“My work on nosocomial infections is very complex and deeply involved, even more so now that I have entered into an arrangement with the genetics department, and have opened a lab where we are sequencing the genome of dangerous bacterial pathogens to trace their origins within and outside of the hospital. So rather than explain what we do in my labs, and what we are working on with Mr. Duncan, suppose we go down the hall and you can ask me questions.”

During his years as a doc, Lou had dealt with many brilliant, caring, memorable men and women. But being in medicine, especially academic medicine, also meant dealing with overinflated egos. Clearly, Ivan Puchalsky fit in that latter category.

Suppressing the fleeting image of the Hindenburg exploding, he followed the ID specialist to the doorway of a small conference room. He wanted desperately to go in and see Cap first, but he sensed Puchalsky wasn’t ready to be left standing.

“Please tell me about Hank Duncan and the germ you’re concerned about,” Lou asked.

“Generalists such as yourself,” Puchalsky responded, “don’t often understand the nuances and contradictions involved in a case like this one. This is a complex situation, Dr.—”

Bond. James Bond.

“Welcome. Lou Welcome. Dr. Puchalsky, why don’t we pretend, just for a moment, that this isn’t a big waste of your time, and for the sake of my friend in there, clue me in about what’s going on with his infection. If it helps you to think I wouldn’t understand, feel free to use simple terms or to speak slowly.”

Lou was not sure how sarcasm translated in the Russian culture, but judging by Puchalsky’s slightly raised eyebrows, he figured the intent had registered. If anything, the man seemed resigned to extending Lou the requisite professional courtesy, albeit the minimum he could get away with.

Puchalsky sighed.

“We’re not entirely certain of the nature of this particular germ,” he relented. “The truth is, until the last six months or so, I’ve not encountered anything quite like it in all my years in medicine.”

Lou’s pulse accelerated. This was not a man to share such a thing easily. For someone with Puchalsky’s experience never to have encountered a germ of this type before had Cap sailing in stormy, uncharted waters. Lou had come to Atlanta expecting to find his friend in trouble, but the threat level here could be the medical equivalent of DEFCON-2—one step removed from nuclear war.

“What’s so unique about the germ?” he asked, barely controlling the quaver in his voice.

“Did you by any chance read in Time magazine six or eight weeks ago about a cheerleader who had surgery on her fractured elbow after a nasty fall during a cheerleading competition?”