At the main nurses’ station, she asked for Dr. Rothman and was directed to the infectious disease wing a floor above, where Rothman and Yamamoto had been admitted. She wanted to check on Rothman’s status, hoping that he’d revived with treatment, and if so, she wanted to ask him if he knew how he and Yamamoto had become contaminated. Pia knew the epidemiologists would certainly be asking the same questions, but she had a personal reason for finding out—the crazy thought that he’d done it on purpose, an idea she knew to be irrational but which demanded, in her mind, to be investigated.

Pia had another concern. Experience had taught her to absolutely distrust authority in any institution and to assume that nothing would happen the way it should. She knew Rothman was disliked by almost one hundred percent of his colleagues in the medical center. He was rude, seemingly arrogant, and antisocial. While medical protocol and simple human decency demanded that each patient receive the undivided attention of medical staff and the best care available, she couldn’t help but think Rothman’s reputation might degrade the standards.

Pia used her medical student credentials to get on the floor and found that the two researchers were in adjoining, negative-pressure rooms where air flowed in but not out. They were in strict isolation but there was no one guarding the rooms. Pia started to put on the isolation gear in the anteroom—the gown, hat, mask, gloves, and booties—but just as she was about to put on her mask, Dr. Springer emerged from Rothman’s room. He undid his mask and stared at Pia.

“What on earth are you doing here? You’re Rothman’s student, aren’t you? You’re supposed to be home.”

“I took my antibiotics and my temperature’s fine. I know I’m clean—I wasn’t in the biosafety unit today, or even in contact with Dr. Rothman or Dr. Yamamoto. It’s very important I speak with Dr. Rothman.”

“Good God! Of course you can’t speak with him. The only people allowed in are medical staff assigned to his case. No family, no friends, and certainly no medical students.”

“There’s no one in there looking at him now. Are you sure of the diagnosis? Is this the best place to treat his condition?”

“What do you mean, ‘is this the best place?’” Springer shook his head in disbelief.

“I know what people around here think of Dr. Rothman—”

“Young lady, I don’t know what you’re implying but everyone at Columbia Medical Center gets the same superb care as everyone else, friend or foe, rich or poor. It makes no difference whatsoever. And I happen to like Dr. Rothman.”