He had to decide: stairs or elevator. Front door or back.

Each route had pros and cons. Racing down the stairway would only raise the suspicion of anyone monitoring the security cameras, as would going out the back. So: elevator, front door.

He collected all the cash the three men carried—312 euros in total. He needed the money to get away, and as he was already on the hook for resisting arrest, assaulting a police officer, and possibly murder, he figured robbery wouldn’t complicate his situation that much.

In the hall, he marched casually to the elevator and punched the button. It opened after a few seconds, revealing a white-haired woman who didn’t acknowledge him.

There was no chatter on the security channel as he rode down. When the door opened to the lobby, Desmond stood aside, allowing the woman to exit first.

On the radio, a voice in German asked, “Gerhardt, are you still in 1207?”

Desmond fell in behind the woman.

“Gerhardt, come in.”

By the revolving glass door, two uniformed police officers stood chatting and smiling. They were twenty feet away. When they saw Desmond, they fell silent and stared at him.

Chapter 5

Peyton arrived at CDC headquarters shortly before four a.m. The campus, though typically associated with Atlanta, was actually located just outside the city limits, to the northeast, in the affluent Druid Hills community in unincorporated DeKalb County. The CDC’s precursor organization had been founded in Atlanta for one simple reason: to combat malaria. At the time, in July of 1946, the disease was America’s greatest public health concern, especially in the hot, humid southeast. Being centrally positioned in America’s malaria hotbed had been a significant advantage.

When Peyton first began working at the CDC, getting into the building had been as easy as swiping her card. Now the process was much more stringent and included an x-ray and pat-down. She knew security was important, but she was still anxious to get in and get started. Every second mattered.

Once security checked her in, she made her way directly to the CDC’s Emergency Operations Center—the organization’s command center for outbreak responses. The EOC’s main room looked like mission control for a NASA launch, with rows of connected desks filling the floor, all with flat-screen monitors. A wall-to-wall screen showed a map of the world and tallied statistics related to current operations. The EOC could seat 230 people for eight-hour shifts, and soon the center would be buzzing with activity. Even at this early hour, more than a dozen EOC staff members sat at their desks, fielding phone calls and typing away.

Peyton said hello to the staffers she knew and asked if there were any updates. The EOC’s large conference room was dark, but a sign on the door announced an all-hands meeting for the Mandera Outbreak at eight a.m.

A color-coded marker on the wall indicated the CDC’s current Emergency Response Activation Level. There were three possible levels: red meant level one—the highest, most critical level. Yellow was level two, and green was for level three. The marker on the wall was yellow, which meant that the EOC and CDC’s Division of Emergency Operations would be calling in staff and offering significant support to the outbreak response. Peyton was glad to see that.