Jakes snorted. “What about the abnormally high mortality rate of this hot-bug?”
She shrugged. “That I can’t explain.”
To make peace, Mason asked, “How about one of the Ebola or Marburg viruses, perhaps imported to the site by one of the local workers?”
Jakes shook his head irritably. “No, no, that is just not possible!” He then launched into a pedantic discourse on the origins of Ebola, reminding them that the Ebola virus is named for the Ebola River, which is the headstream of the Mongala River, a tributary of the Congo, or Zaire River, and its endemic area is ten thousand miles from Mexico City and would therefore be a highly unlikely explanation for the deaths described in Tlateloco. “Hell,” he said smiling, “even if someone contracted Ebola in Africa and then traveled directly to Mexico City, by the time he could get from there down to Tlateloco, he would already be dead from the virus and unable to infect anyone else, let alone thirty additional people.”
Suzanne was staring at Jakes. Finally, she asked, “Sam, are you forgetting about the hantavirus and hantavirus pulmonary syndrome? It can certainly cause hemorrhagic shock, and the rodents that carry the virus are known to live all over North and South America.”
Jakes raised his eyebrows and smiled. “Very good, Suzanne. Of course, you are right, the symptoms could be from HPS, except that the virus is primarily found in dry, arid areas such as Arizona and New Mexico in the United States, and in Mexico it’s usually found in desert areas.” He scratched his chin, “I seriously doubt the virus could survive in a humid, jungle environment, but I will keep your excellent suggestion in mind.”
Further discussions among the group considered other possible pathogens such as dengue fever, bubonic or pneumonic plague, and other rare causes of the symptoms Matos had described to Mason.
Each and every one was eventually shot down as the possible culprit for one reason or another.
Finally, as dawn was breaking, Mason concluded the meeting. “As we have been given no empirical evidence that would enable us to come to a definitive diagnosis of the cause of these deaths, I feel an on-site intervention is justified. As team leader, I am declaring this a ‘Wildfire Emergency. ’ ” He stood up. “I will contact the Mexican government for permission to mount a full-scale incursion into the area as soon as travel arrangements can be made. I suggest the rest of you get together and make a list of the equipment each of you will need to do a full diagnostic workup on the bodies of the victims, including full Biohazard Level Four precautions.”
“Shit,” Jakes mumbled as he got up from the table. “I hate those fucking Racal suits.”
Joel Schumacher said, “While you guys are figuring out what lab equipment you’ll be needing, I’ll run a database search on all entities that can cause the symptoms we’re looking at. That way we’ll have a list to work against when we start doing diagnostics.”
Mason grinned and patted his shoulder. “Great idea, Joel.”
He looked around at the group. “Now, get a move on. We’re burnin’ daylight.”
Chapter 4
Lauren entered the Arlen Specter Headquarters and Emergency Operations Center at the CDC headquarters in Atlanta just after nine a.m. A helpful young man at the front desk directed her to the suite of offices occupied by Dr. Mason Williams and his Wildfire Emergency Response Team.
She entered the door into a sort of controlled chaos, with men and women moving around, talking urgently on cell phones, waving their hands in the air and shouting at each other across the room as they tried to organize the resources and equipment they would need for their upcoming excursion into the jungles of Mexico.
Finally, she spied the man in charge and raised her eyebrows. He was younger than she expected him to be to have such a position of power, appearing to be in his early thirties. He was tall, a little over six feet, and looked to be both lean and muscular in the way of an avid outdoorsman, not a weight lifter. He had dark unruly hair and seemed to run his hands through it when he was thinking or perhaps in frustration at his orders not being carried out quickly enough.
He was good-looking without being classically handsome, and he had a quiet air of authority that belied his young age.
After a few moments, he spotted her standing just inside the door with a rolling duffle bag on the floor next to her.
He rushed over and held out his hand. “Dr. Sullivan, I suppose?”
“Lauren, please, Dr. Williams,” she said, noticing his eyes were a deep blue in color and red-rimmed from being up all night.
“Then it’s Mason, Lauren.” He glanced back over his shoulder. “Please excuse the madness, but it’s always like this just before we head out to a hot zone — we never quite know just what we’ll need in the field.”
“Hot zone?” she asked.
“Oh, excuse the jargon.…” He smiled and she realized suddenly it was a very nice smile. “You’ll probably be hearing a lot of unfamiliar terms during the trip. Hot zone is any area with an infectious agent capable of spreading rapidly and creating an epidemic, especially if it’s highly fatal.”
She frowned. “So you think whatever caused all these deaths is still… active… still a threat?”
He stepped back and looked at her appraisingly. He took her arm and said, “Come with me into my office, Lauren. Let’s talk.”
She followed him into his office, and he sat next to her on a couch against the wall. “I was told you talked to Dr. Adams and he explained to you that all thirty members of his expedition and all of the Mexican laborers in the camp had died… and died rather horribly?”
“Yes,” she answered in a low voice.
He put his hand on her arm. “Lauren, I’m not going to lie to you or try to sugarcoat this situation. If I’m right, then we are about to travel into a real hot zone, one that at the very least is extremely dangerous. And what’s more, we have no idea of just what the agent is that has caused all of these deaths, so we’ll have to take extremely broad precautions against any of us catching the same bug.”
She nodded slowly. “And you’re wondering if I know just what I’m getting myself into by going with you, is that right?”
He leaned back, nodding slowly while he gazed into her eyes. “Yes.”
“Dr. Williams… Mason,” she said, squaring her shoulders. “What I know is that over thirty people have possibly died, most of whom were friends of mine. I also know that there just might be one or two that are still alive out there in that jungle. I would never forgive myself if I didn’t do all that I could to see to it that the dead — and even possibly the still living — were properly identified so that their families would be able to get some closure and would know what had happened to their loved ones.”
She took a deep breath. “I also know that there is some danger in going into this hot zone, as you call it. Well, Mason, I have been on over twenty field archaeology expeditions in some of the most remote areas of the earth, all of which had some danger to them.” She relaxed and smiled grimly. “In short, while I am no hero rushing blindly into danger without a thought, I am ready if you are.”
Mason, watching her speak, had the rather irrational thought that this lady has some balls. He also noticed that her emerald-green eyes darkened in anger at his suggestion she might not be up to the trip. He smiled to himself. Interesting…
“Okay then,” he said, slapping his thighs and jumping to his feet. “You’ve been warned, so let’s get your gear ready to be loaded.”
Colonel Woodrow “Blackie” Blackman leaned over to pluck a cigar from the mahogany humidor perched on the corner of his desk. It was just after nine a.m., time to enjoy his first cigar of the day along with a cup of his specially brewed Colombian Suprema coffee. He paused, frowning, instantly alerted when a light flashed on a control panel announcing an incoming scrambled call.