Robin Cook - Contagion

“Actually I think the ‘no wait’ concept is better than the ‘cleanliness’ concept,” Alice said. “The ‘cleanliness’ idea was getting too technical with that asepsis malarkey. People are going to understand ‘no waiting’ much better.”

“There’s also a lot more opportunity for humor,” another voice commented.

“I like it too,” someone else said. “I hate waiting for the gynecologist. By the time I get in there I’m as tense as a banjo wire.”

A wave of tension-relieving laughter rippled through the group.

“That’s the spirit,” Terese said. “Let’s get to work. Let’s show them what we can do when our backs are against the wall.”

People started to leave, eager to get to their drawing boards.

“Hold up!” Terese shouted over the buzz of voices that had erupted. “One other thing. This has to stay quiet. Don’t even tell other creatives unless absolutely necessary. I don’t want accounts to have any inkling of what’s going on. Okay?”

A murmur of agreement arose.

“All right!” Terese yelled. “Get to it!”

The room emptied as if there had been a fire. Terese flopped back into Colleen’s chair, exhausted from the emotional effort of the day. Typical of her life in advertising, she’d started out that morning on a high, then sank to a new low, and was now somewhere in between.

“They’re enthusiastic,” Colleen said. “You made a great presentation. I kind of wish someone from National Health were here.”

“At least it’s a good idea for a campaign,” Terese said. “The question is whether they can put it together enough for a real presentation.”

“They’ll certainly give it their best shot,” Colleen said. “You really motivated them.”

“God, I hope so,” Terese said. “I can’t let Barker have a free field with his stupid ‘talking heads’ junk. That’s like taking advertising back to pre-Bernbach days. It would be an embarrassment for the agency if the client liked it, and we had to actually do it.”

“God forbid,” Colleen said.

“We’ll be out of a job if that happens,” Terese said.

“Let’s not get too pessimistic,” Colleen warned.

“Ah, what a day,” Terese complained. “On top of everything else I’ve got to worry about Jack.”

“How so?” Colleen asked.

“When I met with him and he gave me the ‘no wait’ idea he told me he was going back to the General.”

“Uh-oh,” Colleen said. “Isn’t that where those gang members warned him against going?”

“Exactly,” Terese said. “Talk about a Taurus, he’s the epitome. He’s so damn bullheaded and reckless. He doesn’t have to go over there. They have people at the medical examiner’s office whose job it is to go out to hospitals. It must be some male thing, like he has to be a hero. I don’t understand it.”

“Are you starting to get attached to him?” Colleen asked gingerly, aware it was a touchy subject with Terese. Colleen knew enough about her boss to know that she eschewed romantic entanglements, though she had no idea why.

Terese only sighed. “I’m attracted to him and put off by him at the same time,” she said. “He got me to open up a little, and apparently I coaxed him out a little too. I think both of us felt good talking to someone who seemed to care.”

“That sounds encouraging,” Colleen said.

Terese shrugged, then smiled. “We’re both carrying around a lot of emotional baggage,” she said. “But enough about me. How about you and Chet?”

“It’s going great,” Colleen said. “I could really fall for that guy.”

Jack felt as if he were sitting through the same movie for the third time. Once again he was literally on Bingham’s carpet enduring a protracted tirade about how his chief had been called by every major civil servant in the city to complain bitterly about Jack Stapleton.

“So what do you have to say for yourself?” Bingham demanded, finally running out of steam with his ranting. He was literally out of breath.

“I don’t know what to say,” Jack admitted. “But in my defense, I haven’t gone over there with the intention of irritating people. I was just looking for information. There’s a lot about this series of outbreaks that I don’t understand.”

“You’re a goddamn paradox,” Bingham remarked as he visibly calmed down. “At the same time you’ve been such a pain in the butt you’ve made some commendable diagnoses. I was impressed when Calvin told me about the tularemia and the Rocky Mountain spotted fever. It’s like you’re two different people. What am I to do?”

“Fire the irritating one and keep the other?” Jack suggested.

Bingham grunted a reluctant chuckle, but any sign of amusement quickly faded. “The main problem from my perspective,” he grumbled, “is that you are so goddamned contumacious. You’ve specifically disobeyed my orders to stay away from the General, not once but twice.”

“I’m guilty,” Jack said, raising his hands as if to surrender.

“Is all this motivated by that personal vendetta you have against AmeriCare?” Bingham demanded.

“No,” Jack said. “That was a minor factor to begin with, but my interest in the matter has gone way beyond that. I told you last time that I thought something strange was going on. I feel even more strongly now, and the people over there are continuing to act defensive.”

“Defensive?” Bingham questioned querulously. “I was told that you accused the General’s lab director of spreading these illnesses.”

“That story has been blown way out of proportion,” Jack said. He then explained to Bingham that he’d merely implied as much by reminding the lab director that he, the director, was disgruntled about the budget AmeriCare was giving him.

“The man was acting like an ass,” Jack added. “I was trying to ask his opinion about the possible intentional spread of these illnesses, but he never gave me a chance, and I got mad at him. I suppose I shouldn’t have said what I did, but sometimes I can’t help myself.”

“So you’re convinced about this idea yourself?” Bingham asked.

“I don’t know if I’m convinced,” Jack admitted. “But it is hard to ascribe them all to coincidence. On top of that is the way people at the General have been acting, from the administrator on down.” Jack thought about telling Bingham about his being beaten up and threatened, but he decided against it. He feared it might get him grounded altogether.

“After Commissioner Markham called me,” Bingham said, “I asked her to have the chief epidemiologist, Dr. Abelard, get in touch with me. When he did, I asked him what he thought of this intentional spread idea. You want to know what he said?”

“I can’t wait,” Jack said.

“He said except for the plague case, which he still cannot explain but is working on with the CDC, he feels the others all have very reasonable explanations. The Hard woman had been in contact with wild rabbits, and Mr. Lagenthorpe had been out in the desert in Texas. And as far as meningococcus is concerned, it’s the season for that.”

“I don’t think the time sequences are correct,” Jack said. “Nor are the clinical courses consistent with-”

“Hold on,” Bingham interrupted. “Let me remind you that Dr. Abelard is an epidemiologist. He’s got a Ph.D. as well as an M.D. His whole job is to figure out the where and the why of disease.”

“I don’t doubt his credentials,” Jack said. “Just his conclusions. He didn’t impress me from the start.”

“You certainly are opinionated,” Bingham said.

“I might have ruffled feathers on past visits to the General,” Jack admitted, “but this time all I did was talk to the supervisor of central supply and one of the microbiology techs.”