The Deep Zone

Rhodes was smooth and utterly composed. A lawyer’s lawyer. His cologne smelled like sun-warmed roses. The other one wore a cheap suit and his tie had a stain just below the knot. A double-dipping ex-cop or maybe ex- Bureau. His cologne smelled like industrial disinfectant. Rivers’s face was a collection of wrinkles and pinches from a lifetime of frowning. Rhodes’s was smooth as dark ice. He had a thick neck and that quiet, precise voice. A manila folder lay in front of him, perfectly squared to the angles of the table. Looking at it, and at his huge hands, she saw that he wore a Penn State ring. Linebacker, she thought.

“You need to know that I am in the middle of extremely critical—”

“We know whachure workin’ on.” Rivers cut her off, bored, looking at the ceiling.

“And we are aware of its importance.” Rhodes kept his eyes on hers. “That’s one reason we’re here. There has been a security breach. Traced to you.”

First came denial: she laughed. “A security breach? Is this some kind of prank? Did Don Barnard put you up to this? The lab people?”

“No joke, Doc.” Rivers hacked out a smoker’s phlegmy rattle. He did not cover his mouth, and microdroplets of saliva sprayed the table.

Buy time. “Show me some ID, gentlemen.”

They had valid credentials. Rivers’s included a gold badge with blue numbers. When he put his black leather ID folder away, she noted that he made sure to flash the Glock 9mm in its brown Bianchi shoulder holster.

“What kind of complaint?”

“It appears that you have been providing secure research information to an outside party for unauthorized remuneration.”

She translated the bureaucratese in her mind. “You’re talking about selling government secrets?”

“That’s right.”

“First, that is a lie.” Hallie tried not to sound like it, but she was furious and afraid. “Second, if there is to be an investigation, you are required first to inform me and my immediate superior, allow me to retain counsel, and present your allegations before a panel headed by the associate director of science and including at least one CDC employee of my choosing.”

“You’ve read your personnel manual.” Rhodes seemed impressed.

Rivers did not. “What the personnel manual don’t include is that with national security, that personnel process goes in the dumpster.”

National security. Twenty-first-century McCarthyism.

“How long has this inquiry been going on?”

“I’m not at liberty to divulge that.” Rhodes tapped the manila folder with his index finger. A fly buzzed around Rivers, who seemed not to notice. “But we’re confident that a court would find probable cause to believe a security breach occurred and that you were responsible.”

“This is insane!” Hallie jumped out of her chair. “I’m getting the hell out of here and calling my lawyer, gentlemen.”

Rhodes’s voice, soft but urgent, stopped her. “Dr. Leland. I seriously advise you to wait. Hear us out. Then you can always retain counsel… and so forth.”

That was reasonable. Still furious, she sat back down. “So tell me.”

“Emails have been intercepted. From your home computer to and from an external source, containing secure BARDA information. Deposits have also been tracked to an account in your name at Grand Cayman National Bank. They correspond to payments and dates in the emails.”

“This is unbelievable. I don’t have a Cayman account, Mr. Rhodes. Never have.”

Rivers suddenly sat up straight, put his elbows on the table. “We don’t even have to talk to you, Doc. We could refer this to the United States attorney. Like that.” He snapped his fingers and in the small room it sounded like a slap. “For criminal charges.”

It was like trying to fight her way through a whiteout in the mountains, no points of reference, cliffs and crevasses all around. Stop. Make them wait. “Rhodes and Rivers. What a coincidence.”

No one smiled.

“What’s in that folder?” she asked. “The charges?”

Rhodes pushed a single sheet of BARDA stationery across to Hallie. It had today’s date. She read it, looked up in disbelief.

“This is a letter of resignation.”

“Better for the gubment.” Rivers poked a finger at her. “Better for you.”

“Jesus Christ. Look, I need to think about this. To talk to a lawyer, at least. You can understand that. Isn’t that my right?”

“Absolutely.” Rhodes looked at her calmly. “But you should understand that we can make this offer here, now. On the table for this meeting. If you walk, it goes away.”

“It was me, I’d take it.” Now Rivers tried to sound collegial, supportive. She found him less nauseating the other way, but ignored him regardless.

“All it needs is your signature, Dr. Leland.” Rhodes waited, watching her.

She was furious and terrified and confused. Her face felt hot. It was hard to get a good breath in the small room, its air thick with the men’s smells.

“Who was I supposed to be selling data to?”

Rhodes glanced at Rivers. “I’m not at liberty to divulge that.”

Nothing like this had ever happened to her before. She had no frame of reference, no experience to fall back on that might help her know how to react. But she did know that Washington was always all about leverage, and suddenly something occurred to her.

“What’s CDC afraid of? Why are you doing this in secret?”

For the first time she saw a glimmer of uncertainty in Rhodes’s eyes. He twisted the Penn State ring, looked at Rivers, who shrugged, more concerned with the little wart on his left palm that he was picking with the fingernails of his other hand. Rhodes took a while, appearing to consider his words very carefully.

“You know how important secrecy is to BARDA’s mission. Therefore to CDC’s. A very public security-breach trial could do irreparable harm. There are people in the government who would like for BARDA to go away. Every dollar spent here is a dollar not spent on guns and tanks. If you get my drift.” With his two index fingers, he drew a pentagon in the air.

Leverage. Now she had some. Now they were afraid.

“I could walk out of here right now, gentlemen. Make just three calls. My lawyer, my senator, and the Washington Post.” Like there really is a “my lawyer,” she thought. But they would not know that. Or… maybe they would.

“That’s true, Dr. Leland.” Rhodes’s hands were folded on the tabletop again. “But you may know how much Washington lawyers cost. And as I said, if you walk out of here, we have no choice. It goes to the U.S. attorney immediately. There will be preliminary hearings, discovery, perhaps press conferences. Possible criminal charges, as Agent Rivers said. Think carefully. A government scientist selling top secret biological research—”

“Alleged,” she snapped so sharply that Rivers looked up from his wart.

Rhodes nodded, smiled, happy to stipulate the parsing that, she herself knew, would make not a whit of difference. “Yes, alleged to be selling top secret research. Even if you are cleared, your career will be over. Why would anyone hire you when there are thousands of untainted microbiologists out there?”

“I’m telling you, Doc, you’re better off taking what we’re offering.” Rivers’s smile showed yellow smoker’s teeth and a serious lack of flossing. She almost screamed at him to shut up. But she knew that Rhodes was right.

She could not afford a pricey lawyer. Her mother had some money, but Hallie would never ask for it. Even if she got a lawyer, the story would be in the Post and on the news programs for days. National news. International, probably. The media liked few things better than espionage stories. Genocide, maybe, and senators getting caught with bimbos or, even better, seducing pages of the same sex, but not much else. The stories would include her side, of course, but their allegations would have the real weight. She could see the headlines: