Containment Failure (A Special Agent Dylan Kane Thriller, Book #2)

by J. Robert Kennedy

  But how was the virus targeting them?

  It had already been confirmed the virus was new, something they’d never seen before, and it was being mapped now with the most advanced machines available anywhere. But she knew there wasn’t much they could do to save these people before that was complete. They were dying so quickly now, she feared there’d be none left by tomorrow.

  She looked at a nearby wall clock.

  My God! It’s tomorrow already!

  With the quarantine in place, and there nothing beyond their existing protocols to follow, she proceeded toward the exit. The decontamination completed, she stepped out into the fresh air for the first time in hours, sucking in the cool night air.

  “Dr. Best!”

  She turned and saw Dr. Barry Johnston sitting on a nearby bench, waving her over.

  The bench looked inviting.

  She joined him, plunking herself down beside him and leaning back, her head dangling over the back of the bench, her hair hanging freely as it strained for the grass below.

  She sighed.

  “What do you think?” he asked.

  “I think we might get lucky.”

  “How’s that?”

  “It’s killing people so quickly, they don’t have a lot of time to infect others. Assuming that’s even possible. We still don’t know how it spreads, or how these people were infected. Christ, for all we know they ate infected nachos at the game.”

  “It’s the cheese sauce that’ll kill ya.”

  She smiled, managing a chuckle.

  “Can you call that stuff cheese?”

  “No idea. But you and I both know it’s not contaminated nachos, tacos, or buttered popcorn. Unless only women were eating them. And very few at that.”

  She drew in a long breath through her nose, then pushed it out quickly.

  “I know.” She paused as she tried to put everything together, but her mind was a fog, it desperate for sleep. She sat up and leaned forward, her elbows on her knees, and yawned.

  “I need some rack time.”

  Johnston jerked his head, indicating the road behind them. “They’ve got us booked at the Holiday Inn. There’s special shuttles for us, or you can walk it in about fifteen minutes. Front desk has your name and your luggage has already been put in your room.”

  “Thanks.” Katherine rose and stretched, the walk to the hotel suddenly seeming long. She looked for the shuttle and spotted it on the main road. She turned to Johnston.

  “You get some rest as well, otherwise we’ll both be useless tomorrow.”

  He smiled and nodded. “I’ll be along shortly.”

  Katherine wished him a goodnight and began the quick march toward the shuttle, her mind already creating a checklist of things she’d need to do first thing in the morning, should she be fortunate enough to get a full night’s sleep. But if history taught her anything, she’d be lucky to get a couple of hours, the chances of her phone ringing with some urgent news nearly 100%.

  She tried to clear her mind, pushing the sights and sounds from today’s events out of her mind, slowly preparing herself for bed, her ritual while on one of these outbreaks to be nearly zoned out by the time her keycard hit the door. As she stepped inside, she’d peel out of her clothes and accoutrements, tossing them strategically into two piles, one for laundry like undergarments, the other for use the next morning like shoes and ID.

  And by the time she’d be naked, she’d have her nightgown pulled from her “go” bag, it tossed over her shoulders and covering her body as she dropped into the bed, and if all went according to plan, she’d be asleep within moments.

  As she crossed the security lines, she was suddenly bombarded with camera bulbs flashing, the bright lights of television cameras shining in her eyes, and microphones filling her face. She continued her practiced march, merely repeating “no comment” to any and all questions, dealing with the press not her job. Her job was identification, classification, and containment of the virus. The press was only used to transmit information they needed the public to know, and for now all that had been communicated, as per protocol, were what symptoms to look for, and if you had them, to isolate yourself and call 9-1-1, and for those not infected to practice proper hygiene.

  She continued past the throng and toward the shuttle, no one apparently willing to follow the anonymous woman at the risk of missing someone truly important. Little did they know she was probably the most important person on site, and would be the one to determine what course of action to take.

  She climbed into the shuttle and without a word the driver started the engine, having them at the hotel in minutes. When she arrived a doorman opened the door for her and gave her a tip of the hat.

  “Good evening, miss.”

  She smiled and stepped through, the “miss” not going unnoticed. The day it was “ma’am” she’d have to reexamine her life if she weren’t married with at least one child occupying her time. Though she was a career oriented woman now, she didn’t intend it to be her entire life. She was a firm believer that women could be both mother and professional, and besides, the type of work she did would protect her future children, and millions of others.

  She walked up to the front desk, the lone attendant looking impossibly awake.

  “Good evening. How can I help you?”

  “Dr. Katherine Best, CDC. I believe you have a reservation for me?”

  The man nodded, tapping away at a keyboard then programming a keycard, thankfully keeping the chitchat to a minimum as she continued her unwinding. He handed her the card.

  “Your luggage is already in your room. I’ve taken the liberty of already having our turndown service visit as I suspected most of you would be coming in very late. Did you want a wakeup call?”

  “Six a.m.”

  He nodded, entering it into the computer.

  “Done.”

  “Dr. Best?”

  She turned to see a business suit approaching her, mid-forties, good looking, very formal. And familiar looking.

  “Do I know you?”

  “Dr. Hermann Kapp. BioDyne Pharma.”

