something,everybody had it. But the country doctor in another section hadn'teven heard of it." Andy could only shake his head.
Bettijean heaved herself up from the chair and trudged back to theouter office. She returned momentarily with a tray of food. Putting apaper cup of coffee and a sandwich in front of Andy, she sat down andnibbled at her snack like an exhausted chipmunk.
Andy banged a fist at his desk again. Coffee splashed over the rim ofhis cup onto the clutter of papers. "It's here," he said angrily."It's here somewhere, but we can't find it."
"The answer?"
"Of course. What is it that girls in small offices do or eat or drinkor wear that girls in large offices don't do or eat or drink or wear?What do writers and doctors do differently? Or poets and dentists?What are we missing? What--"
* * * * *
In the outer office a girl cried out. A body thumped against a desk,then a chair, then to the floor. Two girls screamed.
Andy bolted up from his chair. Racing to the door, he shouted back toBettijean, "Get a staff doctor and a chemist from the lab."
It was the girl who had been so nervous in his office earlier. Now shelay in a pathetic little heap between her desk and chair, whimpering,shivering, eyes wide with horror. The other girls clustered at thehall door, plainly ready to stampede.
"It's not contagious," Andy growled. "Find some blankets or coats tocover her. And get a glass of water."
The other girls, glad for the excuse, dashed away. Andy scooped up thefallen girl and put her down gently on the close-jammed desks. He useda chair cushion for a pillow. By then the other girls were back with ablanket and the glass of water. He covered the girl, gave her a sip ofwater and heard somebody murmur, "Poor Janis."
"Now," Andy said brightly, "how's that, Janis?"
She mustered a smile, and breathed, "Better. I ... I was so scared.Fever and dizzy ... symptoms like the epidemic."
"Now you know there's nothing to be afraid of," Andy said, feelingsuddenly and ridiculously like a pill roller with a practiced bedsidemanner. "You know you may feel pretty miserable, but nobody's conkedout with this stuff yet."
Janis breathed out and her taut body relaxed.
"Don't hurry," Andy said, "but I want you to tell me everything thatyou did--everything you ate or drank--in the last ... oh, twelvehours." He felt a pressure behind him and swiveled his head to seeBettijean standing there. He tried to smile.
"What time is it?" Janis asked weakly.
Andy glanced to a wall clock, then gave it a double take.
One of the girls said, "It's three o'clock in the morning." She edgednearer Andy, obviously eager to replace Janis as the center ofattention. Andy ignored her.
"I ... I've been here since ... golly, yesterday morning at nine,"Janis said. "I came to work as usual and...."
Slowly, haltingly, she recited the routine of a routine work day, thentold about the quick snack that sufficed for supper and about stayingon her phone and typewriter for another five hours. "It was abouteleven when the relief crew came in."
"What did you do then?" Andy asked.
"I ... I took a break and...." Her ivory skin reddened, the colorspreading into the roots of her fluffy curls, and she turned her faceaway from Andy. "And I had a sandwich and some coffee and got a littlenap in the ladies' lounge and ... and that's all."
"And that's not all," Andy prompted. "What else?"
"Nothing," Janis said too quickly.
Andy shook his head. "Tell it all and maybe it'll help."
"But ... but...."
"Was it something against regulations?"
"I ... I don't know. I think...."
"I'll vouch for your job in this office."
"Well...." She seemed on the verge of tears and her pleading glancesought out Andy, then Bettijean, then her co-workers. Finally,resigned, she said, "I ... I wrote a letter to my mother."
Andy swallowed against his groan of disappointment. "And you told herabout what we were doing here."
Janis nodded, and tears welled into her wide eyes.
"Did you mail it?"
"Y ... yes."
"You didn't use a government envelope to save a stamp?"
"Oh, no. I always carry a few stamps with me." She choked down a sob."Did I do wrong?"
"No, I don't think so," Andy said, patting her shoulder. "There'scertainly nothing secret about this epidemic. Now you just take iteasy and--. Oh, here's a doctor now."
The doctor, a white-headed Air Force major, bustled into the room. Alab technician in a white smock was close behind. Andy could onlyshrug and indicate the girl.
Turning away, lighting a cigarette, he tried to focus on the tangle ofthoughts that spun through his head. Doctors, writers, societymatrons, office workers--Aspen, Taos and college towns--thousands ofpeople sick--but none in that valley in Tennessee--and few governmentworkers--just one girl in his office--and she was sicker and morefrightened about a letter--and....
"Hey, wait!" Andy yelled.
Everyone in the room froze as Andy spun around, dashed to Bettijean'sdesk and yanked out the wide, top drawer. He pawed through it,straightened, then leaped across to the desk Janis had used. Hesnatched open drawer after drawer. In a bottom one he found her purse.Ripping it open, he dumped the contents on the desk and clawed throughthe pile until he found what he wanted. Handing it to the labtechnician, he said, "Get me a report. Fast."
The technician darted out.
Andy wheeled to Bettijean. "Get the brass in here. And call thegeneral first." To the doctor, he said, "Give that girl the best ofeverything."
Then he ducked back to his own office and to the pile of reports. Hewas still poring over them when the general arrived. Half a dozenother brass hats, none of whom had been to bed, were close behind. Thelab technician arrived a minute later. He shook his head as he handedhis hastily scribbled report to Andy.
* * * * *
It was Bettijean who squeezed into the office and broke the brittlesilence. "Andy, for heaven's sake, what is it?" Then she moved aroundthe desk to stand behind him as he faced the officers.
"Have you got something?" the brigadier asked. "Some girl outside wasbabbling about writers and doctors, and dentists and college students,and little secretaries and big secretaries. Have you established atrend?"
Andy glanced at the lab report and his smile was as relieved as it wasweary. "Our problem," he said, "was in figuring out what a writer doesthat a doctor doesn't--why girls from small offices were sick--and whysenators and postal workers weren't--why college students caught thebug and people in a Tennessee community didn't.
"The lab report isn't complete. They haven't had time to isolate thepoison and prescribe medication. But"--he held up a four-centstamp--"here's the villain, gentlemen."
The big brass stood stunned and shocked. Mouths flapped open and eyesbugged at Andy, at the stamp.
Bettijean said, "Sure. College kids and engaged girls and new parentsand especially writers and artists and poets--they'd all lick lots ofstamps. Professional men have secretaries. Big offices havepostage-meter machines. And government offices have free franking.And"--she threw her arms around the sergeant's neck--"Andy, you'rewonderful."
"The old American ingenuity," the colonel said, reaching for Andy'sphone. "I knew we could lick it. Now all we have to do--"
"At ease, colonel," the brigadier said sharply. He waited until thecolonel had retreated, then addressed Andy. "It's your show. What doyou suggest?"
"Get somebody--maybe even the President--on all radio and TV networks.Explain frankly about the four-centers and warn against licking anystamps. Then--"
He broke off as his phone rang. Answering, he listened for a moment,then hung up and said, "But before the big announcement, get somebodychecking on the security clearances at whatever plant it is where theyprint stamps. This's a big deal. Somebody may've been planted yearsago for this operation. It shouldn't be too hard.
"But there
's no evidence it was a plot yet. Could be pureaccident--some chemical in the stickum spoiled. Do they keep thestickum in barrels? Find out who had access. And ... oh, the phonecall. That was the lab. The antidote's simple and the cure should bequick. They can phone or broadcast the medical information to doctors.The man on the phone said they could start emptying hospitals in sixhours. And maybe we should release some propaganda. "United Stateswhips mystery virus," or something like that. And we could send