'Meaning, the smallpox vaccination isn't going to work,' I said as my heart seemed to drop right out of me.
'All we can do is test in the animal lab. We're talking at least a week before we know and can even begin thinking about a new vaccine. For practical purposes, we're calling this smallpox, but we really don't know what the hell it is. I'll also remind you we've been working on an AIDS vaccine since I986 and are no closer now than we were back then.'
'Tangier Island needs to be quarantined immediately. ' We've got to contain this,' I
exclaimed, alarmed to the edge of panic.
'Believe me, we know. We're getting a team together right now and will mobilize the
Coast Guard.'
I hung up and was frantic when I said to Wesley, 'I've got to go. We've got an outbreak of something no one's ever heard of. It's already killed at least two people. Maybe three. Maybe four.'
He was following me down the hall as I talked.
'It's smallpox but not smallpox. We've got to find out how it's being transmitted. Did Lila Pruitt know the mother who just died? Did they have any contact at all, or did the daughter? Did they even live near each other? What about the water supply? A water tower. Blue. I remember seeing one.'
I was getting dressed. Wesley stood in the doorway, his face almost gray and like stone.
'You're going to go back out there,' he said.
'I need to get downtown first.' I looked at him.
'I'll drive,' he said.
Chapter Twelve
Wesley dropped me off and said he was going to the Richmond Field Office for a while and would check with me later. My heels were loud as I walked down the corridor, bidding good morning to members of my staff. Rose was on the phone when I walked in, and the glimpse of my desk through her adjoining doorway was devastating. Hundreds of reports and death certificates awaited my initials and signature, and mail and phone messages were cascading out of my in-basket.
'What is this?' I said as she hung up. 'You'd think I've been gone a year.'
'It feels like you have.'
She was rubbing lotion into her hands and I noticed the small canister of Vita aromatherapy facial spray on the edge of my desk, the open mailing tube next to it. There was also one on Rose's desk, next to her bottle of Vaseline Intensive Care. I stared back and forth, from my Vita spray to hers, my subconscious processing what I was seeing before my reason did. Reality seemed to turn inside out, and I grabbed the door frame. Rose was on her feet, her chair flying back on its rollers as she lunged around her desk for me.
'Dr Scarpetta!'
'Where did you get this?' I asked, staring at the spray.
'It's just a sample.' She looked bewildered. 'A bunch of them came in the mail.'
'Have you used it?'
Now she was really worried as she looked at me. 'Well, it just got here. I haven't tried it yet.'
'Don't touch it!' I said, severely. 'Who else got one?' 'Gosh, I really don't know. What is it? What's wrong?' She raised her voice.
Getting gloves from my office, I grabbed the facial spray off her desk and triple- bagged it.
'Everybody in the conference room, now!'
I ran down the hall to the front office, and made the same announcement. Within minutes, my entire staff, including doctors still in scrubs, was assembled. Some people were out of breath, and everyone was staring at me, unnerved and frazzled. I held up the transparent evidence bag containing the sample size of Vita spray.
'Who has one of these?' I asked, looking around the room. Four people raised their hands.
'Who has used it?' I then asked. 'I need to know if absolutely anybody has.'
Cleta, a clerk from the front office, looked frightened. 'Why? What's the matter?'
'Have you sprayed this on your face,' I said to her.
'On my plants,' she said.
'Plants get bagged and burned,' I said. 'Where's Wingo?'
'MCV.'
'I don't know this for a fact,' I spoke to everyone, 'and I pray I'm wrong. But we might be dealing with product tampering. Please don't panic, but under no circumstances does anyone touch this spray. Do we know exactly how they were delivered?'
It was Cleta who spoke. 'This morning I came in before anybody up front. There were police reports shoved through the slot, as always. And these had been, too. They were in little mailing tubes. There were eleven of them. I know because I counted to see if there was enough to go around.'
'And the mailman didn't bring them. They had just been shoved through the slot of the front door.'
'I don't know who brought them. But they looked like they'd been mailed.'
'Any tubes you still have, please bring them to me,' I said.
I was told that no one had used one, and all were collected and brought to my office. Putting on cotton gloves and glasses, I studied the mailing tube meant for me. Postage was bulk rate and clearly a manufacturer's sample, and I found it most unusual for something like that to be addressed to a specific individual. I looked inside the tube, and there was a coupon for the spray. As I held it up to the light, I noticed edges imperceptibly uneven, as if the coupon had been clipped with scissors versus a machine.
'Rose?' I called out.
She walked into my office.
'The tube you got,' I said. 'Who was it addressed to?'
'Resident, I think.' Her face was stressed.
'Then the only one with a name on it is mine.'
'I think so. This is awful.'
'Yes, it is.' I picked up the mailing tube. 'Look at this. Letters all the same size, the postmark on the same label as the address. I've never seen that.'
'Like it came off a computer,' she said as her amazement grew.
'I'm going across the street to the DNA lab.' I got up. 'Call USAMRIID right away and tell Colonel Fujitsubo we need to schedule a conference call between him, us, CDC, Quantico, now.'
'Where do you want to do it?' she asked as I hurried out the door.
'Not here. See what Benton says.'
Outside, I ran down the sidewalk past my parking lot, and crossed Fourteenth Street. I entered the Seaboard Building where DNA and other forensic labs had relocated several years before. At the security desk, I called the section chief, Dr Douglas Wheat, who had been given a male family name, despite her gender.
'I need a closed air system and a hood,' I explained to her.
'Come on back.'
A long sloping hallway always polished bright led to a series of glass-enclosed laboratories. Inside, scientists were prepossessed with pipettes and gels and
radioactive probes as they coaxed sequences of genetic code to unravel their identities. Wheat, who battled paperwork almost as much as I did, was sitting at her desk, typing something on her computer. She was an attractive woman in a strong way, forty and friendly.
'What trouble are you getting into this time?' She smiled at me, then eyed my bag. 'I'm afraid to ask.'
'Possible product tampering,' I said. 'I need to spray some on a slide, but it absolutely can't get in the air or on me or anyone.'
'What is it?' She was very somber now, getting up.
'Possibly a virus.'
'As in the one on Tangier?'
'That's my fear.'
'You don't think it might be wiser to get this to CDC, let them…'
'Douglas, yes, it would be wiser,' I patiently explained as I coughed again. 'But we haven't got time. I've got to know. We have no idea how many of these might be in the hands of consumers.'
Her DNA lab had a number of closed air system hoods surrounded by glass bioguards, because the evidence tested here was blood. She led me to one in the back of a room, and we put on masks and gloves, and she gave me a lab coat. She turned on a fan that sucked air up into the hood, passing it through HEPA filters.
'Ready?' I asked, taking the facial spray out of the bag. 'We'll make this quick.' I held a clean slide and the small canister under the hood and sprayed.
'Let's dip this in a ten percent bleach solution,' I said when I was done. 'Then we'll triple bag it, get it and the other ten off to Atlanta.'