There was definitely a general agreement.
"The media has been calling it the flesh-eating disease," the president's press secretary said. "My office actually got a phone call asking if there were cannibals attacking people in D.C."
"I hope you told the caller that only happens on Capitol Hill," Secretary Abbott deadpanned.
There were a few chuckles.
"Flesh-eating disease syndrome," the NIH director mused out loud. "The acronym would be FEDS."
Faas shook his head as others laughed.
"I don't think that would exactly send the message we're looking for," Penn responded.
"Necrotizing fasciitis is a mouthful," said the press secretary.
Rich Judson wasn't giving up. "I do think that initials would serve to identify the condition without being a constant reminder of the horrific manifestation of the disease. Perhaps just using the initials of necrotizing fasciitis infection," Judson told them.
"NFI," Secretary Abbott said, jotting it down as he said it.
"NFI." Penn echoed as he leaned back in his chair. He considered that for a moment. "I say we go with that."
Chapter Twenty-Four
At first, it was hard to swallow the fact that Fahimah was in charge and that they had to follow her suggestions or nothing would happen. Once Austyn decided not to dwell on minor details, though, or allow his ego to come into the equation, life became much more bearable.
She had come back, he kept reminding herself. This said something, at least, about her commitment to the mission. She was going to help them. So be receptive to what she wants, he told himself.
"I just got a report from Washington of another outbreak," Matt said in a low voice as he caught up with Austyn in the hotel hallway. He had his bag slung over his shoulder.
"Where?"
"New York City."
"Terrific," Austyn said, shaking his head. "They really need that. How bad?"
"I don't have any details yet."
"Okay. What else?"
"Not much."
"No holding out on me, Sutton."
"NFI," Matt said.
"What?"
"They're calling it NFI. Necrotizing Fasciitis Infection. It's now important enough to earn its own initials." Matt had a peculiar look on his face. "I actually used to be a member of NFI."
"What was that, the name of your garage band?" Austyn didn't know Matt's exact age, but he figured it couldn't have been too many years ago since he was in high school. "I assume the initials didn't stand for the same thing."
"No, I was a junior member of the National Fisheries Institute. I was about eight. Got an official membership card and a newsletter and everything."
"Great, Sutton. I think this heat must be getting to you." Austyn shook his head. "National Fisheries Institute."
"I'm sure the current members aren't going to be too happy with it."
"Probably not," he said, adding wryly, "but hopefully they'll understand."
Austyn stared at Fahimah's door. She was supposed to pack and meet them right here, outside her hotel room. They were all going to meet here.
How long could it take her? he thought. She owned two pieces of clothing and a toothbrush, for chrissake. It wasn't like she had to fix her hair.
He shook off his impatience. "Okay. Anything else from Hanlon?"
They'd come up with a new plan and sent it on to Homeland Security in Washington. They weren't about to risk taking any of their military escort across the Iran-Iraq border. The consequences would be too great if the mission tanked. They didn't need to ignite an international diplomatic crisis in the midst of everything else that was going on. With the new arrangement, Matt would stay behind in Erbil and handle communications with Washington. The escort would remain here, as well. If they needed an airlift from the border, he'd arrange it.
Austyn was staying with Fahimah. He wasn't in the military. If they got caught and the Iranians started digging, they might consider him a spy. But Matt was going to make sure no files would show up on him and figure out a new identity for himself.
Austyn knew he was putting his life at risk. But it didn't worry him. Once they crossed the border, Fahimah could blow the whistle on him, but in his gut, he had a feeling she wouldn't.
After all, she'd come back.
Ken would drive them the 150 miles to Halabja, which was only a stone's throw from the Iranian border. Fahimah still had family there, and she hoped she could find more details on Rahaf. Perhaps they would even know which camp she was working in now. From Halabja, Fahimah and Austyn would have to go up into the mountains to sneak across the border to the refugee camps.
Fahimah had assured him that crossing the border wouldn't be a Von Trapp Family ordeal. Though it could be dangerous, there were actually quite a few roads that crossed into Iran. Of course, some roads were more used than others. After all, she said, smuggling was a profitable business. She told him the Kurds went back and forth on a daily basis. The two of them could do it, too.
Sutton was talking, all seriousness again. 'They're going with the hypothesis that some kind of product tampering is being used as a means of spreading the microbes. The first victim in each outbreak was fighting a cold or something."
'That's a big step."
Matt nodded. "But they've yet to identify the specific medication that might be involved. They're cross-checking for something used by all the victims. So far they've ruled out prescription drugs. And they've narrowed the search to the possibility of a cold medicine that could be bought over the counter."
Austyn thought of the cabinets and drawers of cold medications that every household in America kept. The victims were spread across the country, so the tampering couldn't have been done at a purchase point, like a grocery store or pharmacy. Also, there'd been no cases reported outside of the U.S. He figured that should narrow their search to a national distribution center, one that possibly served both Arizona and Maine.
If he were back in the States, he'd be involved with the day-to-day investigation of it. This was the jurisdiction of his department. He reminded himself that he was working on this case.
"Boston could have been a mess," Austyn said with a frown. "It's a good thing none of the baked goods were contaminated."
He hadn't been able to get hold of Faas Hanlon last night, but he'd spoken with one of the special agents working directly with the intelligence director, so he was reasonably up-to-date on all the new cases. Austyn had passed on the information Fahimah had given him. He'd been contacted soon after with a curt message from Washington. He had authorization to proceed according to his own discretion. The mission was now solely in his hands. And Fahimah's.
"New York could turn out worse than Boston," Matt commented. "Eight million people within three hundred or so square miles."
Austyn agreed. "New York could be one serious…"
His voice trailed off as the door to Fahimah's room opened. Finally. She came out carrying a small duffel bag.
For a second, Austyn forgot what they were talking about. She looked different, healthier. There was color in her cheeks. Austyn knew she'd sent one of the hotel workers that morning to get her some things. He noticed that she was wearing a pair of leather walking shoes that were definitely better than the plastic army-issue sandals she'd been wearing.
"I overheard you saying something about New York City," she said. "Has there been another case reported from there?"
"We don't have all the facts and figures yet," Matt told her.