“Lina.” Martineau held out his palms to signal a start to the discussion. “If the CDC is concerned about the supply of Oraloxin, I can assure you our manufacturing plant is operating 24/7. Fortunately, we were already planning for the drug’s imminent FDA approval when MRGAS broke out.”

“That is fortunate,” Lopez said impassively. “So you foresee no problem getting supplies to the affected cities?”

Martineau shook his head. “Not unless the demand were to rise exponentially.”

Byington ran a hand through her short gray hair. “Pardon me, Lina, but will it?”

Lopez studied the woman across from her. She suspected Byington carried far more influence than her deferential demeanor implied. “It depends where MRGAS is coming from.”

Byington frowned. “You don’t know?”

“Not with certainty, no.” She shook her head. “But to answer your question, we’re cautiously hopeful our containment measures have slowed the spread.”

“That’s reassuring,” Abram said with a polite but detached smile.

“Who else was on the Oraloxin development team?” Lopez asked.

Martineau glanced to the ceiling. “The eighteenth-floor lab employs more than fifty staff, but Ellen Horton was the heart and soul of the drug.” He sighed heavily. “Neil Ryland and Viktor Leschuk are—were—her two lieutenants.”

“So only one of the senior Oraloxin scientists is still alive,” Lopez said.

Martineau’s gaze fell to the table. He nodded once.

“And we’re told Ryland is resigning,” Kilburn said.

“Neil reacted rashly.” Martineau waved the idea away. “He was very close to Vik and Ellen. Once he overcomes the grief and shock, I’m sure he will reconsider.”

Kilburn leaned forward in his seat. “Luc, do you think Ellen’s suicide was related to the aplastic anemia seen in your lab monkeys?”

Abram’s head spun over to look at Martineau. The VP shifted in his seat. “Can you elaborate, Graham?” Martineau asked.

“The three chimps in your lab who died of bone marrow failure after exposure to Oraloxin,” Kilburn said. “We understand Ellen was devastated by the complication.”

“And you understand this from Neil Ryland?” Martineau’s tone was chilly.

Kilburn nodded. Byington stared straight ahead, a polite smile still welded on her lips. Torrington scrawled notes on the pad in front of him. Abram’s eyes never left Martineau. “Luc?” he asked evenly.

Martineau cleared his throat. “The three chimps—out of hundreds, I might add—who developed bone marrow failure were on massive doses of the drug. By the time we heard about the monkeys, the drug had already been tested in thousands of humans without seeing anything similar.”

“Until Spain,” Kilburn said.

Byington’s smile vanished. Torrington’s pen stopped. Abram’s hand froze in midstroke of his beard. The brief silence that followed was flammable. “What happened in Spain?” the CEO finally asked in a slow deliberate voice.

“One Oraloxin patient’s blood count plummeted in the Spanish trial last week,” Kilburn said.