61 - Philadelphia, Pennsylvania

Philadelphia, Pennsylvania

Lopez sat down on her bed. She had so thoroughly enjoyed the evening—the outstanding food, Leetch’s hilarious stories, and the nearly constant contact of Cohen’s hand or leg under the table—that she had forgotten about Oraloxin and MRGAS for the longest stretch of time in recent memory. Alone again in her room, however, the maliciousness of the disease and the people behind it came flooding back to her.

Standing up in her bare feet, she grabbed the television’s remote control and flipped through the channels. With the news focused on the local events at SeptoMed, she could find no coverage of the disease’s regional spread. She felt a pang of guilt for having spent the past days away from her post in the Pacific Northwest. She glanced at her watch and calculated that, with the three-hour time difference, it was just past 8 P.M. on the West Coast. She sat back down on the bed, reached for her phone, and dialed David Warmack’s cell number.

Warmack sounded pleased to hear from her. She updated him on the Philadelphia developments, finishing with the suspicious disappearance of Luc Martineau. Warmack sighed. “I thought the one advantage to being as old as I am was that I had seen it all in epidemiology,” he said. “But this … this is unbelievable.”

“If it’s any consolation, I think we’re closing in on the index case,” Lopez said. “David, what’s the situation in Seattle?”

“Still more new cases,” he sighed. “I’ll give the psychopaths behind it credit for one thing, though. Their drug works. All of the city’s 122 confirmed cases have responded to the treatment.”

“Any complications seen with the drug?” Lopez asked.

“One patient—fortunately with a milder form of disease—had a drop in her white blood cell count. They’ve stopped the drug. They’re watching her closely.”

The anger ripped through her. “All this grief because of that damn side effect,” she growled. “The bastard knew the drug was too dangerous to be used unless he—or they—made it indispensable!”

“They’re not going to get away with it.”

“Let’s hope not,” she said, her ire dissipating.

Warmack chuckled. “How are the two boys doing?”

“Fine,” Lopez said vaguely. “They’re good guys, David.”

“Either one better than the other, Cat?” he asked mischievously.

“I don’t know.” Lopez laughed. “I guess I’ve seen a bit more of Seth.”

“I like him,” Warmack said approvingly, and she had a sudden image of Papa.

“Me too, David” she said softly.

“Listen, Cat.” Warmack’s tone grew protective. “Sounds like you’re near some dangerous people. You be careful, right?”

“I will. Promise.”