USAMRIID

Colonel Benjamin Platt rubbed both hands over his face, stopping to dig the heels into his eyes then raking his fingers over his short cropped hair. It didn’t do much good. He was exhausted. His vision was still a bit blurry from staring at the monitors and computer screens for the last several hours. He sat back in the rolling leather chair and twirled it around to look in through the glass wall.

Thankfully she had fallen asleep about an hour ago. What a nightmare this must be for her. To have a spaceman come into her home and take her mom away in a plastic bubble. Then to be brought here. The Slammer tended to freak out even the most stable people. It was bad enough to be locked in but worse being poked and prodded by doctors in space suits. There had been plenty of studies done on the psychological effect of human contact, human touch and, of course, the psychological effect of its absence. The Slammer proved most of those studies to the extreme.

Still, they couldn’t justify taking her to a civilian hospital where a child would be much more comfortable. They couldn’t risk exposing hospital personnel who simply would not be trained to deal with something like this. And, of course, they couldn’t risk the exposure to the media. Platt knew that was, in part, Janklow’s reasoning. His directive had been quite clear.

Platt gulped what was left in his coffee mug despite it being bitter and lukewarm. He couldn’t remember when he had eaten last. He rubbed at his eyes again. No matter how hard he tried he could not stop thinking about Ali. Mary Louise triggered something inside him and his exhaustion wasn’t allowing him to shut it down. The little girl’s big, blue, curious eyes and long tangle of curls reminded him so much of his daughter. What was worse than the memory was the physical ache. He still missed her and it surprised him how much. It had been almost five years. More years had passed since she was gone than the years that she had been in his life.

He was in Afghanistan when it happened. He had left only months before, leaving behind a loving wife, a beautiful daughter and starting a promising new career as an Army doctor. He knew how dangerous it would be but exciting, too, because he was one of the chosen few who would protect the troops against biological weapons. It was considered a heroic mission and after 9/11 it felt like a worthy obligation. It was a chance to put to use all his textbook knowledge, to try experiments in the field what had only been proven in the labs. To save lives.

He had been willing to take the risks for himself, totally unaware that the real danger was back at home. He would have given up all his so-called valuable knowledge, his golden opportunity to have just a few more minutes with his precious Ali, to be there with her. Even if it was just to hold her hand before she was gone forever. But someone else had made that decision for him, had decided what was more important, had denied him that small wish.

A knock at the door startled him. The door opened behind him and Platt spun around to find Sergeant Landis.

“Sir, I have that information you requested.”

“You found something?” He said “something” when he really hoped Landis had found someone.

“There is no father listed on the birth certificate,” Landis cut to the chase.

“How about grandparents?”

“A grandmother. Lives in Richmond. The grandfather is recently deceased.”

He handed Platt a folded piece of paper. Knowing Landis, Platt expected to find more than enough information, probably more than he needed.

“One problem, sir,” Landis stood in front of him, unfolding a second piece of paper, “Commander Janklow left a message for you a few minutes ago. He said—” and Landis read from the paper “‘—under no uncertain terms is Colonel Platt to call any relatives of any of the contained victims before Monday morning. We need to know what it is we’re dealing with first.’”

Landis handed Platt the note but remained standing in front of him as if waiting to be dismissed or perhaps awaiting further instruction.

Platt took the paper and tapped its folded corner against the desk. He glanced back into the little girl’s room and his eyes swept back over the monitors and computer screens that continued to blink and click and gather data.

When Janklow assigned him this mission he told him it was in Platt’s hands, he expected them to be steady, unflinching hands that would do what was necessary, whatever he—meaning Platt—deemed necessary. But then Janklow insisted McCathy be included. Now this.

Janklow had assigned Platt the mission because he knew Platt was a play-by-the-numbers, follow-all-orders, dot-all-the-i’s kind of leader. And yet, Janklow didn’t trust him.

“Do you have kids, Sergeant Landis?”

“Excuse me, sir?”

“Kids. Do you and your wife have any?”

“Two boys, sir.” Landis was staring at him now, more curious than confused. Platt never asked personal questions.

“What time does your shift end, Sergeant?”

Landis didn’t need to look at his wristwatch. “About an hour ago, sir.”

“Go on home to your wife and your boys, Sergeant.”

“Sir?” Now he looked confused, almost uncertain as to whether he should leave his boss who was acting strangely. “Is there anything else you need me to do?”

“No, you’ve given me everything I need.” Platt waved the first piece of paper Landis had handed him to indicate this was all he needed. The thought of Mary Louise being alone until Monday tied a knot in Platt’s gut. She’d already been alone for how many days?

Sergeant Landis left, making room for Dr. Sophie Drummond’s arrival.

“Sir, sorry to interrupt.” She stayed in the doorway until he nodded. “Agent O’Dell has been asking to talk with you.”

“Restless and uncooperative so soon?”

“Very cooperative. Maybe a bit spooked.”

“Slammeritis?”

“Perhaps.”

“Any word from McCathy?”

“Not yet.”

He nodded again and she slipped back out the door.

Not hearing from McCathy set Platt on edge. If McCathy was working by process of elimination then he should have already ruled out the worst. Not knowing churned up acid to eat away at the knots in Platt’s stomach. He knew all too well what Agent O’Dell must be feeling.