PATRICIA CORNWELL. Unnatural Exposure

‘Good God,’ he said. ‘I think we should look at transpiration routes right away. Everybody who might have had contact. And I mean, fast.’

‘We can do that on Tangier,’ I said. ‘Maybe.’

‘Definitely not chicken pox or measles. No way, Jose,’ he said. ‘Definitely pox-related.’

He went through photographs of the severed hands and feet, his eyes wide.

‘Wow.’ He stared without blinking, light reflecting on his glasses. ‘What the hell is this?’

‘He calls himself deadoc,’ I said. ‘He sent me graphic files through AOL. Anonymously, of course. The FBI’s trying to track him.’

‘And this victim here, he dismembered?’

I nodded.

‘She also has manifestations similar to the victim on Tangier.’ He was looking at vesicles on the torso.

‘So far, yes.’

‘You know, monkeypox has been worrying me for years,’ he said. ‘We survey the hell out of West Africa, from Zaire to Sierra Leone, where cases have occurred, along with whitepox. But so far, no variola virus has turned up. My fear, though, is that one of these days, some poxvirus in the animal kingdom is going to figure out a way to infect people.’

Again, I thought about my telephone conversation with Rose, about murder and animal hairs.

‘All that’s got to happen is the microorganism gets in the air, let’s say, and finds a susceptible host.’

He went back to Lila Pruitt, to her disfigured, tormented body on her foul bed.

‘Now she was obviously exposed to enough virus to cause devastating disease,’ he said, and he was so engrossed, he seemed to be talking to himself.

‘Dr Martin,’ I said. ‘Do monkeys get monkeypox or are they just the carrier?’

‘They get it and they give it where there is animal contact, such as in the rain forests of Africa. There are nine known virulent poxviruses on this planet and transmission to humans happens only in two. The variola virus, or smallpox, which, thank God, we don’t see anymore, and molluscum contagiosum.’

‘Trace evidence clinging to the torso has been identified as monkey hair.’

He turned to look at me and frowned. ‘What?’

‘And rabbit hair, too. I’m just wondering if someone out there is conducting their own laboratory experiments.’

He got up from the table.

‘We’ll start on this now. Where can you be reached?’

‘Back in Richmond.’ I handed him my card as we walked out of the conference room. ‘Could someone maybe call for a taxi?’

‘Sure. One of the guards at the desk. Afraid none of the clerical staff is in.’

Carrying the box, he pushed the elevator button with his elbow. ‘It’s a nightmare. We got salmonella in Orlando from unpasteurized orange juice, another potential cruise ship outbreak of E. coli O-one-five-seven-H-seven, probably undercooked ground beef again. Botulism in Rhode Island, and some respiratory disease in an old folks’ home. And Congress doesn’t want to fund us.’

‘Tell me about it,’ I said.

We stopped at each floor, waiting as other people got on. Martin kept talking.

‘Imagine this,’ he went on. ‘A resort in Iowa where we’ve got suspected shigella because a lot of rain overflowed in private wells. And try to get the EPA involved.’

‘It’s called mission impossible,’ someone sardonically said as the doors opened again.

‘If they even exist anymore,’ Martin quipped. ‘We get fourteen thousand calls a year and have only two operators. Actually, right now we got none. Anybody who comes in, answers the phone. Including me.’

‘Please don’t let this wait,’ I said as we reached the lobby.

‘Don’t worry.’ He was into it. ‘I got three guys I’m calling in from home right away.’

For half an hour, I waited in the lobby and used a phone, and at last my taxi was here. I rode in silence, staring out at plazas of polished granite and marble, and sports complexes that reminded me of the Olympics, and buildings of silver and glass. Atlanta was a city where everything aspired higher, and lavish fountains seemed a symbol of generosity and no fear. I was feeling light-headed and chilled and unusually tired for one who had just spent the better part of a week in bed. By the time I reached my Delta gate, my back had begun to ache. I could not get warm or think very clearly, and I knew I had a fever.

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