Mike.
“Hey there, dissident,” Alex said.
“Yeah, fuck you too. Why were you so quiet?” he quipped.
“You know, I felt like laying into Ted, but it suddenly hit me. Who cares? I have no intention of driving down to Lawrence tonight to check into the asshole inn. I gave all of my samples away last Friday. I’m pretty much done with Biosphere. What about you? You’re not heading down to Mass, are you?”
“I don’t know. If I don’t show up, all hell will break loose. I’m just not sure what to do,” Mike said.
Alex spun in his chair and looked over at the Thorntons’ house. He saw Charlie Thornton back out of his driveway and head toward the other side of the Durham Road loop.
“Well, what was your plan for leaving town if you needed to? I mean, how were you going to explain it to Ted?” Alex asked.
“You know, I thought we’d all just be doing the same thing we’ve always been doing. Calling on offices and driving around. I figured that if this thing got really bad, I could just call Ted up and tell him I have the flu. I never anticipated being reassigned down to Boston this quickly. This twist jacked up the whole plan. I might head down to Lawrence for a few days and just pretend that I’m working, then call in sick and drive back. I won’t ever have to set foot in a doctor’s office,” Mike said.
“I don’t know, Mike. They know we’re pissed about this. Especially you. I wouldn’t be surprised if you showed up and they stuck you with a district manager for a few days. You’d be calling on offices from sunrise to sunset…maybe longer.”
“Fantastic,” Mike complained.
“I think you should tell Ted that your wife is sick and that you need to stay in the area to take care of your kids. Maybe he’ll—”
“Hey, sorry to cut you off, but that’s him buzzing through,” Mike said, exasperated.
“Just stay calm, and tell him that your wife has severe diarrhea with vomiting, and that you probably won’t be able to leave town until it clears up in a day or two. That should buy you some time to work on another excuse,” Alex suggested.
“All right, I gotta go…”
“Diarrhea and vomiting…get descriptive, he’ll leave you alone,” Alex said, chuckling.
“Got it,” Mike said and disconnected the call.
I hope he’s got it.
He decided then that it was a good time to give Ted’s heart a workout. He flipped open the screen to the electronic tablet sitting on the right corner of the office desk and turned the screen so he could see it from his seat.
The desktop activated and he opened the “Wireless Pro” icon, selected “Wireless Device,” and moved the cursor to highlight “Wireless On.” He paused for several moments, staring at the screen. He looked outside at the clear sky, keeping his thumb on the “left click” internal mouse button.
“Adios Biosphere,” he said finally, and pressed his thumb down.
He checked the screen and saw that the wireless icon in the lower right corner of the screen was pulsing green. He wondered how long it would take for Ted to call. He estimated by the end of the day.
Maybe sooner.
He stood up and headed downstairs to the kitchen. On his way, he saw that the kids’ doors were still closed. He glanced at his watch. 8:21. Kate was sitting at the kitchen island, sipping coffee and reading the paper, while occasionally glancing up at the TV. Alex picked up the mug he’d forgotten to take up to the office and walked over to the coffee maker, refreshing his half-filled mug with steaming hot coffee.
Without looking up from the paper, Kate asked, “So, did it live up to your expectations?”
“And far exceeded them. I have to drive down to Lawrence, Mass., tonight, so I can report to my new temporary manager,” he said emotionlessly.
Kate immediately turned to him. “Really?” She looked like she might believe him.
“That’s what the company wants,” he said matter-of-factly.
“But you’re not…?” she said, oddly doubtful.
“No, I’m not going anywhere,” he assured his wife.
“I didn’t think so,” she said, relieved, “but for a second there, you sounded serious.”
“Not a chance. Hey, are you sure you should be reading that paper?” he asked.
Kate cast a puzzled glance that read “and why wouldn’t I read the paper?” She suddenly realized why he’d asked the question.
“Shit, I never even gave it a thought. One kid wrapping all of the papers could infect half the block, or the entire subdivision,” she said and held the section of paper she was reading up by the corner, between her thumb and first finger, like it was rotten. She got up and headed over to the trash.
“I don’t think it matters now, but that’s the kind of thing we need to watch. Nothing should come into the house, even the mail. Most of what we get in the mail is garbage anyway,” he said.
“What about the bills?” she asked.
“Well, we could…” he paused, stuck in thought. “I don’t know. I guess as long as we wash our hands and just keep it in one place it shouldn’t be a big deal.”
“The flu can only survive a few days on the paper anyway, right? We can sort through it weekly, with gloves even. Look for any bills, and toss all of the junk mail. We’ll need the paper for kindling at some point.”
“Sounds like a plan,” he agreed. “Anything good on CNF?”
“Nothing new, except for the new Flu Watch Center. All of the news channels have a version of it. Twenty-four hour flu updates. Situation Rooms, Pandemic Watch Centers, and The Pandemic Truth Zone,” she said.
“Up to the minute pandemic information for the whole family,” he said in an overly serious voice.
“Any sign of the kids?” she asked.
