The phone conversation was short and to the point. Marissa said that it was her clinical impression that they were dealing with another Ebola outbreak.
“What about isolation?”
“They’ve done a good job in that regard,” reported Marissa.
“We’ll be there as soon as possible,” said Dubchek. “Probably tonight. Meanwhile, I want you to stop all further lab work and supervise a thorough disinfection. Also have them set up the same kind of quarantine of contacts that we used in L.A.”
Marissa was about to reply when she realized that Dubchek had hung up. She sighed as she replaced the receiver; such a wonderful working relationship!
“Well,” said Marissa to Drs. Taboso and Austin, “let’s get to work.”
They quickly set the quarantine measures in motion, arranging for the sterilization of the lab and assuring Marissa that her samples would be sent overnight to the CDC.
As they left to attend to their tasks, Marissa asked for the charts on the other two patients. The nurse, whose name was Pat, handed them to her, saying, “I don’t know if Dr. Taboso mentioned this, but Mrs. Zabriski is downstairs.”
“Is she a patient?” asked Marissa with alarm.
“Oh, no,” said Pat. “She’s just insisting on staying at the hospital. She wanted to be up here, but Dr. Taboso didn’t think it was a good idea. He told her to stay in the first-floor lounge.”
Marissa put down the two new charts, debating what she should do next. She decided to see Mrs. Zabriski, since she had very few details with regard to the doctor’s recent schedule. Besides, she had to stop by the lab to check the sterilization. Asking directions from Pat, Marissa rode down to the second floor on the elevator. En route she looked at the faces of the people next to her and guessed what their responses would be when they heard that there had been an Ebola outbreak in the hospital. When the doors opened on the second floor, she was the only one who got off.
Marissa expected to find the evening shift in the lab and was surprised to see that the director, a pathologist by the name of Dr. Arthur Rand, was still in his office, even though it was after 8:00 P.M. He was a pompous older man, dressed in a plaid vest complete with a gold fob protruding from one of the pockets. He was unimpressed that Marissa had been sent by the CDC, and his facial expression did not change when Marissa said it was her clinical opinion that there was an outbreak of Ebola in his hospital.
“I was aware that was in the differential diagnosis.”
“The CDC has requested that no more lab tests be done on the involved patients.” Marissa could tell that the man was not going to make it easy for her. “We’ll be bringing in an isolation lab sometime tonight.”
“I suggest you communicate this to Dr. Taboso,” said Dr. Rand.
“I have,” said Marissa. “It’s also our opinion that the lab here should be disinfected. In the outbreak in L.A. three cases were traced to the lab. I’d be willing to help, if you’d like.”
“I believe that we can handle our own cleanup,” said Dr. Rand with a look that seemed to say,
“I’m available if you need me,” said Marissa as she turned and left. She’d done what she could.
On the first floor she made her way to a pleasant lounge with its own connecting chapel. She was unsure how she would recognize Mrs. Zabriski, but it turned out she was the only person in the room.
“Mrs. Zabriski,” said Marissa softly. The woman raised her head. She was in her late forties or early fifties, with gray-streaked hair. Her eyes were red rimmed; it was obvious she had been crying.
“I’m Doctor Blumenthal,” said Marissa gently. “I’m sorry to bother you, but I need to ask you some questions.”
Panic clouded the woman’s eyes. “Is Carl dead?”
“No,” said Marissa.
“He’s going to die, isn’t he?”
“Mrs. Zabriski,” said Marissa, wanting to avoid such a sensitive issue, especially since she believed the woman’s intuition was correct. Marissa sat down next to her. “I’m not one of your husband’s doctors. I’m here to help find out what kind of illness he has and how he got it. Has he done any traveling over the last—” Marissa was going to say three weeks, but remembering Dr. Richter’s trip to Africa, she said instead, “—the last two months?”
“Yes,” Mrs. Zabriski said wearily. “He went to a medical meeting in San Diego last month, and about a week ago he went to Boston.”
“San Diego” made Marissa sit up straighter. “Was that an eyelid surgery conference in San Diego?”
“I believe so,” said Mrs. Zabriski. “But Judith, Carl’s secretary, would know for sure.”
Marissa’s mind whirled. Zabriski had attended the same meeting as Dr. Richter! Another coincidence? The only problem was that the conference in question had been about six weeks previous, about the same interval of time as from Dr. Richter’s African trip to the appearance of his symptoms. “Do you know what hotel your husband stayed in while he was in San Diego?” asked Marissa. “Could it have been the Coronado Hotel?”
“I believe it was,” said Mrs. Zabriski.
While Marissa’s mind was busy recalling the central role played by a certain hotel in Philadelphia during the Legionnaires Disease outbreak, she asked about Dr. Zabriski’s trip to Boston. But his wife did not know why he’d gone. Instead, she gave Marissa her husband’s secretary’s phone number, saying again that Judith would know that kind of thing.
Marissa took the number and asked whether Dr. Zabriski had been bitten by, or had been around, any monkeys recently.
“No, no,” said Mrs. Zabriski. At least none that she knew of.
Marissa thanked the woman and apologized for bothering her. Armed with the secretary’s home phone number, she went to call Judith.
Marissa had to explain twice who she was and why she was calling so late before the secretary would cooperate. Judith then confirmed what Mrs. Zabriski had told her: namely, that the doctor had stayed at the Coronado Hotel while in San Diego, that Dr. Zabriski had not been bitten recently by any animal, and, as far as she knew, that he’d not been around any monkeys. When Marissa asked if Dr. Zabriski knew Dr. Richter, the answer was that the name had never appeared on any correspondence or on his phone list. Judith said the reason that Dr. Zabriski had gone to Boston was to help plan the Massachusetts Eye and Ear Infirmary’s upcoming alumni meeting. She gave Marissa the name and phone number of Dr. Zabriski’s colleague there. As Marissa wrote it down, she wondered if Zabriski had unknowingly transferred the virus to the Boston area. She decided that she’d have to discuss that possibility with Dubchek.
As she hung up, Marissa suddenly remembered that she hadn’t called Ralph from the airport. He answered sleepily, and Marissa apologized both for waking him and for not getting in touch with him before she left Atlanta. After she explained what had happened, Ralph said that he would forgive her only if she promised to call him every couple of days to let him know what was going on. Marissa agreed.
Returning to the isolation ward, Marissa went back to the charts. The two later admissions were a Carol Montgomery and a Dr. Brian Cester. Both had come down with high fevers, splitting headaches and violent abdominal cramps. Although the symptoms sounded nonspecific, their intensity gave sufficient cause for alarm. There was no reference to travel or animal contact in either chart.
After gathering the material necessary for taking viral samples, Marissa dressed in protective gear and visited Carol Montgomery. The patient was a woman one year older than Marissa. Marissa found it hard not to identify with her. She was a lawyer who worked for one of the city’s large corporate firms. Although she was lucid and able to talk, it was apparent that she was gravely ill.
Marissa asked if she had done any recent traveling. The answer was no. Marissa asked if she knew Dr. Zabriski. Carol said that she did. Dr. Zabriski was her ophthalmologist. Had she seen him recently? The answer was yes: she’d gone to him four days ago.
Marissa obtained the viral samples and left the room with a heavy heart. She hated making a diagnosis of a disease with no available treatment. The fact that she’d been able to uncover information that mirrored the earlier outbreak was small compensation. Yet the information reminded her of a question that had troubled her in L.A.: Why did some of Dr. Richter’s patients catch the disease and others not?
After changing into fresh protective clothing, Marissa visited Dr. Brian Cester. She asked the same questions
