Wendel got a dubious look on her face. “That’s really doubtful. Yes, we use Wi-Fi, but we have the site encoded and password protected. I think we have to assume first that it’s coming from within the CIA, and only then check outside possibilities.”
Smith finished the sandwich, bunched up the plastic wrapper, and tossed it into a nearby garbage can.
“Keep Russell’s phone on at all times. I’m going to have a man named Marty call you. He’s the one Russell knows. He’s a genius at computers. He has Asperger’s syndrome so bear with his oddities, but he can’t be beat for IT matters.”
He rose to leave.
“I’ll be checking in, but try not to call me unless it’s absolutely imperative. Someone is tracking me, and I don’t want to help him. I’ll be shutting off my phone soon.”
Wendel rose with him. Smith was glad to see the teary look replaced with one of determination. Wendel pushed through the exit doors and walked Smith back to the loading dock and smoking station. She put out her hand.
“Thank you for your help.”
Smith returned the handshake. “Is there a way you can keep me apprised of Russell’s condition? I’m worried about her.”
Wendel nodded. “Watch BLACKHAT254 on the public site. I’ll have him update on her status. In code, of course. Do you know her CIA cover name?”
Smith nodded. “I do. I’ll look for it.” Wendel disappeared into the hospital. He watched the door swing shut.
After a moment he headed in behind her. When he reached the lobby he consulted a directory and pinpointed the wing that contained the infectious disease patients. He stepped onto the elevator and hit the button. When he stepped out onto the fourth floor, he was in a long hall with rooms stretching on each side. To his left and twenty feet away was the nurses’ station where a lone nurse typed on a computer keyboard. A sign on the wall directly opposite the elevator stated that the floor was secure and asked all visitors to check in. It also listed room numbers in each direction. The nurse looked up.
“Can I help you?” she said. He walked to the counter.
“I’m with the army’s infectious disease unit.” He handed her his USAMRIID identification. “I need to speak to your patient in room 422.”
The nurse looked at his identification and then frowned. “This is the isolation floor. The only visitors allowed are her doctors or any consulting medical professionals.”
“Which is what I am. I’m a doctor and I’m here on official business.”
The nurse’s face became set. “It’s late. You’ll need to return during regular hours and have the permission of her physician.”
Smith leaned over the counter, picked up the phone, and handed it to the nurse. “Please page her doctor. Tell him or her that it’s an emergency. That a doctor with the United States Army Medical Research Institute for Infectious Diseases requires immediate access to the patient.”
The nurse hesitated. “It’s really quite important. It can’t wait,” Smith said.
The nurse raised her eyebrows, took the phone and punched in a number. After a moment she said, “I have a doctor from the United States Army Medical Research Institute for Infectious Diseases that wants access to Ms. Russell.” The nurse listened. “He says it’s an emergency. I’ve seen his credentials.” The nurse listened a moment more and then hung up.
“He says it’s okay, but he wants you to keep it short.” She held a clipboard out to him. “Sign in.”
Smith filled out the roster and signed his name. “Thank you. Do I need to suit up?”
The nurse reached across the desk and handed him a flat packet wrapped in thin plastic. “It’s a paper gown and mask.”
Smith took the package and ripped it open. He shook out the paper gown, put it over his clothes and tied it at the neck. He put on the mask while he walked toward Russell’s room.
Russell’s small private room was decorated in soft blues and tans, which Smith thought gave it the air of a spa or hotel rather than a hospital. The bed, though, was all business; with metal bars lowered and an attached table that held a remote for the headboard and a television, and a plastic water glass. A nightstand had a small desk lamp. Smith took one more step in and came even with an open door that led into a private bathroom. He caught a glimpse of the sink and the edge of a shower curtain.
A small, glowing bar attached to the wall near the bed acted as a night light for the nurses. Shadows covered large sections of the wall and the only sound was the occasional drip of the liquid from the sink in the bathroom.
Smith walked up to the bed and stood next to a holder that held an IV drip. Russell lay against the pillows, her eyes closed. Smith caught his breath when he got the first look at her face. Her eyes were closed and her cheeks and forehead glowed with sweat. Her lips were cracked from dehydration. Her skin was gray. Whatever ran through her system, it had accelerated since he saw her last. Her eyes opened and she focused on him.
“Hey,” she said in a weak voice. He settled next to her on the bed and took her hand. She tried to pull it away, but he tightened his grip. She frowned at him. “You shouldn’t be here. I could be contagious.”
“I’ll wash my hands after. How do you feel?”
“Terrible. Feverish and unable to keep anything down. Even the ice chips.” Smith looked at the water glass and saw that it was filled with ice.
“I understand it’s not cholera?”
She shook her head. “No, but it may be bird flu. The initial report wasn’t conclusive, though. Doctor said maybe a variant. It has to be related to that refrigerator swab. There is nothing else. It’s connected. I know it.”
“I also met with Wendel,” Smith said. “She made it clear that you think there’s a mole in the CIA.”
Russell nodded. “Got to be. That proprietary system is ironclad. Whoever is messing with it has to know the codes.”
“Any ideas?”
Russell shrugged. “I haven’t been inside long enough to draw any real conclusions. Langley employs hundreds in my area alone, so finding the leak could be difficult. My thought was that Marty might be able to follow an electronic signature. Trace it back.”
“Doesn’t an internal investigation require you to tell your superiors?”
Russell shifted. “Technically, yes, but I smell a rat here and close by. Jordan only reports to a couple of people in my immediate area, and I think he was deliberately targeted so that Nolan’s house would be left vulnerable.”
Smith groaned. “You realize then that I can’t use the safe house?”
“And neither can Nolan,” Russell said.
“What about Beckmann? Can I trust him?”
Russell began to cough, a deep, barking cough. It was an ugly sound and told Smith everything he needed to know about the severity of her condition. She got hold of herself after a minute.
“He’s on loan from another department, so maybe he’s clean, but it’s safest to be careful around him until you’re sure.”
“That leaves Howell as my best chance to survive this thing. Finding him will become my first priority. I’ll get Marty to do his magic, but if he comes up empty, you could be arrested for releasing classified information, you know that, right?”
“I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it. There’s a mole in my area. I can feel it.” Smith could see that she was getting agitated, and he didn’t want to upset her any further.
“I agree that something is not adding up. I’ll keep on it. Let’s see what Marty can discover. In the meantime, you just concentrate on getting better.”
She sighed. “I’ll do my best.”