“I peeked in to check on them. Ryan is buried in his covers, no sign of life. Emily’s covers were pulled back, so she could roll down at any time. Did you call your office?”
“Yep. I told them I had diarrhea and a fever, and that I’d work on my files from home. Your diarrhea angle really works,” she laughed.
“Yeah, something about the possibility of shitting in your pants or blowing out the office crapper really cuts down on the questions. Nobody wants to be around someone with diarrhea, and they certainly don’t want to catch the diarrhea bug. That’s why you have to throw the fever in there. The fever adds the element of contagiousness to the equation. No questions asked,” he said proudly.
“I’ll have to take over the home office and work the rest of the morning. Maybe we can take a ride to the beach with the kids after lunch,” she suggested.
“If they wake up by lunch.”
Alex heard his smartphone ringing and realized that he’d left it in the office. He got up from his stool at the kitchen island and started toward the staircase.
“That might be Mike. He threw a fit during the teleconference. Really out of character for him. He’s usually a cool customer, even during the worst of Ted’s ideas.”
“Have fun,” she said.
“As always,” he replied.
On the way up the stairs, he felt a sudden burst of nervousness.
It could be Ted.
Chapter Twelve
Monday, November 4, 2013
Sunlight poured into the great room from several oversized windows facing the backyard and the northeastern side of the house. Kate and Alex lounged on the couch, watching the DHS press conference. Assistant Deputy Director Paul Harding was already fielding questions from the press.
“Suzanne Wilkins, CNF. According to the National Pandemic Plan, your department is tasked with assessing the surge capacity of medical and emergency response systems. What is DHS’s assessment based on worldwide Jakarta flu trends?”
“Currently, our assessment is positive. Based on worldwide trends and our nation’s pandemic response capability, we anticipate sufficient surge capacity to handle the pandemic.
“A few major factors affect this assessment. First, the U.S.
is a nation with a modernized healthcare system, second to none in the world. I know that a few countries have already hit their surge capacity, but those models will not apply here. We have an incredible healthcare system, and the Strategic National Stockpile gives us the ability to enhance this system if necessary.
“Secondly, not every single person that is infected requires hospital care. The vast majority can be treated at home, especially when given anti-virals to reduce the severity of symptoms. At this time, we do not anticipate the Jakarta flu overwhelming the healthcare system. With that being said, we are closely watching all aspects of the pandemic and will take the immediate and necessary steps if, and I emphasize if, that assessment changes. Thank you.”
A woman in the second row spoke up immediately after John’s comment.
“You mentioned the anti-viral stockpile again as a key strategy for keeping the pandemic under control. The nation’s stockpile program is close to thirty-two million doses short of the projected 2013 goal to have enough doses for 25% of the population. Is this shortage figured into that assessment?”
Another reporter sitting behind her fired a follow up question before the assistant deputy director could react.
“And what about reports of resistance to Tamiflu? Or that the Jakarta flu may require higher doses due to higher virulence?”
Paul took control of the situation.
“Ladies and gentlemen, one question at a time, please. First, the department’s assessments take into account the state level shortfall. As of last month, the Strategic National Stockpile contained nearly 39 million doses of Tamiflu, which is only a few million doses short of our goal. Unfortunately, stockpiling at the state level fell well short of our expectations. Our department directed that 32 million doses be purchased at the state level, and currently, state stockpiles only account for about 7 to 8 million doses.”
The room began to stir as reporters began to whisper among themselves.
“However, DHS has reached an agreement with Roche pharmaceuticals that will bridge this gap. Roche has agreed to divert their entire current inventory to the Strategic National Stockpile, and for an indefinite period, production of their anti-viral Tamiflu will be dedicated solely to pandemic response efforts.”
“I didn’t hear anything about Biosphere?” Kate remarked.
Before Alex could comment, his smartphone rang. He checked the caller ID and froze, staring at the display. Ted.
“Are you gonna answer that, or—” She stopped when she saw the look of anguish on his face. “Ted?” she asked.
He nodded his head, wincing.
“Can you take the call in the study? I’d like to watch the rest of this,” she said in an overly unsympathetic tone, trying to force a little black humor into the situation.
“Great. Some wife I have,” he said, barely smiling. He got up from the couch and let the call go to voicemail. “I’ll check his message, then call him back. I might need a drink for this one,” he said and left the great room.
Kate called him back, “Honey?”
Alex poked his head around the corner.
“Good luck. I know this won’t be an easy call. Just stay calm, and let the cards fall where they fall. Let him do most of the talking. You already know your position. You really don’t need to explain anything to him. If he gets out of hand, tell him to call you back when he’s feeling better.”
“Thanks, hon. That sounds like a better approach than the one I was formulating,” he said and started to walk toward the study. As he crossed into the mudroom, his phone beeped twice, indicating that a message was waiting on his voicemail. He stepped back into the kitchen to get a cup of coffee. He didn’t expect the call to last very long, but felt comforted by the thought of a strong, hot cup of coffee. He refreshed his mug and opened the refrigerator to pull out some creamer.
“Quit stalling,” a voice called out from the great room.
