“My conclusion, too.” Jon stared at the highway traffic. His voice was grave. “Let's hope I can find some answers in Iraq, and that you'll be able to track Bill Griffin and find out more about Sophia's death. Those erased phone calls could be critical.”
They drove on. Peter turned on the radio. It droned news of an unknowing world, while the approaching darkness cast its long, ominous shadows over the white peaks of the high Sierras ahead.
PART THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE
Like an accusation, the front page of The Washington Post lay on the big Cabinet Room oval table where the president had left it. Although none of the solemn cabinet chiefs who sat around the polished table and none of their assistants who packed the walls looked at the newspaper with its banner headline, everyone was painfully aware of it. They had awakened to find their own copies lying on their doorsteps, just as hundreds of millions of Americans had discovered similar terrifying headlines awaiting them. All day long the news had blared from their radios. On television, little else was discussed.
For days scientists and the military had kept the president and high officials informed, but not until now, when the so-called civilized world seemed to erupt with the news, had the full force of the growing epidemic hit home.
DEADLY PANDEMIC OF UNKNOWN VIRUS SWEEPS GLOBE
In the packed cabinet room, Secretary of State Norman Knight pushed his metal-rimmed glasses up on his long nose. His voice was sober. “Twenty-seven nations have reported fatalities due to the virus, a total so far of more than a half million. All began with symptoms of a heavy cold or mild flu for some two weeks, then it'd suddenly escalate into acute respiratory distress syndrome and death within hours, sometimes less.” He sighed unhappily. “Forty-two nations are reporting sudden cases of what appears to be a mild flu. We don't know yet whether that's the virus, too. We've barely started counting those victims, but they're in the high millions.”
A shocked hush greeted the secretary's figures. The packed room seemed to grow rigid.
President Samuel Adams Castilla's penetrating gaze traveled slowly over their faces. He was looking for clues into the minds of his cabinet chiefs. He had to know on whom he could count to remain steady and bring knowledge, wisdom, and the will to act. Who would panic? Who would be shocked into paralysis? Knowledge without the will to act was impotent. Will to act without knowledge was blind and reckless. And anyone with neither to offer needed to be dismissed.
Finally he spoke, keeping his voice composed. “All right, Norm. How many in the United States?”
The secretary of state's long face was topped by an unruly shock of thick white hair. “Beyond the nine cases early last week, the CDC reports some fifty more deaths and at least a thousand flulike cases that they're testing for the new virus right now.”
“It looks like we're getting off light,” said Admiral Stevens Brose, chairman of the Joint Chiefs. His voice was cautiously hopeful.
Too cautious and too hopeful, President Castilla reflected. It was strange, but he had noticed that military men were often the least willing to act on the instant. But then, they had seen the deadly consequences of ill- considered action more than most.
“That's so far,” Nancy Petrelli, secretary of Health and Human Services, pointed out ominously. “Which doesn't mean we won't be devastated tomorrow.”
“No, I suppose it doesn't,” the president agreed, a little surprised by the HHS secretary's negative tone. He had always found her to be the optimistic type. Probably a measure of the terror this virus was instilling in people and governments. That alone emphasized the need for action ? considered and meaningful action, yes, but some action, to mitigate the sense of helpless panic that could freeze everyone in its grip.
He turned to the surgeon general. “Anything new on where those six original cases contracted the virus, Jesse? A connection among them?”
“Aside from the fact that all were either in Desert Storm or related to someone who was, neither the CDC nor USAMRIID has been able to find anything.”
'Overseas?
“The same,” Surgeon General Jesse Oxnard admitted. “All the scientists agree they're stumped. They can see it in their electron microscopes, but the DNA sequence information so far doesn't offer any useful clues. It matches no known virus exactly, so they can only guess how to deal with it. They have no idea where it came from and nothing that'll cure or stop it. All they can suggest are the usual methods for treating any viral fever and then hope the mortality rate is no worse than the fifty percent we had in the first six cases.”
“At least that's something,” the president decided. “We can mobilize every medical resource in the advanced industrialized countries and send them all over the world. Medicines, too. Everything anyone needs or thinks they need.” The president nodded to Anson McCoy, secretary of defense. “You put the whole armed forces at Jesse's disposal, Anse, everything ? transports, troops, ships, whatever it takes.”
“Yessir,” Anson McCoy agreed.
“Within reason, sir,” Admiral Brose warned. “There are some nations that might try to take advantage if we put too many resources into this. We could leave ourselves open to attack.”
“The way it's going, Stevens,” the president said dryly, “there might not be much left to attack or defend anywhere. It's a time for new thinking, people. The old answers aren't working. Lincoln said something like that in a crisis a long time ago, and we may damn well be approaching the same kind of crisis now. Kenny and Norman have been trying to tell us that for years. Right, Kenny?”
Secretary of the Interior Kenneth Dahlberg nodded. “Global warming. Environmental degradation. Destruction of the rain forests. Migration from rural areas all across the Third World. Overpopulation. It's all leading to the emergence of new diseases everywhere. That means a lot of deaths. This epidemic may be only the tip of the iceberg.”
“Which means we've got to put everything into stopping it,” the president said. “As must every industrialized country.” Out of the corners of his eyes he saw Nancy Petrelli open her mouth as if to object. “And don't tell me how much it's going to cost, Nancy. That doesn't matter at this point.”
“I agree, sir. I was going to offer an idea.”
“Okay.” The president tried to control his impatience. In his mind he was gearing up for action. “Tell us what's on your mind.”
“I disagree that all scientists have nothing to suggest. My office had a call not an hour ago from a Dr. Victor Tremont, chairman and CEO of Blanchard Pharmaceuticals. He said he couldn't be absolutely certain, having never tested it against the new virus, but the description he's heard of the virus and its symptoms seems to closely match a monkey virus his company's been working with for some years.” She paused for effect. “They have developed a serum that cures it most of the time.”
There was a stunned moment. Excitement exploded in a cacophony of conflicting voices. They bombarded the HHS secretary with questions. They objected to the possibility. They thrilled at a cure.
Finally the president slammed his fist onto the table. “Hold it, dammit! All of you, shut up!”
The cabinet room almost vibrated with the abrupt silence. The president glared at each of them, allowing time for the room to calm. Tension was palpable, and the ticking of the clock on the mantel seemed as loud as thunder.
Finally, President Castilla returned his hard gaze to the HHS secretary. “Let's hear that again straight out and
