Outbreak (18 page)

"You can call it conjecture," said Marissa, rising to her feet. "I call it fact. Even Ft. Detrick doesn't have any Ebola. Only the CDC has the virus, and it is stored in a freezer closed with an ordinary bicycle lock. Some security for the deadliest virus known to man! And if you think the maximum containment lab is secure, just remember that even I was able to get into it."

Marissa was still trembling when she entered the University Hospital a few hours later and asked directions to the cafeteria. As she walked down the hallway she marveled at herself, wondering where

she'd gotten the strength. She'd never been able to stand up to any authority as she'd just done. Yet she felt terrible, remembering Dubchek's face as he'd ordered her out of his office. Uncertain what to do and sure that her EIS career had come to an end, Marissa had left the Center and driven aimlessly around until she remembered Ralph and decided to ask his advice. She'd caught him between surgical cases, and he'd agreed to meet her for lunch.

The cafeteria at the University Hospital was a pleasant affair with yellow-topped tables and white tiled floor. Marissa saw Ralph waving from a corner table.

In typical style, Ralph stood as Marissa approached, and pulled out her chair. Although close to tears, Marissa smiled. His gallant manners seemed at odds with his scrub clothes.

"Thanks for finding time to see me," she said. "I know how busy you are."

"Nonsense," said Ralph. "I always have time for you. Tell me what's wrong. You sounded really upset on the phone."

"Let's get our food first," said Marissa.

The interruption helped; Marissa was in better control of her emotions when they returned with the trays. "I'm having some trouble at the CDC," she confessed. She told Ralph about Dubchek's behavior in Los Angeles and the incident in the hotel room. "From then on things have been difficult. Maybe I didn't handle things as well as I could have, but I don't think it was all my responsibility. After all, it was a type of sexual harassment."

"That doesn't sound like Dubchek," said Ralph with a frown.

"You do believe me, don't you?" asked Marissa.

"Absolutely," Ralph assured her. "But I'm still not sure you can blame all your problems on that unfortunate episode. You have to remember that the CDC is a government agency even if people try to ignore the fact." Ralph paused to take a bite of his sandwich. Then he said, "Let me ask you a question."

"Certainly," said Marissa.

"Do you believe that I am your friend and have your best interests at heart?"

Marissa nodded, wondering what was coming.

"Then I can speak frankly," said Ralph. "I have heard through the grapevine that certain people at the CDC are not happy with you because you've not been 'toeing the official line.' I know you're not asking my advice, but I'm giving it anyway. In a bureaucratic system, you have to keep your own opinions to yourself until the right time.

To put it baldly, you have to learn to shut up. I know, because I spent some time in the military."

"Obviously you are referring to my stand on Ebola," said Marissa defensively. Even though she knew Ralph was right, what he'd just said hurt. She'd thought that in general she'd been doing a good job.

"Your stand on Ebola is only part of the problem. You simply haven't been acting as a team player."

"Who told you this?" asked Marissa challengingly.

"Telling you isn't going to solve anything," Ralph said.

"Nor is my staying silent. I cannot accept the CDC's position on Ebola. There are too many inconsistencies and unanswered questions, one of which I learned only last night during my unauthorized visit to the maximum containment lab."

"And what was that?"

"It's known that Ebola mutates constantly. Yet we are faced with the fact that the three U.S. strains are identical, and more astounding, they are the same as the strain in an outbreak in Zaire, in 1976. To me, it doesn't sound as if the disease is spreading naturally."

"You may be right," said Ralph. "But you are in a political situation and you have to act accordingly. And even if there is another outbreak, which I hope there won't be, I have full confidence that the CDC will be capable of controlling it."

"That is a big question mark," said Marissa. "The statistics from Phoenix were not encouraging. Do you realize there were three hundred forty-seven deaths and only thirteen Survivors?"

"I know the stats," said Ralph. "But with eighty-four initial cases, I think you people did a superb job."

"I'm not sure you'd think it was so superb if the outbreak had been in your hospital," said Marissa.

"I suppose you're right," said Ralph. "The idea of further Ebola outbreaks terrifies me. Maybe that's why I want to believe in the official position myself. If it's correct, the threat may be over."

