“Now who you calling?” Chet asked as Jack dialed again.
“The husband of my first case this morning,” Jack said. “At least we know this case had plague for sure.”
“Why don’t you let the PAs make these calls?” Chet asked.
“Because I can’t tell them what to ask,” Jack said. “I don’t know what I’m looking for. I just have this suspicion that there is some missing piece of information. Also I’m just plain interested. The more I think about this episode of plague in New York in March, the more unique I think it is.”
Mr. Harry Mueller was a far cry from Mr. Maurice Hard. He was devastated by his loss and had trouble speaking despite a professed willingness to be cooperative. Not wishing to add to the man’s burden, Jack tried to be quick. After corroborating Janice’s report of no pets or travel and no recent visitors, Jack went through the same questions concerning Donald Nodelman as he had with Maurice.
“I’m certain my wife did not know this individual,” Harry said, “and she rarely met any patients directly, especially sick patients.”
“Did your wife work in central supply for a long time?” Jack asked.
“Twenty-one years,” Harry said.
“Did she ever come down with any illness that she thought she’d contracted at the hospital?” Jack asked.
“Maybe if one of her co-workers had a cold,” Harry said. “But nothing more than that.”
“Thank you, Mr. Mueller,” Jack said. “You’ve been most kind.”
“Katherine would have wanted me to help,” Harry said. “She was a good person.”
Jack hung up the phone but left his hands drumming on the receiver. He was agitated. “Nobody, including me, has any idea what the hell is going on here,” he said.
“True,” Chet said. “But it’s not your worry. The cavalry has already arrived. I heard that the city epidemiologist was over here observing this morning.”
“He was here all right,” Jack said. “But it was in desperation. That little twerp hasn’t the foggiest notion of what’s going on. If it weren’t for the CDC’s sending someone up here from Atlanta, nothing would be happening. At least someone’s out there trapping rats and looking for a reservoir.”
Suddenly Jack pushed back from the desk, got up, and pulled on his bomber jacket.
“Uh-oh!” Chet said. “I sense trouble. Where are you going?”
“I’m heading back to the General,” Jack said. “My gut sense tells me the missing information is over there at the hospital, and by God I’m going to find it.”
“What about Bingham?” Chet said nervously.
“Cover for me,” Jack said. “If I’m late for Thursday conference, tell him…” Jack paused as he tried to think up some appropriate excuse, but nothing came to mind. “Oh, screw it,” he said. “I won’t be that long. I’ll be back way before conference. If anybody calls, tell them I’m in the john.”
Ignoring further pleas to reconsider, Jack left and rode uptown. He arrived in less than fifteen minutes and locked his bike to the same sign-post as the day before.
The first thing Jack did was take the hospital elevator up to the seventh floor and reconnoiter. He saw how the OB-GYN and medical wards were completely separate without sharing any common facilities like lounges or lavatories. He also saw that the ventilation system was designed so as to preclude any movement of air from one ward to the other.
Pushing through the swinging doors into the OB-GYN area, Jack walked down to the central desk.
“Excuse me,” he said to a ward secretary. “Does this ward share any personnel with the medical ward across the elevator lobby?”
“No, not that I know of,” the young man said. He looked about fifteen with a complexion that suggested he had yet to shave. “Except, of course, cleaning people. But they clean all over the hospital.”
“Good point,” Jack said. He hadn’t thought of the housekeeping department. It was something to consider. Jack then asked which room Susanne Hard had occupied.
“Can I ask what this is in reference to?” the ward clerk asked. He had finally noticed that Jack was not wearing a hospital ID. Hospitals all require identification badges of their employees, but then frequently do not have the personnel to enforce compliance.