“I’m working on it,” he replied, laughing to himself.
She’s right. I really don’t want to hear Ted’s message.
He finished fixing his coffee and headed into the study, a small room adjacent to the mudroom. One wall was filled with floor to ceiling built-in maple bookshelves. A tall, round table with a brushed silver lamp sat between two dark brown leather club chairs along the wall with a double window. Crown molding wrapped around the ceiling, tying into the bookshelves, and an antique cherry wood desk sat against the wall shared with the mudroom. A tall potted fern sat in the southeastern corner.
Alex and Kate had turned the room into a study after living in the house for two years. They’d intended the room to serve as an escape from the noise generated by two highly spirited children and had envisioned sitting together in leather chairs, sipping port wine, and delving into novels, while the children played on their own or watched TV in the family room. Still a pleasing room to both of them, they’d abandoned the idea of long escapes soon after completion, instead, substituting brief moments of shelter behind the study’s closed door, before one of the children inevitably discovered their location. Now, the room mostly served as an oversized and excessively comfortable phone booth, conferring a moderate degree of privacy.
He closed the door and opened the white plantation shutters covering a double window. The room was bathed in direct sunlight, mostly falling on the bookcases. He sat in the leather chair opposite the wall of books, keeping the sun out of his eyes, and dialed his voicemail.
Ted’s message was short, simple and sounded serious. “Alex, please call me immediately.”
Not good.
He auto-dialed Ted’s number; Ted picked up on the second ring.
“Ted Stanton,” he answered.
“Hey, Ted, it’s Alex. I got your message,” he said.
Stick to the basics. Don’t offer information.
“Yes, I had a question that I figured you could resolve. After the teleconference, I logged in to the manager’s database to take a quick look at inventories to gauge how much each of you should pack up for the trip down to Massachusetts. Anyway, I was cycling through each of you, and I saw that your inventory was empty. Something must be wrong with the system again. I just wanted to touch base with you to confirm that this was a mistake, before I call headquarters and start to raise hell with administration. I don’t want the system to create the false impression that we rolled down to Mass. without…you know, the maximum ammo load out.”
He contemplated his options. Lying to Ted would get him off the hook, at least until tomorrow morning, when Ted found out that he didn’t show up in Lawrence. It was also likely that he’d receive an alert message from the samples management division today, exposing the lie. Alex was convinced that all sample transactions would be flagged due to the moratorium placed on giving TerraFlu samples to physicians. Mostly, he didn’t relish the idea of lying, under any circumstance.
Here goes the high road.
“Actually, Ted, the database is correct. I gave my entire sample allotment to the head of the Infectious Disease Department at Maine Medical Center. Dr. Wright, from Maine Coast Internal Medicine.”
Kaboom.
“That’s a…ah, that’s a good one, Alex,” Ted replied.
Alex detected a mix of hope and doubt in Ted’s voice, leaning heavily toward doubt.
“Seriously, Ted, he asked me for samples last Friday, and I couldn’t refuse him. His department is best positioned to distribute those samples for optimal use against the Jakarta flu in the greater Portland area, and probably most of Maine. His argument was convincing, given—”
“More convincing than a direct order from the company to halt all, and I repeat, all sample transactions? Are you goddamn kidding me? Do you know what you’ve done?” he screamed into the phone.
Stay calm. Listen to Kate.
“Yes, it was much more convincing. Morally, a better thing to do with the samples.”
“Morals? This isn’t about morals! This is about failing to follow direct company guidance.
My guidance, you…you have no idea how this is going to look. You know what, you know what…I wash my hands of this. You’ve been a pain in the ass from the beginning, goddamn it. Since day one, you’ve made this job hard for me. And I never wanted to hire you in the first place. I’m reporting this immediately to the regional manager. We’ll see how much longer you’re around. I don’t think you realize how important these samples are to the company and to the ongoing negotiations with the government regarding a partnership—”
“You know, I just watched the DHS teleconference, and they announced a sweeping relationship with Roche Pharmaceuticals. I don’t think the government really cares about a relationship with Biosphere, and frankly, neither do I. Is there anything else, Ted? I don’t plan to be on this call much longer,” Alex replied, feeling his face flush.
Back it down.
“Be prepared to answer to the regional manager, human resources, everyone, for this. I’m making a few calls, and then I’m heading to Portland to confirm that your storage locker is empty. I’ll expect you to meet me there to open the locker.”
“I won’t be available for that, Ted. You’re authorized to access my storage locker. You know that, or at least you should. It’s on the rental agreement for the storage facility. I plan to be available by phone, and that’s about it. I don’t want to take any chances with the flu out there, you know. You live a little too close to Boston for my comfort.”
“You will show up when and where I tell you to show up, or I’ll report that too,” he asserted.
He’s starting to lose it.
“That sounds good, Ted. I’ll talk to you later,” he said and started to move the phone away from his ear. He heard Ted talking loudly and put the phone back to his ear. “Sorry, I missed that.”
Don’t want to appear rude.
“I said that you better not fail to show up tomorrow morning in Lawrence,” he barked.
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