doctors made their exit. Marissa tried to push through the crowd but couldn't. Outside the conference room the uniformed policeman kept the reporters from entering the hospital proper. After showing her CDC identity card, Marissa was allowed to pass. She caught up to Dubchek at the elevators.
"There you are!" said Dubchek, his dark eyes lighting up. His voice was friendly as he introduced Marissa to the other men.
"I didn't know so many of you were coming," she said as they boarded the elevator.
"We didn't have much choice," said Dr. Layne.
Dr. Abbott nodded. "Despite Cyrill's comments at the news conference, this outbreak is extraordinarily serious. An appearance of African viral hemorrhagic fever in the developed world has been a nightmare we've lived with since the illness first surfaced.
"If it proves to be African viral hemorrhagic fever," added Dr. Eckenstein.
"I'm convinced," said Dr. Vreeland. "And I think the monkey will turn out to be the culprit."
"I didn't get samples from the monkey," admitted Marissa quickly. "That's okay," said Dubchek. "We sacrificed the animal last night and sent specimens back to the Center. Liver and spleen sections will be far better than blood."
They arrived on the fifth floor, where two technicians from the CDC were busy running samples in the Vickers Mobile Isolation Lab.
"I'm sorry about that L.A. Times article," said Marissa when she could speak to Dubchek alone. "The reporter approached me when I first entered the hospital."
"No matter," said Dubchek. "Just don't let it happen again." He smiled and winked.
Marissa had no idea what the wink meant, nor the smile, for that matter. "Why didn't you call me when you arrived?" she asked.
"I knew you'd be exhausted," explained Dubchek. "There really wasn't any need. We spent most of the night getting the lab set up, autopsying the monkey, and just getting oriented. We also improved the isolation situation by having fans installed. Nonetheless, you are to be congratulated. I think you did a fine job getting this affair underway.
"For the moment, I'm buried in administrative detail," continued Dubchek, "but I do want to hear what you've learned. Maybe you and I could have dinner tonight. I've gotten you a room at the hotel where we are staying. I'm sure it's better than the Tropic Motel."
"There's nothing wrong with the Tropic," said Marissa. She felt an odd twinge of discomfort, as if her intuition were trying to tell her something.
Marissa went back to her small room behind the nurses' station and began to catch up on her own paperwork. First she phoned the sponsoring organizations for the two medical meetings Dr. Richter had attended. She told them that she needed to know if any of the other attendees had become ill with a viral disease. Then, gritting her teeth at the cruelty of her next call, she dialed Dr. Richter's home number and asked if she could pick up the diary Mrs. Richter had promised her the night before.
The neighbor who answered the phone seemed appalled by her request, but, after checking with the widow, told Marissa to come over in half an hour.
Marissa drove up to the beautifully landscaped house and nervously rang the bell. The same neighbor answered and rather angrily directed Marissa to the living room. Anna Richter appeared a few minutes later. She seemed to have aged ten years overnight. Her face was pale, and her hair, which had been so carefully curled the night before, hung about her face in lank strands.
The neighbor helped her to a chair, and Marissa was amazed to see that she was anxiously folding and unfolding some lined papers that
seemed to contain the requested list of her husband's activities over the last weeks. Knowing what a strain the woman must have been under, Marissa didn't know what to say, but Anna simply handed her the sheets saying, "I couldn't sleep last night anyway, and maybe this will help some other poor family." Her eyes filled with tears. "He was such a good man . . . a
"There you are!" said Dubchek, his dark eyes lighting up. His voice was friendly as he introduced Marissa to the other men.
"I didn't know so many of you were coming," she said as they boarded the elevator.
"We didn't have much choice," said Dr. Layne.
Dr. Abbott nodded. "Despite Cyrill's comments at the news conference, this outbreak is extraordinarily serious. An appearance of African viral hemorrhagic fever in the developed world has been a nightmare we've lived with since the illness first surfaced.
"If it proves to be African viral hemorrhagic fever," added Dr. Eckenstein.
"I'm convinced," said Dr. Vreeland. "And I think the monkey will turn out to be the culprit."
"I didn't get samples from the monkey," admitted Marissa quickly. "That's okay," said Dubchek. "We sacrificed the animal last night and sent specimens back to the Center. Liver and spleen sections will be far better than blood."
They arrived on the fifth floor, where two technicians from the CDC were busy running samples in the Vickers Mobile Isolation Lab.
"I'm sorry about that L.A. Times article," said Marissa when she could speak to Dubchek alone. "The reporter approached me when I first entered the hospital."
"No matter," said Dubchek. "Just don't let it happen again." He smiled and winked.
Marissa had no idea what the wink meant, nor the smile, for that matter. "Why didn't you call me when you arrived?" she asked.
"I knew you'd be exhausted," explained Dubchek. "There really wasn't any need. We spent most of the night getting the lab set up, autopsying the monkey, and just getting oriented. We also improved the isolation situation by having fans installed. Nonetheless, you are to be congratulated. I think you did a fine job getting this affair underway.
"For the moment, I'm buried in administrative detail," continued Dubchek, "but I do want to hear what you've learned. Maybe you and I could have dinner tonight. I've gotten you a room at the hotel where we are staying. I'm sure it's better than the Tropic Motel."
"There's nothing wrong with the Tropic," said Marissa. She felt an odd twinge of discomfort, as if her intuition were trying to tell her something.
Marissa went back to her small room behind the nurses' station and began to catch up on her own paperwork. First she phoned the sponsoring organizations for the two medical meetings Dr. Richter had attended. She told them that she needed to know if any of the other attendees had become ill with a viral disease. Then, gritting her teeth at the cruelty of her next call, she dialed Dr. Richter's home number and asked if she could pick up the diary Mrs. Richter had promised her the night before.
The neighbor who answered the phone seemed appalled by her request, but, after checking with the widow, told Marissa to come over in half an hour.
Marissa drove up to the beautifully landscaped house and nervously rang the bell. The same neighbor answered and rather angrily directed Marissa to the living room. Anna Richter appeared a few minutes later. She seemed to have aged ten years overnight. Her face was pale, and her hair, which had been so carefully curled the night before, hung about her face in lank strands.
The neighbor helped her to a chair, and Marissa was amazed to see that she was anxiously folding and unfolding some lined papers that
seemed to contain the requested list of her husband's activities over the last weeks. Knowing what a strain the woman must have been under, Marissa didn't know what to say, but Anna simply handed her the sheets saying, "I couldn't sleep last night anyway, and maybe this will help some other poor family." Her eyes filled with tears. "He was such a good man . . . a
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