Robin Cook - Contagion

Jack reintroduced himself, but Gladys said she’d recognized him despite the mask. So much for the disguise, Jack thought glumly.

“I’m sorry about what’s happened,” Jack said. “It must be difficult for you for all sorts of reasons.”

“It’s been terrible,” she admitted. “Just terrible. Who would have guessed? Four wonderful people!”

“It’s shocking,” Jack said. “Especially since it’s so unusual. As you said last time I was here, no one in this department had ever caught anything serious before.”

Gladys raised her uplifted hands. “What can you do?” she said. “It’s in God’s hands.”

“It might be in God’s hands,” Jack said. “But usually there is some way to explain this kind of contagion. Have you given it any thought at all?”

Gladys nodded vigorously. “I’ve thought about it until I was blue in the face,” she said. “I don’t have a clue. Even if I didn’t want to think about it, I’ve had to because everybody has been asking me the same question.”

“Really,” Jack said with a twinge of disappointment. He’d had the idea he was exploring virginal territory.

“Dr. Zimmerman was in here right after you on Thursday,” Gladys said. “She came with this cute little man who kept sticking his chin out as if his collar button were too tight.”

“That sounds like Dr. Clint Abelard,” Jack said, realizing he truly was strolling a beaten path.

“That was his name,” Gladys said. “He sure could ask a lot of questions. And they’ve been back each time someone else has gotten sick. That’s why we’re all wearing our masks. They even had Mr. Eversharp down here from engineering, thinking there might have been something messed up with our air-conditioning system, but apparently that’s fine.”

“So they haven’t come up with any explanation?” Jack said.

“Nope,” Gladys said. “Unless they haven’t told me. But I doubt that. It’s been like Grand Central in here. Used to be no one came. Some of these doctors, though, they’re a little strange.”

“How so?” Jack asked.

“Just weird,” Gladys said. “Like the doctor from the lab. He’s come down here plenty of times lately.”

“Is that Dr. Cheveau?” Jack asked.

“I think so,” Gladys said.

“In what way was he strange?” Jack asked.

“Just unfriendly,” Gladys said. She lowered her voice as if telling a secret. “I asked him if I could help him a couple of times, and he bites my head off. He says he just wants to be left alone. But, you know, this is my department. I’m responsible for all this inventory. I don’t like people wandering around, even doctors. I had to tell him.”

“Who else has been around?” Jack asked.

“A bunch of the bigwigs,” Gladys said. “Even Mr. Kelley. Usually I’d only see him at the Christmas party. Last couple of days he’s been down here three or four times, always with a bunch of people. Once with that little doctor.”

“Dr. Abelard?” Jack asked.

“That’s the one,” Gladys said. “I can never remember his name.”

“I hate to ask you the same questions as the others,” Jack said. “But did the women who died perform similar tasks? I mean, did they share some specific job?”

“Like I told you last time,” Gladys said, “we all pitch in.”

“None of them went up to the patients’ rooms who died of the same illnesses?” Jack asked.

“No, nothing like that,” Gladys said. “That was the first thing that Dr. Zimmerman checked.”

“Last time I was here you printed out a big list of all the stuff that you’d sent up to the seventh floor,” Jack said. “Could you make the same list for an individual patient?”

“That would be more difficult,” Gladys said. “The order usually comes from the floor, and then it is the floor that enters it into the patient’s data.”

“Is there any way you could come up with such a list?” Jack asked.

“I suppose,” Gladys said. “When we do inventory there is a way of double-checking through billing. I could tell billing I’m doing that kind of check even though we’re not officially doing inventory.”

“I’d appreciate it,” Jack said. He took out one of his cards. “You could either call me or just send it over.”

Gladys took the card and examined it. “I’ll do anything that might help,” she said.

“One other thing,” Jack said. “I’ve had my own run-in with Mr. Cheveau and even a few of the other people around here. I’d appreciate it if this was just between you and me.”

“Isn’t he weird!” Gladys said. “Sure, I won’t tell anybody.”

Easing out from in front of Gladys’s desk, Jack bid good-bye to the robust woman and exited central supply. He wasn’t in the best of moods. After beginning with high expectations, the only thing of note he’d been told was something he already knew: Martin Cheveau was irascible.

Jack pushed the down button at the bank of elevators while he pondered his next move. He had two choices: either he could just leave and minimize his risk, or he could make a careful visit to the lab. Ultimately, he decided in favor of the lab. Chet’s comment about the lack of availability of pathological bacteria carried the day, since it had raised a question Jack needed to answer.

When the elevator doors opened, Jack started to board, but then he hesitated. Standing directly in front of the crowded car was Charles Kelley. Jack recognized him instantly despite his mask.

Jack’s first impulse was to back away and let the elevator go. But such a move would have only drawn attention. Instead he put his head down, proceeded onto the elevator, and immediately turned to face the closing door. The administrator was standing right behind him. Jack half expected a tap on the shoulder.

Luckily, Kelley had not recognized him. The administrator was deep in conversation with a colleague about how much it was costing the hospital to transport the ER patients by ambulance and the clinic patients by bus to their nearest facility. Kelley’s agitation was palpable. He said their self-imposed semi-quarantine would have to end.

Kelley’s companion assured him that everything was being done that could be done, since the city and state regulatory people were all there making an evaluation.

When the doors opened on the second floor, Jack exited with great relief, especially when Kelley didn’t get off as well. With such a close call, Jack wondered if he was doing the right thing, but after a moment of indecision he elected to continue with a quick visit to the lab. After all, he was right there.

In contrast to the rest of the hospital, the lab was in full swing. The outer lobby area was thronged with hospital personnel, all of whom were masked.

Jack was confused as to why so many hospital employees were there but thankful because it was easy to blend in with the crowd. With his mask and white lab coat he fit in perfectly. Since Martin’s office was just off this main reception, Jack had worried that he’d be apt to run into him. Now he felt the chances were next to nil.

At the far end of the room was a series of cubicles used by the technicians to draw blood or obtain other samples from clinic patients. Near them the crowd concentrated. As Jack wormed his way past this area it dawned on him what was going on. The entire hospital staff was having throat cultures taken.

Jack was impressed. It was an appropriate response to the current outbreak. Since most meningococcal epidemics resulted from a carrier state, there was always a chance the carrier was a hospital employee. It had happened in the past.

A glance into the last cubicle made Jack do a double take. Despite a mask and even a surgical cap, Jack recognized Martin. He literally had his sleeves rolled up as he worked as a technician, swabbing throat after throat. Next to him on a tray the used swabs were piling up in an impressive pyramid. Obviously, everyone in the lab was pitching in.