  “Ahh, I thought I recognized you.” She eyed the elevators so invitingly close. “Look Doctor, I’m exhausted. Can we do this in the morning?” she asked as she started for the elevators.

  “I think you’ll want to hear what I have to say?”

  “Unless it’s how you’ve got a new drug that crams eight hours of sleep into two, I’m not interested. In case you haven’t noticed, we’ve got a major outbreak here.”

  He nodded, a concerned look on his face.

  “That’s why I’m here.”

  Katherine halted her march to the elevators. “Do you know something?”

  “Doctor, I know everything.”

  Oval Office, White House, Washington, DC

  Katherine’s heart pounded in her chest. She had provided many reports in the past that she knew made it up to the President’s staff, but never before had she briefed any of his staff in person, let alone the man himself. It was exciting. Thrilling. Exhilarating.

  And she wanted to throw up.

  She and Dr. Kapp were led through the curved door by the Secretary of the Department of Health and Human Services, Dick Barry. As she cleared the threshold, she sucked in a breath when she saw how many were gathered, most standing, the President perched on the edge of his desk.

  “Mr. President, may I present Dr. Katherine Best of the CDC and Dr. Hermann Kapp from BioDyne Pharma.”

  The President stepped forward, his trademark smile spreading across his face as he extended a hand. Katherine accepted it, as did Kapp, before they were directed to chairs by the Commander in Chief. She rarely shook hands in her business, but you don’t leave the President of the United States hanging.

  God he looks old!

  She remembered the young, vibrant man she had watched in his first term campaign, and to compare that to the graying, weathered man now, she wondered if the job were worth it. She made
a mental note to Google before and after images of former presidents to see if they all aged as quickly.

  The President sat across from her, leaning forward, his elbows on his knees, hands clasped loosely together.

  “I’ve assembled everyone I could think of here this morning so no time is wasted. What’s the situation?”

  Katherine took a breath, her eyes making the rounds of the rooms. Most of the faces she recognized from the news. Secretaries of State, Defense and Homeland Security, along with the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff among others she didn’t recognize, all stared at her, awaiting her words.

  “Mr. President. We have a viral outbreak in New Orleans. Until several hours ago we had no idea of its origins, or its virology. Dr. Kapp here was able to provide us with a wealth of information, and it is, needless to say, terrifying.” She turned to Dr. Kapp. “If you would, Doctor?” she said, motioning toward the President.

  “Mr. President. It is good to see you again. We met once in Geneva, about six years ago.”

  “I remember, Doctor. It’s unfortunate we meet again under such circumstances.”

  Kapp bowed his head in agreement.

  “Sir, several years ago a brilliant scientist working for our company made an astounding breakthrough that will ultimately revolutionize medicine as we know it. He invented an antiviral that was able to target specific genetic patterns. To put it in easier terms for all of us to understand, imagine a bullet able to be fired into a crowd of people, but it would only target the one person it was programmed for, and if it didn’t find that person, it would self-destruct, leaving no one harmed. But if it did find that person, it would kill them, and only them.”

  Katherine noticed the Chairman of the JCS’s eyebrows shoot up as he no doubt wished the military analog was available.

  “Now, imagine we took that a step further. Imagine we were able to program that bullet to only target those with brown eyes and fire that bullet, or an entire magazine of bullets into a crowd, and only those with brown eyes would be killed.

  “Well, this is what Dr. Victor Urban did. He invented an antiviral that could be programmed to target a specific genetic sequence, then destroy it. This means if there was a virus outbreak, we could decode its genome, then program the antiviral to target only cells infected with the virus. You’d inject the patient, and it would target only the infected cells, destroying them, and moving on. Imagine the applications? HIV, malaria, hepatitis and more. All wiped out by a genetically targeted drug.”

  “Very impressive. Now how is it connected to New Orleans?”

  Dr. Kapp shifted in his seat, exchanging a quick glance with Katherine, who gave him a reassuring smile, tilting her head slightly toward the President. His lips turned to mere lines as they pressed together tightly, then he finally let out the breath he apparently had been holding.

  “Mr. President, Dr. Urban disappeared eighteen months ago, and hasn’t been seen since.” It seemed the entire room leaned toward the good doctor. “But we have heard from him. On three occasions.”

  Katherine reached into her briefcase, removing a sheaf of file folders containing supporting data for what was about to be said. She handed the first to the President, who handed it without looking to his Chief of Staff. She passed the rest to the person beside her to hand out. That happened to be the Secretary of Defense.

  “The first time we heard from him was twelve months ago. He took credit for releasing the antiviral into a movie theatre in Los Angeles.”

  “Why haven’t I heard of this before?” asked the President, sitting up and looking around the room.

  “Because, sir, we didn’t know about it until a few hours ago,” answered Katherine. “I’ve got our people looking into it right now, but it will take time.”

  “Why?”

  “The bodies will need to be exhumed, that’s assuming they weren’t cremated.”

  “How many?” asked the President, his voice subdued.

  “In this first incident, he targeted those with red hair. Genetic redheads obviously, not bottled. Since this is less than five percent of the American population, and it was a small theatre, only three died.”

