‘USAMRIID has my medical bag and microscope: I didn’t waste time. ‘See what you can do about getting them shipped overnight. I’m at BWI, en route to CDC.’
‘I’ve been trying to page you,’ she said.
‘Maybe they can return that to me, too.’ I tried to remember what else I was missing. ‘And the phone,’ I added.
‘You got a report back that you might find interesting. The animal hairs that turned up with the torso. Rabbit and monkey hairs.’
‘Bizarre,’ was the only thing I could think to say.
‘I hate to tell you this news. The media’s been calling about the Carrie Grethen case. Apparently, something’s been leaked.’
‘Goddamn it!’ I exclaimed as I thought about Ring.
‘What do you want me to do?’ she asked.
‘How about calling Benton. I don’t know what to say. I’m a little overwhelmed.’
‘You sound that way.’
I looked at my watch. ‘Rose, I’ve got to go fight my way on a plane. They didn’t want to let me through X-ray, and I know what’s going to happen when I try to board with this thing.’
It was exactly what I expected. When I walked into the cabin, a flight attendant took one look and smiled.
‘Here.’ She held out her hands. ‘Let me put this in baggage for you.’
‘It’s got to stay with me,’ I said.
‘It won’t fit in an overhead rack or under your seat, ma’am.’ Her smile got tight, the line behind me getting longer.
‘Can we discuss this out of traffic?’ I said, moving into the kitchen.
She was right next to me, hovering close. ‘Ma’am, this flight is overbooked. We simply don’t have room.’
‘Here,’ I said, showing her the paperwork.
Her eyes scanned the red-bordered Declaration For Dangerous Goods, and froze halfway down a column where it was typed that I was transporting ‘Infectious substances affecting humans.’ She glanced nervously around the kitchen and moved me closer to the rest rooms.
‘Regulations require that only a trained person can handle dangerous goods like these,’ I reasonably explained. ‘So it has to stay with me.’
‘What is it?’ she whispered, her eyes round.
‘Autopsy specimens.’
‘Mother of God.’
She immediately grabbed her seating chart. Soon after, I was escorted to an empty row in first class, near the back. ‘Just put it on the seat next to you. It’s not going to leak or anything?’ she asked.
‘I’ll guard it with my life,’ I promised.
‘We should have a lot of vacancies up here unless a bunch of people upgrade. But don’t you worry. I’ll steer everyone.’ She motioned with her arms, as if she were driving.
No one came near me or my box. I drank coffee during a very peaceful flight to Atlanta, feeling naked without my pager or phone, but overjoyed to be on my own. In the Atlanta airport, I took one moving sidewalk and escalator after another, traveling what seemed miles, before I got outside and found a taxi.
We followed 85 North to Druid Hills Road, where soon we were passing pawnshops and auto rentals, then vast jungles of poison oak and kudzu, and strip malls. The Center for Disease Control and Prevention was in the midst of the parking decks and parking lots of Emory University. Across the street from the American Cancer Society, CDC was six floors of tan brick trimmed with gray. I checked in at a desk that had guards and closed circuit TV.
‘This is going to Bio Level 4, where I’m meeting Dr Bret Martin in the atrium,’ I explained.
‘Ma’am, you’ll need an escort,’ one of the guards said.
‘Good,’ I said as he reached for the phone. ‘I always get lost.’
I followed him to the back of the building, where the facility was new and under intense surveillance. There were cameras everywhere, the glass bulletproof, and corridors were catwalks with grated floors. We passed bacteria and influenza labs, and the red brick and concrete area for rabies and AIDS.
‘This is impressive,’ I said, for I had not been here in several years.
‘Yeah, it is. They got all the security you might want. Cameras, motion detectors at all exits and entrances. All the trash is boiled and burned, and they use these filters for the air so anything that comes in is killed. Except the scientists.’ He laughed as he used a card key to open a door. ‘So what bad news you carrying in?’