“How did you identify her?”
“She wore a badge from a research firm; Nexus Genetics. We were able to learn that she was part of an expedition to the Afar region-the Great Rift Valley. Nexus has not been forthcoming with information about Miss Carter or the purpose of the expedition.”
“Geneticists doing field research in the Rift Valley?” Sara didn’t like the sound of that. She made a mental note to check up on Nexus at the earliest opportunity. “I suppose there’s a chance they might have been exposed to something contagious, but that’s a pretty remote area. If she’s picked up something, she would have got it from an animal or possibly a windborne vector. Possibly a bacillus or fungal spore. I doubt we’re looking at anything communicable.
“But,” she added, as they filed into an elevator car, “it is more probable that it’s just a case of dehydration. How is she responding to therapy?”
Abdullah pressed a button on the control panel. “Her vital signs have improved. Blood tests confirm that her organs are functioning properly, and her white blood cell count is normal. However, she has not regained consciousness.”
“Was she injured?” Even as she asked, Sara knew that there was a much more likely explanation: psychological trauma.
Abdullah confirmed her suspicions. “I believe her condition may be psychosomatic. When she arrived, she was holding an object-clinging to it, like a lifeline. When we tried to take it from her, she became agitated, almost to the point of cardiac arrest. We decided to let her keep it.”
“What object?”
The elevator car settled to a stop and the doors slid open. Sara’s senses were immediately hit with the smell unique to hospitals-a mixture of sickness and heavy duty disinfectant that grew stronger as they moved through the hallway. It was a like a siren, blaring in her head, but Abdullah’s answer shocked her out of her sensory fugue.
“A skull. An ape skull, I think.”
Sara almost gasped aloud. A primate skull in the hands of a geneticist suspected of being a carrier for an unknown contagion? Now she was certain that Fulbright knew more than he was letting on, and suddenly wearing the hazmat suit didn’t seem quite so unnecessary.
But there was a piece that still didn’t fit. “I didn’t know there were apes in that part of the Rift Valley.”
“I don’t believe there are. But the skull looks very old. A fossil, perhaps. As I said, she became agitated when we tried to take it away, so we have left it alone.” He stopped at a closed door, but made no move to enter. “This is her room.”
There was a sign taped to the door, and even though she couldn’t read Amharic, Sara had a pretty good idea what it said. Ideally, there should have been a number of other contamination control measures-a negative air pressure system, rubber seals on the door, plastic sheeting at the very least-but as both Abdullah and Nakamura had stated, there was no reason to believe that the patient was sick with a contagious disease. She nodded to the men, and then tugged the suit’s cowl over her head and zippered herself in. The hospital odor vanished as oxygen began to flow from the suit’s self-contained breathing apparatus. All three men conspicuously took a step back as she reached for the door handle.
Beyond that portal was an ordinary hospital room. A tall, dark-skinned woman, covered in a simple white sheet, lay supine upon a very ordinary hospital bed. Sara listened to the gentle hiss of air in her suit for a moment, waiting to see if the woman would stir-she did not-then moved forward.
Her eyes were drawn immediately to the object the woman held protectively to her breast. Through the patient’s splayed fingers, Sara was able to make out that it was indeed a skull, and that it was certainly not human; the heavy brow ridges and flatter aspect seemed to verify Dr. Abdullah’s supposition that it belonged to an ape, but it was beyond the scope of Sara’s knowledge to identify the species. The skull was discolored with age, almost certainly something unearthed many centuries after the animal it had once been part of had died, but it did not automatically follow that the skull was harmless. Some viruses could remain dormant for long periods, just waiting for exposure to a new host. Sara decided that, regardless of whether a pathogen could be identified from the patient’s labs, the skull needed further scrutiny, and she made a mental note to write orders for a sedative in order to pry it from the woman’s hands.
With that determination made, she began a head-to-toe assessment of the patient. She saw immediately that the woman looked thin and fragile, even though a nasal-gastric tube was supplying her with a solution of food, and an intravenous drip delivered fluids-Sara noted that the IV bag contained 5% dextrose in saline. Whatever ordeal this woman had suffered had left a deep mark, and Sara found herself wondering what had become of the rest of her expedition. But despite the appearance of frailty, the woman was breathing steadily, and showed none of the typical signs of a viral infection. Sara placed an aural thermometer probe in the woman’s ear; though not always the most accurate instrument, it was easier to employ when wearing a hazmat suit. The thermometer beeped after a couple seconds and Sara saw that woman’s body temperature was actually a degree below normal; no fever, no infection. Sara went down the checklist of possible symptoms, but there was no escaping the simple fact that, aside from being inexplicably unconscious, the woman was healthy.
What did Fulbright know that had prompted him to call in the CDC?
Sara vowed to get to the bottom of that mystery, but she wasn’t ready to completely dismiss the idea that the patient had been exposed to something. She methodically drew off thirty ccs of blood from the IV, collected in three separate vials, and placed them in the specimen kit. If the woman had a virus, even one that was presently dormant, there would be evidence of an immune response.
With her work done, Sara left the room. As soon as the door was closed behind her, she doffed the hazmat suit.
Fulbright hastened forward. “Well?”
Sara ignored him and instead addressed Abdullah. “I’d like to get that skull away from her. Just to do some tests on it. Sedate her if you have to.”
The Ethiopian doctor frowned, but nodded.
“I don’t think there’s any risk here,” she continued, “but we’ll…”
She trailed off as a strange sensation rippled through her. She struggled to interpret the sensory response. It seemed vaguely familiar, and though she couldn’t pin it down, she knew it was associated with something bad.
Fulbright picked up on her behavior immediately. “What’s wrong?”
His roguish smile had been replaced by something else-grim determination. His expression reminded Sara of Jack Sigler…not as her boyfriend, but as the lethal leader of Chess Team, and that was when she remembered when and where she’d felt this way before.
“Did you hear it? An explosion?”
“I heard nothing,” said Abdullah, looking perplexed.
Suddenly, the quiet environment of the hospital ward was shattered by a wailing fire alarm siren.
Fulbright drew a compact semi-automatic pistol from a holster concealed beneath his shirt. “We need to get out of here,” he declared. “It’s an attack.”
Even though she knew better, her first impulse was incredulity. Denial. It’s just a coincidence… He’s being paranoid… Everything is going to be okay…
But the appearance of two men at the end of the hall, dressed head-to-toe in black combat gear and brandishing guns, swept away all trace of doubt.
3.
The taxi rolled three times.
King was sure of that. His perceptions were heightened by the rush of adrenaline through his bloodstream, and everything seemed to be happening in slow motion. Even curled as he was in a protective ball, he watched as the interior of the cab rotated around him, batting him around like a wet sock in a tumble dryer. Each impact was like getting hit by a linebacker in a football game.