Pandemic

McLeod strode off in search of a bathroom. Gwen and Noah lapsed into a comfortable silence, watching the traffic gather around The Quiet Slumber Motel. Three helicopters had landed on the road. Vans and trucks filled the parking lot and lined the streets. People in every imaginable uniform, from those of state troopers to the full yellow HAZMAT suits.

Gwen shuffled closer to him and put an arm around his waist. She leaned her head against his shoulder. It felt right to Haldane.

After a few moments, she said, "Noah?"

"Yes?"

"He didn't kill me," Gwen said.

"I'm very glad," Noah said, cupping her face with his other hand.

"That's not what I mean," Gwen said. "He looked right at me and just smiled. He could have killed me so easily."

"Maybe he realized there was no point?"

"Yeah, maybe that's it," she said and fell back into silence.

CHAPTER 43

WASHINGTON, D.C.

Gwen awoke late the next morning in a pool of sweat but pleased to discover she was in the comfort of her own bed and not strapped to a cot as she had just dreamed. She felt so achy. She wondered if it was a consequence of the drugs Sabri had given her or just the accumulation of the wear and tear on her body from Somalia to Maryland.

She reached for the bedside phone and hit redial.

"Maryland Trauma Center," the operator said.

When Gwen explained who she was, she was patched through to the ICU where the nurse told her that Clayton was still in critical condition but had "squeaked through" surgery and showed early signs of stabilizing.

Relieved, she hung up the phone but still felt too exhausted to climb out of bed. She couldn't shake the vision of Abdul Sabri's malicious smile. She had a strange feeling, what she imagined might be a form of survivor's guilt, about having had her life spared by him. She couldn't shake the doubt that Sabri was capable of a final generous gesture.

With images of Sabri and collapsing buildings weighing on her mind, she fell back on the pillow and drifted off again.

The ringing phone woke her. Without answering, she turned her head to look at the clock, which read 2:24 P.M. She didn't feel any better for the sleep. And she was beginning to wonder if she still had residual amounts of thiopental sodium or some other drug in her bloodstream.

About five minutes later, the phone rang again. When she lifted her arm to grab the phone, it felt as if there were a dumbbell tied to it. She groped around the nightstand until she found the receiver.

As she dragged the phone to her ear, everything became clearer to her.

"Hi," Noah said. "How are you?"

"Sore," she said distractedly as she wrapped the blankets tighter around her to ward off her sudden coldness. "You?"

"Good." He laughed. "Enjoying my first day off in about two months."

"Slacker," she said, but didn't feel any of the levity she forced into her tone.

"You hear about Alex?"

"I called the hospital earlier," she said. "Any new developments?"

"He's stabilizing," Haldane said cheerfully. "They think he has a good shot."

"Thank God," Gwen said.

"Hey, the FBI hit the motherlode in Sabri's cabin," he said. "They had vials of serum in a small incubator. They also had chicken eggs, very likely inoculated with the Gansu virus."

"No surprise," she said.

"There's more," Haldane said. "Sabri had all kinds of maps of New York. Two of them had Times Square circled in red. And the FBI found a list of contact e-mails and cell numbers. They've already made twelve arrests — four in Seattle and the rest in New York."

"Good," she said. She tried to share his enthusiasm, but she felt more tired than ever before.

"Gwen," Haldane said softly. "I think it really is over."

"Let's hope." She coughed and then cleared her throat.

"You okay?"

"I'm just getting too old for falling buildings and hostage takings," she said.

"Why don't I come take you out for a late celebratory lunch?" Haldane asked. "That way we don't have to stay up for a New Year's Eve bash."

"I'm not much of a New Year's girl," she said. "Besides, Noah, I'm too drained to go out."

"Tell you what," Haldane said. "I'll bring you lunch. No strings attached."

She swallowed and her throat felt raw. "People never mean it when they say that," Gwen said.

He laughed. "True. There are tons of strings attached. But why don't you let me bring you lunch anyway."

"No, Noah," she said. "I need to take a rain check. I've got weeks of sleep to catch up on."

"Fair enough," he said, with a trace of disappointment. "I'll speak to you tomorrow."

She put the phone back on the nightstand, but deliberately left it off the hook. Despite her wobbly legs and aching lower back, she forced herself out of bed.

She closed all her windows and blinds. Then she locked both deadbolts on her door. When she managed to catch her wind, she stumbled back to the bedroom.

* * *