The problem with meningococcus is that it really isn’t a patient-to-patient disease either: it’s a carrier disease that’s mainly spread by an immune individual walking around and giving it to others. So now our weirdo is really frustrated, but he truly knows what he needs. He needs a disease that is spread mainly patient-to-patient by aerosol.”
“And what would you choose in this hypothetical scenario?” Chet asked superciliously.
‘”Let’s see,” Jack said. He pondered for a moment. “I’d use drug-resistant diphtheria, or maybe even drug-resistant pertussis. Those old standbys are making some devastating comebacks. Or you know what else would be perfect? Influenza! A pathological strain of influenza.”
“What an imagination!” Chet commented.
Laurie stood up. “I’ve got to get back to work,” she said. “This conversation is too hypothetical for me.” Chet did the same.
“Hey, isn’t anybody going to comment?” Jack said.
“You know how we feel,” Chet said. “This is just mental masturbation. It seems like the more you think and talk about this stuff the more you believe it. I mean, really, if it were one disease, okay, but now we’re up to four. Where would someone get these microbes? They are not the kind of thing you can go into your neighborhood dell and order. I’ll see you upstairs.
Jack watched Laurie and Chet dispose of their trash and leave the lunchroom. He sat for a few moments and considered what Chet had said. Chet had a good point, one that Jack had not even considered. Where would someone get pathological bacteria? He really had no idea.
Jack got up and stretched his legs. After discarding his tray and sandwich wrappings, he followed the others up to the fifth floor. By the time he got to the office, Chet was already engrossed and didn’t look up.
Sitting down at his desk, Jack got all the folders together plus his notes and looked up the time of death of each of the women victims from central supply. To date, central supply had lost four people. Jack imagined that the department head would have to be actively recruiting to keep up with that type of attrition.
Next Jack looked up the time of death of each of the other infectious cases. For the times of death of the few he’d not autopsied, he called down to Bart Arnold, the chief PA.
When Jack had all the information it became immediately apparent that with each outbreak, it had been the woman from central supply to be the last to succumb. That suggested, but certainly didn’t prove, that in each instance those from central supply were the last to become infected.
Jack asked himself what that meant, but couldn’t come up with an answer. Still, it was an extremely curious detail.
“I have to go back to the General,” Jack said suddenly. He stood up.
Chet didn’t even bother to look up. “Do what you have to do,” he said with resignation. “Not that my opinion counts.”
Jack pulled on his bomber jacket. “Don’t take it personally,” he said. “I appreciate your concern, but I’ve got to go. I’ve got to look into this strange central supply connection. It could just be a coincidence, I agree, but it seems unlikely.”
“What about Bingham and what about those gang members Laurie mentioned?” Chet asked. “You’re taking a lot of risk.”
“Such is life,” Jack said. He gave Chet a tap on the shoulder on his way to the hallway. Jack had just reached the threshold when his phone rang. He debated whether to take the time to answer it. It was usually someone from one of the labs.
“Want me to get it?” Chet offered when he saw Jack hesitate.
“No, I’m here, and I might as well,” Jack said. He returned to his desk and picked up the receiver.
“Thank God you are there!” Terese said with obvious relief. “I was terrified I wouldn’t get you, at least not in time.”
“What on earth is the matter?” Jack asked. His pulse quickened. He could tell by the sound of her voice that she was acutely upset.
“There’s been a catastrophe,” she said. “I have to see you immediately. Can I come over to your office?”