Killing The Blood Cleaner (5 page)

SEVEN

The next day Jack allowed plenty of time to make sure he arrived at the Centers for Disease Control by nine in the morning. The CDC was located next to Emory University which was at least a half hour ride from his apartment in Buckhead. As he turned onto Clifton Road he could see the compound of new buildings which made up the CDC. He noticed several security cameras on the buildings and uniformed guards in the parking lot and patrolling the buildings. It was rumored the CDC had been a target of the 9/11 bombers, but the plane designated for it was grounded in the Atlanta airport once trouble was reported on the other planes. Since then, security had been greatly increased, as was appropriate for buildings which contained samples of every variety of dangerous bacteria or virus on the planet. Many of these had never been seen in North America, but had inflicted immense damage in parts of Africa. Ebola was one of these plagues which had wiped out whole villages and a good portion of the medical personnel in hospitals where the victims were sent. The building contained every variety of the HIV virus along with a multitude of other threats such as avian flu virus and antibiotic resistant tuberculosis bacteria.

These samples were tested, evaluated and categorized by the researchers inside as to their virulence, changeability, method of transmission and numerous other factors. The watch was always on for a virus which was deadly but difficult to transmit, mutating or combining with another virus to produce a new creature which was deadly and easily spread among humans. Once such a problem was identified, a team from the CDC was dispatched anywhere in the world to help the local health authorities contain the problem. Mostly this involved the destruction of livestock and the isolation of human victims. So far, these methods had been enough to keep such plagues out of major population centers throughout the world. Still, every day, many researchers in the building watched the data and samples as they arrived daily and prayed silently that this would not be the day where unlikely combinations lined up to produce the Apocalypse.

Jack walked through the glass doors at the entrance of the Main building. There were three guards who looked at him carefully. Even though it had only been a few weeks since he had left his job at the CDC, he felt like a stranger.

“Good morning sir. Do you have an appointment?” the most senior of the guards asked him.

“I am Dr. Jack Randolph and I have a meeting with Dr. Howard Clayton,” he replied. “I used to work here myself,” he added. The guard was silent as he looked at the computer screen listing today’s appointments.

“I see your appointment, Dr. Randolph. Now if you would just show us your driver’s license and then step through the metal detector you will be on your way,” the guard said. Jack complied, and once he was on the other side of the metal detector the guard handed him a clip-on identification card which read “VISITOR” in large red letters. “Officer James will accompany you to the third floor to Dr. Clayton’s office.”

Jack nodded and the second officer escorted him to the elevator and then to a waiting area on the third floor. It was only a few seconds before Dr. Clayton arrived to greet his guest.

“Jack, it is good to see you. Sorry we have tightened things up even for an old alumni like yourself,” Dr. Clayton said as the guard departed.

“It doesn’t bother me. I’m glad they are guarding you and all the germs in this building so well. The CDC has come a long way from the days, years ago, when those two maintenance workers came down with Rocky Mountain spotted fever over the weekend and died while they figured out there was a problem,” Jack said.

They walked back to Dr. Clayton’s office which was a bright glassy room which overlooked the woods of the Emory University campus. There were stacks of papers on his desk, on the floor, and on his polished wood conference table.

“I see the mortality and morbidity reports just keep rolling in,” Jack said as he looked at some of the stacks of papers.

“Yes, and the surveillance reports, blood samples and the HIV testing algorithm reports and on and on keep coming. Every day, I wonder whether something great or awful will be arriving,” Dr. Clayton replied.

“Let’s hope it’s something great. So what is new going on?” Jack asked.

“Well, there are a lot of new studies that have been done, now that we have been doing HIV testing for several years. We are seeing groups of folks that had the virus for a long time and are still doing well and are not sick. You remember, I think you did some work on these HIV Controllers. Of course, by testing their blood we came up with these new drugs that block the replication of the virus and slow down the onset of full-blown AIDS. Anything that decreases the viral load of HIV virus in the blood is a good thing,” Dr. Clayton said.

“I recall working with you on some of those HIV Controllers, but that was a while back before they moved me to antibiotic resistant TB. What testing groups are you looking at now for these HIV resistant folks?” Jack asked.

