USAMRIID

Platt would have preferred to put off talking to Janklow until Monday. The commander had put him in charge of this mission and yet he appeared to be watching over Platt’s shoulder every step of the way. How else could he explain yet another message, another order this soon? Platt had barely checked in on his four patients and already the commander was summoning him to his office. He suspected McCathy probably alerted Janklow the minute he saw worms through the microscope, probably even before he had called Platt.

The commander’s office door was left open, his secretary gone, reminding Platt that it was Saturday. He found Janklow in his office, standing at the window, looking out. Only then did Platt see that it was raining. The window framed a dreary gray day punctuated by gold and red splotches of swirling color. When had the leaves started to turn? In the last twenty-four hours he had lost all sense of time, of season.

“Colonel Platt.” Janklow glanced at him then back out the window, as if not quite ready.

“Yes, sir,” Platt said then simply waited.

He had been running on adrenaline for the last several hours. Janklow had the benefit of a night’s sleep. Platt had been through this sort of thing with other superior officers. He expected Janklow to remind him that he had entrusted him with this very important mission and he was counting on him not just to take care of it but to take responsibility for it, as well. In other words make sure Platt understood that if and when something went wrong or leaked to the media, Platt alone would be the one to take the fall.

He kept his hands at his sides when instinct told him to dig the exhaustion out of his eyes. He wiped at his jaw to make sure there wasn’t any leftover milk. He had convinced Mary Louise Kellerman to eat her breakfast only after making a special event of it, an event that included him joining her for Froot Loops.

Despite the glass wall separating them the little girl insisted they count out and eat all the yellow ones first. It had actually been a welcome reprieve—though a bit of a surreal one. One minute he was in a hot zone staring at twisted loops and ropes of virus, one of the deadliest viruses on earth, and the next minute he was eating Froot Loops with a five-year-old. He couldn’t help thinking of Alice in Wonderland sitting down to tea with the Mad Hatter.

“So it’s much worse,” Janklow said suddenly without turning or looking at Platt. A good thing. His voice startled Platt back to attention. Strange as it might be, he’d give anything to be back with Mary Louise, playing the Mad Hatter and eating cereal with milk than here explaining any of this to Janklow.

“Yes, sir,” he said. He figured Janklow was expecting a summary of Platt’s strategy, so he started with the basics. “We still have the Kellerman home contained and under guard.”

“Plainclothes guard?”

“Yes, sir. Construction crew with public-utility vehicles. CDC can handle contacting anyone who may have come in contact with the Kellermans. We can start administering the vaccine immediately. I ordered—”

“You haven’t already contacted the CDC, have you?” Janklow spun all the way around to look at Platt.

“No, not yet.”

The commander nodded and placed his hands behind his back. Platt recognized the gesture as guarded satisfaction. Janklow walked to his desk in the middle of the room, hands still clasped at his lower back, chin tucked down on his chest. Platt knew to wait. Janklow would instruct him to continue when he was ready again.

“Right now these four people you have here in the Slammer are the only ones we know of who have been exposed. Is that correct?” Janklow asked.

“Yes, sir.”

“A mother, a child and two government employees, correct?”

“FBI Assistant Director Cunningham and one of his special agents.”

“I understand the mother is in the final stages?”

Platt hated to admit it but said, “Yes, it looks that way. Her kidneys have begun to fail. We have her on—”

Janklow held up a hand to stop him. Platt hated the gesture but hesitated as ordered. “She won’t make it,” Janklow said as matter-of-factly as though they were talking about the stock market. “Isn’t that correct?”

Platt had spent the night doing everything possible. As a doctor he wasn’t ready to admit failure.

“Most likely that’s correct,” he agreed. “However, I have seen cases—”

The hand went up again. This time Platt had to stifle a frustrated sigh.

Janklow paced from his desk to the window, hands clasped, chin still resting on his chest, perhaps his own version of Rodin’s The Thinker. From what Platt knew of Janklow’s career, this was bigger than anything he had faced and probably the most pivotal battle he’d ever face. The man didn’t look panicked or tortured by the challenge. Instead, Platt thought he looked calm, too calm, like a man calculating whether to buy, sell or hold his investments.

“McCathy tells me that this virus jumps easily from host to host,” Janklow said, continuing his leisurely pace without looking at Platt, almost as if he were presenting a lecture on the topic. “That it’s been known to destroy entire villages in Africa.”

So Platt’s suspicions were correct. McCathy and Janklow had spent time chatting about all this. So much for chain of command.

“McCathy says it would take as little as a microscopic piece, preserved, sealed and delivered, perhaps even through the mail, to start an epidemic. Something like this,” Janklow said, “could start a mass panic.”

Platt didn’t disagree and waited for what he expected to be instructions on media containment. He didn’t, however, expect what Commander Janklow said next.

“What if they all disappeared?”

At first he wasn’t sure he had heard the commander right.

“Excuse me?”

“There’s only four now. Two are most likely doomed,” Janklow said, stopping now in front of Platt. “You said so yourself that the mother won’t make it. The daughter certainly couldn’t have spent that many days in the same house and not have the virus.”

Platt tried to conceal his surprise. Janklow mistook it for confusion, because he continued, “We make them comfortable, give them supportive care. Let the virus burn itself out.”

“What about the vaccine?”

“It’s never been proven to be a deterrent let alone a cure. Why risk it not working?”

“How can we afford not to take that risk, sir?”

“You’re thinking like a doctor, Colonel Platt. When you must think like a soldier. Must I remind you your mission is to contain and isolate? You let this virus burn itself out so there’s no possibility of it lying dormant, hidden by the guise of a vaccine that may or may not work.” He avoided looking at Platt when he added, “No one even knows they’re here.”

“We’re talking about the FBI,” Platt said, swallowing hard over a lump that seemed to appear inside his throat. He still couldn’t believe what Janklow was suggesting. Platt was tired. The adrenaline rush had left his body drained and his mind foggy. Perhaps he misunderstood what the commander was proposing.

“The FBI,” Janklow snorted like it made no difference. His chin was back on his chest in his best thinking spot. “FBI—they’re government employees, same as us. Sometimes sacrifices have to be made…” He glanced back at Platt. “For the greater good. In war zones…and hot zones.”

Then he marched to the window and took up his stance, exactly where and how Platt had found him.

Platt waited, hoping if he was patient enough Janklow would retract what he had just suggested. What he was suggesting was that they let the virus run its course inside Ms. Kellerman and her daughter as well as A.D. Cunningham and Agent O’Dell.

In other words, Commander Janklow was proposing they allow them all to crash and bleed out.