Sheila Franks shook her head as she rose and moved to the door. “This will certainly not be on my word or the director’s word. If this shit goes down, it’s the president’s call. We clear?”

“Crystal, ma’am.”

As the meeting broke up, Nate pulled Jeff aside. “This is going to get ugly, isn’t it?”

“More than you realize. I didn’t have a chance to grab you before the meeting, but I did some cross-checking on that patient list. A good half dozen of them have been killed by poison in the last few months.”

“Germans?” Nate asked.

“That’s what I need you to find out.”

###

Megan was washing the dishes when a knock sounded on the door.

“I got it,” Frank called from the living room.

She finished washing the pot she had in her hands, then turned off the faucet and went to see who had arrived. What she found was two men from the sheriff’s office in her living room, along with two men in FBI windbreakers.

Frank put his arms up as one of the officers removed the gun from his holster.

“Frank,” she said, panicked, “what’s going on?”

“It’s nothing, honey.” Frank’s voice was calm. “It’s something about the VA cancer treatment is all.”

“Did you tell them that that damned box was stolen?” Megan’s heart thudded loudly in her chest.

“Honey, I don’t think it’s about that.”

One of the FBI agents ran an instrument across Frank’s forehead. “One hundred and one point five.” He then walked over to Megan. “Mrs. O’Reilly, we need to take your temperature as well. Don’t worry, this is just routine.” Without waiting for her to give permission, he ran the smooth instrument across her forehead. “Ninety-eight point six.”

Megan walked over to Frank and held his arm. She didn’t like this one bit. “Why are you taking our temperature? What’s going on?”

The other FBI agent gave her a business card. “Mr. and Mrs. O’Reilly, we have orders to take in for observation any patients from the clinical trial Mr. O’Reilly participated in.”

Megan’s breath caught in her chest.

Frank rubbed her back reassuringly. “I’m assuming this is an overnight thing?”

“Yes, sir. You should pack a suitcase. We’ll be taking you to an observation facility not far away.”

“But Frank—”

“Shh, it’s okay, honey. Can you help me with the suitcase?”

Megan turned to the agents. “How many days should he pack for?”

The agents glanced at each other. “Three days for now. We’re not yet exactly sure.”

“And if he needs more clothes, I’ll be able to visit him?” Megan asked.