Marissa was exhausted. She eyed the bed with longing, hoping that she would at last get a good night’s rest. But even before bed, what she was interested in most was the telephone. After calculating the time on the East Coast of the United States, she decided to put off her call for a few hours. She knew it wouldn’t help to wake Cyrill Dubchek from his sleep.
“They have a Western-style restaurant,” Tristan said with excitement, coming into Marissa’s bedroom with the hotel directory in his hand.
“What do you say to a nice big steak!”
Marissa wasn’t hungry, but she accompanied Tristan, who polished off a sizable slab of meat and a number of beers. Marissa ordered a chicken dish, but she hardly touched it except to move it around her plate. They talked about going to the consulate in the morning with the story that they had hired a junk to take them to Guangzhou but that the captain had taken their money and forced them to jump off the boat.
“It’s the best we can do,” Tristan said.
“And it’s close enough 4 to the truth.”
Marissa said that she would try to get some State Department intervention through the CDC.
Several hours later, Marissa made her call. Knowing Cyrill’s schedule, she timed the call to catch him before he left for the lab.
Although there was some static as well as a peculiar echo, Marissa could understand him easily. Marissa told Cyrill that she was calling from Guangzhou, in the People’s Republic of China.
“With other people, I might be surprised to get an unexpected call from the PRC,” Cyrill said.
“But with you, Marissa, nothing surprises me.”
“There’s a rational explanation.”
“I didn’t doubt it for a moment.”
Marissa quickly explained how she and a colleague had inadvertently entered the PRC without going through proper immigration.
She told him she was afraid she would have trouble getting out. She emphasized that the colleague was the Australian doctor who’d written the paper Cyrill had given her.
“You’re with the author?” Cyrill said.
“I’d say that is going directly to the primary source.”
“Back when I was at the CDC, you once told me that you hoped you could make it up to me for what I went through in cracking the Ebola outbreaks. Well, Cyrill, you now have your chance.”
“What can I do?” he asked.
“First, I’d like you to use CDC connections to pressure the State Department to get me and Dr. Williams out of the PRC. I was told that there is a U.S. consulate here. We’ll go to the consulate in the morning, about ten hours from now.”
“I’ll be happy to see what I can do,” Cyrill said.
“But they may ask why the CDC is intervening.”
“There is a very good reason,” Marissa said.
“It’s extremely important that I get back to the CDC immediately. It can be considered legitimate CDC business. Tell that to the State Department and let them tell it to the PRC.”
“What kind of business?” Cyrill asked.
“It concerns the TB salpingitis,” Marissa said.
“And that leads me to my next request. I need the CDC to get success rate statistics concerning in-vitro fertilization for all the Women’s Clinics around the U.S. I want statistics about efficacy per patient as well as per cycle. And if possible, I would like data on the specific causes of infertility among the women the Women’s Clinics treat with VF.”
“How many months do I have?” Cyrill asked wryly.
“We need this as soon as possible,” Marissa said.
“And there’s more: remember that case you told me about, the young woman with the disseminated tuberculosis in Boston?”
“I do,” Cyrill said.
“Find out what happened to her,” Marissa said.
“If she died, which I’m afraid she must have by now, get a serum sample and her autopsy report as well as a copy of her chart. Then there is a patient by the name of Rebecca Ziegler-”
“Hold on,” Cyrill complained.
“I’m trying to write this down.”
Marissa paused for a moment. Once Cyrill gave her the okay, she continued: “Rebecca Ziegler supposedly committed suicide.
She was autopsied at the Memorial. Get a serum sample from her as well.”