“The HIV tests are required of the military and for the prison systems on a general basis. We also get some tests and monitoring from hospitals. The problem with the military is if they have the virus they won’t let them in the service and we lose track of them. The prisons have much more controlled populations but with all the privacy laws, and the prisoners not wanting to cooperate, we get a lot of interesting statistics but not a lot of human volunteers that we can monitor throughout their infection,” Dr. Clayton replied.

“Let’s not forget the somewhat sordid history of experimenting on prisoners to add further difficulty. So you don’t have anyone yet to look at who had the virus and resisted the virus back to the point that there is no virus in his system?” Jack asked.

“You mean like someone who gets an infection on their finger and fights it off and is completely bug free?” Dr. Clayton responded.

“Yeah, not just somebody who is still infected, but is doing okay. I know you have a lot of those. A lot of times something happens and they get sick later on and they can still spread it,” Jack said.

“No, not yet. But somewhere there must be somebody like that. That is the person we are all looking for, the Elite HIV Controller. They are the Blood Cleaner. Everyone researching HIV is looking for the Blood Cleaner,” Dr. Clayton said looking wistfully at the pile of papers on his desk.

“Just like when Dr. Jenner figured out that the milk maids never got smallpox because they had already been infected with a mild disease like cow pox,” Jack replied.

“Exactly, and that is the breakthrough we are looking for. We send researchers all over the world when some doctor gives us a report that he has a patient who tested positive for HIV and is now clean. So far, they just turn out to be a false positive for the first test, or when you give them a full blood workup they still have the virus someplace, even though they are doing well. If we could find a person who had cured himself of the virus completely it would be a medical breakthrough equal to the discovery of penicillin. Actually better. Not only would we be able to make a vaccine to prevent the HIV virus from making people sick, we could also cure the people who already have full blown AIDS,” Dr. Clayton replied.

“Well, maybe someday. Sounds like a prison is your best bet. You can be sure they started out with it, because of the initial testing,” Jack said as he reached into his briefcase and produced two files. “Howie, take a look at these. At first the HIV replication blockers worked and they had a reduced viral load. But now they’re getting sick,” he continued.

“Have they been compliant with their drug routines?” Dr. Clayton asked as he opened the first file.

“They all swear they are taking the medicine, but you never know. Patients do lie. At least these are pretty responsible people. They are not out there infecting anyone,” Jack said.

“That’s good. I hate to think of all the noncompliants out there spreading the virus and letting it mutate to defeat these blocking drugs. Like the damned street patients with antibiotic resistant TB. They come in sick to the emergency room or some jail. They get third generation antibiotics that cost in the thousands for free. They feel better, so they stop taking the drugs. Then they get sick again with the superbugs that survived these exotic antibiotics,” Dr. Clayton said as he continued to study the file. “For this guy, I would recommend that you greatly increase the dosage. He has already taken a course of antiretrovirals and they helped him at first. We have seen some good results with much higher dosages. I think that should give him a shot. If that doesn’t work we can try something experimental,” Dr. Clayton continued as he turned his attention to the second file.

Dr. Clayton looked at the file and searched his computer records. He also looked at several reports scattered around his office. “This patient is really headed downhill. You have already increased his dosages. Given his blood work it is unlikely he would respond to a higher dose. There is not much left for him. I do have an experimental clinical trial I can get him into. It is a crude type of chemotherapy. Sort of like how they treated syphilis with arsenic before antibiotics. It may kill him, but it helps some people. You need to be clear with him about the risk,” Dr. Clayton continued.

“Since that would be his last chance, I think he will do it. He is a tough little guy. Can I have him call you?” Jack asked.

“Of course, just don’t get his hopes up too high,” Dr. Clayton replied

Their medical work finished, Jack stood up and looked at the greenery of the Emory campus. “Are you going to have any time for fun when we get down to Sea Island?” Jack asked.

“These conferences are strategically designed to take place at locations like Sea Island so we can have a little vacation at the taxpayer’s expense. I plan on getting to the beach and over to St. Simons in the evenings,” Dr. Clayton said with a slight smile, thinking of the pleasures of the Coast.

“You know Annabelle will be ready to party, and I will have trouble getting loose for any meetings,” Jack said.

“Let me give you a copy of the research summaries and my presentation. You can read them on the beach or in bed with Annabelle,” Dr. Clayton said, handing Jack a large stack of documents and a binder containing the presentation. “Maybe your curious mind will see something important that we all have missed.”

