Doug was sorry to see June have to go back to work Monday morning. He held her in his arms while the door to her apartment was still closed. He looked into her eyes and thought about how quickly she had become the epitome of all he held dear. “You’ll call soon as you get off?”
“You know I will, sweet. Or better still, rather than me calling, why don’t you go back and gather whatever you think you’ll need and move in here with me?”
Doug gave her a long kiss, but didn’t let her go. “That might be fine for when I’m off or on the day shift, but I’d disturb you with my coming and going when I started working nights again. This place is pretty small, you know.”
“I don’t care. AT least you’d be here, and don’t forget—sometimes I’ll have to work late, too.”
“I’ll have to bring my guns and cleaning equipment and weapons with me.”
“I still don’t care.”
Doug grinned. “Must be love.”
“It is, stupid man. Now kiss me again and let me leave before I’m late on Amelia’s first day in the Director’s chair.”
Doug did kiss her again, but still didn’t let her go.
“What is it now?”
“A key?”
“Oh. Just a minute.” June ran back to the bedroom and came back a moment later with her spare. “Here.
Make us a nice dinner for tonight. ‘Bye.” She gave him a quick firm peck on the lips and practically ran down the hall toward the elevator.
Nabil Hassan, an Arabic Jew with a false passport, didn’t like to think about what he was doing. He didn’t know for certain that the contents of the little spray bottles of breath freshener he had already carried to three countries were lethal, but he suspected as much. No matter, he would carry out his orders. Wherever he traveled, he dispensed puffs of vapor from the tiny containers into the atmosphere of closed environments. He drove to the Syrian capitol of Damascus first, after the Mossad helped him cross the border and provided him with a car. The first time, he simply dispersed it into the intakes at the air terminal, and then into the bathrooms of the jetliner on the way from Amman, Jordan to Bahrain, the playground of Rich Arabs. From there, he was headed to Cairo, Egypt.
Nabil was only one of several couriers, all agents of the Mossad, the secret service of Israel. Perhaps the Mossad wasn’t quite as efficient as it had been in the past, but this was a relatively simple operation, even though it portended enormous consequences for the future. Within a week, it was done. The only problem had been the increasing disruption of travel as black Africans who could afford it frantically bought and bartered and fought over every available seat that would take them away from the sickness that was consuming their compatriots at an ever increasing rate. Some countries had already barred travel from Africa but others still allowed immigration, particularly people with lighter skins who possessed technical skills.
Although Nabil and the others might have suspected they were spreading a contagious virus similar to Enterovirus harcourtii, they had no way of knowing that there was a great difference. This one targeted a gene peculiar only to the genetic pool of the Middle east and some areas beyond, causing it to begin producing a protein which interfered with the protein another gene coded for, an enzyme involved in metabolizing a byproduct of the Mouloukhia leaves of an Arab national dish by the same name. The virus altered the protein, causing the digestive pathway of Mouloukhia in those carrying the wrong gene to go awry, producing a lethal toxin that quickly caused death. Even the season was right for the virus to spread and kill rapidly, late Spring. Mouloukhia was hard to find after the season ended except for the dried variety in gourmet or specialty shops. Nabil and his cohorts spread their tailored virus around the Middle East just at the right time, when rich and poor alike were eating dishes made with fresh Mouloukhia leaves.
Doug took another bite of the pork roast and complimented June. “You’re a much better cook than me.
This is good.”
It was the week following his time off. June was working late almost every night helping Amelia after she took over the reins of the CDC, but on this Friday night, she had called to tell him Amelia had flown to Washington and that she would be home early enough to prepare a meal herself.
“Thanks. It would be better if supplies weren’t getting scarce. Amelia is talking about having us all eat in the cafeterias when rationing goes into effect next week.”
“It might be just as well,” Doug said, glancing over to where the workday weapons he was keeping in June’s apartment were stashed, his heavy handgun and a rifle/shotgun combo that was just being issued to the security force. “It’s getting a little scary going out to shop. So many blacks have just given up and are either staying home or roving the streets in armed gangs.”
“I know. I worry about you every time you leave the complex.”
Doug decided not to mention that it had been necessary to fire some warning shots to keep a gang of drugged up black youths at bay on one of his shopping trips. It would only cause her more worry. He felt sorry for them. So young and already having to stare death in the face, through no fault of their own. The army had begun using food as an inducement to get help collecting and burying the increasing number of bodies. “It’s hardly worth while anyhow, except for food. There’s not much left in the shops worth buying.”