  “Only three.”

  Kapp dipped his head in acknowledgement. “I understand, sir. Three too many.”

  “And why did you keep this quiet?” asked the Secretary of Defense sitting beside her.

  Kapp turned to face him. “He demanded one million dollars and promised he would do nothing for six months, but if we were to notify the authorities, he would unleash a massive, broad attack on a major city. The board felt we had to go along with his demands.”

  “Just a second,” interrupted the Secretary of Defense. “I thought you injected this antiviral. How did he infect an entire theatre?”

  “That’s what we asked, and the only way we can figure he could is that he has aerosolized it somehow. His threat certainly implied this.”

  “So he can spray this thing anywhere he wants?”

  Kapp nodded.

  “You people are insane!” exclaimed the Chairman. “Didn’t you think of the harm this thing could do?”

  “Of course we did, sir, which is why we designed it as an injectable, and gave it a very short half-life of less than a day. This way it was non-transmittable except by blood, and if used in a controlled way, should be perfectly safe. And besides, it was genetically targeted so it would only affect those who possessed the gene it was designed to destroy.”

  The Chairman was about to say something when Katherine interrupted.

  “Let me just say one thing. At this juncture time is of the essence. Dr. Kapp has come forward at the behest of BioDyne Pharma to help us, and has assured me that their entire company is at our disposal to help stop this. After we have, and after we have Dr. Urban in custody, I’m certain there will be plenty of time for the blame game. For now I suggest we limit ourselves to the facts, and what we’re going to do about the current situation.”

  The President saved the Chairman from having to respond.

  “You said that was the first time. Tell us about the second.”

  Kapp returned his attention to the Commander in Chief.

  “Sir, six months after the first incident we were contacted by Dr. Urban.”

  “How?” asked a man standing in the back of the room. If the Oval Office had a dark corner, he seemed to have found it. Katherine recognized the man from somewhere, but didn’t know who he was.

  “Sir?” asked Kapp.

  “How has he been communicating with you?”

  “Secure email. We’ve been trying to trace him, but we’ve never had much success. Anytime our people get there, he’s long gone.”

  “You’ll provide us with all of this data.”

  It was a statement, but Kapp apparently decided to deal with it as a question.

  “Of course.” He turned back to the President. “This time he wanted ten million dollars, and informed us the outbreak was at LaGuardia Airport, and that he had targeted a rare genetic disorder called Marfan Syndrome. It affects about one in ten to twenty thousand births. We were able to find a handful of people around the world who had been at LaGuardia that day, who had the disorder, and died. But there was something else.”

  “What?” asked the President, again leaning forward.

  “One of those who died, who had the disorder, had never been in LaGuardia, but died with the same symptoms as did the others, within ten days of the infection.”

  “And your theory?”

  “Our theory is that in aerosolizing the antiviral, Dr. Urban has unintentionally allowed it to mutate. It can now transmit beyond the initial host. At least that’s our theory.”

  “What do you need to prove your theory?”

  “A sample of the altered antiviral. We’ve never seen it, we’ve only seen its affects.”

  Katherine leaned forward.

  “Now that we know about this, we’ve got teams heading for LaGuardia and the theatre now, but we’re no
t hopeful. This latest outbreak however we’ve narrowed down to the Superdome. We’re searching it now to see if we can find out how he infected those in attendance.”

  “This latest outbreak, what’s different?”

  “The disorder he targeted is far more common than the second attack. The first attack we theorize the antiviral hadn’t mutated. We’re assuming he continued to work on it after this first outbreak and the mutation took place in the LaGuardia attack with a genetic sequence that only targeted a very rare subset of people. Those carrying it would have to transmit it somehow within a day before it would be dormant. Right now we don’t know how it is retransmitted. We should hopefully know more in a couple of days.”

  Kapp cleared his throat. “Our theory is that the mutation only occurs in those who have the targeted gene. This narrows down the transmission pool considerably, making the transmission in the second attack a near fluke, it turning out that one of the LaGuardia victims was a friend of someone else with the disorder, and she infected him. He died at nearly the same time, because he picked her up at the airport. Once those with the virus and the gene it was targeting died, the virus flamed out, the other carriers who didn’t have the gene merely ridding their bodies of the antiviral, the bulk of it after a day.”

  “And in this latest case?”

  “Dr. Urban contacted us, wanted one hundred million this time—”

  “Increasing tenfold each time,” muttered the JCDS.

  “—and we’ve already paid it.”

  “And the same six month reprieve?”

  “Yes. Along with the data on what the antiviral is targeting this time.”

  The President leaned back in his chair, rubbing his chin.

  “It sounds to me like we have six months to catch a madman before he unleashes something even worse than what we have now.”

  “Agreed,” said Katherine. “However we have an immediate problem now.”

  “I realize that, however you have it contained, do you not?”

  Katherine shook her head. “Not in any way, sir.”

  “Explain.”

  “Sir, almost seventy-five thousand people were at the Saints game. That’s ticket holders, press, staff and athletes. According to Dr. Urban’s communique, this particular antiviral is targeting women who carry the breast cancer gene—”