“Marissa!” said Tad, opening the front door of the building, a medical journal in his hand. “What are you doing here?”
“I’d like to see the man of the house,” said Marissa. “I’m doing a home survey on peanut butter preference.”
“You’re joking.”
“Of course I’m joking,” said Marissa with exasperation. “Are you going to invite me in or are we going to spend the night standing here?” Marissa’s new assertiveness surprised even herself.
“Sorry,” said Tad, stepping aside. “Come on in.”
He’d left his apartment door open, so after climbing the stairs Marissa entered ahead of him. Glancing at the shelf in the foyer, she saw that his lab access card was there.
“I’ve been calling you all day,” said Tad. “Where have you been?”
“Out,” said Marissa vaguely. “It’s been another interesting day.”
“I was told you’d been transferred from Special Pathogens,” said Tad. “Then I heard a rumor that you were on vacation. What’s happening?”
“I wish I knew,” said Marissa, dropping onto Tad’s low-slung sofa.
His cat materialized out of nowhere and leaped into her lap. “What about Philadelphia? Is it Ebola?”
“I’m afraid so,” said Tad, sitting down next to her. “The call came in on Sunday. I got samples this morning and they’re loaded with the virus.”
“Is it the same strain?”
“I won’t know that for some time,” said Tad.
“You still think it’s all coming from that San Diego eye meeting?” she asked him.
“I don’t know,” said Tad with a slight edge to his voice. “I’m a virologist, not an epidemiologist.”
“Don’t be cross,” said Marissa. “But you don’t have to be an epidemiologist to recognize that something strange is happening. Do you have any idea why I’ve been transferred?”
“I’d guess that Dubchek requested it.”
“Nope,” said Marissa. “It was a U.S. Congressman from Texas named Markham. He called Dr. Morrison directly. He sits on the appropriations committee that decides on the CDC budget, so Morrison had to comply. But that’s pretty weird, isn’t it? I mean I’m only an EIS officer.”
“I suppose it is,” agreed Tad. He was becoming more and more nervous.
Marissa reached out and put her hand on his shoulder. “What’s the matter?”
“All this worries me,” said Tad. “I like you; you know that. But trouble seems to follow you around, and I don’t want to be drawn into it. I happen to like my job.”
“I don’t want to involve you, but I need your help just one last time. That’s why I came here so late.”
Tad shook off her hand. “Please don’t ask me to break any more rules.”
“I have to get back into the maximum containment lab,” said Marissa. “Only for a few minutes.”
“No!” said Tad decisively. “I simply can’t take the risk. I’m sorry.”
“Dubchek is out of town,” said Marissa. “No one will be there at this hour.”
“No,” said Tad. “I won’t do it.”
Marissa could tell he was adamant. “Okay,” she said. “I understand.”
“You do?” said Tad, surprised that she’d given in so easily.
“I really do, but if you can’t take me into the lab, at least you could get me something to drink.”
“Of course,” said Tad, eager to please. “Beer, white wine. What’s your pleasure?”
“A beer would be nice,” said Marissa.
Tad disappeared into the kitchen. When she heard the sound of the refrigerator opening, Marissa stood and quickly tiptoed to the front door. Glancing at the shelf, she was pleased to see Tad had two access cards. Maybe he wouldn’t even notice that she’d borrowed one, she thought to herself, as she slipped one of the two into her jacket pocket. She was back on the couch before Tad returned with the beers.
Tad handed Marissa a bottle of Rolling Rock, keeping one for himself. He also produced a package of potato chips that he popped open and set on the coffee table. To humor him, Marissa asked about his latest research, but it was obvious she wasn’t paying close attention to his answers.
“You don’t like Rolling Rock?” asked Tad, noticing that she’d hardly touched hers.
“It’s fine,” said Marissa, yawning. “I guess I’m more tired than thirsty. I suppose I ought to be going.”