prompted him to make an equally fast callback.
His impressions corresponded to Lieberman’s — Oh’s version of gut radar, which he’d dubbed his “Spidey sense” in homage to his favorite childhood comic book character, was giving him physical tingles. He urged that a fresh specimen of Gordian’s blood be transported to the renowned virology lab at Stanford Medical School in nearby Palo Alto for examination and recommended that Lieberman follow the usual guidelines for a potential biohazardous threat and ship a second viable sample, dry-iced, to the Centers for Disease Control in Atlanta.
“I’d also appreciate you getting another tube of sera to the research facility at Berkeley,” he said. “I consult with researchers there pretty often, and we have a good working relationship.”
“I’ll need to make matters official,” Lieberman said. “Advise the departmental chairs, obtain their authorizations.”
“Think you can rustle them together this afternoon?”
“I’ll give it my best.”
“One more thing before I forget — Gordian’s X-rays. The reports note you’ve had series taken every twelve hours. Can I see your originals? From the initial images to the most recent. I’ll send them right back to you tomorrow morning.”
“No problem.”
“Great, they should give me a better sense of how this has evolved,” Oh said. “The material’s out to Stanford within the hour, I’ll drive down to personally sign for it and get cracking.”
“I thought you mentioned you were taking Cindy out for an Italian dinner tonight.”
“She got used to losing me to an electron microscope and assay plates the day our honeymoon ended, Eli.”
It was late afternoon when Pete Nimec stepped out of the elevator to find Gordian’s admin staring at his office door from behind her desk.
“Norma,” he said. “How you holding up?”
She turned to him slowly as he approached.
“As best I can, Pete,” she said. “Has Mrs. Gordian gotten in touch with you again?”
He shook his head. “We assume she will after that government epidemiologist has a look at things.”
Norma was quiet.
“I don’t want to think about him not being in there.” She indicated Gordian’s office with her cheerless eyes. “And somehow I can’t think about anything else.”
Nimec looked at her.
“I know,” he said.
“Nothing seems right,” she said. “It’s so strange. He’s one of those people I’ve taken for granted will always be with us. I can’t imagine him being seriously ill. He’s so much
He reached across the desk and touched her shoulder.
“Maybe not,” he said. “But you aren’t alone. Everybody who cares about him feels that way a little.”
She put her hand on his and let it rest there a moment.
“Thank you.”
He nodded in silence.
“It’s incredible how much Mr. Gordian is able to manage,” she said then. “I’ve spent the past two afternoons canceling his appointments. That luncheon with senators Richard and Bruford from the Armed Services Committee. Meetings with senior executive board members. With a representative from the Silicon Valley Business Alliance. I can’t tell you how many others.”
“You have to field a lot of questions from the press since that stroke story appeared?”
“Enough,” she said. “I’ve stayed with Megan’s official explanation to the letter. Dizziness, maybe too much yard work, routine tests.”
“That’ll hold a while,” he said.
“And hopefully we won’t have any reason to go beyond it.”
“Hopefully.” He paused. “Norma, while we’re on the subject of Gord’s schedule, I need a favor. Something Vince Scull thinks might be important to the doctors. Would you be able to provide a list of his verifiable contacts over the past couple, three weeks? The ones with whom he physically connected, that is.”
She looked at him.
“Yes, I log all his engagements into an electronic scheduler,” she said. “The calendar automatically appears when I turn on my computer every morning. I input whether the date is kept, missed, or reshuffled. Occasionally, Mr. Gordian will have me enter a list of talking points beforehand. Or his handwritten impressions of how the meeting went.”
“I won’t ask for Gord’s private notes. Just the names of people he met and who they work for. Maybe where their meetings took place. Can you swing that for me right now?”
“Pete, I’ll do anything to help. Now, later, don’t hesitate to check with me for whatever information you want,” Norma said. The thought that she could be of use had given her a kind of animation. “Would you like a printout or disk?”
“A copy of each sounds good to me.”
“You’ve got them,” she said, then slipped a rewritable CD into her drive and began tapping on her keyboard.
“I’m sorry, truly sorry, but I can’t help you with that information,” said Carl VanDerwerf from behind his desk. His job title at UpLink was Managing Director of Human Resources.
“An’ I’m tellin’ you I got to have it,” said Rollie Thibodeau from the seat opposite him.
The two men stared at one another, clearly at an impasse.
“We have to be sensitive to the privacy of our employees,” VanDerwerf persisted. “Moreover, there are state and federal laws. You may not be aware of the penalties we could incur. The liabilities were someone to press a suit about your prying into their personnel records for confidential details—”
Thibodeau held a hand in the air to interrupt him.
“Never mind these people’s ages, work experience, or whether they like to pole vault or pole dance in their rec time. Doesn’t matter to me if somebody’s a kleptomaniac, nymphomaniac, single, married, divorced, a bigamist, or takin’ care of his or her shut-in Aunt Emma,” he said. “Just give me the names of employees in this building who took sick days the past couple weeks, and the departments where they work. You got to have that on file.”
VanDerwerf produced an exasperated sigh. “Certainly we do. For payroll and insurance purposes. But if you’d allowed me to finish my sentence a moment ago, you would know the law requires that we keep an individual’s medical background confidential.”
“Nobody’s talkin’
VanDerwerf sighed again.
“Sir, just as you are responsible for our corporate security operations, I supervise all phases of personnel function. At all levels from senior executive to mail room clerk. My decisions must be guided by UpLink’s established policies and procedures and by applicable government regulations.” He pursed his lips, ran a finger across his neatly trimmed salt-and-pepper mustache. “Now, I’m not denying that unanticipated situations will sometimes arise that demand judgment calls. Should you care to explain the basis of your request… address my own need to know if it is associated with rumors circulating about Mr. Gordian’s condition… I’m sure we can reconcile our differences in a mutually amenable, commonsense manner.”
Thibodeau glowered. “You sayin’ it ain’t okay for me to ask a fella straight on whether he had a cold or a sprained ankle last week, but it’s fine for you to stick your bill into the boss’s affairs through a third party?”
“That is an oversimplification rendered in insulting terms. My capacities include oversight of UpLink’s health- care costs, and Mr. Gordian is covered by our corporate policy. The wall of silence surrounding his absence stands to put me in a difficult position with our provider. I merely suggest we trade off—”
“I heard enough, you officious little prick.” Thibodeau pushed off his chair and stood over the desk. “Talk
