“Yes, well, so long, Jimmy.” Dena continued pensively along the hall, trying to sort out her thoughts and her worries.
She entered her small office, sat down at her desk, and looked out through the glass partition. Here and there, out in the open bay, somebody sneezed or coughed lightly, but overall the work force seemed in good health.
“Hi, Dena.”
She had not seen Carol Denker aproaching the office. Now she turned and watched as her assistant came in, hung up her jacket, and sat down at the other desk in the small office.
“Hi.” Carol put a box of Kleenex out on the desk, extracted a tissue, and blew her nose. Dena swiveled her chair around to face her.
“Did you have it, too?” Carol asked.
“Have what?”
“Whatever it is. The one-day awfuls. I was out Monday; you were gone Tuesday.”
“I had to go into Milwaukee.”
“Whatever, I’m glad to see you back. Coffee breaks are no fun alone. I only took two all day.”
“How are you feeling?” Dena asked.
“Pretty good, actually. Monday I thought I was really coming down with a good one — sore throat, achy joints, upset stomach. This morning all I’ve got is a little sniffle. It must be some kind of twenty-four-hour virus.”
“Must be,” Dena said. “A third of the plant called in sick on Monday.”
“No kidding? Something must be going around.”
“Yeah, I guess,” Dena said.
As the morning progressed, she began to wonder if maybe the multiple absences could have been just a wild coincidence. With Lloyd Bratz and his bizarre story so much on her mind, might she not have projected an onslaught of the twenty-four-hour flu into something more sinister? She picked up the phone and dialed the extension of the personnel director. The call went through without any switchboard trouble that day and was answered by Ian McCollough’s secretary.
When McCollough came on the line, Dena felt a little foolish. “I was just curious,” she said, “about the absenteeism today.”
“I’m happy to say the situation is pretty well back to normal,” McCollough said. “Two-thirds of the people who were out Monday came back yesterday. Most of the rest are here today. One thing the experience did was make me appreciate my secretary and my receptionist all the more. I came close to a breakdown trying to do their jobs.”
“They’re both back today?”
“Back and apparently recovered. It seems like Monday was just an aberration. One of those unexplained peaks in the chart. You having any problems?”
“No,” Dena said. “No problems. Just curious.”
She and Carol went out together as usual for their coffee. Carol sneezed once but seemed otherwise to have shaken off any effects of the illness that had kept her home.
“Have you any idea where you caught whatever it was you had?” Dena said.
“Beats me. I haven’t been anywhere except here and home. Neither Ken nor the twins had any symptoms, so I guess it was just me. It came and went so fast … like nothing I’ve ever had.”
Dena pointed to an adhesive bandage on Carol’s wrist. “What’s that?”
“Oh, I got careless playing with the cat, and she scratched me a little. It didn’t seem like much, but about Friday night it was itching like crazy. I put some Bactine on it and a Band-Aid. It’s all right now. No big deal.”
“That’s good.”
Dena went to work, trying to concentrate on the problem of the gypsy moth, but her attention kept returning to the large room full of desks beyond the glass. What was it that bothered her about the people out there? She fancied that there was some kind of shadow over them. And over Carol, who was sitting quietly at the desk just behind her, sniffling. Why did she keep seeing the face of Stuart Anderson?
The telephone rang, making Dena jump. She grinned self-consciously at Carol and answered. On the other end was Dr. Kitzmiller’s longtime receptionist.
“If you have time, Dr. Kitzmiller would like to see you about ten o’clock,” the woman said.
“I’ll be there. How are you feeling?”
“Oh, I’m fine today, thanks. I had a touch of something Monday and yesterday and thought I’d better stay home. Two days off seem to have done the trick.”
“That’s good.” Dena said thoughtfully. The people’s stories all had a chilling similarity. They were sick enough on Monday to stay home from work but feeling fine today. What kind of a “flu” was that?
She exchanged a couple of meaningless remarks with the receptionist and hung up.
Dena arrived at Dr. Kitzmiller’s promptly at ten and was admitted immediately. The chief biochemist wore a grimace that was apparently intended as a smile when she entered his office. He waved her into a chair across from him.
“Ah, Dena, good of you to come.”
She took a seat and waited for him to state his purpose in summoning her.
“I, ah, understand you came to see me on Monday.”
“That’s right. I was told you were ‘unavailable.’”
“Yes, it was something I could not avoid. One of those tiresome meetings with customers that are usually handled by the sales department. Unfortunately, some of the key sales people were out, so I had to be there. Was there some problem you wanted to discuss?”
“I thought there was at the time, but now I’m not so sure.”
“Oh?” Kitzmiller seemed genuinely interested.
“There were a lot of people out sick Monday.”
“Were there? I didn’t notice.”
“Well, there were. Most of them seem to be back today, though.”
“Good, good. A big weekend, perhaps?”
“I don’t think so.”
“You have another explanation?”
“I’m not sure. They all had symptoms like the onset of flu, but today they seem to be cured. I was wondering if it might have some connection to what happened to Stu Anderson and Lloyd Bratz.”
Kitzmiller looked pained. “I don’t think we can jump to that conclusion.”
“I thought it would be worth mentioning,” Dena said. “When one unusual occurrence follows another, a scientist is trained to look for a connection.”
“I’ll certainly have someone look into it,” Kitzmiller said. “As I believe I told you, we are monitoring the situation very closely.”
Dena sat until the silence between them began to grow uncomfortable; then she moved to rise.
“I understand you, too, left the plant Monday,” Kitzmiller said not quite casually. “You were not among the ill, I hope.”
“No. I had some business in Milwaukee.”
“Oh?”
This time the pause was almost audible. Dena held a polite smile but said nothing.
“Ah, well,” Kitzmiller said finally, “I suppose you will be wanting to get back to your work.”
“If there was nothing else.”
“No, no, nothing else. Please feel free to come to me with any questions you may have. I am sorry I was not here yesterday.”
She left Dr. Kitzmiller’s office with her nerves jumping. Something was definitely troubling the man. What?
While Dena Falkner worried about Dr. Kitzmiller, Eddie Gault, in another part of the plant, was worried about a number of things.
He, too, had noticed the unusual absence of Biotron personnel on Monday. That most of them returned on Tuesday and on this day did not ease his mind. Some were still missing. Just as the two helicopter pilots were missing.
He had not seen Dr. Kitzmiller since the interview right after the canister switch. Not that Eddie was anxious to see the chief of biochemistry again just now, but he was worried. Somebody had been following him. Watching him. Eddie could tell. He was relieved when it was quitting time and he could take the worry home to Roanne.