Michael Palmer - A Heartbeat Away

“I’ve been told Staghorn has highest clearance,” Allaire said.

“Yes, sir. I feel strongly that they can be trusted with whatever is in this transmission.”

“Excellent. Gary will brief you,” Allaire said. “You’re on speaker.”

After a beat, the secretary of defense took over.

“Paul. You holding up all right?”

“Very worried about you all, Gary.”

“With good reason. But there may be a glimmer of light at the end of the tunnel. One that isn’t an approaching freight train.”

“Go on.”

“I may be repeating things you already know, but at oh one hundred hours, Griffin Rhodes ran a successful computer simulation of his antiviral treatment program named Orion. Following that simulation, Rhodes intentionally and very bravely injected himself with a high concentration of WRX virus to prove that it would work on those of us who have been exposed here in the Capitol.”

“Did the treatment involve the blood he came back with from the inmate at El Dorado?”

“ Ex -inmate,” Salitas said. “President Allaire pardoned him. The bastard wouldn’t cooperate if he didn’t.”

“I would have done the same thing you did, Mr. President.”

“Thank you,” Allaire said.

“He’s the only known survivor of a WRX exposure,” Salitas went on. “Rhodes mixed his serum with a chemical called an adjuvant, that’s used to boost the level of a specific blood protein.”

“And was the treatment a success?”

“It was not,” Salitas said flatly. “Within hours of dosing himself with a purposely massive amount of virus, Rhodes developed shortness of breath, cough, and curious markings on his palms that we know are symptoms and a sign of mid-stage infection.”

“Good lord,” Rappaport said.

“We’re in a very dire situation, Paul. We believe most of the population in Group C is now deceased, locked inside the Senate Chamber. Group B, in Statuary Hall, is worsening. And the president, who is in Group A, is showing signs of viral spread as well. Like Rhodes, red markings have appeared on his palms. And his temper is becoming more labile.”

“This is terrible,” Rappaport said, wondering about the light in the tunnel Salitas had spoken about.

“To make matters even worse,” the defense secretary said, “we can’t find the vice president.”

“Henry’s vanished?”

“He’s been missing for a couple of days. We’re still looking, but so far, nothing.”

“Do you think he left the Capitol?”

“We haven’t dismissed any possibility. On top of everything, that harpy Ursula Ellis has convinced the architect of the Capitol to resume television broadcasts from inside the House Chamber.”

“She’s done what!?”

“It appears she’s been in touch with Genesis. Don’t ask us how. She’s been an obstruction on every level. In fact, she’s drafted legislation which she claims Genesis wants to have passed.”

“Legislation? What are you talking about?”

“A bill,” Salitas said. “Like a real, legal bill. Most of Congress is here, so they can do it. She’s distributed the bill, it’s been debated for days, and now she’s pushing for a vote. Apparently Genesis are some sort of ultra left-wing whackjobs. An ACLU on steroids. The legislation they are demanding will repeal the Patriot Act, make wiretapping illegal, and dismantle almost every advancement we’ve made in bolstering our national security.”

“We can’t let that happen!”

“It very well might,” the president said, taking over the line once more. “Ellis is prepared to share what she knows about the virus with the American people. I did my best to hold back the truth. I wanted to avoid a panic. It appears now that decision will be used against me.”

“Why does she want this bill passed?”

“If it passes,” Allaire said, “Genesis is promising they’ll deliver her the antiviral treatment. She’ll be a hero. And with Henry missing, if I die, she won’t have any trouble taking over.”

“Is that true about Genesis having a treatment?”

“No, of course not! Whoever the hell they are, they’re playing her like a rented fiddle. Why? Stalling, I’ll bet. Stalling until … until we’re all dead.”

The weakness in Allaire’s voice had become even more pronounced.

“Isn’t there anyone who can reason with her?” Rappaport asked.

“Gary here, again,” Salitas said. “Ellis won’t listen to reason. She’s crazy for power. She’s even got Bethany Townsend, the president’s doctor, watching his every move for signs that he’s not fit to remain in office. Jim is ready to veto Ellis’s bill. But at the moment it looks like she’s going to outlast him.”

“My God!”

Again, Allaire took over.

“I might not be president long enough to stop its passage. Paul, the situation is truly at its most desperate. But there is a ray of hope.”

The light.

“I’m listening,” Rappaport said.

“The communication we received from Rhodes included a summary of his research data. He believes his mistake was in the ratio of the adjuvant he used to the amount of serum. He’s convinced a fifty percent greater amount of this protein is required in order to be effective against the virus—the ratio is something his program sent out that he misinterpreted. His only mistake, he’s calling it.”

“Can’t Rhodes just give himself another treatment with that added boost?” Rappaport asked.

“Too late,” Allaire said. “The massive dose of virus he shot into himself is overwhelming the treatment. The virus is already mutating—causing new symptoms. He’s bleeding from his nose, just like many of the people here. He admits it was overconfidence to inject such a large amount, but Rhodes is certain that a fifty percent increase will work for most, if not all of us.”

“So what’s the next step, Mr. President?”

“The serum is the key,” Allaire said. “But it is also unique. We can’t get another batch.”

“How can I help?”

“The FBI and the CDC are setting up a lab to prepare a new batch of treatment according to the specifications given to us by Rhodes.”

“Where?”

“One of our safe houses here in Washington. Gary will give the address to you. We need you and the Secret Service people guarding you to bring the serum to that lab. Genesis has been a step ahead of us at every turn, so secrecy has got to be your highest priority.”

“I understand. Consider it done, Mr. President.”

“Paul, this is it for us. This is the only chance we have. I don’t trust anybody but you to handle things. We’re sending three choppers in to get you. The pilots will know what to do from there.”

“I won’t let you down, Jim. How do I get the serum out of the lab?”

“Rhodes decontaminated the cooler containing the serum and is leaving it for you outside the door into the lab. You can retrieve it without having to put on a biocontainment suit.”

“What about Rhodes?”

Again there was a long pause.

“Rhodes is already quite ill,” Allaire said finally. “According to his estimates, he’ll be dead in a matter of a few hours.”

Angie checked her watch and paced about the dimly lit living room like a caged lioness. She drew in several calming breaths, but could do little to slow her excitement. She passed the time by mentally drafting her story, featuring Griff as the hero and Paul Rappaport as the mastermind behind Genesis. The prize at stake: the presidency of the most powerful nation on Earth.

The brownstone, she was told, was one of several safe houses in the metro D.C. area used by the FBI, the ATF, and the CIA. The understatedly elegant building, situated on a quiet street in the Adams Morgan neighborhood, had been used in the past to bait and trap spies, extortionists, arms dealers, child molesters, and con artists. Every room was bugged, and there were high-tech hidden cameras throughout. A few blocks away, a surveillance van would be serving as backup.