired. He was being paranoid.
He rubbed at his eyes. Sat back. Tried to clear his mind.
But he couldn't shake Janklow's words, "What if they all disappeared?"
Platt checked his wristwatch. It was late. But hopefully not too late.
He fingered a piece of paper, folding and unfolding the already creased
three-by-three that had ten numbers scrawled on it, the personal cell-phone
number for Roger Bix, the CDC's chief of Outbreak Response and Surveillance
Team.
Platt knew Bix from conferences, a few formal dinners and a few less formal
rounds in the hotel bars. Fortunately the two had only shared war stories and
never had to work on a case together. If nothing else, Bix might be able to
confirm or deny whether there was any Ebola missing from another lab. Platt
knew he could do this without admitting or confessing.
It took only two rings despite the late hour.
"This is Bix."
Platt sat up straight.
"Roger, it's Benjamin Platt."
Page 89
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
Before he could respond, Roger Bix said, "So how much of the vaccine are you
able to scrape together?"
"Excuse me?"
"The vaccine."
Platt was stunned. Had Janklow gone ahead and called the CDC? What the hell
was going on?
"Look, Ben," Bix continued, misreading Platt's hesitation. "I appreciate the
dilemma you all are facing." His normal, slow Southern drawl held a tinge of
panic."But like I explained to Commander Janklow, we can't afford to wait too
long. I have a full-blown case of Ebola Zaire right here outside of Chicago.
They opened up this poor son of a bitch in surgery. Who knows how many people
have been exposed. I'm not just talking about hospital personnel. We've got
visitors, patients, even newborns down in the maternity ward."
Platt shoved the cell phone closer to his ear. He couldn't hear above his
heart pounding in his head. He sucked in air. Moved the phone away from his
mouth. Let the breath out. There was another case. Another exposure.
"He was here at the hospital. Schroder, Markus Schroder. Here for three or
four days. An accountant, for Christ's sake. How the hell does an accountant
come in contact with Ebola?" But Bix wasn't waiting for an answer. He wasn't
finished."This is a fricking nightmare and it's only gonna get worse. I've got
Homeland Security up my ass trying to keep it quiet. Everybody's worried about
the fricking media starting a panic. I tell you, Ben, I don't get that vaccine
soon and we won't have to worry about the media starting a panic."
"Let me get to work on this, Roger. I'll get back to you as soon as I have the
vaccine ready to go."
"Make it soon, Ben. We both know how quickly this virus moves."
The click that followed sounded like a trigger hitting on an empty chamber,
abrupt and hollow. Platt felt paralyzed.
There was another case. As far away as Chicago. Had he sent other packages
with microscopic bits of Ebola, preserved and sealed in Ziploc plastic bags
waiting to be opened? This was bigger than any of them had imagined. No way
Janklow could make it all disappear.
Then Platt remembered something. Something Janklow said McCathy had told him
about the virus. That it would take as little as a microscopic piece,
preserved, sealed and delivered, perhaps even through the mail, to start an
epidemic. That was before Maggie handed over the mailing package. Before they
knew how the virus was delivered to the Kellerman house. Did McCathy know
that's how it was delivered? Or was it a lucky guess?
CHAPTER
62
Artie tried to think of someone to share the news with. Someone who would
appreciate the brilliance of his puzzle-solving skills. He'd been able to
answer a question that cold-case sleuths and law-enforcement officials across
the States hadn't been able to figure out for twenty-five years. It was as big
as unveiling Ted Kaczynski as the Unabomber.
Almost as if his wish was being granted, he heard a door close. Not a slam.
Just a soft tap.
It was probably nothing. Could have been his imagination. No one was around
down here on the weekends.
He started flipping through his pages again, jotting down notes in the margins
of his notebook.
Footsteps down the hall. He was certain.
Crap!
He stood frozen in place, eyes darting around him. The light switch. He needed
to flip the fucking light switch.
Too late.
The footsteps were closing in. Right outside the door now.
He twisted around, looking for something to use as a weapon, and grabbed the
closest thing he could find. A syringe. He pulled off the plastic needle guard
Page 90
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
just as he heard a key card slide into the door's security lock.
"What the hell are you doing here tonight?"
Artie let out a sigh of relief that almost included, speak of the devil. "You
scared the crap out of me," he said instead.
"Don't you realize you can see the light on underneath this door from the
hallway?"
"Nobody's around," Artie defended himself. "It was your idea that I use the
lab on the weekend."
"I thought you were supposed to make the delivery yesterday."
"I did," Artie said, slipping the syringe into his pocket and trying to
nonchalantly stack his paperbacks onto the incriminating pages of his notebook
and the articles beneath it."I went to Connecticut yesterday. Mailed them from
there."
"Them?"
Damn! This probably wasn't the time to reveal his contribution.
"I meant the package. I mailed it yesterday." [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]