Dr. Reischtal struggled not to draw his hands into fists. “I would suggest, Dr. Menard, that you choose your words carefully. It appears that you are obsessing over a single individual that may hold valuable clues to a virus with the power to wipe out the other three million human beings in this city, if not the entire country. We are on the precipice of an outbreak the likes of which this world has never seen. That, Dr. Menard, is my responsibility.” He saw no reason to discuss how insects were transmitting the virus. It would only serve to muddy the waters and distract them from focusing on a way to defeat the virus. He would leave the decision on when to reveal the truth to the President, and deal with the fallout at that point. If these people were beyond saving when that happened, then so be it.
His gaze swept the room. Even through the plastic faceplate, his stare held an almost physical impact. “I would encourage my fellow doctors to, if you feel I am in any way failing in my capacity as special investigator to unknown viruses, please, by all means, speak up. Voice your dissent.”
The table was silent. Dr. Menard tried to meet everyone’s eyes, but no one would look up from their notes. Even Dr. Halsey placed her hands in her lap, endlessly twisting her wedding ring.
“I believe you stand corrected, Dr. Menard,” Dr. Reischtal.
Dr. Menard met Dr. Reischtal’s glare. “Intimidation may achieve results, but it is temporary and has many unanticipated consequences. Remember that. In the long run, the truth will come out. It always does. This entire operation is a farce, for chrissakes.”
Dr. Reischtal said, “I will not tolerate blasphemy. Watch your language.”
“What?”
“As a man of science, you may find matters of faith contemptible. I, however, do not.”
“Goddamnit!” Dr. Menard pounded on the table. “Explain yourself! You are putting every single one of us at risk, not to mention the rest of the population of the city. You need to be held accountable.”
Dr. Reischtal spoke slowly, carefully enunciating each word. “This is your last warning, Dr. Menard. I will not tolerate any more dissension on this team. I sincerely hope you understand.”
“Or what? Or what? Is that a threat? You’ll sic your attack dog on me? Huh? Your shadow?”
Sergeant Reaves, leaning against the wall near the door, did not change his blank expression. His eyes, dull and lifeless, stared out at the room, focusing on nothing and everything at the same time.
Dr. Menard said, “We’re not fooled. These soldiers, they’re not part of the U.S. Armed Forces, so who are they? Who do they work for?”
Dr. Reischtal picked up the conference room phone and said, “Please escort Dr. Menard from the property.”
Dr. Menard stood and it became clear that he was a fairly large man. “What if I decide not to leave? What are you going to do, shoot me?”
Sergeant Reaves remained motionless.
“Only if you make it necessary.” Dr. Reischtal gave a thin smile.
The doors swung open. Two soldiers stood at attention. Behind them, the hallway was filled with more soldiers. Dozens and dozens of them. The entire line bristled with the black muzzles of assault rifles, as if the men were a single organism, a spiked, heavy metal caterpillar.
The two soldiers entered the room, split apart, and came to rest on either side of Dr. Menard. He refused to acknowledge them. Instead, he pulled out a pack of cigarettes, put one between his lips.
Dr. Reischtal said, “Dr. Menard, I certainly hope you understand there is absolutely no smoking in this facility.”
Dr. Menard mumbled around the cigarette, “Blow me.” The soldiers walked him out.
Dr. Reischtal spread his hands, swept his gaze across the room one more time. “I certainly hope everyone can appreciate how crucial our work is here. If the virus spreads any further, this situation could be nothing less then the end of times.”
CHAPTER 48
10:29 PM
August 13
Sam was just about to say, “Let’s go get a drink,” when the door rolled up on the loading dock once again, and a large man in a white lab coat stepped outside. The door rolled shut behind him. He looked up and down the street for a moment, lit the cigarette clamped between his teeth, and ambled south.
Ed and Sam exchanged glances. Ed nodded and twisted the key. He hit the gas and pulled up alongside the large, shaggy man. Sam had the door open and his pistol out before Ed had even stopped. “Chicago PD. Get in the car.”
The man gaped at them, cigarette halfway to his mouth. “I’m sorry, what?”
Sam said, “Shut the fuck up and get in the car.” He opened the back door.
The man looked up and down the deserted street as if seeking any witnesses, then climbed in the backseat with Qween. Sam kicked the door shut and jumped back into the front seat. Ed headed south in a short squeal of rubber.
Sam twisted in his seat to face the big man and found that Qween already had a straight razor buried in the guy’s straggly beard, pressed firmly against his throat. The big man was holding his chin so high the top of his head brushed against the ceiling of the Crown Vic.
“You just sit still now, you hear?” Qween said.
Sam had no idea where the hell she’d been hiding a straight razor. “Easy, Qween. He’s not going anywhere, are you, pal?”
The big man’s stare went from Qween to Sam to Ed, then to the buildings whipping past. Ed hadn’t slowed down yet; the car was approaching fifty miles an hour as it roared through the empty downtown streets.
“Suit yourself,” Qween said and slipped the razor back into the folds of her cloak.
The big man swallowed. Sam could tell he wanted to touch his throat to see if it was bleeding or not, but fear kept his hands frozen in his lap.
Sam said, “What’s your name?”
“David Menard.”
“You a doctor?”
“Yes. Dr. David Menard.”
“You work at that hospital.”
“No. Yes, well, I mean, I don’t know how to—”
Sam tapped him sharply on the forehead with the barrel of his pistol. “I want some straight fucking answers, you got me? You try to lie to me one more time and I’ll let my girl here cut your balls off.”
“I wasn’t lying! Swear to Christ, I’m not lying.”
“Let’s hear it then.”
Dr. Menard talked so fast that at first, it sounded like the babbling of one of the speed freaks they would occasionally confront in an interrogation. “I was working there, yes. Me and others. The CDC brought us in to work with their team. I study viruses, that’s my real job. This, this was something—I got a call in the middle of the night, telling me to pack up. Hopped on a plane in Sacramento, and they flew me out here. Next thing I know, we’re studying a new virus. From the little bit I’ve been allowed to see, parts of three floors, I do know this. There are a large number of seriously ill patients back there and God help us if there’s any more.”
“Why?”
“If this spreads, we’re . . . over. I’ve never seen anything like this. Nobody has seen anything like this. This is . . . this virus, they don’t even have a name for it yet.”
“How do you catch it?”
“We don’t know exactly. Based on the information we’ve been given, it appears that close proximity to a rat that is carrying the virus can be a source of the infection. It is certainly present in the rat saliva, much like rabies.”
Ed and Sam glanced at Qween. She ignored them.
“But that doesn’t explain all of the cases,” Dr. Menard said. “Many of the initial patients were homeless individuals, and therefore, we had to assume that because of their lifestyle, contact with a rat was certainly possible, if not likely, since the infected rats have shown to be quite aggressive. But within the last twelve hours, the number of patients that presumably would have no reason to be near a rat skyrocketed.”