"Take what back?" Craig asked, standing next to him.
"The stuff I was thinking about Philip. He's not a jerk. In fact, he's okay."
As David turned away, he realized Craig was looking at him as if he'd sprouted two heads.
Chapter Twenty-Three
"I'm not sure, Mr. President, that it's a good idea for us to be in the same room as you," Faas said cautiously.
"Your people have investigated five sites now. Isn't that correct, Director Hanlon?"
"Yes, sir."
"And what were they?"
"Moosehead Lake in Maine. Sedona, Arizona. The law firm here in Washington. The Grand Plaza incident in Chicago. The fifth was the two bodies found last night at the bakery in Boston's South End."
"And have any of your agents been infected?"
"We've taken every precaution, sir."
"So none have been infected?
"No, sir."
"Then I consider myself safe."
Faas Hanlon would not have wished this mess on John Penn. He was a decent man and a pretty good president. But if being the first African-American president wasn't enough pressure in itself, Penn had taken office during a major scandal created by the former president, an election scam that had threatened both national security and the faith of the people in the whole electoral system. He'd quickly restored faith in the country's leadership, and for that alone, John Penn deserved four trouble-free years. Penn was popular with the people and with the elected officials in both Houses of Congress. As a result, for the first time in more than two decades, things were getting done in Washington. Congress was finally earning its salary, producing results for the people who'd voted the individual members into the office. Health care reform was being addressed. Education programs were formulated. The economy was on an upswing.
Unfortunately, not everything was going smoothly.
Troop reduction. Troop increase. Reduction again. Iraq had become a self-inflicted wound that wouldn't heal. America was too deeply entrenched in the troubles, not only in that country but in the entire Middle East. Aside from the ongoing civil war in the south of Iraq, Afghanistan had never been settled, and the Taliban continued to cause trouble. The Western world still depended on oil, and no one had an answer how to get out of the mess. There seemed to be no end in sight.
This outbreak, though, was potentially the greatest challenge John Penn's administration would face.
"What have you got for me?" Penn asked the group gathered before him.
Faas glanced at his boss, the secretary of Homeland Security, who had okayed them bringing along Bea Devera. She was just back from Sedona and, having worked the site there, she was a perfect candidate to offer constructive feedback. But they weren't the only ones on the hot seat. Cabinet Secretary James Abbott of Health and Human Services was there with the current NIH director, Rich Judson. NIH had been tasked with coordinating and interpreting all data on the victims. The EPA director had also been asked to attend this meeting, since every one of the sites where the disease had surfaced had to go through an equivalent of a toxic-spill cleanup. The press secretary had joined them a couple of minutes into the meeting, and assistants were hovering behind those at the conference table.
"It would not be inappropriate, Mr. President, to call this an epidemic, at this point," Dr. Judson admitted.
Faas and the NIH director had started this discussion on the phone before they all had arrived here. Including Chicago and Boston, the number of casualties had risen to twenty-four. Unlike the early outbreaks, though, when ten days had passed before there'd been another incidence of the disease, the outbreaks were coming at shorter intervals.
"I am sure that will make the American public feel much more secure. Maybe we should color-code it, too. Make use of some of the millions we spent a few years ago after 9/11," Penn said sarcastically. They were all used to his direct, no-nonsense approach. He turned to the Secretary of Health and Human Services. "Do you agree with that, James?"
"It's a mess, sir. I think that, at this point, it would be wise to put the fear of God in people."
"The fear of God is already in them," Penn commented.
"Not all of them, Mr. President," Judson replied. "Look at both Chicago and Boston. The casualties should have been limited to one at each site, but instead we had multiple deaths because of people arriving on the scene, discovering the bodies, and not taking the correct precautionary measures. I think most people still treat this as some sort of media invention."
The Secretary of Homeland Security chimed in. "A position that is understandable, considering we lose more people than this every day to car wrecks and cancer. But this situation is far different, and I don't know that finding the right words is enough to get this message across. Recent history has taught us to be wary of what is put in front of us. People have forgotten that they sometimes need to trust those in charge."
Faas knew Penn understood where the Homeland Security czar was coming from. During President Penn's reorganization of Homeland Security, Faas had been privy to conversations between his boss and the president. Several of those conversations had focused on how to regain the public's trust. For too many years, the color-coded Homeland Security Advisory System had been used too carelessly and with motives other than the national security. As a result, the general public had become numb to it. Several members of Congress had said publicly that the system had outlived its effectiveness. Faas agreed.
"I'm going to continue with my daily news conference until we have this situation under control," Penn told the group. "We won't keep any new incidents secret from the public. In fact, we'll announce that the incident in Maine has now been connected to this same outbreak. We'll increase the number of confirmed casualties, too."
"That was our largest blow as far as deaths," Judson reminded everyone.
"I don't want the focus to be on fear," Penn responded. "The truth is our best ally right now."
No one was about to disagree.
"What's happening with the DM8A production?" the president asked the HHS Secretary.
"The first production lots are out and distribution is going according to schedule," Secretary Abbott replied.
"Is it doing anything for us?"
"We don't know," the NIH director jumped in. "We think so. We have all the people who have had any contact with the victims on the serum now. There haven't been any more outbreaks, so we'd like to think the antibiotics are working, at least as a preventive measure with those who have had direct contact."
Faas knew it wasn't like Judson to be so vague, but there was so much that they didn't know about the disease and there'd been so little time for any serious research.
Penn rocked in his chair a few times, considering the situation. "Now, let's get to a more important issue. What's causing it?"
Faas felt as if he were back in high school. He didn't know the answer. None of the people in the room knew the answer and they were trying not to make eye contact. For his part, he'd heard very little chatter in the terrorist circuits about the attacks. Just as the health guys were working blind, the investigative effort was also operating in the dark.
"You must have something to tell me," Penn persisted. "How are these people contracting the disease?"
There was some shuffling of the papers. The president's stare was directed at the NIH director.
Rich Judson shrugged. "We know they're contracting it through something taken internally. At least, that's the situation with the first victim on each site. But we don't know what that substance is. We've ruled out any number of possible subst—"
"We know who the first victims were in each incident?"