Robin Cook - Contagion

Feeling even more confident, Jack slipped through the doors into the lab itself. No one paid him any attention. In sharp contrast to the comparative pandemonium in reception, the lab’s interior was a study in automated solitude. The only sounds were a muted chorus of mechanical clicks and low-pitched beeps. There were no technicians in sight.

Jack made a beeline for the microbiology section. His hope was to run across either the head tech, Richard, or the vivacious Beth Holderness. But when he arrived he found no one. The micro area appeared as deserted as the rest of the lab.

Jack approached the spot where Beth had been working on his last visit. There he found something encouraging. A Bunsen burner was aflame. Next to it was a tray of throat culture swabs and a large stack of fresh agar plates. On the floor stood a plastic trash barrel brimming with discarded culture tubes.

Sensing that Beth must be in the immediate area, Jack began to explore. The microbiology section was a room about thirty feet square divided by two rows of countertop. Jack walked down the center aisle. Along the back wall were several biosafety cabinets. Jack rounded the lab bench to his right and glanced into a small office. It had a desk and a file cabinet. On a bulletin board he could see some photos. Without going into the room, Jack recognized Richard, the head tech, in several of them.

Moving on, Jack came abreast of several polished aluminum insulated doors that looked like walk-in refrigerators. Glancing over to the opposite side of the room, he saw a regular door that he thought could lead into a storeroom. As he was about to head in that direction one of the insulated doors opened with a loud click that made him jump.

Beth Holderness emerged along with a waft of warm, moist air and nearly collided with Jack. “You scared me to death,” she said, pressing a hand to her chest.

“I’m not sure who scared whom more,” Jack said. He then reintroduced himself.

“Don’t worry, I remember you,” Beth said. “You caused quite a stir, and I don’t think you should be here.”

“Oh?” Jack questioned innocently.

“Dr. Cheveau is really mad at you,” Beth said.

“Is he now?” Jack said. “I’ve noticed he’s been rather grumpy.”

“He can be cranky,” Beth admitted. “But Richard said something about your accusing him of spreading the bacteria that we’ve been experiencing here at the General.”

“Actually, I didn’t accuse your boss of anything,” Jack said. “It was only an implication I made after he irritated me. I’d come over here just to have a conversation with him. I really wanted his opinion about the plausibility of all these relatively rare illnesses having appeared so close together and at this time of year. But for reasons unknown to me, he was in as inhospitable a mood as he’d been on my previous visit.”

“Well, I must admit I was surprised how he treated you the day we met,” Beth said. “Same with Mr. Kelley and Dr. Zimmerman. I just thought you were trying to help.”

Jack had to restrain himself from giving this lively young woman a hug. It seemed as if she were the only person on the planet who appreciated what he was doing.

“I was so sorry about your co-worker, Nancy Wiggens,” Jack said. “I imagine it’s been difficult for you all.”

Beth’s cheerful face clouded over to the point just shy of tears.

“Maybe I shouldn’t have said anything,” Jack said when he noticed her reaction.

“It’s all right,” Beth managed. “But it was a terrible shock. We all worry about such a thing, but hope it will never happen. She was such a warm person, although she could be a bit reckless.”

“How so?” Jack asked.

“She just wasn’t as careful as she should have been,” Beth said. “She took chances, like not using one of the hoods when it was indicated or not wearing her goggles when she was supposed to.”

Jack could understand that attitude.

“She didn’t even take the antibiotic Dr. Zimmerman prescribed for her after the plague case,” Beth said.

“How unfortunate,” Jack said. “That might have protected her against the Rocky Mountain spotted fever.”

“I know,” Beth said. “I wish that I had tried harder to convince her. I mean, I took it, and I don’t think I was exposed.”

“Did she happen to say she did anything different when she got samples from Lagenthorpe?” Jack asked.

“No, she didn’t,” Beth said. “That’s why we feel she was exposed down here in the lab when she processed the samples. Rickettsia are notoriously dangerous in the lab.”

Jack was about to respond when he noticed that Beth had begun to fidget and look over his shoulder. Jack glanced in the direction she was looking, but there was no one there.

“I really should be getting back to work,” Beth said. “And I shouldn’t be talking with you. Dr. Cheveau told us specifically.”

“Don’t you find that strange?” Jack said. “After all, I am a medical examiner in this city. Legally I have a right to investigate the deaths of the patients assigned to us.”

“I guess I do,” Beth admitted. “But what can I say? I just work here.” She stepped around Jack and went back to her workstation.

Jack followed her. “I don’t mean to be a pest,” he said. “But my intuition tells me something weird is going on here; that’s why I keep coming back. A number of people have been acting defensive, including your boss. Now there could be an explanation. AmeriCare and this hospital are a business, and these outbreaks have been tremendously disruptive economically. That’s reason enough for people to be acting strangely. But from my point of view it’s more than that.”

“So what do you want from me?” Beth asked. She’d taken her seat and gone back to transferring the throat cultures to the agar plates.

“I’d like to ask you to look around,” Jack said. “If pathological bacteria are being deliberately spread they have to come from somewhere, and the microbiology lab would be a good place to start looking. I mean, the equipment is here to store and handle the stuff. It’s not as if plague bacteria is something you’d find anywhere.”

“It wouldn’t be so strange to find it on occasion in any standard lab,” Beth said.

“Really?” Jack questioned. He’d assumed that outside of the CDC and maybe a few academic centers, plague bacteria would be a rarity.

“Intermittently labs have to get cultures of all different bacteria to test the efficacy of their reagents,” Beth said as she continued to work. “Antibodies, which are often the main ingredient in many modern reagents, can deteriorate, and if they do the tests would give false negatives.”

“Oh, of course,” Jack said. He felt stupid. He should have remembered all this. All laboratory tests had to be constantly checked.

“Where do you get something like plague bacteria?”

“From National Biologicals in Virginia,” Beth said.

“What’s the process for getting it?” Jack asked.

“Just call up and order it,” Beth said.

“Who can do that?” Jack asked.

“Anybody,” Beth said.

“You’re joking,” Jack said. Somehow he’d thought the security at a minimum would be comparable to that involved in getting a controlled drug like morphine.

“I’m not joking,” Beth said. “I’ve done it many times.”

“You don’t need some special permit?” Jack asked.

“I have to get the signature of the director of the lab on the purchase order,” Beth said. “But that’s just to guarantee that the hospital will pay for it.”

“So let me get this straight,” Jack said. “Anyone can call these people up and have plague sent to them?”

“As long as their credit is okay,” Beth said.