CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR
Dr. Orlito Trias was there when Hood phoned Alexander's room. He had the bedside manner of Dr. Frankenstein, but he was a good doctor and a devoted scientist.
'Paul,' he said in his thick Philippine accent, 'I'm glad you called. Your son has a virus.'
Hood felt a chill. There was a time, before AIDS, when the word suggested a problem easily treated with antibiotics.
'What kind of virus? In laymanese, Orly.'
'The boy had an acute bronchial infection two weeks ago. The infection appeared to be cured, but the adenovirus hid in his lungs. All it took to trigger the attack were allergens in the air, which is why the steroid drugs and bronchodilator medication failed to work. This isn't a typical asthma attack. It's a form of obstructive lung disease.'
'How do you treat it?' Hood asked.
'Antiviral therapy. We've caught the infection relatively early, and there's every reason to believe it will not spread.'
'Reason to believe—'
'He's been weakened,' Orly said, 'and these viruses are very opportunistic. One never knows.'
Jesus, Orly. 'Is Sharon there?'
'Yes.'
Hood asked, 'Does she know?'
'Yes. I told her what I've told you.'
'Let me talk to her— and thanks.'
'You're welcome. I'll check back here every hour or so.'
Sharon came on a moment later.
'Paul—'
'I know. Orly's got no future with the U.N.'
'It isn't that,' Sharon said. 'I'd rather know than not know. It's the waiting. You know I was never good at that.'
'Alex is going to be okay.'
'You don't know that. I worked at a hospital, Paul. I know how these things can catch fire.'
'Orly wouldn't leave if the situation was serious.'
'Paul, there's nothing he can do! That's why he's leaving.'
Ann walked in, her hands full of lunch; she stopped just inside the door when she saw Hood's expression.
Bugs sent an E-mail message crawling across the screen: Defense Secretary Colon wanted to talk to him.
'Listen,' Sharon said, 'I didn't get on the phone because I want you to drop what you're doing and come here. I just needed an anchor, okay?'
Hood heard the catch in her voice; she was fighting not to cry. 'Of course it's okay, Sharon. Call me if anything happens— or I'll call you as soon as I can.'
She hung up, and Hood switched from the regular phone to the secure computer phone. He felt less than a husband, less than a father, and considerably less than a man.
'Paul,' Colon said sullenly, 'we've just learned that your man Donald sent an unauthorized radio transmission to the North, requesting a meeting with General Hong-koo.'
'What?'
'Worse, they accepted. If it gets out, we'll spin it that the North contacted him, but you'd better get on the blower and try to talk him out of it. General Schneider gave it his best shot, but Donald intends to be at the meeting.'
'Thanks,' Hood said, and buzzed Bugs. He told him to contact the DMZ on the secure line and get Gregory Donald on the phone. Then he rang Liz Gordon and asked her to come in.
'You want me to leave this and go?' Ann asked.
'No. I want you to stay.'
Her expression brightened.
'We may have a PR nightmare on our hands.'
Her expression darkened.
'Sure,' she said. She sat across the desk from Hood and set the lunches between them.
'What happened with Alex?' she asked.
'Trias said he's got a lung infection. He thinks he's got it under control, but you know Orly— doesn't read people very well.'
'Hmmmm,' Ann said, her eyes darkening even more.
Hood picked up the fork and jabbed at a slice of tomato. 'Any word from Matt on his own virus hunt?'
'Not that I've heard. Want me to check?'
'No thanks. I'll do it when I'm finished with Gregory. Poor guy must be going through hell. We get so wrapped up in events here, we forget the people sometimes.'
The secure phone beeped just as Liz Gordon and Lowell Coffey walked in. Donald's prefix appeared with the number at the display along the bottom. Hood motioned for Liz to close the door. She sat and Coffey stood behind Ann, who shifted uncomfortably. Hood hit the speaker phone.
'Gregory— how are you?'
'All right. Paul, are you on the secure line?'
'Yes.'
'Good. And you're on speaker?'
'Yes.'
'Who's there, Liz, Ann, and Lowell?'
'That's the list.'
'Of course. Then let's get right to it. I did radio Hong-koo, and he responded. I'm to meet him in five and a half hours. Why shoot bullets when you can shoot off your mouth, that's always been my motto.'
'It's a good one, Greg, but not with the DPRK.'
'That's what General Schneider said when he read me the riot act. He's going to leave me twisting in the wind. So is Washington, I'm told.' He hesitated a moment. 'Are you, Paul?'
'Give me a minute.'
Hood hit the Mute button and looked at Liz. From the corner of his eye, he saw Ann nodding solemnly. Lowell stood motionless. The Staff Psychologist sucked on her upper lip and then shook her head.
'Why not?' Hood asked.
'As his ally, you have a chance of changing his mind. If you're his adversary, he'll shut you out.'
'What if I fire him?'
'It won't change a thing. He's a man who's had a severe shock today, who thinks he's behaving with restraint and compassion— a common reaction— and won't be dissuaded.'
'Lowell, what if Schneider charges him with something— misappropriation of government equipment when he made the radio broadcast, something like that— and arrests him.'
'It'll be a hell of a messy trial, and we may have to reveal things we don't want to about the way we work.'
'What if they only hold Greg twenty-four hours? Security reasons, some bullshit like that.'
'He may sue you. Same result.'
'But he won't,' Liz said. 'I went over his file when you appointed him, Paul. He's never done anything vindictive. That was one of his problems, as far as his diplomatic career was concerned. He was a true Christian.'
'Ann, what kind of press is up there?'
'As a rule, no one, they're all based in Seoul. But I'm sure reporters are scrambling for credentials and are on
