Pandemic

As soon as Veronica saw him, she leaped to her feet and ran over to him. "What did it show, Dr. Mayer? How is my baby?" She reached out to touch him.

CHAPTER 17

DEPARTMENT OF HOMELAND SECURITY, NEBRASKA AVENUE CENTER, WASHINGTON, D.C.

Hobbling into the conference room, Gwen Savard couldn't conceal her gimpy ankle from Alex Clayton, the CIA Deputy Director of Operations, or any of the other members of the Bioterrorism Preparedness Council. Gwen had no one to blame but herself. She had continued to run on the treadmill at the gym for days after her injury, and now she paid the price. Maybe Peter had been right when he'd once jokingly described her as a dog with a bone and a bad case of lockjaw.

All fifteen members of the council were already around the oval table when Savard took her seat at its head. After she made a few brief remarks, the meeting unfolded predictably. They discussed the old standards of bioterrorism — smallpox, anthrax, the plague, and so on — recycling data they had seen before without shedding new light. They reviewed the sixth draft of the generic urban centers' Emergency Response Plan to Biological Attack, known by most of them as ERPBA, without reaching consensus.

Savard had difficulty concentrating on the debate. After her conversation earlier in the week with Haldane, she had filed the Gansu Flu into the recesses of her mind; worthy of no more than a mental footnote. Now with its sudden reemergence, she could focus on little else.

After the committee covered the agenda items, Gwen said, "No doubt, everyone here has heard that the Gansu strain of influenza has shown up in London. At last report there are at least fourteen cases and three deaths. And in Hong Kong, there are now five confirmed infections and several more suspect cases."

Halfway down the table Moira Roberts, the Deputy Directory of the FBI, leaned forward and squinted at Gwen. "And this has to do with bioterrorism how?"

In a plain black suit and gray blouse, which matched her prematurely gray hair worn in an outdated bob, Roberts struck Gwen as the epitome of frumpy. "No one seems to know how the virus got to England or Hong Kong," Savard said.

"Have you considered travelers from China?" Roberts asked in a tone that made it unclear whether or not she meant to be facetious.

"It did occur to me." Savard matched Roberts's tone. "But unlike SARS where the index cases were easily traceable, they have found no link in London or Hong Kong to the Gansu outbreak."

"Which means it must be bioterrorism, right?" Roberts said, no longer bothering to mask her sarcasm.

"Which means," Gwen said slowly, suppressing her mounting irritation, "we cannot discount the possibility of terrorism."

"It might be a while before you can discount any possible explanation for the outbreaks," Roberts pointed out.

Gwen didn't doubt Roberts's intelligence, but her agitative personality made it impossible to warm to the woman. "So in the meantime we just ignore it?" Savard said.

Roberts folded her arms and sighed. "That's not what I'm trying to say."

Annoyed, Clayton cut in. "What are you trying to say, Moira?"

"I remember we had similar discussions around SARS," Roberts replied, talking to the table instead of Clayton. "Some people were convinced it was a biological weapon dreamed up by Al Qaeda. That didn't exactly pan out, did it?" She sighed. "No doubt this new virus poses a potential major public health risk to the United States. I don't discount that for a minute. What I suggest is that we wait to learn more before we overreact and waste precious resources chasing phantom terrorists when other departments, like Health and Human Services, will have more pressing priorities to address."

A few of the members around the table nodded, but none spoke up, appearing content to sit on the sidelines.

Ignoring Roberts, Clayton turned to Savard. "Gwen, how do we find out where this virus came from?"

"Finding the index case or cases is the key," she said.

"And if we don't?" Clayton asked.

"That would concern me," Gwen said gravely. "With almost every epidemic of this magnitude, the index case is readily identifiable. The person usually seeks medical attention just like any other victim. And if they don't then you have to wonder if he or she is deliberately avoiding detection."

"But, Dr. Savard," Roberts said, "I understand from the newspaper that this bug is only twenty-five percent lethal."

"Only!" Gwen said. "That's a devastating mortality rate. Most flus run at a mortality rate of far less than one percent. And those influenza strains kill only people at the extremes of age. This bug is killing otherwise healthy children and adults at a rate of twenty-five percent. That is up there with smallpox and flesh-eating disease!"