Jeff Buick - Lethal Dose

“Tony, you are the man.”

“I’m the man, J. D.,” Warner said, and hung up.

Rothery stood on wobbly legs and walked to the window. Was this really happening? Were they cutting the threat off at the knees? If Jim Allenby and the SWAT team were successful in locating and shutting down the lab in Orlando and Veritas had the cure to the disease, they were out of the woods. What had appeared to be the mother of all terrorist threats was about to fizzle out. He leaned against the windowsill as he felt his knees buckle. God almighty, the American people had lived through enough of this crap, and they didn’t need any more. And maybe that’s who was behind the sudden surge of luck. Maybe there was a God and He was watching. Maybe He was sick of the horror these radicals inflicted on innocent people and He decided that enough was enough. Perhaps the answers had come from a higher place than the White House or the Pentagon this time. Maybe they had come from Him.

Andrews and Wai arrived at ten minutes to seven in the evening and were ushered directly into the Under Secretary’s office. Craig Simms and Tony Warner were present. Jim Allenby was in Orlando, coordinating the raid set for seven o’clock the next morning. Allenby had insisted on having the proper containment equipment on hand when the raid went down, and that equipment took time to assemble. The three remaining members of the Viral Task Force, as the press had dubbed them, were waiting for Andrews and Wai, and all three rose and shook hands when the researchers arrived. They retook their seats and Rothery directed his first question to Bruce Andrews.

“How sure are you that you’ve got this thing beat?” he asked.

“We were at about ninety-five percent last night, Mr. Under Secretary,” Andrews replied. “But today we’re at a hundred percent. We are positive we have a drug that will stop the virus once it’s in the body.” Andrews accepted the coffee that was being distributed and continued. “Would you like me to explain? My English is probably a bit better than Dr. Wai’s.”

“Please,” Rothery said.

“When we were given the sample of the virus, we immediately attacked the problem by looking at the viral inhibitor. We got lucky. Really lucky. We used a computer model based on the virus and cross-correlated that to the fusion-peptide exposed when the gp41 protein binds and its cellular receptors mutate. It took a few hundred thousand models to get the one we wanted, but where we got lucky was that we started out on the right track. And with the supercomputers we have at Veritas, the modeling was done in one one-millionth of the time it would have taken by conventional methods.”

“What made you decide to take the approach you did?” Rothery asked.

“We’ve had an antiviral drug sitting on the sidelines for about thirteen months now, waiting for FDA approval. We thought the base structure of that drug may have some bearing here, and we were right. Essentially, the drug we have to combat the virus is almost exactly the same as the drug we had ready for FDA approval. We needed to test it, of course, and that we’ve done. We are positive we have the drug to stop this virus.”

“Would your drug work on Ebola as well?” Rothery asked. “I understand this virus is quite similar to Ebola.”

“Similar in some aspects and very different in others. They are both hemorrhagic viruses, but their cellular structure is not at all the same. This drug cannot stop Ebola.”

“Well, what’s important right now is that we’ve got a cure for the disease once it’s been contracted.” Rothery turned to the researcher who had accompanied Bruce Andrews to the meeting. “Do you concur, Dr. Wai? Do we have a cure?”

“Yes,” Dr. Wai said. “That’s what we have.”

“Excellent. Then let’s get our teams working together to get the drug out of the labs and into the hands of emergency rooms and public and private clinics across the country. How long will it take you to move into a production stage, Mr. Andrews?”

Andrews scratched his chin thoughtfully. “We’ve got a hurdle to cross before we can get to that point, Mr. Rothery.”

Rothery’s smile immediately disappeared. “What hurdle?” he asked. His voice was anxious.

“It’s nothing that will hold us up, but it’s something that must be done. Veritas cannot bring a drug to market without FDA approval. We will not allow even one pill outside our labs until the FDA stamps their approval on our technology.”

“Why hasn’t that happened already?” Rothery asked.

“We’re stuck in the NDA stage. That’s the New Drug Application. We submitted our application complete with all our clinical trials about a year ago. We’ve been held up by red tape ever since.”

“Why?” Rothery asked. “Is there something wrong with the drug?”

Andrews shook his head. “Nothing that would make it stand out among all the other drugs on the market these days. There are side effects, but every drug has some sort of downside. Zancor is no different.”

“Zancor?”

“That’s the trade name for this drug. When it hits the shelves, that’s what retail customers will ask for, likeViagra or Accutane.”

“What can we do to get FDA approval?” Rothery asked.

Andrews shrugged. “I don’t know. We’ve been dealing with one of their lead investigators, Barry Flath, since we first filed for an NDA. He’s the guy you should talk to.”

“I’ll call him,”Tony Warner said.“I’ve met Barry a few times at professional functions. He’s not a bad guy.” He turned to Rothery. “I’ll get him to contact you if he’s got any problems with issuing an approval on short notice. These are extenuating circumstances. He’ll come around.”

“Get him to come around quickly, Tony,” Rothery said. “We need that drug.”

By six-twelve, the sun was peeking over the eastern regions of Orlando. Streetlamps on timers switched off and traffic lights reverted back from in-ground sensors to timed operations. City crews pulled out of the lots and the first morning flights readied for departure at Orlando International. All in all, it was just another normal Tuesday morning in the city that was host to Walt Disney World. Everywhere except on a quiet stretch of Dowden Road.

Sixty-four law-enforcement officers, forty-one from the Orlando PD and twenty-three FBI agents, were in position and waiting for the word from Jim Allenby, who was directly across the street on the second floor of a similar industrial warehouse. At six-seventeen, Allenby had the two-way radio in his hand and was preparing to give the order when a Cadillac Escalade pulled into the parking lot and parked directly in front of the access door to the bay. A solitary figure was in the car. The backup lights flashed as the driver shifted the SUV into park, and a second later the door opened. Ismail Zehaden exited the vehicle.

“Everyone hold your positions,” Allenby said. “Our guy just showed up. Let’s wait for him to get inside.”

Zehaden glanced about, walked to the main door, fumbled with his keys, opened the door, and entered the warehouse. A light went on in the front office and Allenby watched as Zehaden moved through the open space to the door that led to the rear of the bay. He opened the door and disappeared from view.

“All units go,” Allenby said. “And be advised we have one hostile in the rear of the building.”

Seven vehicles appeared in the next few seconds. Dark Bureau cars filled with FBI agents, marked Orlando police cars, and a SWAT van careened into position outside the front of the building and men poured from the vehicles, moving quickly into the target bay. Allenby’s radio squawked and a voice came across the air informing him that the second team was moving into the rear of the building. He left his listening post and scrambled down the stairs. As he ran across the street, the reports came over the walkie-talkie. The building was secure, Ismail Zehaden in custody. He raced through the front door, crossed the office space, and entered the rear of the building.