A Heartbeat Away - Michael Palmer [13]
“Okay, it’s time,” Allaire said. “I’m going to brief you all. Soon I’ll share this information with the other victims out there.”
“Victims?” HHS secretary Kate Broussard asked.
“Yes, Kate. Victims. That’s what we are now. All of us.” He described the message on the teleprompter. “Assuming the exploding glass containers in those bags and briefcases contained aerosolized WRX3883, we must consider that every single person inside the Capitol tonight has been exposed or will soon be exposed to one degree or another.”
“What on earth is WRX3883?” Broussard said.
“It’s a biological agent we’ve been tracking for some time now.”
From his position across the room, Salitas’s eyes narrowed. He gave what Allaire took to be a look of warning.
“Whose biological agent? Are we talking Al Qaeda?” Admiral Jakes managed to ask between sudden spasms of coughing.
“No. Genesis has taken credit for this one. It’s a virus we know about, though. Apparently they stole it.”
“Why weren’t we made aware of this before? What does it do?”
“I’m sorry, Archie. I chose to keep all information about the virus in house until we knew more of what we had. The microbe was ours. It was initially developed at Columbia University in New York. We took it over and were working on it at a Level Four containment facility in Kansas. About nine months ago, I pulled the plug on the project. Apparently, Genesis found a way to steal some.”
“Well, now that it’s been released, how real is the threat to public health?” Broussard asked.
Once again, Allaire and Salitas exchanged minuscule glances.
“This is a flu variant,” Allaire said. “It … um … attacks respiratory functions much the same way a flu virus would, only more rapidly.”
Broussard, a Ph.D. in immunology, frowned.
“So this is like weapons-grade flu?” she said. “That’s impossible.”
“It’s not a type A flu virus, specifically,” Allaire said, assuming Broussard would know that type A influenza was the only one of the three classes of the virus that had ever caused a pandemic.
Vice President Henry Tilden spoke for the first time.
“What can we expect? Symptoms? Spread? Outcome? Is this like SARS?”
Tilden, a former senator from Alabama, had come close to defeating Allaire in the primaries before his first election, and had been appointed as his running mate as a political concession to Southern conservatives. He was respected for his laconic wit and his cool under fire, but like most of the vice presidents before him, had all but disappeared from sight during his first term.
“I don’t know, Henry. I intend to contact our experts at the Centers for Disease Control.”
Hank Tomlinson, the sturdily built Capitol Police chief, pushed himself to his feet.
“And just how did somebody manage to sneak this virus inside the Capitol and detonate fifteen weapons?” he asked. “There was only one entrance open, and we had our most sophisticated screening equipment in operation. In addition, we did an inspection of every bag or briefcase.”
“Well, Hank,” Allaire said, “as head of the security unit here, that’s something I expect you to figure out.”
“Yes, sir,” Tomlinson muttered.
He took his seat and kept his eyes fixed on his hands.
“We’ve got to tackle this like any crisis situation,” Allaire said, “and that means first things first. I promise you, we will overcome this challenge. And we’ll do it together.”
“What do you need us to do, Jim?” Tilden asked.
“While we’re in this waiting game for data about the virus, we need to focus our efforts on two fronts: people and communication. The perception that the entire U.S. government is in imminent danger will send the global economy into a tailspin. We need to minimize that as much as possible.”
“What do you suggest?”
“Craft a message, Henry. You can use my speechwriters if you need them. Let the world know that we’re going to be okay, but until we’re absolutely sure there is no immediate public danger of the virus spreading, we’re going to err on the side of caution. You can say there was an exposure to a highly contagious pathogen. But our microbiologists are hard at