Rook jumped in, blurting, “There wasn’t time,” then shrank back in his
chair after the looks he got.
Nikki explained the course of events, from finding Kaye’s shoulder bag, to tracking
down her gym, to the lead on her SRO and the bomb materials she discovered there. “
Sometimes you have to make a command decision in the field. Given the fluidity of
this situation, mine was to act with all speed rather than stop and wait for
protocols.” McMains, the NYPD counterterrorism unit commander, caught her eye; his
alone twinkled in unspoken agreement. Callan asked her the name of the place then
picked up his Bat Phone to dispatch a DHS swab team to the Coney Crest.
In this most uncomfortable moment, while Bart Callan made his call and Nikki felt
the judgmental stares of the task force, a curious sense of ease cloaked her.
Because even with all the tension and scrutiny coming her way, at least she felt a
respite from the two killers hunting her. Down in that stress-filled bunker, Nikki
felt safer than she did on the streets of New York. Then she wondered, What does
that say about my life?
Her reflection got interrupted by a text from Lauren Parry at OCME. “I suppose
there’s one other possible source of my contamination,” Heat said after Callan
hung up. “I just learned the body we exhumed—Ari Weiss, the man who was my mother
’s informant in the terror cell—contained residue of a biological toxin. Ricin.”
Agent Callan pressed another line and told someone on the other end to test Heat’s
blazer for ricin first. Putting the phone back in the cradle, he asked, “Is there
anything else you’re not telling us?”
Instead of rising to his bait, Heat stayed on point. “The significance of the new
autopsy on Weiss is that his COD wasn’t a blood disease, but a knife wound.”
“Same as your…” Callan didn’t finish, and took the silent interval to switch
gears. “We can discuss protocols and team sharing later. Let’s move forward. Dr.
Donald Rose is here from CDC in Atlanta to brief us. Don?”
The expert from the Centers for Disease Control, a tall, lean support system for a
walrus mustache, appeared more like an aging rodeo cowboy than a research chemist.
He poured a glass of ice water from the pitcher in the middle of the table.
“Thanks, Bart, appreciate it.” Nikki wondered if the drink would wash the gravel
out of his voice, or if he’d just down it and say, “Beef. It’s what’s for
dinner.”
“I’m here to bring you up to speed on what’s out there in terms of biological
agents,” he began. “Down in Atlanta, I coordinate prevention and preparedness in
the event of a bioterror strike.” He smiled. “I tell my wife, If I do the first
part right, the second part’s a breeze.” Not one chuckle. Instead of soothing, his
laconic approach made his content all the more frightening. “Through our syndromic
surveillance unit, we collect data on patients and symptoms at hospitals and walk-in
clinics nationwide. We survey the size, spread, and tempo of viral and bacterial
outbreaks. The idea of this is to track risks so we stay on top of them. Think of it
like the Doppler radar you see on your TV news, except instead of sniffing out
storms, we search for signs of an outbreak.
“What are we looking for? Lots. Let’s start with anthrax. We all remember the
anthrax incidents of 2001. It’s on our danger list but—not to minimize it—anthrax
is statistically inefficient for widespread dissemination in a big event scenario.
We do stockpile ciprofloxacin, doxycycline, and amoxicillin to treat it, though.