Marissa wasn’t at all sure how she felt about people referring to the recent epidemics as “hers.” But she kept that thought to herself, saying instead, “Is there any place else that the Ebola virus is stored, other than here at the CDC?”
Tad thought for a moment. “I’m not sure. Do you mean here in the U.S. ?”
Marissa nodded.
“The army probably has some in Ft. Detrick at the Center for Biological Warfare. The fellow that runs the place used to be here at the CDC and he had an interest in viral hemorrhagic fevers.”
“Does the army have a maximum containment lab?”
Tad whistled. “Man, they’ve got everything.”
“And you say the man in charge at Ft. Detrick has an interest in viral hemorrhagic fever?”
“He was one of the people along with Dubchek who had been sent out to cover the initial Ebola outbreak in Zaire.”
Marissa sipped her coffee, thinking that was an interesting coincidence. She was also beginning to get a germ of an idea, one so unpleasant that she knew she could not consider it a reasonable hypothesis.
“One moment, ma’am,” said the uniformed sentry with a heavy Southern accent.
Marissa was stopped at the main gate to Ft. Detrick. Despite several days of trying to argue herself out of the suspicion that the army might have somehow been responsible for Ebola being loosened on an unsuspecting public, she had finally decided to use her day off to investigate for herself. Those two muggings continued to nag at her.
It had only been an hour-and-a-half flight to Maryland and a short drive in a rent-a-car. Marissa had pleaded her field experience with Ebola as an excuse to talk to anyone else familiar with the rare virus, and Colonel Woolbert had responded to her request with enthusiasm.
The sentry returned to Marissa’s car. “You are expected at building number eighteen.” He handed her a pass that she had to wear on the lapel of her blazer, then startled her with a crisp salute. Ahead of her, the black-and- white gate tipped up, and she drove onto the base.
Building # 18 was a windowless concrete structure with a flat roof. A middle-aged man in civilian clothes waved as Marissa got out of her car. It was Colonel Kenneth Woolbert.
To Marissa, he looked more like a university professor than an army officer. He was friendly, even humorous, and was unabashedly pleased about Marissa’s visit. He told her right off that she was the prettiest and the smallest EIS officer he’d ever met. Marissa took the good with the bad.
The building felt like a bunker. Entry was obtained through a series of sliding steel doors activated by remote control. Small TV cameras were mounted above each door. The laboratory itself, however, appeared like any other modern hospital facility, complete with the omnipresent coffeepot over the Bunsen burner. The only difference was the lack of windows.
After a quick tour, during which the presence of a maximum containment lab was not mentioned, Colonel Woolbert took Marissa to their snack shop, which was nothing more than a series of vending machines. He got her a donut and Pepsi, and they sat down at a small table.
Without any prompting, Colonel Woolbert explained that he’d started at the CDC as an EIS officer in the late fifties and had become increasingly interested in microbiology and ultimately virology. In the seventies, he’d gone back to school, at government expense, to get a Ph.D.
“It’s been a hell of a lot better than looking at sore throats and clogged ears,” said the Colonel.
“Don’t tell me you were in pediatrics!” exclaimed Marissa.
They laughed when they realized they had both trained at Boston’s Children’s Hospital. Colonel Woolbert went on to explain how he’d ended up at Ft. Detrick. He told Marissa that there had been a history of movement between Detrick and the CDC and that the army had come to him with an offer he couldn’t refuse. He said that the lab and the equipment were superb, and best of all, he didn’t have to grovel for funds.
“Doesn’t the ultimate goal bother you?” asked Marissa.
“No,” said Colonel Woolbert. “You have to understand that three-quarters of the work here involves defending the U.S. against biological attack, so most of my efforts are directed at neutralizing viruses like Ebola.”
Marissa nodded. She’d not thought of that.
“Besides,” continued Colonel Woolbert, “I’m given complete latitude. I can work on whatever I want to.”
“And what is that just now?” asked Marissa innocently. There was a pause. The colonel’s light-blue eyes twinkled.
“I suppose I’m not violating the confidentiality of the military by telling you, since I’ve been publishing a string of articles on my results. For the last three years my interest has been influenza virus.”
“Not Ebola?” asked Marissa.
Colonel Woolbert shook his head. “No, my last research on Ebola was years ago.”
“Is anyone here at the center working on Ebola?” asked Marissa.
Colonel Woolbert hesitated. Then he said, “I guess I can tell you, since there was a Pentagon policy paper published on it in
“But it hasn’t,” said Marissa.
“I know,” said Colonel Woolbert with a sigh. “I’ve read with great interest about the last two outbreaks. Someday we’ll have to review our assessment of the organism.”
“Please, not on my account,” said Marissa. The last thing she wanted to do was encourage the army to work with Ebola. At the same time she was relieved to learn that the army was not fooling around with the virus just then.
“I understand you were part of the international team that was sent to Yambuku in 1976,” she said.
“Which makes me appreciate what you’re doing. I can tell you, when I was in Africa I was scared shitless.”
Marissa grinned. She liked and trusted the man. “You are the first person to admit being afraid,” she said. “I’ve been struggling with my fear from the first day I was sent to L.A.”
“And for good reason,” said Colonel Woolbert. “Ebola’s a strange bug. Even though it seems it can be inactivated quite easily, it is extraordinarily infective, meaning that only a couple of organisms have to make entry to produce the disease. That’s in marked contrast to something like AIDS, where billions of the virus have to be introduced, and even then there is only a low statistical chance that the individual will be infected.”
“What about the reservoir?” asked Marissa. “I know the official position is that no reservoir was discovered in Africa. But did you have an opinion?”
“I think it is an animal disease,” said Colonel Woolbert. “I think it will eventually be isolated to some equatorial African monkey and is therefore a zoonosis, or a disease of vertebrate animals that occasionally gets transmitted to man.”
“So you agree with the current CDC official position about these recent U.S. outbreaks?” asked Marissa.
“Of course,” said Colonel Woolbert. “What other position is there?”
Marissa shrugged. “Do you have any Ebola here?”
“No,” said Colonel Woolbert. “But I know where we can get it.”
“I know, too,” said Marissa. Well, that wasn’t quite true, she thought. Tad had said that it was in the maximum containment lab, but exactly where, she did not know. When they’d made their covert visit, she’d forgotten to ask.
7
THE PHONE MUST HAVE been ringing for some time before Marissa finally rolled over to pick up the receiver. The CDC operator instantly apologized for waking her from such a deep sleep. As Marissa struggled to sit up, she learned that a call had come through from Phoenix, Arizona, and that the operator wanted permission to patch it through. Marissa agreed immediately.
