“Dr. Allaire,” he said, with forced control, “Angela Fletcher risked her life for you and the others in the Capitol. She just accomplished in a couple of days what all those FBI agents couldn’t do in a year. Let’s leave it at that. I just want to make sure that she’s protected.”
Allaire calmed himself with a deep breath, but his eyes flashed.
“Of course,” he said.
“Remember what Genesis has accomplished so far. It’s like they’re everywhere.”
Allaire sighed audibly.
“The FBI will be at Ms. Fletcher’s hospital room within the hour.”
“And, I want—”
“Enough, Rhodes! How are you progressing with your work?”
Griff brushed a knot of matted hair from his forehead. He tensed as he readied himself to break the news.
“I’m afraid at this moment I’m not much closer to a solution than I was before my arrest. This virus is from hell. Maybe we should rename it Genesis because it’s always a step ahead of us.”
With Griff’s weak attempt at levity, Allaire snapped.
His pallid complexion turned crimson in a blink. His mouth contorted, teeth bared. Glaring at the camera, he snatched up a glass of water from the Hard Room’s conference table. Griff watched with growing astonishment as the man with his finger on the nuclear trigger cocked his arm back, and then sent the glass shattering against a wall.
“You cannot fail!” Allaire screamed, his face a foot from the camera. “Do you hear me, Rhodes? Do you frigging understand me. I can put you back in prison right now. Right goddamn now! I’ll get someone else down there. Someone who has a clue. Give me some promise, some positive results, or I’ll destroy you. Do you understand me?”
His body was shaking, his eyes wild with rage.
“Sir!” Griff pleaded. “Please! Calm down. You need to calm yourself.”
Gary Salitas stepped in front of the camera, and Griff watched him place his hands on Allaire’s shoulders. The president grabbed his defense secretary by one wrist and rotated it until the man cried out in pain and released his hold.
Bethany Townsend suddenly burst into view, followed by a pair of Secret Service agents. With the camera angle and all the commotion it was impossible for Griff to follow the action. When the bodies cleared, Townsend was leaning over the conference table looking directly into the camera. The slightly built physician was breathless and flushed.
“Dr. Rhodes, we are going to have to reschedule this call,” she said. “The president is in no condition at the moment to continue. Secretary Salitas and I will see to it that Ms. Fletcher is looked after.”
“Wait! Wait!” Griff heard Allaire shout from off camera.
Moments later, the president returned to his seat. Townsend hovered close by, as did the agents. Allaire was still hyperventilating, but quickly his breathing slowed and his color became more sanguine. He straightened his tie, and used his hands as a comb—small gestures, but enough to restore some of his lost demeanor.
“Rhodes, I’m terrified my outburst is just the virus at work,” he said in a panicky, whispered voice. “It’s happening in small pockets in both A and B Groups. Irritability beyond what should be expected under the circumstances. Uncontrolled outbursts. Arguments. Even fistfights.”
“Sir, can you please hold your palms up to the camera?”
Griff breathed a relieved sigh when he saw they were unremarkable.
“We’re running out of time, Rhodes,” Allaire continued. “It’s getting worse. But I don’t have to tell you that, do I.”
CHAPTER 47
The president’s infection was becoming manifest.
Griff had no more doubt about that fact than he did about the trouble his own work was in.
The man was brittle and irascible. Talking to him was like playing catch using a ticking bomb for a ball.
“No, sir,” Griff managed. “You don’t have to tell me how serious this all is. You mentioned A and B Group. Any update from C?”
Allaire’s expression turned doleful, his face etched by regret.
“We’ve had some deaths there,” he said. “We’ve implemented increased biocontainment safety protocols to allow medical personnel continued access to the victims in C, but I’m afraid it’s too dangerous to allow that to continue. The people in there are sick and many are going mad. Everyone in C Group is going to die. It’s a given now. We’re praying for you to save the rest of us.”
“We did have one significant development,” Griff said.
Allaire’s voice became immediately energized.
“What is it?”
Griff had made the statement without much thought. He now decided on the spot not to reveal what he’d learned of Sylvia Chen’s secret experiments. For all he knew, Allaire might have authorized them. For now, he, Angie, and Melvin were alone in this fight. It was the only way they could ensure there would be no more leaks or attempts to sabotage their efforts.
“What’s the news?” Allaire demanded again.
“Some of my work is having a little effect on the computer model of the virus. We’re going to experiment with adding some adjuvants.”
“Those are chemical boosters, yes?”
“Exactly. I am looking to see if we can pump up the immunological response of our current treatment.”
“Good,” Allaire said. “Keep the people at the CDC in the loop. They might have suggestions for adjuvants that could help.”
“I’ll do that.”
“Do you have any specific chemicals in mind?”
“Based on our results so far, there are some possibilities,” Griff said. “I have Melvin doing research. We’re not wasting any time on sleep.”
“Do you want more help?”
“I don’t have time to bring them up to speed, and I don’t have the facilities. How much have you told the media and the people there in the Capitol about WRX3883?”
“I … actually, I haven’t told them anything at all. They still think we’re dealing with a variant of influenza. At least most of them do.”
“Not good,” Griff muttered.
“What?!”
“Mr. President, maybe the crowd would be a little easier to deal with if they knew the extent of what
Once again, Allaire’s expression began to morph. The tension in his voice rose.
“Rhodes,” he said, “why don’t you let me do my job as the president while you do your job as virus man and find a treatment for what’s killing us.”
From his spot by the door, Forbush suddenly cut into the conversation as if he was unaware that it was going on.
“Griff, I’ve been thinking…”
“Rhodes, who’s there?” Allaire snapped.
Griff held a finger up to his lips to quiet Melvin, then he pointed to the videoconference monitor.
“It’s me, Melvin, Mr. Allaire,” Forbush said, clearly unimpressed that he had just interrupted a private
