serious. An appearance of African viral hemorrhagic fever in the developed world has been a nightmare we’ve lived with since the illness first surfaced.
“If it proves to be African viral hemorrhagic fever,” added Dr. Eckenstein.
“I’m convinced,” said Dr. Vreeland. “And I think the monkey will turn out to be the culprit.”
“I didn’t get samples from the monkey,” admitted Marissa quickly.
“That’s okay,” said Dubchek. “We sacrificed the animal last night and sent specimens back to the Center. Liver and spleen sections will be far better than blood.”
They arrived on the fifth floor, where two technicians from the CDC were busy running samples in the Vickers Mobile Isolation Lab.
“I’m sorry about that L.A.
“No matter,” said Dubchek. “Just don’t let it happen again.” He smiled and winked.
Marissa had no idea what the wink meant, nor the smile, for that matter. “Why didn’t you call me when you arrived?” she asked.
“I knew you’d be exhausted,” explained Dubchek. “There really wasn’t any need. We spent most of the night getting the lab set up, autopsying the monkey, and just getting oriented. We also improved the isolation situation by having fans installed. Nonetheless, you are to be congratulated. I think you did a fine job getting this affair underway.”
“For the moment, I’m buried in administrative detail,” continued Dubchek, “but I do want to hear what you’ve learned. Maybe you and I could have dinner tonight. I’ve gotten you a room at the hotel where we are staying. I’m sure it’s better than the Tropic Motel.”
“There’s nothing wrong with the Tropic,” said Marissa. She felt an odd twinge of discomfort, as if her intuition were trying to tell her something.
Marissa went back to her small room behind the nurses’ station and began to catch up on her own paperwork. First she phoned the sponsoring organizations for the two medical meetings Dr. Richter had attended. She told them that she needed to know if any of the other attendees had become ill with a viral disease. Then, gritting her teeth at the cruelty of her next call, she dialed Dr. Richter’s home number and asked if she could pick up the diary Mrs. Richter had promised her the night before.
The neighbor who answered the phone seemed appalled by her request, but, after checking with the widow, told Marissa to come over in half an hour.
Marissa drove up to the beautifully landscaped house and nervously rang the bell. The same neighbor answered and rather angrily directed Marissa to the living room. Anna Richter appeared a few minutes later. She seemed to have aged ten years overnight. Her face was pale, and her hair, which had been so carefully curled the night before, hung about her face in lank strands.
The neighbor helped her to a chair, and Marissa was amazed to see that she was anxiously folding and unfolding some lined papers that seemed to contain the requested list of her husband’s activities over the last weeks. Knowing what a strain the woman must have been under, Marissa didn’t know what to say, but Anna simply handed her the sheets saying, “I couldn’t sleep last night anyway, and maybe this will help some other poor family.” Her eyes filled with tears. “He was such a good man… a good father… my poor children.”
Despite knowing of his affair with Helen Townsend, Marissa decided that Dr. Richter must have been a pretty good husband. Anna’s grief seemed real, and Marissa left her as soon as she politely could.
The notes that she read before starting the car were surprisingly detailed. Put together with a further interview with Miss Cavanagh and the doctor’s appointment book, Marissa felt they would give her as good a picture of Richter’s last few weeks as anyone could get.
Back at the hospital, Marissa made a separate sheet of paper for each day of January and listed Richter’s activities. One fact she discovered was that he had complained to Miss Cavanagh about an AIDS patient named Meterko who was suffering from an undiagnosed retinal disorder. It sounded like something Marissa should look into.
In the afternoon, the phone in Marissa’s cubicle rang. Picking it up, she was startled to hear Tad Schockley’s voice. The connection was so good that for a moment she thought he was there in L.A.
“Nope,” said Tad, responding to her question. “I’m still here in Atlanta. But I need to speak to Dubchek. The hospital operator seemed to think that you might know where he was.”
“If he’s not in the CDC room, then I guess he’s gone to his hotel. Apparently they were up all last night.”
“Well, I’ll try the hotel, but in case I don’t get him, could you give him a message?”
“Of course,” said Marissa.
“It’s not good news.”
Straightening up, Marissa pressed the phone to her ear. “Is it personal?”
“No,” said Tad with a short laugh. “It’s about the virus you people are dealing with. The samples you sent were great, especially Dr. Richter’s. His blood was loaded with virus—more than a billion per milliliter. All I had to do was spin it down, fix it and look at it with the electron microscope.”
“Could you tell what it was?” asked Marissa.
“Absolutely,” said Tad excitedly. “There are only two viruses that look like this, and it tested positive with indirect fluorescene antibody for Ebola. Dr. Richter has Ebola Hemorrhagic Fever.”
“Had,” said Marissa, mildly offended by Tad’s callous enthusiasm.
“Did the man die?” asked Tad.
“Last night,” said Marissa.
“It’s not surprising. The illness has a ninety percent plus fatality rate.”
“My God!” exclaimed Marissa. “That must make it the deadliest virus known.”
“Some people might give rabies that dubious honor,” said Tad. “But personally I think it is Ebola. One of the problems is that almost nothing is known about this illness because there has been so little experience. Except for a couple of outbreaks in Africa, it’s an unknown entity. You’re going to have your work cut out for you trying to explain how it popped up in Los Angeles.”
“Maybe not,” said Marissa. “Dr. Richter had been bitten just prior to his illness by a monkey that had come from Africa. Dr. Vreeland is pretty sure the monkey was the source.”
“He’s probably right,” agreed Tad. “Monkeys were responsible for an outbreak of hemorrhagic fever in ’67. The virus was named Marburg after the town in Germany where it occurred. The virus looks a lot like Ebola.”
“We’ll soon know,” said Marissa. “Now it’s up to you. Hepatic and splenic sections from the monkey are on the way. I’d appreciate it if you’d check them right away and let me know.”
“My pleasure,” said Tad. “Meanwhile, I’m going to start work on the Ebola virus and see how easily I can culture it. I want to figure out what strain it is. Let Dubchek and the others know they’re dealing with Ebola. If nothing else, it will make them super careful. I’ll talk with you soon. Take care.”
Leaving the cubicle, Marissa stepped across the hall and peered into the CDC room. It was deserted. Going into the neighboring room, she asked the technicians where everyone was. They told her that some of the doctors were down in pathology, since two more of the patients had died, and some were in the ER admitting several new cases. Dr. Dubchek had gone back to the hotel. Marissa told the technicians that they were dealing with Ebola. She left it to them to pass the bad news to the others. Then she went back to her paperwork.
The Beverly Hilton was just as Dubchek had described. It was certainly nicer than the seedy Tropic Motel, and it was closer to the Richter Clinic. But it still seemed like unnecessary effort to Marissa as she plodded after the bellman down the eighth-floor corridor to her room. The bellman turned on all the lights while she waited at the door. She gave him a dollar, and he left.
She’d never unpacked at the Tropic, so the move wasn’t difficult. Yet she wouldn’t have made it if Dubchek hadn’t insisted. He’d called her that afternoon, several hours after she’d talked with Tad. She’d been afraid to call him, thinking that she’d awaken him. As soon as he was on the line, she told him Tad’s news about the outbreak being Ebola Hemorrhagic Fever, but he took it in stride, almost as if he’d expected it. He then had given her directions to the hotel and told her that she merely had to pick up the key for 805, since she was already registered. And he had told her that they’d eat at seven-thirty, if that was all right with her, and that she should just come to his room, which was conveniently located a few doors from hers. He said he’d order up so they could go over her notes while they ate.
