about insults, what do you call wastin’ my time, pretendin’ to be grieved up over employees’ rights when you only lookin’ to talk trash—?”
“That was not my intention—”
VanDerwerf blinked, rapidly stroking his mustache, spots of color on his cheeks and forehead.
Then he released his third and longest sigh yet.
“Okay,” he said in ruffled capitulation. “My staff’s ready to leave for the day. I’ll have them get the names to your office first thing tomorrow morning.”
Thibodeau shook his head and sat.
“Best make that
True to his promise, Eric Oh was at the Stanford lab in time to receive the radiographs and diagnostic specimen from Lieberman.
They arrived via special courier a little after five o’clock, the serum packed separately in accordance with international requirements for transport of fluid, tissue, cultures, and other substances believed to contain etiologic agents — live microbial organisms that were potential causes of infectious disease in human beings.
Or, as they were broadly categorized in the rule books: Dangerous Goods.
Its seal wrapped in waterproof tape, the labeled vial had been placed in a tubular plastic container, the spaces around it filled with sufficient wadding to absorb every drop of sera within should an accidental leak or breakage occur in handling. The secondary receptacle was then capped, taped for watertightness, labeled with the name, address, and phone number of the sender at San Jose Mercy, and encased in an outer shipping canister. Besides a duplicate of the sender’s identification and contact information label, this third canister bore the standard tag for biomedical etiologic materials prescribed by the federal Department of Health, Education, and Welfare, highlighted by a bright red biohazard trefoil against a white background and bearing the appropriate phone number for notification of the CDC should the package become damaged.
These same procedures had been followed for the transport of the sample to Berkeley, as well as for the air shipment of the sample to Atlanta, with additional black-and-white stickers mandated by the International Air Transport Association for containers of dry ice and infectious substances.
Before putting on his protective attire and bringing the package into the virology lab’s biosafety cabinet, where he planned to spend perhaps an hour or two studying its contents, Eric rang Lieberman to let him know it had reached him safe and sound. He then went out to a nearby fast-food restaurant, ordered a couple of cheeseburgers to go, and ate them drowned in ketchup, trying to imagine it was the tomato sauce he’d so looked forward to enjoying at his canceled dinner.
He knew he was kidding himself, of course.
There wasn’t the slightest chance in the world that the burgers would relieve his unfulfilled longing for calamari.
And given his suspicions about Gordian’s case, there was also virtually no chance he’d be leaving the laboratory for many long hours to come.
“From what I can see here, we got thirty-four employees in the building called in sick over the last three weeks,” Thibodeau said.
“Seven… no, sorry, make that
“None of them for longer than three days,” said Ricci.
“The rest of the absences average two days,” Nimec said. “I do notice one person, a Michael Ireland in Legal, who’s been down five and counting….”
“Mike fractured his leg rock climbing,” Megan said. “He and his fiancee are friends of mine.”
“Scratch his name off the list,” Scull said and did so on the copy in front of him, drawing a line through it with his pen.
It was a quarter to seven in the evening, regular work hours long past, Nimec’s office once again having become a strategy room for Sword’s core leadership group… plus one, since Vince Scull was, technically speaking, not a member of the organizational security division. They had pulled up chairs to whatever flat surfaces were available — or reasonably clearable — and were poring over photocopies of the separate computer printouts obtained by Nimec and Thibodeau, verifying, cross-checking, and generally hoping for a lead that might steer them toward a carrier from whom Roger Gordian could have received his infection.
“Anyone think it’s worth talking to the people on Rollie’s list who took off sick and are already back to work?” Nimec said.
“My opinion’s that it isn’t, with one possible exception,” said Ricci. “This bug has the boss flat-out kayoed. Somebody’s on his feet after a couple days, he’s not likely to be our contact.”
“That’s if it hits everyone the same, a big assumption to make,” Scull said. “Certain people could have a natural resistance and be mildly affected. Or not be susceptible at all. Or they could be what are called asymptomatic hosts, intermediaries for the bug to hitch a ride on. Our germ bag might be unaffected but have an acquaintance or relative who’s deathly sick—”
“Point taken, Vince,” Nimec said. “But I think our hunt has to stay narrow for now, or we’ll find ourselves lost in the woods.”
Thibodeau nodded. “The direct route gets us nowhere pickin’ up tracks, we widen our range.”
Megan looked at Ricci. “You mentioned an exception…”
“Yeah. A James Meisten. His name’s the only one that’s on both lists.” He looked down at the printouts spread side-by-side in front of him. “He was out sick yesterday, back today. Also met with the boss last Friday.”
“I know him a little,” Megan said. “He was at the Marketing and Promotions conference about the info kiosks.”
“So we phone him at home tonight even though he’s returned?”
“I suppose it couldn’t hurt.” She frowned. “Candidates aren’t exactly leaping out at us, are they? And when I weigh what Vince said… it gets so tangled. I can think of so many possibilities off the top of my head. Assuming the carrier is even a human being as opposed to something that flies, creeps, or crawls, he doesn’t have to be a person who actually had a scheduled meeting with Roger. It could be somebody who chatted with him in the hallway or elevator. Or whose office he popped into on the spur of the moment. Or who shook his hand during a thirty-second introduction. And that’s before we even consider people on his appointment schedule from
She let the sentence trail.
“Thought we were sticking to the straight and narrow,” Ricci said to her. “We’ve got Meisten, which is better than nothing. And, far as it goes for the boss’s unplanned contacts, we should look at Thibodeau’s list, try to pinpoint employees most likely to have crossed his path without an appointment over the course of a normal workday. See if that takes us anywhere.”
“I’ve already been doing that,” Nimec said. “Only name that stands out as a possible is Donald Palardy.”
“Palardy heads one of the sweep teams,” Thibodeau said. “Rotated out of Brazil ’round the same time I did.”
Nimec was nodding. “He called in sick Monday.”
Ricci looked at him.
“A day after the boss collapsed.”
“Yeah. And he’s still on the absentee list.”
Everyone in the room was momentarily quiet.
“Don’t see how we can read too much into this,” Scull said. “Sweeps are conducted early, right? Before most of us get to work. We’ve no reason to believe he and Gord have ever been in the same room together.”
“No reason to think they haven’t, either,” Ricci said.
“I know for sure Palardy’s been inside the boss’s office,” Thibodeau said. “We got four teams in the building.