EIGHT

Judge Augustus Valentino had set the monthly meeting of the Homeland Security Coastal Region Advisory Committee for ten that morning in his Courtroom at the Courthouse in Brunswick, Georgia. Judge Valentino was the titular Chair of that committee which was the product of some complex political maneuvering when it became apparent that the infamous Sheriff of Ossabaw County, Roger Odum, was to be appointed as Director of Homeland Security Law Enforcement for the Georgia Coastal Region. In addition to his title as Director, the Sheriff had received high level security clearances which allowed him access to all sorts of Federal criminal investigation databases along with access to classified military information including real time information from military satellites. This high level intelligence access also included the construction of a sophisticated compound on the tidal Arkola River which bristled with satellite dishes and antennae towers and was completely under the control of the Sheriff. This boon was the result of the Sheriff’s long time friendship with the local Congressman, Jarvis Ray, whose vast seniority and powerful Committee memberships made him a force in Washington. Congressman Ray was also assisted at the State level by his choice for successor to his seat, his son-in-law and Georgia legislator, Roy “Soapy” Tilman. Together they had totally overwhelmed all local opposition to the appointment of a Sheriff that the Georgia Attorney General had once called “a fountain of corruption,” in an unsuccessful local prosecution of one of his Deputies. The Homeland Security Coastal Region Advisory Committee was a small fish thrown to the objectors as a gesture of minor oversight of the Sheriff in his new role. The Advisory Committee at least allowed some input from other law enforcement agencies such as the Georgia Bureau of Investigation, the Georgia Attorney General’s office, the Judiciary and the Georgia Department of Corrections who were less than delighted at the Sheriff’s appointment. Judge Valentino’s leadership gave the group more authority than the Committee’s limited advisory powers would have indicated. Judge Valentino was a legendary figure in the Coastal area. During the Korean War he had been the sole survivor of a Chinese assault on a small, sad hill which killed fifteen other soldiers. He was captured and spent two years as a POW. After graduating from Georgia Law School, he arrived in Brunswick and set up a solo practice. In a few years and with some big cases won, he ran against a sitting Judge, Ezra Benton, who was getting along in years and was famous for his erratic comments and rulings. Judge Benton had gone unchallenged for years as the local attorneys feared him, with good reason. The entire local bar was relieved and delighted when Valentino won the election and established order in what had been a chaotic and unpredictable Court.

In attendance would be Fitz Davis, Special Assistant Attorney General who handled the Georgia Maximum Security Prison class action case for the State and other high profile State cases in the Coastal area for the Georgia Attorney General; Albert Pindar, the Regional Director for the Georgia Bureau of Investigation; Jack Templar, the Regional Director of the Georgia State Patrol; Dewey Lawson, the District Attorney; Commander Stanford Dalton who was in charge of the local Coast Guard Station and of course, the Director himself, Sheriff Roger Odum.

Fitz Davis hurriedly left his house on St. Simons Island at 8:45. He understood that the Judge would want to talk to him privately before the meeting began. Fortunately the traffic on the causeway to the mainland was light that day and he was in the Judge’s office at 9:15.

“Good to see you, Fitz. The Judge is expecting you. Go right on in,” was the cheerful greeting from Judge Valentino’s Clerk, Albert Rogers. Davis lightly knocked on the mahogany door to the Judge’s inner office as he opened the door, closing it behind him.

Judge Valentino looked up from the papers on his desk and stood to greet Davis, holding out his hand. “Fitz, I appreciate your being here early. It gives us a chance to talk and make sure the Sheriff doesn’t get too far afield,” the Judge said as Davis shook his hand and settled himself in one of the brightly upholstered armchairs in front of the Judge’s desk. “We can also have a little chat about the class action at Georgia Maximum Security Prison.”

“It may take more than this advisory committee to keep Sheriff Odum from unloading all the cocaine in South America right into the Coastal Region,” Davis responded with a slight laugh.

“Well, look on the bright side. At least we are safe from terrorists,” the Judge replied. “So what do you hear is going on? Anything new that the Sheriff is up to?”

“I understand that the DEA will be boarding the Columbian freighter, the Cabeza Rioja, off Miami which has a big load of cocaine. It is headed for Savannah. So at least the Sheriff won’t get his hands on that.”

“Are you having any more luck with that informant, Cindy Jessup, who works for him?” the Judge asked.

