As Paul returned to the FBI’s main office, he felt humid hints of a coming storm, rain, and certainly lots of thunder. As he walked into the lobby, a similar sense of impending storms struck him. It wasn’t so much the level of noise or activity; instead, it was the lack of both.
Conway’s voice had had a panicky edge to it. Something was wrong.
In the conference room, Conway paced. Several people Paul didn’t recognize stood around the edges. He was surprised to see Joan Cortez sitting at the table. He walked up to her. “What are you doing here?”
She didn’t look him in the eyes. “We’ve been pulled in, too. You better listen.”
Nervous conversations bounced off the walls until Conway asked for quiet. Paul could feel the electricity in the air.
“Listen up, folks,” Conway began. “This is Dr. Stanley Sarnahan from the USAMRIID.”
Sarnahan looked like a college professor. Short white hair bristled over his scalp, and he wore a button-down shirt with a narrow tie. He carried a coffee cup with stained brown edges. He moved slowly, in contrast to Conway.
He began by explaining, “I’m from the US Army Medical Research Institute for Infectious Disease. Just call us RIID.” He waved his arm at a group of drab-looking people who bunched together by the window. “We don’t have much time, so here’s the skinny. Since 1969 our mission has been to research biological threats to the military and develop strategies for defense against these threats that require containment. Our work also includes defense of the civilian population when called upon.”
Conway, always needing attention, said, “They have over two hundred scientists who developed a response to the anthrax scare after 9/11.”
“That forced us to expand our capacity to combat threats by tenfold,” Sarnahan said.
Valentini shouted, “So this is about anthrax, again?”
The doctor shook his head. “Not that simple. Don’t repeat this anywhere, but frankly, we were taken by surprise. Until the message came from our Russian counterpart at Vector, we would never have guessed—”
“Vector?” Fancher said.
“Sorry, I’ll back up. Smallpox was eradicated from the planet in 1979. However, two repositories were established to preserve the virus for future research purposes. One is located at the CDC in Atlanta, and the other is in Vector, Russia.”
Paul looked around the room. No one moved.
“Vector was chosen because the Soviets established a secret biological warfare research center during the Cold War. President Richard Nixon halted all biological warfare research in 1969. The Soviets agreed to halt their research also—but they didn’t.
“Once the Communists fell, our government moved into Vector and set up joint research projects in order to monitor their work. In fact, the complex is under military guard and has a security system built by the Bechtel Group and paid for by our government.”
Conway said, “So the virus is actually stored in Russia and Atlanta?”
“That’s correct. They’re the only places on earth where smallpox is kept in deep freeze.”
“So what’s the problem?” Valentini asked.
“We received word two weeks ago that a sample of the smallpox virus and the vaccine against it had been stolen from the lab at Vector. It disappeared.”
“After being frozen, are these samples dangerous?” Conway said.
“The stolen samples are extremely hot.”
“What’s that mean?” Conway said.
“Dangerous and contagious,” Dr. Sarnahan said. “The Soviets used a three-hundred-gallon tank and filled it with live kidney cells from African green monkeys and pumped in smallpox. It created a ‘hot,’ or amplified version of smallpox.”
Paul could tell people still failed to catch on to the danger.
Dr. Sarnahan continued, “It would be easy for someone to draw off samples that could be freeze-dried in small vials and easily carried anywhere in the world. Smallpox invades the respiratory system from human to human. It’s spread by coughing, sneezing, and anything that can be airborne. So it’s easy to transport and wouldn’t take a large sample in order to start a pandemic.”
“And,” Conway interrupted, “you think the samples are here?”
Dr. Sarnahan sipped his coffee quickly. “Yes.”
“What evidence do you have?” Valentini asked.
“When the young Somali man was killed a few months ago, that alerted some of the ICE agents, who had been tracking the young men for a long time. Agent Cortez,” he said, nodding in her direction, “contacted our scientists here to help with the investigation.”
Paul stared at Joan. She refused to look at him. He was furious. She hadn’t lied to him, but she had left out big chunks of what she knew when they had met.
“Also, several things struck us as odd: the killer wore a mask that’s designed to prevent the spread of airborne contaminants. He wore glasses, and we found a pair of latex gloves at the crime scene. A disguise? Perhaps, but our theory is he wore them to protect against a contagious disease.”
“Still not conclusive evidence,” Valentini insisted.
“Up to that point, the evidence was curious, but not much more, so we stopped our investigation. We really didn’t know what else to do until we thought of the autopsy conducted on the victim. We obtained samples of tissue remains and, unlike the medical examiner, we tested and found the results of a variola—uh, smallpox—invasion.”
“What?” Paul shouted. “You’re saying the victim had smallpox?”
“Exactly. So, the question became—if smallpox doesn’t exist in the world, how did the boy contract the disease?”
“Wouldn’t the victim infect others?” Conway asked.
“That depends on the incubation period. Normally, it’s two weeks. It takes a while for the patient to be contagious. Hopefully, the boy was killed before that point.”
Conway crossed his arms. “What the hell can we do to help, Doctor?”
“At this point, we’re stumped and hoped you folks could help. Smallpox is highly adaptable to the human body and is considered to be the worst human disease. It’s estimated to have killed more people in the world than any other infectious pathogen in history.”
People around the table shifted uncomfortably. Some looked into their coffee cups. Murmurs echoed around the room. Finally, Valentini spoke. “I remember the anthrax scare. Turned out to be a lot of fear and not much else. Besides, I was inoculated against smallpox as a kid, and I bet everyone in this room was also. So what’s the big deal?”
Dr. Sarnahan shook his head. “Decayed. All your vaccinations are so old, they’ve lost their effectiveness against the disease. That wasn’t a problem since variola had been eradicated from the planet, but if someone re-introduces it—no one, no one in the world is immune.”
“Back to my question,” Conway said. “What can we do now?”
“We must assume this is a terrorist plot. Before an outbreak of smallpox could occur, they have to overcome two problems. First, the terrorist would have to obtain a sample of a live variola virus. The theft from Vector accomplished that. Second, a delivery system would have to be devised. That’s where we’re at now. Would they dump it in the drinking water? Drop a bomb of it on New York City? To make things worse, the virus is able to live outside the human body for up to two months.”
Conway took a deep breath. “We need a short break to clear our brains.”
Paul’s phone rang. It was Zehra, who asked if he knew anything about gloves at the crime scene. He responded, “I’ve got some info for you, but I’m busy right now.” He almost hung up when he remembered to warn her. “Stay away from Burnsville for a few days.”
“What are you talking about?”
“We suspect a major law enforcement event there.” He clicked off.
He found Joan near the window that overlooked Minneapolis. “Why?” he asked her. “I know you’ve got stuff you can’t share, but this wasn’t a small item.”
“Most of thi
s is so highly classified that I can’t even write it in my diary.”
“Bullshit.”
She shrugged. “I was ordered to be careful with the intel.”
“Why didn’t you tell me you were at the crime scene and what you found?”
“Because of the evidence we found.” Joan took a deep breath. “National security is all I can say.”
“I work for the goddamn FBI! National security is what we do.”
She sighed. “I’ve got my career. If ICE busts this, I’m golden. I gave you what I could.” For a moment, she looked up at him with softened eyes. “Sorry, shit happens.”
Everyone returned to the conference table. Valentini started. “I get how this works, Doc. But can’t we just find it and snuff it out?”
Sarnahan’s eyes lifted slowly. He unwrapped a Snickers bar and took a big bite. He looked at his team grouped in the corner and back at the table. “Agent, I don’t think you grasp the gravity of the threat. You better sit down for this.”
Chapter Thirty-Six