“I can assure you this is no test. For myself, the suit is a necessity. If you do not feel that is it necessary . . . that is your decision.”

“What are you not telling us?”

“You are being told everything you need to know. Now, as I was saying—”

Dr. Menard held his hand up again, like a kid in fifth grade who has to go to the bathroom. “Need to know? What does that mean? You mean to say that you have information that you won’t tell me?”

“Possibly. I am providing you with the information that you will find important. Is that clear?”

“Not really. What information?”

“I can assure you—”

“We’re all dealing with a drastic virus here. Something that’s dangerous as all hell. If you know anything else, you are obligated to let us all know. So, is there any news on Mr. Krazinsky?”

Dr. Reischtal fixed Dr. Menard with an ice-cold stare. For a moment, all anyone could hear was Dr. Reischtal’s metallic, amplified breathing. “Tell me, Doctor . . . Menard, is it? Tell me, Dr. Menard, is it customary to interrupt your superiors out west, or wherever it is you are from?”

“I just want some straight answers. I—and I think I speak for many of us here in this room—we’re sick and tired of all the limited information and clandestine bullshit around here.”

“I concur,” Dr. Halsey said. “What about the original patient, Mr. Wycza? What is his status? I am hearing reports that his door is locked.” She clicked her pen as if it were a weapon.

Dr. Reischtal drummed his gloved fingers on the table. Rather than face a full-scale mutiny, he decided to pacify the usurpers. For now. For later, he had methods of dealing with troublemakers like Dr. Menard and Dr. Halsey. And if they would not listen to reason, there was always a solution to be found in Sergeant Reaves.

“Very well,” Dr. Reischtal said. “Mr. Krazinsky is resting comfortably. As for Mr. Wycza, I regret to inform you that he passed away earlier this evening.”

“Why were we not notified? Who is doing the autopsy?” Dr. Halsey demanded. “I would like to observe.”

“There will be no immediate autopsy. The remains are far too infectious and the room is contaminated beyond measure. My team will be responsible for all postmortem investigations.”

Dr. Halsey muttered under her breath, “This is absurd.”

“If there are no more interruptions,” Dr. Reischtal continued, “we now have a timeline for the virus. Mr. Wycza was the first living host that we were able to examine. We also have a fairly accurate timeline. Once infected, estimates place the host’s life expectancy at approximately ninety to one hundred hours.”

“Four days. Jesus,” Dr. Menard said. “Is Mr. Krazinsky displaying any symptoms yet?”

“Mr. Krazinsky’s symptomology does not follow the usual pattern, no.”

“Then why the hell do you still have him on a floor with a known contamination?”

“I believe he is a carrier.”

“This virus has shown zero inclination to simply ride along in a host. It is destroying every single infected patient in this hospital as we speak. And yet, you insist on keeping an otherwise healthy, non-infected patient within close contact with other patients.”

Dr. Reischtal placed his hands flat on the table. “Do you not understand that this individual had more contact with the infected rat than Mr. Wycza? By all logic, the virus should have spread through his system like wildfire. Why is it that the disease ravages anyone else that gets close, but Mr. Krazinsky has remained untouched? There are many, many unanswered questions about this man.”

Dr. Menard frowned. “There are many, many unanswered questions about your methods, doctor.”

Dr. Reischtal struggled not to draw his hands into fists. “I would suggest, Dr. Menard, that you choose your words carefully. It appears that you are obsessing over a single individual that may hold valuable clues to a virus with the power to wipe out the other three million human beings in this city, if not the entire country. We are on the precipice of an outbreak the likes of which this world has never seen. That, Dr. Menard, is my responsibility.” He saw no reason to discuss how insects were transmitting the virus. It would only serve to muddy the waters and distract them from focusing on a way to defeat the virus. He would leave the decision on when to reveal the truth to the President, and deal with the fallout at that point. If these people were beyond saving when that happened, then so be it.

His gaze swept the room. Even through the plastic faceplate, his stare held an almost physical impact. “I would encourage my fellow doctors to, if you feel I am in any way failing in my capacity as special investigator to unknown viruses, please, by all means, speak up. Voice your dissent.”

The table was silent. Dr. Menard tried to meet everyone’s eyes, but no one would look up from their notes. Even Dr. Halsey placed her hands in her lap, endlessly twisting her wedding ring.

“I believe you stand corrected, Dr. Menard,” Dr. Reischtal.

Dr. Menard met Dr. Reischtal’s glare. “Intimidation may achieve results, but it is temporary and has many unanticipated consequences. Remember that. In the long run, the truth will come out. It always does. This entire operation is a farce, for chrissakes.”

Dr. Reischtal said, “I will not tolerate blasphemy. Watch your language.”

“What?”

“As a man of science, you may find matters of faith contemptible. I, however, do not.”

“Goddamnit!” Dr. Menard pounded on the table. “Explain yourself! You are putting every single one of us at risk, not to mention the rest of the population of the city. You need to be held accountable.”

Dr. Reischtal spoke slowly, carefully enunciating each word. “This is your last warning, Dr. Menard. I will not tolerate any more dissension on this team. I sincerely hope you understand.”

“Or what? Or what? Is that a threat? You’ll sic your attack dog on me? Huh? Your shadow?”

Sergeant Reaves, leaning against the wall near the door, did not change his blank expression. His eyes, dull and lifeless, stared out at the room, focusing on nothing and everything at the same time.

Dr. Menard said, “We’re not fooled. These soldiers, they’re not part of the U.S. Armed Forces, so who are they? Who do they work for?”

Dr. Reischtal picked up the conference room phone and said, “Please escort Dr. Menard from the property.”

Dr. Menard stood and it became clear that he was a fairly large man. “What if I decide not to leave? What are you going to do, shoot me?”

Sergeant Reaves remained motionless.

“Only if you make it necessary.” Dr. Reischtal gave a thin smile.

The doors swung open. Two soldiers stood at attention. Behind them, the hallway was filled with more soldiers. Dozens and dozens of them. The entire line bristled with the black muzzles of assault rifles, as if the men were a single organism, a spiked, heavy metal caterpillar.

The two soldiers entered the room, split apart, and came to rest on either side of Dr. Menard. He refused to acknowledge them. Instead, he pulled out a pack of cigarettes, put one between his lips.

Dr. Reischtal said, “Dr. Menard, I certainly hope you understand there is absolutely no smoking in this facility.”

Dr. Menard mumbled around the cigarette, “Blow me.” The soldiers walked him out.

Dr. Reischtal spread his hands, swept his gaze across the room one more time. “I certainly hope everyone can appreciate how crucial our work is here. If the virus spreads any further, this situation could be nothing less then the end of times.”

CHAPTER 48

10:29 PM

August 13

Sam was just about to say, “Let’s go get a drink,” when the door rolled up on the loading dock once again, and a large man in a white lab coat stepped outside. The door rolled shut behind him. He looked up and down the street for a moment, lit the cigarette clamped between his teeth, and ambled south.