“She just wasn’t as careful as she should have been,” Beth said. “She took chances, like not using one of the hoods when it was indicated or not wearing her goggles when she was supposed to.”
Jack could understand that attitude.
“She didn’t even take the antibiotic Dr. Zimmerman prescribed for her after the plague case,” Beth said.
“How unfortunate,” Jack said. “That might have protected her against the Rocky Mountain spotted fever.”
“I know,” Beth said. “I wish that I had tried harder to convince her. I mean, I took it, and I don’t think I was exposed.”
“Did she happen to say she did anything different when she got samples from Lagenthorpe?” Jack asked.
“No, she didn’t,” Beth said. “That’s why we feel she was exposed down here in the lab when she processed the samples. Rickettsia are notoriously dangerous in the lab.”
Jack was about to respond when he noticed that Beth had begun to fidget and look over his shoulder. Jack glanced in the direction she was looking, but there was no one there.
“I really should be getting back to work,” Beth said. “And I shouldn’t be talking with you. Dr. Cheveau told us specifically.”
“Don’t you find that strange?” Jack said. “After all, I am a medical examiner in this city. Legally I have a right to investigate the deaths of the patients assigned to us.”
“I guess I do,” Beth admitted. “But what can I say? I just work here.” She stepped around Jack and went back to her workstation.
Jack followed her. “I don’t mean to be a pest,” he said. “But my intuition tells me something weird is going on here; that’s why I keep coming back. A number of people have been acting defensive, including your boss. Now there could be an explanation. AmeriCare and this hospital are a business, and these outbreaks have been tremendously disruptive economically. That’s reason enough for people to be acting strangely. But from my point of view it’s more than that.”
“So what do you want from me?” Beth asked. She’d taken her seat and gone back to transferring the throat cultures to the agar plates.
“I’d like to ask you to look around,” Jack said. “If pathological bacteria are being deliberately spread they have to come from somewhere, and the microbiology lab would be a good place to start looking. I mean, the equipment is here to store and handle the stuff. It’s not as if plague bacteria is something you’d find anywhere.”
“It wouldn’t be so strange to find it on occasion in any standard lab,” Beth said.
“Really?” Jack questioned. He’d assumed that outside of the CDC and maybe a few academic centers, plague bacteria would be a rarity.
“Intermittently labs have to get cultures of all different bacteria to test the efficacy of their reagents,” Beth said as she continued to work. “Antibodies, which are often the main ingredient in many modern reagents, can deteriorate, and if they do the tests would give false negatives.”
“Oh, of course,” Jack said. He felt stupid. He should have remembered all this. All laboratory tests had to be constantly checked.
“Where do you get something like plague bacteria?”
“From National Biologicals in Virginia,” Beth said.
“What’s the process for getting it?” Jack asked.
“Just call up and order it,” Beth said.
“Who can do that?” Jack asked.
“Anybody,” Beth said.
“You’re joking,” Jack said. Somehow he’d thought the security at a minimum would be comparable to that involved in getting a controlled drug like morphine.
“I’m not joking,” Beth said. “I’ve done it many times.”
“You don’t need some special permit?” Jack asked.
“I have to get the signature of the director of the lab on the purchase order,” Beth said. “But that’s just to guarantee that the hospital will pay for it.”
“So let me get this straight,” Jack said. “Anyone can call these people up and have plague sent to them?”
“As long as their credit is okay,” Beth said.
“How do the cultures come?” Jack said.
“Usually by mail,” Beth said. “But if you pay extra and need it faster you can get overnight service.”
Jack was appalled, but he tried to hide his reaction. He was embarrassed at his own naïveté. “Do you have this organization’s phone number?” he asked.
Beth pulled open a file drawer to her immediate right, leafed through some files, and pulled out a folder. Opening it up, she took out a sheet and indicated the letterhead.
Jack wrote the number down. Then he pointed to the phone. “Do you mind?” he asked.
Beth pushed the phone in his direction but glanced up at the clock as she did so.
“I’ll just be a second,” Jack said. He still couldn’t believe what he’d just been told.
Jack dialed the number. The phone was answered and a recording gave him the name of the company and asked him to make a selection. Jack pressed two for sales. Presently a charmingly friendly voice came on the line and asked if she could be of assistance.
“Yes,” Jack said. “This is Dr. Billy Rubin and I’d like to place an order.”
“Do you have an account with National Biologicals?” the woman asked.
“Not yet,” Jack said. “In fact, for this order I’d just like to use my American Express card.”
“I’m sorry, but we only accept Visa or MasterCard,” the woman said.
“No problem,” Jack said. “Visa will be fine.”
“Okay,” the woman said cheerfully. “Could I have your first order?”
“How about some meningococcus,” Jack said.
The woman laughed. “You’ll have to be more specific,” she said. “I need the serologic group, the serotype, and the subtype. We have hundreds of meningococcus subspecies.”
“Uh-oh!” Jack said, pretending to have been suddenly paged. “An emergency has just come up! I’m afraid I’ll have to call back.”
“No problem,” the woman said. “Call anytime. As you know, we’re here twenty-four hours a day to serve your culture needs.”
Jack hung up the phone. He was stunned.
“I have the feeling you didn’t believe me,” Beth said.
“I didn’t,” Jack admitted. “I didn’t realize the availability of these pathogens. But I’d still like you to look around here and see if these offending bugs might somehow be stashed here now. Could you do that?”
“I suppose,” Beth said without her usual enthusiasm.
“But I want you to be discreet,” Jack said. “And careful. I want this just between you and me.”
Jack took out one of his cards and wrote his home number on the back. He handed it to her. “You can call me anytime, day or night, if you find anything or if you get into any trouble because of me. Okay?”
Beth took the card, examined it briefly, and then stuck it into her lab coat pocket. “Okay,” she said.
“Would you mind if I asked for your number?” Jack said. “I might have some more questions myself. Obviously microbiology isn’t my forte.”
Beth thought for a moment, then relented. She got out a piece of paper and wrote her phone number down. She handed it to Jack, who put it into his wallet.
“I think you’d better go now,” she said.
“I’m on my way,” Jack said. “Thanks for your help.”
“You’re welcome,” Beth said. She was her old self again.
Preoccupied, Jack walked out of the microbiology section and headed across the main portion of the lab. He still couldn’t believe how easy it was to order pathological cultures.
About twenty feet from the double swinging doors that connected the lab to the reception area, Jack stopped dead in his tracks. Backing through the doors was a figure that looked alarmingly like Martin. The individual was carrying a tray loaded with prepared throat swabs ready for plating.
Jack felt like a criminal caught in the act. For a fraction of a second he contemplated fleeing or trying to hide. But there was no time. Besides, irritation at the absurdity of his fear of being recognized inspired him to stand his ground.