Pandemic

Two days after the shootout in Maryland, the first day of the New Year, Haldane sat at his office in the early afternoon sorting through a huge stack of accumulated paperwork. He had difficulty concentrating on the work; he kept wondering why Gwen hadn't returned his calls. What had changed between them?

McLeod flew through his door and interrupted the ruminations. "Don't tell me," McLeod said, pointing to the pile. "A model of Mt. Fuji, right?"

"Feels like it," Haldane sighed. "What can I do for you, Duncan?"

He looked over his shoulder. "For starters, you could get me a coffee," he bellowed.

Haldane's secretary, Karen Jackson, yelled from outside the room. "I saw two feet on you. Go get your own damn coffee!"

McLeod laughed. "I like that one." He thumbed over his shoulder and smiled. "Hey, I visited James Bond this morning in Baltimore."

"And?"

"Clayton is doing better." Haldane nodded. "He's awake. Fortunately, he's still on the ventilator, so I got to do all the talking."

Haldane leaned back in his seat and laughed. "I'm sure he appreciated that."

"I think so." McLeod nodded earnestly. "He seemed to particularly enjoy our conversation on what a better place the world would be without the CIA."

Haldane shook his head. "Duncan, you're a cruel man."

McLeod stopped smiling. "By the way, I've come to tell you I'm leaving."

"About time," Haldane said. "You're going back to Glasgow for a while?"

"Not for a while," McLeod said. "For good. I'm leaving the WHO. I'm going to take up some lazy-ass hospital post in Scotland. Time to get back on a first-name basis with my family."

Haldane nodded. "No point in me trying to talk you out of it?"

"Not unless you still have that gun Clayton gave you," McLeod said.

Haldane shook his head.

"By the way, I wanted to say good-bye to Gwen, too, but I haven't been able to reach her."

"Me, neither," Haldane said, feeling the niggling worry resurface. "I spoke to her yesterday. She seemed somewhat evasive. She said she was really run-down. Totally understandable, but I thought… you know… it might have something to do with Clayton and me."

"Ah, love triangles are a mysterious and wonderful thing, aren't they?" McLeod heaved an exaggerated sigh.

Haldane nodded distractedly.

"I even tried the Department of Homeland Security," McLeod said. "She hasn't been to work since coming home either. Apparently, she even stood up her boss this morning for some meeting."

"That's kind of odd," Haldane said, feeling a different kind of concern swell.

"I guess she was traumatized by what happened with Sabri and all." McLeod shrugged. "Maybe she just wants to lock herself away for a while."

The phrase "lock herself away" resonated inside Noah. He rose from his chair. "Duncan, you don't think…" He left it unfinished.

McLeod looked up at him with a puzzled frown. "Think what?"

"When I spoke to her yesterday, she was still in bed and it was after 2:00 P.M.," Haldane said as much to himself as McLeod. "She said she was feeling really run-down." He pointed his finger at McLeod. "And Duncan she coughed once, too!"

Both McLeod's eyebrows shot up. "Oh, Christ, Haldane, she wouldn't!"

"She would if she thought she was protecting the world."

* * *

Haldane stood outside the condominium, watching the paramedic smash through the door with a portable battering ram.

As soon as the hinges gave way and the door burst open, Haldane, McLeod, and the four paramedics all stormed inside. Haldane ran as fast as his HAZMAT suit would allow toward the master bedroom.

He rushed into the room, but he didn't see Gwen in the bed. The covers were pulled back and lay in a tangled heap at the foot of the bed. A box of Kleenex sat perched on the pillow. Empty wadded tissues were scattered over the sheets. Some were bloody.

Through the plastic face shield of his hood, he scanned the room checking the other side of the bed and even sifting through the blankets.

"Over here!" one of the paramedics called out. "In the bathroom."

Haldane pivoted and ran into the bathroom across the corridor. He had to shove his way between the paramedics, made even bulkier by their biohazard suits, to get to her.

She lay collapsed by the bathtub.

Her color was gray. Her hair was matted in clumps. She wore off-white pajamas that had bloodstains on the tops. At first Haldane couldn't tell if she was alive or dead, but then she coughed with a horrible, harsh rattling sound and her whole body shook.

When he took a closer look at the hand tucked underneath her, he realized it clutched a familiar pill bottle but it was empty.

That's when he noticed Isaac Moskor's little yellow pills had scattered all over the bathroom floor around her.

CHAPTER 44

GEORGETOWN UNIVERSITY HOSPITAL ICU, WASHINGTON, D.C.