Pandemic

"Christ, Gwen!" Hart growled. "We've already gone to the highest level of alert. We've canceled half the international flights and delayed the others for hours. The airport, harbor, and border screening couldn't be more rigorous."

"Mr. Secretary, with all due respect, that is not enough."

"Do you realize the implications of this?" Hart asked quietly.

"So far, only one U.S. city is affected," Gwen said evenly. "Until we know where it's coming from, this 'Killer Flu' could spread to a new city with every flight or ship we allow into the country."

Gwen thought she heard a cigarette lighter clicking in the background. "I have heard that this virus is relatively easy to incubate," Hart said. "How do you know they aren't already established somewhere inside our borders, infecting more suicide carriers to dispatch throughout the country?"

"I don't," Gwen conceded. "But odds are that their infrastructure is still based abroad."

There was a long moment of silence, broken by a hacking cough. Then Hart said, "No. No. No. Listen, Gwen, as it stands our economy is paralyzed. The Dow has already dropped twenty percent in two days." She could picture her tall boss with his graying temples and distinguished features, his face creased into that disappointed father-knows-best look he had mastered. "We cannot fence America off from the rest of the world," he said.

"Why not?" Gwen asked.

"Because it would be tantamount to admitting that the sons of bitches have won!"

"Mr. Secretary, let's be honest. Right now they are winning the battle," she said authoritatively. "If we don't act decisively, they might win the war."

"Then goddamn it, let's act decisively!" Hart said. "We will protect our citizens. And we will hunt down the monsters behind this and wipe them off the face of the earth. But in the meantime, we will not cower behind barricades."

Gwen knew Ted Hart well enough to realize there was no point in arguing further. "Okay, Ted, but you ought to keep it in mind."

"We'll see," he said. "I'm off to meet the National Security Council. And then to see the President. I'll call you after."

She dropped the receiver into the cradle and slumped back into the chair at her desk. There were so many people to coordinate, but she couldn't escape the growing sense of futility. Until they got to the source of the deliberate spread, they were just a bunch of rats running on wheels.

Her phone rang. She picked it up and said, "Gwen Savard."

"I got a bit of a hole in my social calendar," Haldane said. "Okay if I drop by?"

She let out a tired laugh. "I might be able to squeeze you in."

Gwen had barely secured her mask when she heard the rap at her door. Haldane stood on the other side in a T-shirt and jeans. Aside from his face mask, he looked as if he were on his way out for a coffee and a newspaper on a lazy Sunday morning.

As soon as he stepped into the room, he tore off his mask. He wadded it into a ball in his hand. "I hate these things."

"Odd for a doctor who specializes in communicable diseases," Gwen said, instinctively taking a step back from him.

Haldane flashed a mischievous smile. "Yeah, well, I now realize I might have made a fundamental mistake in career planning."

"You too?" She laughed. "Aren't you gambling with us by removing the mask?"

"I don't have a fever or cough; besides, I haven't touched a Caesar salad in days, so chances are my breath won't kill you."

Gwen pulled off her mask and folded it on her desk. "How are you holding up?" she asked.

"Going stir crazy. I'm already sick of the room-service food, not to mention the way we have to exchange trays with them like we're radioactive. Otherwise, I'm terrific. You?"

"Same." She nodded. "I've got so much to do. Hard to know where to begin."

Haldane sat down on the couch across from her chair and leaned back with his hands folded behind his head. "Let's start by comparing notes."

Gwen admired his calm. And she found it difficult not to notice his blue-gray eyes. When he had turned to sit down, she caught herself noticing the way his jeans clung to his muscular rear end. Snap out of it, Gwen! she told herself, but she wrote the inappropriate thoughts off as a symptom of her isolation. Forcing them from her mind, she focused on summarizing for Noah her discussions with Clayton and Hart.

When she finished, Haldane said, "The Secretary might be right. No guarantees we could stem the flow of the virus even if we could shut down the borders."

Gwen didn't feel like arguing the point again. "And you? What have you learned?"