Robin Cook - Contagion

“No, but I’ll take you up on it. I know how much the money means to you.”

“Are we finished here?” Clint asked. “If so, I think I’ll be going.”

“I’m essentially finished,” Jack said. “I’ll do a little more on the lymphatics, and then I’ll be obtaining samples for the microscopic. You won’t be missing anything if you take off now.”

“I’ll head out with you,” Calvin said.

Calvin and Clint disappeared through the door to the washroom.

“If you don’t think this case is plague, what do you think it is?” Laurie asked, looking back at the woman’s corpse.

“I’m embarrassed to tell you,” Jack said.

“Come on,” Laurie urged. “I won’t tell anybody.”

Jack looked at Vinnie. Vinnie held up his hands. “My lips are sealed.”

“Well, I’d have to fall back on my original differential I had for Nodelman,” Jack said. “To narrow it down more than that, I have to again go out on thin ice. If it isn’t plague, the nearest infectious disease both pathologically and clinically is tularemia.”

Laurie laughed. “Tularemia in a twenty-eight-year-old postpartum female in Manhattan?” she questioned. “That would be pretty rare, although not as rare as your diagnosis yesterday of plague. After all, she could have a hobby of rabbit hunting on weekends.”

“I know it’s not very probable,” Jack said. “Once again I’m relying totally on the pathology and the fact that the test for plague was negative.”

“I’d be willing to bet a quarter,” Laurie said.

“Such a spender!” Jack joked. “Fine! We’ll bet a quarter.”

Laurie returned to her own case. Jack and Vinnie turned their attention back to Susanne Hard. While Vinnie did his tasks, Jack finished the lymphatic dissection he wanted to do, then took the tissue samples he felt appropriate for microscopic study. When the samples were all in the proper preservatives and appropriately labeled, he helped Vinnie suture the corpse.

Leaving the autopsy room, Jack properly dealt with his isolation equipment. After plugging in his rechargeable ventilator battery, he took the elevator up to the third floor to see Agnes Finn. He found her sitting in front of a stack of petri dishes examining bacterial cultures.

“I’ve just finished another infectious case that’s suspected plague,” he told her. “All the samples will be coming up shortly. But there is a problem. The lab over at the Manhattan General claims the patient tested negative. Of course, I want to repeat that, but at the same time I want you to rule out tularemia, and I want it done as quickly as possible.”

“That’s not easy,” she said. “Handling Francisella tularen- sis is hazardous. It’s very contagious to laboratory workers if it gets into the air. There is a fluorescein antibody stain for tularemia, but we don’t have it.”

“How do you make the diagnosis, then?” Jack asked.

“We have to send any samples out,” she said. “Because of the risk of handling the bacteria the reagents are generally kept only at reference labs where the personnel are accustomed to dealing with the microbe. There is such a lab here in the city.”

“Can you send it right away?” Jack asked.

“We’ll messenger it over as soon as it gets here,” she said. “If I call and put a rush on it, we’ll have a preliminary result in less than twenty-four hours.”

“Perfect,” Jack said. “I’ll be waiting. I’ve got ten dollars and twenty-five cents riding on the outcome.”

Agnes gave Jack a look. He considered explaining, but feared he’d sound even more foolish. Instead he fled upstairs to his office.

NEW YORK CITY

“I’m liking it more and more,” Terese said. She straightened up from Colleen’s drawing board. Colleen was showing her tissues that her team had comped up just that morning using the theme they’d discussed the night before.

“The best thing is that the concept is consistent with the Hippocratic oath,” Colleen said. “Particularly the part about never doing harm to anyone. I love it.”

“I don’t know why we didn’t think about it before,” Terese said. “It’s such a natural. It’s almost embarrassing that it took this damn plague epidemic to make us think of it. Did you catch what’s happening on morning TV?”

“Three deaths!” Colleen said. “And several people sick. It’s terrible. In fact, it scares me to death.”

“I had a headache from the wine last night when I woke up this morning,” Terese said. “The first thing that went through my mind was whether I had the plague or not.”

“I thought the same thing,” Colleen said. “I’m glad you admitted it. I was too embarrassed.”

“I hope to hell those guys were right last night,” Terese said. “They seemed pretty damn confident it wasn’t going to be a big problem.”

“Are you worried being around them?” Colleen asked.

“Oh, it’s gone through my mind,” Terese admitted. “But as I said, they were so confident. I can’t imagine their acting that way if there were any risk.”

“Are we still on for dinner tonight?” Colleen asked.

“By all means,” Terese said. “I have a sneaking suspicion that Jack Stapleton will turn out to be an unknowing fountain of ad ideas. He might be bitter about something, but he’s sharp and opinionated, and he certainly knows the business.”

“I can’t believe how well this is working out,” Colleen said. “I was a lot more drawn to Chet; he’s fun and open and easy to talk with. I have enough problems of my own, so I’m not attracted to the anguished, brooding type.”

“I didn’t say anything about being attracted to Jack Stapleton,” Terese said. “That’s something else entirely.”

“What’s your gut reaction to this idea of using Hippocrates himself in one of our ads?”

“I think it has fantastic potential,” Terese said. “Run with it. Meanwhile I’m going to head upstairs and talk with Helen Robinson.”

“Why?” Colleen asked. “I thought she was the enemy.”

“I’m taking to heart Taylor’s admonition that we creatives and the account people should work together,” Terese said breezily.

“Yeah, sure! Likely story!”

“Seriously,” Terese said. “There’s something I’d like her to do. I need a fifth column. I want Helen to confirm that National Health is clean when it comes to nosocomial or hospital-based infections. If their record is atrocious, the whole campaign could backfire. Then, not only would I lose my bid for the presidency, but you and I would probably be out selling pencils.”

“Wouldn’t we have heard by this time?” Colleen asked. “I mean, they’ve been clients for a number of years.”

“I doubt it,” Terese said. “These health-care giants are loath to publicize anything that might adversely affect their stock price. Surely a bad record in regard to nosocomial infections would do that.”

Terese gave Colleen a pat on the shoulder and told her to keep cracking the whip, then headed for the stairwell.

Terese emerged breathless onto the administrative floor, having taken the stairs two at a time. From there she marched directly toward the carpeted realm of the account executives. Her mood was soaring; it was the absolute antithesis of the anxiety and dread of the day before. Her intuition told her she was onto something big with National Health and would soon be scoring a deserved triumph…

As soon as the impromptu meeting with Terese had ended and Terese had disappeared around the corner, Helen returned to her desk and put a call in to her main contact at National Health Care. The woman wasn’t immediately available, but Helen didn’t expect her to be. Helen merely left her name and number with a request to be called as soon as possible.