Donna said, "Please follow me."

We followed her into the corridor and headed for the east wing of the building, past the open staircase we'd come up. We came to Room 265, and Donna opened the door with a master key.

The office had two desks, each with its own PC, a modem, shelves and a long worktable covered with books and papers. There was no lab equipment or anything of that nature-just office stuff, including a fax machine.

We poked around the Gordons' desks awhile, opening drawers, looking at papers, but as I said, this office had been picked clean earlier. In any case, people who are involved in a conspiracy don't calendar it in or leave incriminating memos around.

Still, you never know what you might find. I rolled through their Rolodex cards, noting that they knew people from all over the world, mostly scientific types, it seemed. I looked under "Gordon" and saw a card for Tom's parents, and names of people who must have been his sister, his brother, and other family members. All in Indiana. I didn't know Judy's maiden name.

I looked for "Corey, John" and found my name, though I don't recall them ever calling me from work. I looked for "Maxwell, Sylvester" and found his office and home numbers. I looked for "Wiley, Margaret," but she wasn't there, and I wasn't surprised. Then I looked for "Murphy," the Gordons' next-door neighbors, and they were there, Edgar and Agnes, which made sense. I found "Tobin, Fredric" and I recalled the time I'd gone with the Gordons to the winery of Fredric Tobin for a wine tasting. I looked for and found the number of the Peconic Historical Society, and the home number of its president, one Emma Whitestone.

I looked under "D" for Drug Runner, Pedro, and "C" for Colombian Drug Cartel, but no luck. I tried "T" for Terrorists and "A" for Arab Terrorists, but I came up empty. I didn't see "Stevens" or "Zollner," but I imagined there must be a separate directory of every employee on the island, and I intended to get a copy of in.

Nash was playing with Tom's PC and Foster was playing with Judy's. This is probably the one thing they hadn't had time to fully check out this morning.

I noted that there were virtually no personal items in the office, not a photograph, not a piece of art, not even a desk item that wasn't government issue. I asked Donna about this, and she replied, "There's no rule against personal items in Zone One areas. But people tend not to bring much on the ferry to put in their office, except maybe cosmetics, medicines, and stuff like that. I don't know why. Actually, we can requisition almost anything we want, within reason. We're a little spoiled that way."

"My tax money at work."

She smiled. "We have to be kept happy on this crazy island."

I walked over to a big bulletin board where Beth and Max were reading the few scraps of paper pinned to the cork. Out of earshot of the Feds, I said, "This place has been picked clean already."

Max asked, "By who?"

Beth said, "John and I saw our two friends getting off the Plum Island ferry this morning. They've already been here, already met Stevens, already saw this office."

Max seemed surprised, then annoyed. He said, "Damn… that's against the law."

I said, "I'd let it go if I were you. But you can see why I'm not in the best of moods."

"I haven't noticed any difference, but now I'm pissed."

Donna, in her most accommodating voice, interrupted our discussion and said, "We're a little behind schedule now. Maybe you can come back here later."

Beth said to her, "What I would like you to do is to see that this room is padlocked. I am going to send people here from the county police force, and they will look around."

Nash said, "I assume what you mean by look around is that you're going to take items into custody."

"You can assume that."

Foster said, "I believe a federal law has been broken, and I intend to take whatever evidence I need from federal property, Beth. But I'll make all of it available to the Suffolk County police."

Beth said, "No, George, I'll take this whole office into custody and make it available to you."

Donna, sensing an argument, said quickly, "Let's go see the duty office. Then we'll see Dr. Zollner."

We went back into the corridor and followed her to a door marked "237." She punched in a code on a keypad and opened the door, revealing a large, windowless room. She said, "This is the duty office, the command, control, and communication center of all of Plum Island."

We all entered, and I looked around. Countertops ran along all the walls, and a young man sat with his back to us, talking on a telephone.

Donna said, "That's Kenneth Gibbs, Paul Stevens' assistant. Kenneth is duty officer today."

Kenneth Gibbs turned in his chair and waved at us.

I looked around the room. On the tables were three different types of radio transmitters and receivers, a computer terminal, a TV set, two fax machines, telephones, cell phones, a teletype, and a few other electronic gizmos. Two ceiling-mounted TV cameras scanned the room.

On the wall were all sorts of maps, radio frequencies, memos, a duty roster, and so forth. This was Paul Stevens' operation-command, control, and communication, known as CCC or C-Three. But I didn't see a door that could have led into Stevens' private office.

Donna said, "From here, we are in direct contact with Washington and with other research facilities all over the U.S., Canada, Mexico, and the world. We're also in contact with the Centers for Disease Control in Atlanta. In addition, we have a direct line to our fire department and to other key places on the island, plus the National Weather Service, and many other agencies and organizations who support Plum Island."

"Such as the military?" I asked.

"Yes. Especially the Coast Guard."

Gibbs put the phone down and joined us. We did the intro thing.

Gibbs was a tall guy of about thirty-something, blue eyes and short blond hair like his boss, neatly pressed trousers and shirt, with a blue tie. A blue blazer hung over one of the chairs. Gibbs, I was sure, was a product of the laboratory here, cloned from Stevens' pecker or something. Gibbs said, "I can answer any questions you may have about this office."

Beth said to Donna, "Would you mind leaving us with Mr. Gibbs for a few minutes?"

She looked at Gibbs, who nodded.

Donna went out into the corridor.

Max, being the only Plum Island neighbor in our group, had his own agenda and asked Gibbs, "What do you do if there's a major nor'easter or hurricane on the way?"

Gibbs replied, "During working hours, we evacuate."

"Everyone?"

"Some people have to stay behind to look after the store. I would stay behind, for instance. So would Mr. Stevens, a few other security people, some firemen, a maintenance man or two to be sure the generators and air filters keep working, and maybe one or two scientists to monitor the bugs. I guess Dr. Zollner would want to go down with his ship." He laughed.

Maybe it was just me, but I couldn't get into the funny part of fatal diseases blowing all over the place.

Gibbs added, "During nonworking hours, when the island is nearly deserted, we would have to get key people on the island. Then, we would have to get our ferries and other watercraft to the submarine pens at New London where they'll be safe. The subs go out to the ocean and dive deep where they're safe." He added, "We know what we're doing here. We're prepared for emergencies."

Max said, "If there were ever a biocontainment leak, would you be kind enough to call me?"

"You'd be almost the first to know," Mr. Gibbs assured the chief.

Max replied, "I know that. But I'd like to know by telephone or radio-not by coughing up blood or something."

Gibbs seemed a little put off and said, "My SOP manual instructs me who to call and in what order. You are among the first."