Michael Palmer - Fatal

"What about all what?"

Rudy had entered the den carrying the manifests and other papers.

"… I am proud to say that all of our major networks will be carrying the ceremony from the Anacostia Neighborhood Health Center here in Washington, where a four-day-old child will take her place in medical history as the first official recipient of Omnivax."

"I'm watching a program that could have been written by the pharmaceutical industry's public relations unit," Ellen said, "but instead was written by Jim Marquand's. There is something about that prissy wife of his that really bugs me."

She tried to modulate her voice, which seemed like it might be too loud. Was there ever a time she had drunk like this? She followed Rudy's bemused gaze to the bottle on the table next to her. There was, at most, two inches remaining in it. Lying beside it, the corkscrew and Merlot-stained cork, proof that, not long ago, the bottle had been a virgin.

"It's the best Merlot I've found for the money," he said, gently commenting because the situation demanded he say something.

"Rudy, I'm sorry. I'm overtired and… and was lost in this show and… and I didn't realize I had finished so much of it."

"Nonsense. Good wine is to be enjoyed."

"But I really don't drink very often," she said thickly.

Rudy sank onto the tan leather couch. There was no judgment in his expression.

"So, what's the status of our friendly neighborhood vaccine?" he asked.

"Day after tomorrow a little four-day-old girl will be starting the ball rolling."

Brought to You by the Four More Years for a Better America Committee, the final credit announced. Ellen realized that she had neglected to learn who the narrator was.

"If nothing else," Rudy said, "I certainly expect the number of Lassa fever cases to drop dramatically."

"You have a point. No reason for Old Scarface to fly around infecting people anymore. Let the epidemic be cured."

"It's a little chilly in here. Would you like a blanket?"

"No, I mean yes, I mean, you stay there. I can get it myself."

Ignoring her request, Rudy withdrew a maroon throw from a refurbished old sea chest and floated it down over her lap.

Stop being so nice to me, she thought. I'm a jerk.

"Thank you," she said thickly. "I don't know how I would have done all this without you."

"Nonsense. You're the pro. I'm just the caddy."

"No, I mean it. Rudy, I — "

Rudy sighed. "Let there now be eternal ambiguity surrounding the phrase 'the shot heard round the world.' You know, before you brought me into this world of vaccinations, I more or less took the whole thing for granted. The scientists and pharmaceutical companies produce their vaccines, and their PR people make sure we know why we need their products and what horrible things will happen to us if we don't embrace them. It seemed that simple. And after their vaccines are approved by the FDA, and the CDC tells everybody they should get them, we smile gratefully and say, 'Thanks, here's a clear shot at my body. Take it.'"

"When drug companies make a mistake, more often than not it's a lulu," Ellen said, still trying to direct their conversation toward the letter. "That's what I have in common with them. When I make a mistake, it's a lulu, too."

"Tell me about it. I used to call myself the King of Screwupville."

"Rudy," Ellen said, "I don't know what made me do what I did, but — "

"You did it because, unlike some First Ladies we know, you are a seeker of the truth. You have a granddaughter who looks as if she has been damaged by her vaccinations and you want to help determine if that is the case, and also to protect other children and parents from paying the same price."

"I s'pose."

Ellen looked about blearily and then emptied half of the remaining wine into her glass.

"You know, Rudy," she tried once more, "I've always been a very curious person — some would even say nosy. Howard used to say my nosiness was going to get me in big trouble someday."

"If you hadn't been curious about all this, we would have already packed up and slipped back into our mundane existences."

"Some things you do and the moment you've done them, you wish you hadn't."

"That's how that creep who paid you a visit is going to feel when we get to him. Ellen, I've found some stuff for us to work with. We're closer to figuring out who the guy is than you might think."

Ellen felt dizzy, queasy, and unable to focus fully on what she was seeing or hearing. She had badly overdone the wine, and she sensed that she was in the process of making a bad situation worse.

"I'm anxious to hear about it," she managed. "And I've got something I need to talk with you about, too."

Had she actually said those last words or merely thought them?

"Well, then," Rudy said, "I'll tell you what I think is the significance of what you've found out."

"It was a mistake," Ellen said. "I know I shouldn't have done it, and I really am sorry. But just the same — Rudy, are you listening to me?"

Rudy was leafing through the passenger manifests and a small sheaf of notes.

"But just the same… Go on, I'm listening."

Ellen sighed. Next time, when she was clearheaded, she would try to do things right. Rudy didn't deserve to have a slobbering, slack-jawed inebriate blubbering about how she had invaded his privacy.

"What did you learn?" she asked, clicking off the TV.

"Okay," Rudy said excitedly, moving the TV tray table aside, pulling a coffee table over, and taking a seat on the arm of Ellen's chair. "I took as my criteria any male who was on multiple flights with a person who subsequently became infected with Lassa. That includes flights out of Freetown and from Ghana as well. By my thinking, our extortionist has to be one of these four men."

Ellen was hearing Rudy's words, and at least some of them were registering, but the queasiness in her gut was intensifying.

"Go on," she said, wondering if a bite of sandwich would help matters or hurt.

"Of course," Rudy continued, "I think it's a possibility — a good possibility — that all four of these men may be one and the same. Forged passports and IDs aren't all that hard to come by for someone with enough money."

"And whoever is bankrolling this extortion has enough, or will."

"I suspect you're right there. I have all of their names and addresses and… Ellen, do you want to take a break and maybe continue this in a few hours — or even in the morning?"

"You mean the wine?"

"I don't see you as much of a drinker, and you have had a bit."

"I'm fine," she replied with far more snap in her voice than she had intended. "Really I am. Let's just try calling information and shee… see if any of these four men are listed where they say they live."

"Great idea!" Rudy exclaimed, seeming genuinely surprised and pleased with her contribution.

Three of the names Rudy had culled from the passenger manifests weren't listed at all. The fourth, Vinyl Sutcher of Tullis, West Virginia, had a number that was nonpublished, at the customer's request.

"I suppose we start with him," Ellen said, now battling exhaustion as well as the nausea and dizziness. Be brave, she told herself. "Vinyl. It's hard to believe he'd make up a name like that for a fake passport."

"Must be some sort of family name," Rudy said. "Or else a mother who liked to name her kids after her furniture coverings."

"He's a cute little baby, I think we'll call him Naugahyde."

"Maybe we should try and get an artist who will do a composite sketch," Rudy suggested. "Or else we might try to get a photo of these four guys from the passport files at the State Department."

"At some point we may have to," Ellen managed. "But I am anxious not to lose that kind of time."

"You know, I was quite impressed with that little air injector the Secretary is going to use on that baby."