“Maybe not,” said Marissa. “Dr. Richter had been bitten just prior to his illness by a monkey that had come from Africa. Dr. Vreeland is pretty sure the monkey was the source.”
“He’s probably right,” agreed Tad. “Monkeys were responsible for an outbreak of hemorrhagic fever in ‘67. The virus was named Marburg after the town in Germany where it occurred. The virus looks a lot like Ebola.”
“We’ll soon know,” said Marissa. “Now it’s up to you. Hepatic and splenic sections from the monkey are on the way. I’d appreciate it if you’d check them right away and let me know.”
“My pleasure,” said Tad. “Meanwhile, I’m going to start work on the Ebola virus and see how easily I can culture it. I want to figure out what strain it is. Let Dubchek and the others know they’re dealing with Ebola. If nothing else, it will make them super careful. I’ll talk with you soon. Take care.”
Leaving the cubicle, Marissa stepped across the hall and peered into the CDC room. It was deserted. Going into the neighboring room, she asked the technicians where everyone was. They told her that some of the doctors were down in pathology, since two more of the patients had died, and some were in the ER admitting several new cases. Dr. Dubchek had gone back to the hotel. Marissa told the technicians that they were dealing with Ebola. She left it to them to pass the bad news to the others. Then she went back to her paperwork.
The Beverly Hilton was just as Dubchek had described. It was certainly nicer than the seedy Tropic Motel, and it was closer to the Richter Clinic. But it still seemed like unnecessary effort to Marissa as she plodded after the bellman down the eighth-floor corridor to her
room. The bellman turned on all the lights while she waited at the door. She gave him a dollar, and he left.
She’d never unpacked at the Tropic, so the move wasn’t difficult. Yet she wouldn’t have made it if Dubchek hadn’t insisted. He’d called her that afternoon, several hours after she’d talked with Tad. She’d been afraid to call him, thinking that she’d awaken him. As soon as he was on the line, she told him Tad’s news about the outbreak being Ebola Hemorrhagic Fever, but he took it in stride, almost as if he’d expected it. He then had given her directions to the hotel and told her that she merely had to pick up the key for 805, since she was already registered. And he had told her that they’d eat at seven-thirty, if that was all right with her, and that she should just come to his room, which was conveniently located a few doors from hers. He said he’d order up so they could go over her notes while they ate.
As she eyed the bed, Marissa’s exhaustion cried for attention, but it was already after seven. Getting her cosmetics bag from her suitcase, she went into the bathroom. After washing, brushing out her hair and touching up her makeup, Marissa was ready. From her briefcase, she removed the sheets of information concerning Dr. Richter’s activities before he’d become LU. Clutching them to her, she walked down to Dubchek’s door and knocked.
He answered her knock and, smiling, motioned for her to come in. He was on the phone, apparently talking to Tad. Marissa sat down and tried to follow the conversation. It seemed the samples from the monkey had arrived and they had tested clear.
“You mean the electron microscopy showed no virus at all?” said Dubchek.
There was a long silence as Tad relayed the details of the outcomes of the various tests. Looking at her watch, Marissa calculated that it was almost eleven in Atlanta. Tad was certainly putting in overtime. She watched Dubchek, realizing the man had a disturbing effect on her. She recalled how unnerved she’d been when he’d turned up at Ralph’s dinner party and was upset to find herself inexplicably attracted to him now. From time to time he looked up, and her glance was trapped by an unexpected glint in his dark eyes. He’d removed his jacket and tie, and a V of tanned skin was visible at the base of his neck.
Finally he hung up the phone and walked over to her, gazing down at her. “You’re certainly the best-looking thing I’ve seen today. And I gather your friend Tad would agree. He seemed very concerned that you don’t put yourself at risk.”
“Certainly I’m in no more danger than anyone else involved in
this,” she said, vaguely annoyed at the turn the conversation was taking.
Dubchek grinned. “I guess Tad doesn’t feel the rest of the staff is as cute.”
Trying to turn the talk to professional matters, Marissa asked about the monkey’s liver and spleen sections.
“Clean so far,” said Dubchek, with a wave of his hand. “But that was only by electron microscopy. Tad has also planted the usual viral cultures. We’ll know more in a week.”
“In the meantime,” said Marissa, “we’d better look elsewhere.”
“I suppose so,” said Dubchek. He seemed distracted. He ran a hand over his eyes as he sat down across from her.
Leaning forward, Marissa handed over her notes. “I thought that you might be interested in looking at these.” Dubchek accepted the papers and glanced through them while Marissa talked.
In a chronological fashion, Marissa described what she’d been doing since her arrival in L.A. She made a convincing argument that Dr. Richter was the index case and that he was the source of the Ebola, spreading the disease to some of his patients. She explained his relationship to Helen Townsend and then described the two medical meetings that Dr. Richter had attended. The sponsoring organizations were sending complete lists of the attendees, with their addresses and phone numbers, she added.
Throughout her monologue Dubchek nodded to indicate that he was listening, but somehow he seemed distracted, concentrating more on her face than on what she was saying. With so little feedback, Marissa trailed off and stopped speaking, wondering if she were making some fundamental professional error. After a sigh, Dubchek smiled. “Good job,” he said simply. “It’s hard to believe that this is your first field assignment.” He stood up at the sound of a knock on the door. “Thank goodness. That must be dinner. I’m starved.”
The meal itself was mediocre; the meat and vegetables Dubchek had ordered were lukewarm. Marissa wondered why they couldn’t have gone down to the dining room. She’d thought that he’d intended to talk business, but as they ate, the conversation ranged from Ralph’s dinner party and how she came to know him, to the CDC and whether or not she was enjoying her assignment. Toward the end of the meal Dubchek suddenly said, “I wanted to tell you that I am a widower.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” said Marissa sincerely, wondering why the man was bothering to inform her about his personal life.
“I just thought you should know,” he added, as if reading her mind. “My wife died two years ago in an auto accident.”
Marissa nodded, once again uncertain how to reply.
“What about you?” asked Dubchek. “Are you seeing anyone?”
Marissa paused, toying with the handle of her coffee cup. She had no intention of discussing her breakup with Roger. “No, not at the moment,” she managed to tell him. She wondered if Dubchek knew that she had been dating Tad. It had not been a secret, but it wasn’t public knowledge either. Neither of them had told people at the lab. Suddenly Marissa felt even more uncomfortable. Her policy of not mixing her personal and professional lives was being violated, she felt. Looking over at Dubchek, she couldn’t help but acknowledge that she found him attractive. Perhaps that was why he made her feel so uncomfortable. But there was no way she was interested in a more personal relationship with him, if that was what this was leading up to. All at once she wanted to get out of his room and return to her work.