As soon as her feet touched the grass, she ran for the garage, arms swinging wildly. There was no way the men inside the house could not have heard the fire escape’s descent. In seconds they would be looking for her.
She ran to a side door to the garage, praying to heaven that it was not locked. It wasn’t. As she raced inside, she heard the back door of the house open. Desperately, she stepped into the dark interior, pulling the door shut behind her. Turning, she moved forward, colliding almost immediately with Ralph’s 300SDL sedan. Feeling for the car door, she opened it and slipped behind the wheel. She fumbled with the key until it slid into the ignition, and turned it. Several indicator lights flashed on, but the car didn’t start. Then she remembered Ralph explaining how you had to wait for the orange light to go out because the engine was a diesel. She switched the ignition back off, then turned the key part way. The orange light went on, and Marissa waited. She heard someone raise the garage door; frantically, she hit the button locking all four doors of the car.
“Come on!” she urged through clenched teeth. The orange light went out. She turned the key, and the car roared to life as she stomped on the gas. There was a series of loud thumps as someone pounded her window. She shifted to reverse and floored the accelerator. There was a second’s delay before the big car leaped backward with such force that she was flung against the wheel. She braced herself as the car shot out the door, sending two men diving sideways for safety.
The car careened wildly down the drive. Marissa jammed on the brakes as the car screeched around the front of the house, but it was too late. She rammed Jackson’s car with the back of hers. Shifting to forward, Marissa thought she was free, until one of the men, taking advantage of her momentary halt, flung himself across the hood. Marissa accelerated. The tires spun, but the car did not move. She was caught on the car behind. Putting the Mercedes into reverse, then into drive, she rocked the car as if she were stuck in snow. There was a scraping sound of metal; then she shot forward, dislodging her attacker as she careened down the drive.
“Forget it,” said Jake, crawling out from under Jackson’s car, wiping grease from his hands. “She busted your radiator,” he told the doctor. “There’s no coolant, so even if it started, you couldn’t drive it.”
“Damn,” said Jackson, getting out. “That woman lives a charmed life.” He looked furiously at Heberling. “This probably wouldn’t have happened if I’d come here directly instead of waiting for your goons to get in from the airport.”
“Yeah?” said Heberling. “And what would you have done? Reasoned with her? You needed Jake and George.”
“You can use my 450 SL,” offered Ralph. “But it’s only a two-seater.”
“She got too big a head start,” said George. “We’d never catch her.”
“I don’t know how she escaped,” said Ralph apologetically. “I’d just left her to sleep. She’s had ten milligrams of Valium, for Chrissake.” He noticed he felt a little dizzy himself.
“Any idea where she might go?” asked Jackson.
“I don’t think she’ll go to the police,” said Ralph. “She’s terrified of everyone, especially now. She might try the CDC. She said something about a package being there.”
Jackson looked at Heberling. They had the same thought: the vaccination gun.
“We may as well send Jake and George,” said Heberling. “We’re pretty sure she won’t go home, and after what she did to Al, the boys are most eager for revenge.”
Fifteen minutes from the house, Marissa began to calm down enough to worry about where she was. She had made so many random turns in case she was being pursued, she had lost all sense of direction. For all she knew, she could have driven in a full circle.
Ahead, she saw street lights and a gas station. Marissa pulled over, lowering her window. A young man came out wearing an Atlanta Braves baseball hat.
“Could you tell me where I am?” asked Marissa.
“This here’s a Shell station,” said the young man, eyeing the damage to Ralph’s car. “Did you know that both your taillights is busted?”
“I’m not surprised,” said Marissa. “How about Emory University. Could you tell me how to get there?”
“Lady, you look like you’ve been in a demolition derby,” he said, shaking his head in dismay.
Marissa repeated her question, and finally the man gave her some vague directions.
Ten minutes later Marissa cruised past the CDC. The building seemed quiet and deserted, but she still wasn’t sure what she should do or who she could trust. She would have preferred going to a good lawyer, but she had no idea how to choose one. Certainly McQuinllin was out of the question.
The only person she could envision approaching was Dr. Fakkry, from the World Health Organization. He certainly was above the conspiracy, and, conveniently, he was staying at the Peachtree Plaza. The problem was, would he believe her or would he just call Dubchek or someone else at the CDC, putting her back into the hands of her pursuers?
Fear forced her to do what she felt was her only logical choice. She had to get the vaccination gun. It was her only piece of hard evidence. Without it she doubted anyone would take her seriously. She still had Tad’s access card, and if he was not involved with PAC, the card might still be usable. Of course there was always the chance that security wouldn’t allow her into the building.
Boldly, Marissa turned into the driveway and pulled up just past the entrance to the CDC. She wanted the car handy in case anyone tried to stop her.
Looking in the front door, she saw the guard sitting at the desk, bent over a paperback novel. When he heard her come in, he looked up, his face expressionless.
Rolling her lower lip into her mouth and biting on it, Marissa walked deliberately, trying to hide her fear. She picked up the pen and scrawled her name in the sign-in book. Then she looked up, expecting some comment, but the man just stared impassively.
“What are you reading?” asked Marissa, nerves making her chatter.
“Camus.”
Well, she wasn’t about to ask if it was
The moment the doors shut, he snatched up the phone and dialed. As soon as someone answered, he said, “Dr. Blumenthal just signed in. She went up in the elevator.”
“Wonderful, Jerome,” said Dubchek. His voice was hoarse, as if he were tired or sick. “We’ll be right there. Don’t let anyone else in.”
“Whatever you say, Dr. Dubchek.”
Marissa got off the elevator and stood for a few minutes, watching the floor indicators. Both elevators stayed where they were. The building was silent. Convinced that she wasn’t being followed, she went to the stairs and ran down a flight, then out into the catwalk. Inside the virology building, she hurried down the long cluttered hall, rounded the corner and confronted the steel security door. Holding her breath, she inserted Tad’s access card and tapped out his number.
There was a pause. For a moment she was afraid an alarm might sound. But all she heard was the sound of the latch releasing. The heavy door opened, and she was inside.
After flipping the circuit breakers, she twisted the wheel on the airtight door, climbed into the first room and, instead of donning a scrub suit, went directly into the next chamber. As she struggled into a plastic suit, she wondered where Tad might have hidden the contaminated vaccination gun.
Dubchek drove recklessly, braking for curves only when absolutely necessary, and running red lights. Two men had joined him; John, in the front seat, braced himself against the door; Mark, in the back, had more trouble avoiding being thrown from side to side. The expressions on all three faces were grim. They were afraid they would be too late.
“There it is,” said George, pointing at the sign that said Centers for Disease Control.
“And there’s Ralph’s car!” he added, pointing at the Mercedes in the semicircular driveway. “Looks like luck is finally on our side.” Making up his mind, he pulled into the Sheraton Motor Inn lot across the street.
George drew his S & W .356 Magnum, checking to see that all the chambers were filled. He opened the door and stepped out, holding the gun down along his hip. Light gleamed off the stainless-steel barrel.
“You sure you want to use that cannon?” asked Jake. “It makes so goddamn much noise.”
“I wish I had had this thing when she was driving around with you on the hood,” George snapped. “Come