“Cindy knows she is in deep and is in trouble. She keeps giving me little bits and pieces, but nothing we could use to really bring him down. She is playing lots of games right off TV and expects to get full immunity and maybe keep a million or two in drug money. I worry about her if the Sheriff figures her out. It did shake her up when I told her about the Sheriff’s handmaiden, Major Knowles, getting two hundred pounds of nice bloody beef trimmings from the slaughterhouse in Jasper for the Ossabaw jail the day before her brother got attacked by the sharks when he was fishing in his waders at his usual spot. Of course, I am sure that the Sheriff’s records show that all two hundred pounds of meat was used to make sausages and other delights for the inmates at the jail. And they probably did use some of it for that. I did find it a little unusual that Major Knowles went out to the slaughterhouse himself,” Davis said.

“Yeah, I imagine if you dribbled a little bit of that meat from the channel to that inlet where he liked to fish and then dumped about a hundred pounds right where you knew he would be you could expect to have several very excited sharks around in a hurry,” the Judge replied. “I also remember the Coroner’s inquest. Not much evidence of anything. You can’t make a murder case on a few bits of beef in what was left of his clothes.”

“Indeed. It was either an accident or very well done. But since he was just beginning to talk with me about his work at the Bank of Lanier I tend to think it was not an accident. Especially right after he stupidly sent me an email directly from his computer at the bank,” Davis replied. “I have heard from my sources at the Banking Commissioner’s office that the Bank of Lanier does seem to process a lot more millions in cash than you might expect from a little country bank,” he continued.

“Do you think that’s because Judy’s Waffles N’ Grits and the Ossabaw Crab House are just packing them in?” the Judge responded with a smirk.

“Probably. Everyone likes waffles. So that is where we are. One potential informant dead and another one acting kind of strange. Oh, and of course the Cabeza Rioja seems out of his range,” Davis reported.

The Judge glanced at this watch. “The rest of the group will be here soon. I want to know what the Department of Corrections is doing about medical coverage at Georgia Maximum Security Prison since Dr. Bridge was murdered. Are they having any luck finding a new doctor?”

“Would you like a job where the previous occupant was murdered? I have explained to the Warden and the Commissioner of Corrections that they need to deal with this vacancy in a hurry. They have hired a search firm specializing in doctors and they are covering medical out of the Correctional Medical Institution in Augusta. They are also making a lot of extra trips to the local hospital,” Davis responded.

“Fitz, you know that won’t do for long. Am I going to have to order one of those doctors in Augusta to be transferred to Lester? Or if I move a bunch of those sick high max guys from Lester to Augusta it will mean a whole lot more security in Augusta. You know Arnold has been calling about this situation for the inmates. I think I will set it down for a Status Conference with both of you and the Warden to move it along,” the Judge said.

“That’s a good idea. I know how persuasive you can be,” Davis said, thinking back to many changes of attitude produced by the Judge looking down the barrel of his reading glasses at the end of his nose and carefully explaining the options to some reluctant miscreant. “Also, maybe the Attorney General’s office can get busy and convict some of those hotshot Atlanta doctors with Medicare fraud. You remember what a good doc we had for years, a while back, when the illustrious Dr. Bernard Austin, Board Certified in internal medicine and University of Virginia graduate, got himself in trouble for drugs,” Davis continued.

“I remember Dr. Austin well. Somehow the Department of Corrections worked a little magic over at the State Medical Board and Dr. Austin received a limited license to practice medicine at Georgia Maximum Security Prison. They made him a trusty and let him live in a State house on the compound. They even gave him a car as I recall. I believe you used him as an expert witness in my Court several times with good effect,” the Judge commented with a smile.

“I did indeed. He was a good doctor and an even better witness. Amazingly, no one ever asked if he had ever been convicted, he was so authoritative with his white coat, his deep voice and his silver beard,” Davis responded with a laugh.

There was a knock at the door as Albert, the clerk, entered. “Judge I got all the players now assembled in the Courtroom except you and Fitz.”

“Let’s not keep this illustrious Committee waiting,” the Judge replied with a slight wave to Davis as they headed for the Courtroom. “Albert, once we get in there, you and the Bailiff make sure nobody else enters. These Homeland Security meetings are one of the few things around here that are supposed to be confidential.”