"Damn," said Marissa with sudden vehemence. "I've been so concerned about myself, I completely forgot about Tad. Dubchek must know it was Tad who took me into the maximum containment lab. I'd better get back and check on him."

"I'll let you go on one condition," said Ralph. "Tomorrow's Saturday. Let me take you to dinner."

"You are a dear. Dinner tomorrow night would be a treat." Marissa leaned forward and kissed Ralph's forehead. He was so kind. She wished she found him more attractive.

As Marissa drove back to the CDC she realized her anger at Dubchek had been replaced by fear for her job and guilt about her behavior. Ralph was undoubtedly correct: She'd not been acting as a team player.

She found Tad in the virology lab, back at work on a new AIDS project. AIDS was still the Center's highest priority. When he caught sight of Marissa he shielded his face with his arms in mock defensiveness.

"Was it that bad?" asked Marissa.

"Worse," said Tad.

"I'm sorry," said Marissa. "How did he find out?"

"He asked me," said Tad.

"And you told him?"

"Sure. I wasn't about to lie. He also asked if I was dating you."

"And you told him that, too?" asked Marissa, mortified.

"Why not?" said Tad. "At least it reassured him that I don't take just anybody off the street into the maximum containment lab."

Marissa took a deep breath. Maybe it was best to have everything out in the open. She put her hand on Tad's shoulder. "I'm really sorry I've caused you trouble. Can I try to make it up to you by fixing supper tonight?"

Tad's face brightened. "Sounds good to me."

At six o'clock Tad came by Marissa's office and then followed her in his car to the supermarket. Tad voted for double loin lamb chops for their meal and waited while the butcher cut them, leaving Marissa to pick up potatoes and salad greens.

When the groceries were stashed in Marissa's trunk, Tad insisted that he stop and pick up some wine. He said he'd meet her back at her house, giving her a chance to get the preparations going.

It had begun to rain, but as Marissa listened to the rhythm of the windshield wipers, she felt more hopeful than she had all day. It was definitely better to have everything out in the open, and she'd talk to Dubchek first thing Monday and apologize. As two adults, they surely could straighten things out.

She stopped at a local bakery and picked up two napoleons. Then, puffing in behind her house, she backed up toward the kitchen door to have the least distance to carry the groceries. She was pleased that she'd beat Tad. The sun had not set yet, but it was as dark as if it had. Marissa had to fumble with her keys to put the proper one in the lock. She turned on the kitchen light with her elbow before dumping the two large brown bags on the kitchen table. As she deactivated the alarm, she wondered why Taffy hadn't rushed to greet her. She called out for the dog, wondering if the Judsons had taken her for some reason. She called again, but the house remained unnaturally still.

Walking down the short hall to the living room, she snapped on the light next to the couch. "Ta-a-a-affy," she called, drawing out the dog's name. She started for the stairs in case the dog had inadvertently shut herself into one of the upstairs bedrooms as she sometimes did. Then she saw Taffy lying on the floor near the window, her head bent at a strange and alarming angle.

"Taffy!" cried Marissa desperately, as she ran to the dog and sank to her knees. But before she could touch the animal she was grabbed from behind, her head jerked upright with such force that the room spun. Instinctively, she reached up and gripped the arm, noticing that it felt like wood under the cloth of the suit. Even with all her strength she could not so much as budge the man's grip on her neck. There was a ripping sound as her dress tore. She tried to twist around to see her attacker, but she couldn't.

The panic button for the alarm system was in her jacket pocket. She reached in and juggled it in her fingers, desperately trying to depress the plunger. Just as she succeeded, a blow to her head sent her sprawling to the floor. Listening to the ear-splitting noise, Marissa tried to struggle to her feet. Then she heard Tad's voice shouting at the intruder. She turned groggily, to see him struggling with a tall, heavyset man.

Covering her ears against the incessant screech of the alarm, she rushed to the front door and threw it open, screaming for help from the Judsons. She ran across the lawn and through the shrubs that divided the properties. As she neared the Judsons' house, she saw Mr. Judson opening his front door. She yelled for him to call the police but didn't wait to explain. She turned on her heel and ran back to her house. The sound of the alarm echoed off the trees that lined the street. Bounding up the front steps two at a time, she returned to her living room, only to find it empty. Panicked, she rushed down the hail to the kitchen. The back door was ajar. Reaching over to the panel, she turned the alarm off.

