No, Emma guessed that being in the advertising business her mother probably saw the whole "pink thing" as a way to avoid white. Her mother was very big into subliminal messages. You are what people think you are. That was a favorite line her mother used. It totally worked for her. Besides, she'd already done the white-dress thing with Emma's dad. No sense in reminding people, and at the same time, why not pretend that she cared about breast cancer?
Emma was very certain that when it came her turn, she would definitely choose white. Not like it was something she needed to worry about right this minute. How could she have time for boys when her dad kept nagging her about college applications and scholarship stuff and keeping her grades up. All Emma really cared about were the gorgeous sling-back shoes that matched her bridesmaid's dress. Even if pink wasn't quite her color she knew she looked hot in those shoes.
She glanced at the other magazines spread around her, all of them flipped open to must-read articles. In Cosmo was "The Four Things He Doesn't Dare Tell You." Entertainment Weekly had something about Project Runway. The TV show The Office was on the cover. J Lo was all aglow in People. Exciting stuff and yet Emma chose to stick with the packet of love letters.
September 16, 1982
Dear Liney,
It was so good to see you. I wish you were still here. I can't believe how much
I miss you.
J.B. is still going on and on about the grape jelly beans you bought him. He's just jealous. He knows he'll never be like me and get someone like you. You know, it's funny I can't even remember knowing, let alone mentioning to you that grape was his favorite flavor, but you're amazing.
So are you wearing the T-shirt I gave you? I knew you'd love it. It about killed me to not give it to you this summer. I bought it the day we went to the Art In-stitute.Do you remember how I didn't even want to go? Vatican art? Who cares? Remember? But you made that whole day such an adventure I wanted to repay the favor. I'm big on that, you know. I always repay favors. And it was easy to sneak off and buy it when you were standing there mesmerized. Actually, it was when you were looking at the one by that Caravaggio dude, Deposition from the Cross. See, I remember. I've been telling you, I'm a details guy.
Also, I wanted to apologize again for leaving you right when the pizza got there. Even if it was just an hour. My sister's such a moron. I can't believe she had to pick Saturday night to call me.She's been trying to guilt me into coming home. Like I told you, that's not my home anymore. I know you said it wasn't a big deal and I know you're not mad or anything. Sometimes I wish my family would just disappear, you know?
Emma heard a car door slam and started folding and tucking the letters safely away. She rolled her discarded sweatshirt around the packet and grabbed the People magazine just as her dad came in the front door.
CHAPTER
49
USAMRIID
Platt took over the small conference room next door to his office. He made a pot of coffee and ate an apple he found in his desk drawer. He started retrieving, sorting and compiling information. In no time he had the contents of file folders spilled across the tabletop. On his laptop computer he accessed documents, browsed and read and printed out pages that went into a separate stack. And on a legal pad he scrawled a series of lists and notes.
On one page he jotted bits and pieces about Ebola Zaire.
The symptoms:
First stage (within 1-2 days of infection):
fever, severe headache, sore throat, muscle aches, weakness, nosebleed.
Next stage (within a week, as little as 3 days):
vomiting, abdominal pain, jaundice, diarrhea, conjunctivitis (red eyes).
Final stage (7-21 days):
tissue destruction, organ failure, massive hemorrhaging, shock, respiratory arrest, death.
On a separate pile was everything he could find about the vaccine, including a copy of the original report that first appeared in the Journal Public Library of Science Pathogens, January 2007. The research team that developed the vaccine had been from Canada's National Microbiology Laboratory in Winnipeg and USAMRIID, right here at Fort Detrick.
On another page he scribbled pieces about the vaccine:
Most effective when giving injections in a series (comparable to rabies shots)
Administered after infection within 30 minutes—90% survival rate.
24 hours after infection—50% survival rate.
Administered before infection—potential for the vaccine to protect but unproven to date.
Tests to date all performed on macaque monkeys.
Human trials limited. Not enough data to establish survival rates.
Not approved by the FDA.
Would require an emergency "compassionate use" permit.
Platt underlined "compassionate use." He wouldn't have time to make an argument to the FDA, but as part of a military research facility he would try to find an exception. He'd do whatever it took. Janklow had said that there were sacrifices that often had to be made in war zones and in hot zones. The same was true about exceptions.
He remembered Afghanistan and a makeshift medical facility in the back of a truck. Every time they came under fire the protocol was to move, get the hell out, but in the middle of an amputation no way could you rumble to safety. So you sat in the line of fire, trying to keep the soldier on the gurney from bleeding to death and hoping all of you didn't get blown apart.
No one ever questioned breaking protocol.You did what you had to do under special circumstances. Protect and serve.You certainly didn't leave a soldier behind to bleed to death and you didn't stand back and watch while four people under your care crashed.
In a short time, Platt was finished. He packed up what he needed, left the mess in the conference room to clean up later, locking the door behind him. Then he headed back up to the labs, the confidence back in his stride. As the head of the facility he required no other signature but his own. He didn't need Janklow. He didn't needed McCathy. All he needed now was the vaccine.
CHAPTER
50
Reston, Virginia
Tully rummaged through the kitchen cabinets. He had spent the afternoon fast-forwarding through security tapes from Quantico. He had looked at three-days' worth and found no one entering who didn't belong and nothing remotely close to a doughnut box being carried in. He was exhausted. He wanted simple and easy like paper plates. They had to have paper plates.
Emma leaned over the service counter, watching him, not helping, of course, just watching. Then out of the blue she asked, "How did you and Mom meet?"
"Excuse me?" The question startled him so much he bumped his head on an open cabinet door.
"Mom. Where'd you meet her?"
"I think it was at a party or something." He made it sound like no big deal instead of adding that Caroline had been wearing a baby-blue sweater and pearls. He remembered thinking she was the classiest act he had ever met. "She was with a buddy of mine."
"You stole her away?"
He found paper plates, an unopened package. "Not exactly," he told Emma. "I guess she thought I was charming or something."