The duty officer called the garrison commander.
"Major Lott, ma'am. Ma'am, we seem to have a problem."
"What kind of a problem?"
"Ma'am, Colonel Hamilton's sergeant just called and said the colonel wanted to declare a Potential Level Four Disaster."
There was a pause. Then the garrison commander said, "Let me make sure I understand the situation. You say Colonel Hamilton's sergeant called and told you Colonel Hamilton wants to declare a Potential Level Four Disaster? Is that it?"
"Yes, ma'am. That's it. I thought I'd better bring you up to speed on this, ma'am."
The garrison commander thought: What you were supposed to do, you stupid sonofabitch, was sound the goddamned alarm sirens, get a Level Four van over to Hamilton, get a Level Four BioLab on emergency standby and then-and only then-call me.
And you're a goddamn major?
Jesus H. Christ.
She said calmly: "Listen carefully. What I want you to do, Major, is first sound the alarm sirens. Then send a Level Four van to Colonel Hamilton's laboratory, and when you've done that, get a Level Four BioLab on emergency standby. Got all that?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"Then do it," the garrison commander said, and broke the connection.
Major Lott raised the cover of the alarm activation switch and then pressed on the switch. Sirens all over began to howl.
He then consulted the standing operating procedure to see what else was required of him to do-thus knocking over the first of the dominoes.
The provost marshal was notified. The first thing listed on his SOP was to lock down the fort. Nobody in. Nobody out. He did so. The second thing on his list was to notify the garrison medical facility to prepare for casualties. The third thing listed was to notify the Secret Service detachment on the base. He did so, and then continued to work down his list.
The first thing on the Secret Service Detachment SOP was to notify local law enforcement agencies. With Fort Detrick equidistant between Washington, D.C. (forty-five miles), and Baltimore, Maryland (forty-six miles), there was a large number of law enforcement agencies in that area, each of which was entitled to know of the problem at Fort Detrick.
The Secret Service agent instead first called his special agent in charge at the Department of Homeland Security at the Nebraska Avenue complex in the District of Columbia. He told him about the Potential Level Four Disaster, but had to confess that was all he knew.
"I'll handle it," the SAC said.
The Secret Service agent began calling the numbers on his list of law enforcement agencies to be notified.
The SAC at Homeland Security attempted to contact the secretary of Homeland Security but was told he was in Chicago with Mayor Daley. He then got the assistant secretary for enforcement on the telephone and told him about the Potential Level Four Disaster at Fort Detrick.
"I'll be damned," he said. "I'll handle it."
He contacted the garrison commander on a hotline.
"Assistant Homeland Security Secretary Andrews, Colonel," he said. "I understand you've got a little problem over there."
The garrison commander had by then spoken with Master Sergeant Dennis, who had told her about the container that had arrived with the morning FedEx shipment.
When she had told Andrews this, he said, "I'll take immediate action."
Andrews then called the SAC back, told him to get on the horn to his people at Detrick, and have them grab the container and not let anybody else near it.
"How's the quickest way for me to get there?" the assistant secretary asked.
"It would probably be quicker in one of our Yukons than trying to get a chopper, Mr. Secretary. I can have one at your door in ninety seconds."
"Do it."
Five and a half minutes later, a black Secret Service Yukon-red and blue lights flashing from behind its grille and with another magnet-based blue light flashing on the roof-skidded to a stop in front of the main building and picked up Assistant Secretary Andrews. The SAC was in the front seat, where the assistant secretary preferred to ride.
Andrews thought: Ninety seconds, my ass.
That took five minutes plus, and we need to roll.
"Get in the back," he said.
Only then did the assistant secretary remember he had had another option. He could have told the SAC to get out.
But it was too late. He took a seat in the second row and, siren screaming and lights flashing, they were on their way to the Potential Level Four Disaster at Fort Detrick. [THREE] Office of the Presidential Press Secretary The White House 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue, N.W. Washington, D.C. 1020 4 February 2007 There were a half-dozen television monitors mounted on the wall of John David "Porky" Parker's office, one for each of the major television networks, and the other three for the "major" cable news programs.
The sound of only one was on, the volume low but on.
Porky Parker was more or less addicted to watching/listening to Wolf News. Not because he liked it, but the opposite. He hated it. Wolf News gave him the most trouble. It seemed to be dedicated to the proposition that all politicians, from POTUS down, were scoundrels, mountebanks, and fools, and that it was Wolf News's noble duty to bring every proof-or suggestion-of this to the attention of the American people.
The problem was compounded for Porky by the fact that the people of Wolf News were very good at what they did, and with great skill went after the scoundrels, mountebanks, and fools regardless of political affiliation.
Wolf News used the fourth and final part of Gioacchino Antonio Rossini's (1792-1868) "William Tell Overture" to catch people's attention whenever there was "breaking news." Most people recognized the music as the theme for the Lone Ranger motion picture and television series.
That was happening now, and when Porky faintly heard the stirring music, he reached for the remote control as a Pavlovian reaction and raised his eyes to the screen. He had the sound turned up in time to see and hear the Wolf News anchor-on-duty proclaim, "There is breaking news! Wolf News is on top of it! Back in sixty seconds…"
There then followed a sixty-second commercial offering The Wall Street Journal delivered to one's home for only pennies a day.
Then the screen showed what looked like the scene of a major traffic accident. There were at least thirty police cars, all with their red and blue lights flashing. It had been taken from a helicopter. At the upper right corner of the screen, a message unnecessarily flashed, LIVE! LIVE! FROM A WOLF NEWS CHOPPER!
Porky was a second from muting the sound when the voice of the on-duty Wolf News anchor announced, "What we're looking at, from a Wolf News chopper, is the main gate of Fort Detrick, Maryland. We don't know, yet, what exactly is going on here. But we do know that the post has been closed down, nobody gets in or out, and that the director of the Central Intelligence Agency just choppered in and a 'senior official' of the Department of Homeland Security not yet identified just arrived in a vehicle with a screaming siren…"
In another Pavlovian reflex, Porky reached for his White House telephone and told the operator to get him the commanding general of Fort Detrick on a secure line. "Colonel Russell."
"This is the White House switchboard. This line is secure. Mr. Parker wishes to speak with the commanding general."
"This is the garrison commander."
"Mr. Parker wishes to speak with the commanding general."
"We don't have a commanding general. I'm the senior officer, the garrison commander."
"One moment please."
"Colonel, this is John Parker, the President's press secretary."
"This is Colonel Florence Russell. What can I do for you, Mr. Parker?"
"What's going on down there?"
The garrison commander for a moment considered correcting the pompous political lackey with "What's going on up here, Porky. Fort Detrick is damn near due north of D.C…" but instead said, "We have a Potential Level Four biological hazard disaster, Mr. Parker."
"What does that mean, exactly?