“It’s true that we public health experts know how to respond. At the federal level we have vaccinated small teams of experts who can move quickly to an infected area to confirm the diagnosis and work to contain it. We call it ‘quarantine-ring vaccination.’ That’s the simple part.” He reached his arm around behind to scratch his back.
“Keep in mind however, that vaccine is useless if administered more than four to five days after exposure because the virus will already have grown in the body and overwhelmed the immune system, which won’t be able to kick-in fast enough to stop it. Think about the technical difficulties of administering huge doses of vaccine to the population of Minneapolis or St. Paul. Other than getting people together for a Vikings game, I can’t think of anything we can do to congregate people fast enough to be vaccinated. It could take up to two months-too slow and much too late.”
No one spoke. Valentini looked down at the carpeting.
Dr. Kumar put his hand inside his jacket and scratched his chest. He shuffled his feet. “Folks, there’s more.”
Paul saw all heads around the table come up to stare at him.
“If the sample stolen from Vector is here, we don’t know how ‘heated up’ it is.”
“What the hell does that mean?” Conway said.
“The Soviet scientists experimented with a number of enhancements to the virus. They exposed it to several antibiotics to force the smallpox to mutate into a drug resistant form. We call the process, ‘heating up’ a germ. The new, super-lethal strain enables the disease to crash through most vaccines.”
The doctor rubbed his shoulder and shifted to stand on his left leg. “We don’t know if that’s the case with the stolen sample … we just don’t know. So, if we can’t contain it with vaccine fast enough or if the strain can crash through the vaccines we have, it’s going out of control and we’ve lost.”
Paul could hear his words echo in the silence of the room. No one moved. Finally Conway said, “We’re here to help. What can we do, right now?”
Dr. Samson took a deep breath. “Frankly, Bill, the disease isn’t our greatest problem. That’s not the main reason a terrorist would introduce it.”
Conway scowled. “What the hell? You’ve just scared the shit out of us and now you say, ‘not a problem’?”
“Sit down, Bill,” Samson ordered. “The fact is no pandemic has ever been controlled. We’re hoping that the plan we’ve prepared will do that. In the meantime, we all have to deal with something far worse-the fear factor.” He drained the last of his coffee, reached into his pocket, and pulled out another Snickers bar.
“Remember the panic that everyone felt after nine-eleven? Remember the anthrax scares, the flu scares, SARS?” He took his time looking around the table. “Multiply that by a thousand. If the population learns of a smallpox pandemic that’s lethal, that no one is immune to, and travels faster than imaginable, what do you think people will do?”
Conway pressed his lips together. “See what you mean. So that’s why they’re really here. I can just see the problem if crowds of people try to stampede the vaccine facilities to get doses for their families. And then there’s the transportation systems, schools, malls, and hospitals.” He looked up with gray bags sagging under his eyes. “They’d all go down.”
“And the medical facilities, if the personnel are immune themselves, will be quickly swamped. They’ll lose all effective capacity to contain or treat the disease. If people flee, which they will, that’s the worst thing to do because it amplifies the spread. Our local police and fire workers won’t be immune and if they try to control an infected population, they’ll succumb also.”
“Katrina,” Valentini moaned. “A complete breakdown of the civil society.”
Conway took a deep breath and said, “What do we do? We can’t sit here.”
“We have one shot,” Dr. Samson said. He licked chocolate off his finger. “You said you know where the delivery point is going to be. If we are able to quarantine a manageable area and vaccinate everyone immediately, we may stop it. We’ve already contacted the CDC’s ‘war room.’ They’re sending us a vaccinated team while we talk. They should be here tonight.”
“It’s important to let these experts handle the situation,” Kumar said. “I doubt anyone of us in this room is immune to smallpox. We’ll need all the law enforcement help we can get to keep the outer perimeter of the quarantine area sealed.” He spread his fingers and brushed them through his shiny hair several times. “Still, it will be a great risk to all of us to even be near the scene. Remember, smallpox will most probably be introduced as an airborne pathogen.”
“What should we tell the public?” Paul asked.
“Tough question. Lots of studies have shown that when we tell the public the full truth about the risk, the natural human response is to ignore it,” Samson chuckled. “In the past, we’ve tried to reassure people not to panic, that we’ve got things under control-the response is panic. So, I suggest we mention very little of this to the press. If you do, believe me, it’ll spread faster than the disease itself-and even if the disease isn’t introduced, we’ll have problems.”
Conway waved his arm around the room. “Okay people. I want the Bureau and ICE agents to follow me. We’ll contact the local police for assistance and put our plan together. Paul, I want you to take point on this.” He nodded at Paul and hurried through the door.
A chair tipped over as people scrambled out of the room.
Thirty-Eight
Zehra didn’t have to force herself to concentrate on the trial preparation-fear did that for her. On Friday, in the conference room down the hall from Zehra’s office, Jackie sat at the round table near the window. “I’m so like, blown away with all this work. Will we be ready for trial?”
“No matter how much you prepare, things always pop up you didn’t expect. Trials are dynamic things. You’ve got to be able to think on your feet.”
Stacks of papers, briefs, law books, half-empty coffee cups, CDs with witness’ statements, file folders, and scattered chairs filled the room.
Jackie sifted through layers of notes. “Let’s see … BJ got all the subpoenas served.” When she looked up quickly, her black hair fluttered to the sides of her face. “What about Dr. Stein?”
“Payment? I’ve had a running battle with Mao about coughing-up the money for Stein. At first, Cleary wouldn’t give me an extra dime. When I pointed out this guy could blow the lid off of DNA testing for every other case for public defenders, he got the point.” Zehra crossed her eyes and shook her head. “Duh …”
“Okay. So, he’s coming for sure.” She twisted her hair in her fingertips. “How are you going to handle things if El-Amin insists on going pro-se?”
“I want to be prepared to try the case ourselves.”
“But he’s said he doesn’t want the help of an ‘infidel.’”
Zehra waved her hand. “Every time I’ve had a pro-se client, once they see twelve, mostly white faces staring at them or when the judge asks them about their motion to sequester, they all cave. Then, we have to take over. So, we keep working.”
“I’m really tired. Josh has taken care of my apartment for me. He’s brought over food for me. Sushi almost every night. Am I lucky? Hey, what about the suppression motion?”
“Yeah, that’s our first line of defense. If we can get Goldberg to keep the clothes and the knife out of evidence, we’re okay.” She thought of the knife. “When the jury sees that knife …”
“But it’s just a knife.”
“The psychological effect of actually seeing the knife … well, El-Amin’s gonna be sunk.”
“This is like a wicked smart chess game.”
“You’re right. We’ve got to anticipate the different ways the trial can go and have a strategy for whichever direction it does. Like Plan A, B, and C.”
Jackie sighed. “Okay, boss. That is, if our client even lets us help him.” She stopped keying and looked over at
