What about them? the Archbishop asked.

No boards will be tight enough to prevent them from entering or leaving those premises at their will, I said.

I did not need to explain to these learned men how the rotting corpses would soon become a food source which would infect the rodents and lead to further spread. I stood as still as I could while they silently considered my words.

Even before Volaro spoke, I could see from his countenance that the cause was lost. If they die on the street, the vermin will have even easier access to them, he declared.

This is indisputable, the Archbishop agreed. He stared at me for a long spell, and his eyes darkened with suspicion. Only you, Doctor Pasqua, appear to be immune to infection despite your constant contact with the sufferers.

I had the sudden premonition that I would now be required to argue for my own freedom. But Your Grace, I said, I am not the only one who has avoided this plague.

Who else has?

The rats of the San Giovanni Monastery.

Rats? What on earth do you speak of?

I told him of the rats and how Don Marco had attested to their newfound health. I suggested that the vermin might have developed some form of natural protection, which perhaps could be shared with human sufferers.

There are only two possible protections from this scourge, the Archbishop said. The first is the blessing of God. And the second is witchcraft. Are you suggesting that God has chosen to bless these vermin over all the inflicted men, women, and children?

I would never presume to know His will, Your Grace.

And, for that matter, why has God chosen to protect you above others? the Archbishop asked with menace.

Chapter

Fourteen

Alana steps out of the hospital to find even more reporters and cameras clustered at the entrance than when she arrived. Ravenous for updates, they shout questions at anyone in the vicinity. Alana can picture the explosive fallout that is bound to follow once the news breaks of this morning’s victims. Undoubtedly the Italian logos on the sides of the media vans will soon be replaced by those of huge international outlets such as CNN and the BBC.

Shouldering her way between the reporters, she keeps her head down and ignores their questions. She keeps walking until, two blocks farther, she ducks into a narrow side street, where she finally finds a moment to call Monique Olin in Brussels.

“I dropped by your office earlier this morning,” her boss says icily. “You must have been in a meeting.”

“I couldn’t leave, Monique,” Alana says flatly.

“I was not aware that staying was an option.”

“Things have gotten worse.” Alana hurriedly summarizes the recent developments.

“All right,” Olin finally says. “Stay. Be our official lead there. But, Alana, we cannot afford to upset the apple cart.”

“In what sense?”

“The WHO. We need to work with them. Tread lightly. You, of all people, know how they can be.”