"Tad," she shouted, going back to the living room and looking into the first-floor guest room. There was no sign of him.

Mr. Judson came running through the open front door, brandishing a poker. Together they went through the kitchen and out the back door.

"My wife is calling the police," said Mr. Judson.

"There was a friend with me," gasped Marissa, her anxiety increasing. "I don't know where he is."

"Here comes someone," said Mr. Judson, pointing.

Marissa saw a figure approaching through the evergreen trees. It was Tad. Relieved, she ran to him and threw her arms around his neck, asking him what had happened.

"Unfortunately, I got knocked down," he told her, touching the side of his head. "When I got up, the guy was outside. He had a car waiting."

Marissa took Tad into the kitchen and cleaned the side of his head with a wet towel. It was only a superficial abrasion.

"His arm felt like a club," said Tad.

"You're lucky you're not hurt worse. You never should have gone after him. What if he'd had a gun?"

"I wasn't planning on being a hero," said Tad. "And all he had with him was a briefcase."

"A briefcase? What kind of burglar carries a briefcase?"

"He was well dressed," said Tad. "I'd have to say that about him."

"Did you get a good enough look at him to identify him?" asked Mr. Judson.

Tad shrugged. "I doubt it. It all happened so quickly."

In the distance, they heard the sound of a police siren approaching. Mr. Judson looked at his watch. "Pretty good response time."

"Taffy!" cried Marissa, suddenly remembering the dog. She ran back into the living room, with Tad and Mr. Judson close behind.

The dog had not moved, and Marissa bent down and gingerly lifted the animal. Taffy's head dangled limply. Her neck had been broken.

Up until that moment Marissa had maintained cool control of her emotions. But now she began to weep hysterically. Mr. Judson finally coaxed her into releasing the dog. Tad put his arms around her, trying to comfort her as best he could.

The police car pulled up with lights flashing. Two uniformed policemen came inside. To their credit, Marissa found them sensitive and efficient. They found the point of entry, the broken living room window, and explained to Marissa the reason why the alarm hadn't sounded initially: The intruder had knocked out the glass and had climbed through without lifting the sash.

Then, in a methodical fashion, the police took all the relevant information about the incident. Unfortunately, neither Marissa nor Tad could give much of a description of the man, save for his stiff arm. When asked if anything was missing, Marissa had to say that she had not yet checked. When she told them about Taffy, she began to cry again.

The police asked her if she'd like to go to the hospital, but she declined. Then, after saying they'd be in touch, the police left. Mr. Judson also departed, telling Marissa to call if she needed anything and not to concern herself about Taffy's remains. He also said he'd see about getting her window repaired tomorrow.

Suddenly Marissa and Tad found themselves alone, sitting at the kitchen table with the groceries still in their bags.

"I'm sorry about all this," said Marissa, rubbing her sore head.

"Don't be silly," protested Tad. "Why don't we just go out for dinner?"

"I really am not up to a restaurant. But I don't want to stay here either. Would you mind if I fixed the meal at your place?"

"Absolutely not. Let's go!"

"Just give me a moment to change," said Marissa.

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10

May 20

IT WAS MONDAY MORNING, and Marissa was filled with a sense of dread. It had not been a good weekend. Friday had been the worst day of her life, starting with the episode with Dubchek, then being attacked and losing Taffy. Right after the assault, she'd minimized the emotional impact, only to pay for it later. She'd made dinner for Tad and had stayed at his house, but it had been a turbulent evening filled with tears and rage at the intruder who'd killed her dog.

Saturday had found her equally upset, despite first Tad's and then the Judsons' attempts to cheer her up. Saturday night she'd seen Ralph as planned, and he'd suggested she ask for some time off. He even offered to take her to the Caribbean for a few days. He felt that a short vacation might let things at the CDC cool down. When Marissa insisted that she go back to work, he suggested she concentrate on something other than Ebola, but Marissa shook her head to that, too. "Well at least don't make more waves," Ralph counseled. In his opinion, Dubchek was basically a good man who was still recovering from the loss of the wife he'd adored. Marissa should give him another chance. On this point at least, Marissa agreed.