I stepped up to the window and looked inside. The floor of the room was painted red, which surprised me at first, but then I understood. Near the center of the room was a huge pig, lying on the floor, almost motionless, and I could see blood around its mouth, snout, and even its ears. Despite the red floor, I noticed a glistening pool of blood near its hindquarters.
Behind me, Zollner was saying, "You see it bleeding out, yes? Hemorrhagic fever is terrible. The organs turn to mush… You can see now why Ebola is so feared."
I noticed a big metal drain in the center of the floor, and the blood was running into the drain, and I couldn't help it, but I was back in the gutter on West 102nd Street, and my life was draining into the damned sewer and I could see it, and I knew how the pig felt watching his own blood leaking out of him, and the rushing sound in the ears, and the pounding in the chest as the blood pressure dropped and the heart tried to compensate by beating faster and faster until you knew it was going to stop.
I heard Zollner's voice from far away. "Mr. Corey? Mr. Corey? You can step away now. Let the others take a look. Mr. Corey?"
CHAPTER 13
We don't want any viruses or bacteria hitchhiking a ride back to the mainland," Dr. Zollner said, unnecessarily.
We stripped, put the lab whites and slippers in a hamper and the paper underwear in a trash can.
I was not totally focused, just sort of doing what everyone else was doing.
We all followed Dr. Z to the shower room — me, Max, Nash, and Foster — and we stood under the showerheads washing our hair with a special shampoo, scrubbing our nails with a brush and disinfectant. We all gargled with some sort of horrid mouthwash, rinsed and spit. I kept soaping up and rinsing off until finally Zollner said, "That's enough. You'll catch pneumonia and die." He laughed.
I dried off with the provided towel, threw it in a hamper, then walked, naked, back to my locker, germ-free and squeaky clean, at least on the outside.
Other than the men I'd entered with, there was no one around. Even the attendant wasn't visible. I could see how a person could conceivably smuggle large items out of the lab and into the locker room. But I don't think that's what happened, so it didn't matter if it were possible or not.
Zollner had disappeared and come back with locker keys, which he distributed.
I opened my locker and began getting dressed. Some very thoughtrul fellow, quite possibly Mr. Stevens, had been kind enough to launder my shorts and in doing so had inadvertently washed the red clay right out of my pocket. Oh, well. Good try, Corey.
I examined my.38 and it looked okay, but you never know when some joker is going to file the firing pin, clog the barrel, or take the powder out of your rounds. I made a mental note to check the piece and the ammo more closely at home.
Max, whose locker was beside mine, said softly, "That was an experience."
I nodded and asked, "Now do you feel better about living downwind from Plum Island?"
"Oh, yeah, I feel fucking terrific."
"I was impressed with the biocontainment," I said. "State-of-the art."
"Yeah. But I'm thinking about a hurricane or a terrorist attack."
"Mr. Stevens will protect Plum Island from a terrorist attack."
"Yeah. How about a hurricane?"
"Same drill as a nuclear attack — bend over, put your head between your legs, and kiss your ass goodbye."
"Right." He looked at me and asked, "Hey, are you okay?"
"Sure."
"You sort of got spacey back there."
"Tired. My lung is wheezing."
"I feel responsible about dragging you into this."
"I can't imagine why."
He smiled and said, "If you nail Ms. Tightass, you owe me one."
"I haven't the slightest idea what you're talking about." I slipped into my docksiders and stood. I said to Max, "You must be having an allergic reaction to the soap. Your face is all blotchy."
"What?" He put his hands to his cheeks and made for the closest mirror. He kept looking at himself, leaning closer over the washbasin. "What the hell are you talking about? My skin is fine."
"Must be the light in here."
"Cut the crap, Corey. This isn't a funny subject."
"Right." I went to the door of the locker room where Dr. Z was waiting. I said to him, "Despite my bad manners, I'm very impressed with your operation, and I thank you for your time."
"I enjoyed your company, Mr. Corey. I regret having met you under these sad circumstances."
George Foster joined us and said to Dr. Zollner, "I intend to make a favorable report regarding your biocontainment procedures."
"Thank you."
"But I think that perimeter security could be better, and I'll recommend that a study be conducted."
Zollner nodded.
Foster went on, "Fortunately, it would appear that the Gordons did not steal any dangerous substance, and if they stole anything, it was an experimental vaccine."
Dr. Zollner again nodded.
Foster concluded, "I would recommend a permanent detachment of Marines at Fort Terry."
I was anxious to get out of the orange locker room and into the sunlight, so I moved toward the door and everyone followed.
Out in the big, gleaming lobby, Dr. Z looked for Beth, still not getting it.
Anyway, we all walked to the reception counter where we exchanged our white plastic chain passes for the original blue clip-on ones. I said to Zollner, "Is there a gift shop where we can buy souvenirs and T-shirts?"
Zollner laughed. "No, but I'll suggest it to Washington. In the meantime, you should pray that you haven't picked up a souvenir of another kind."
"Thanks, Doc."
Dr. Zollner looked at his watch and said, "You can catch the 3:45 ferry if you wish, or you can come back to my office if you have anything further to discuss."
I'd wanted to go back to the artillery batteries and explore the underground passages, but I thought if I suggested that, I'd have a mutiny on my hands. Also, to be honest, I was not up to another trek around the island.
I said to Dr. Zollner, "We await the boss. We don't make major decisions without her."
Dr. Z nodded and smiled.
It appeared to me that Zollner didn't seem particularly worried about any of this — about people questioning his security or his biocontainment procedures, or even about the possibility that his two star scientists stole something good and valuable, or something bad and deadly. It occurred to me that Zollner was not worried because even if he'd somehow screwed up or if he could be held accountable for someone else's screwup, he was already off the hook — he'd already cut his deal with the government; he was cooperating in a cover-up in exchange for a free pass on this problem. There was also a possibility, however remote, that Dr. Z killed the Gordons or knew who killed them. As far as I was concerned, everyone who was close to the Gordons was a suspect.
Beth came out of the ladies' locker room and joined us at the reception counter. I noticed that she hadn't done a complete paint-by-numbers job, and her cheeks glowed with that freshly scrubbed look.
She exchanged passes, and Dr. Zollner related his offers and our options.
Beth looked at us and said, "I've seen enough, unless you want to do the underground bunkers or something else."
We all shook our heads.
She said to Dr. Zollner, "We reserve the right to revisit the island anytime until this case is closed."
"As far as I'm concerned, you're welcome anytime." He added, "But it's not my decision."
A horn sounded outside, and I looked through the glass doors. A white bus was out front, and a few employees were boarding.