“And it’s too dangerous. I’ve seen how worried you are, Doug. It’s thoughtful of you to try sparing me the gruesome details, but don’t you think Amelia knows what’s going on? And passes it on to me?”
Doug pushed his empty plate away and took a sip of wine. His face was lit with a wryly amused grin.
“You’re always one step ahead of me. I guess if we decide to get married, I’d better always be honest with you.”
June was already up, preparing to collect the dishes. She came and stood behind his chair and put her hands on his shoulders, then leaned down to tickle his neck with her lips. “If that was a proposal, I accept, but let’s stay engaged for a little while first if you don’t mind.”
Doug felt June’s pendant moving on his skin as she continued nuzzling him. He slid out of his chair and stood up. He kissed her briefly, then took the pendant in his hand, holding it so that he could examine it more closely. “Is this the reason?”
“Talk about someone being a step ahead. You’ve known all the time what it was, haven’t you?”
“Guilty, but I’m admiring, not complaining. I buried Doris with her rings. Now I wish I had thought of your idea, having them made into a pendant or a regular ring. It was a beautiful gesture and tells me what a wonderful, caring woman you are.”
Tears gathered in June’s eyelashes. One separated and trickled down her cheek. Doug gathered it with his forefinger before it could fall and touched it to his lips. That induced others to overflow. She leaned against his chest, unable to talk for a moment.
“I’m sorry; I didn’t intend to make you sad,” Doug said softly.
“I’m not sad, silly; I’m happy. Never mind, if you want to get married now, we will.”
“I do, but we can make it whenever you like.”
“Promise?”
“I promise.”
“Good. Let the dishes wait; let’s go to bed.”
Doug kissed June good by and reluctantly left the bedroom. She was off for the weekend, but he had two more weeks yet before having any days completely free. On the way to the security building, he stopped twice for gas, thinking how glad he would be when the new building next to the CDC complex was ready for occupancy. It was becoming dangerous for the guard force to go back and forth from where they were presently housed to the CDC. Without the single army battalion patrolling the streets of Atlanta, he thought it would already be next to impossible. At that, he was very dissatisfied that only one company detached from another battalion had been assigned to help guard the immediate area around the CDC. To his mind, it was grossly inadequate.
The first place he stopped at was closed. The big front windows of the convenience store were shattered and the shelves inside strewn with rubble. He suspected that the owner had died and it had been looted in his absence. He remembered the man well, a black man in his fifties with graying hair who always wore a cheerful gin. He once told Doug he had begun work there right out of high school and eventually bought the store when its original owner retired.
The second place was open but he had to wait in line. He noticed that many of the men wore holstered handguns as openly as he had begun doing, while others carried rifles or shotguns as they pumped their gas. A weapon in sight gave an obvious signal: no easy pickings here.
By the time he filled up and paid for the gas and some non-perishable items he could store in the trunk of the car until that evening, he barely had time to make it to Gene’s early morning briefing. Teresa Williams, William Jurgens and Gary Jones, the other three platoon leaders were already there.
The first thing he did was head for the coffee pot. The convenience store had been out. He poured a cup and took his seat with the other three security heads just as Gene Bradley arrived. Doug thought he was beginning to appear worn, but he got right down to business, as usual.
“Good news. The new security building will be ready two days from now. Tell your troops to make plans to move their personal gear over there on their own time, but I want a detail of two men each from your platoons tomorrow morning to help move our munitions. The army will furnish transportation, but they tell me they can’t spare the men.” Gene’s lips twitched in a caricature of a smile. “At least they’re taking some pressure off us now.”
Doug thought about remarking on the conditions he was seeing to and from work, but the thought died as Gene brought the subject up himself.
“Now for the bad news. In case you haven’t looked at the news this morning, a foul rumor has gotten started that the government ordered the CDC to deliberately infect the black population with the Harcourt virus. That’s going to cause lots of problems for us. Conditions are already dangerous in the city, as I’m sure you know from the sights you see every day to and from work. They’ll certainly get worse after that rumor makes the rounds, and I wouldn’t be surprised to see a mob trying to gut the CDC. There’s also an opposing rumor just getting started that the CDC has found a cure for the Harcourt virus but is deliberately keeping it secret so the black population will die off. If that one flies, we’ll really have problems.
“The government is issuing denials, of course, but you all know how little faith anyone puts in government statements these days. The more they deny it, the more people will believe the opposite, blacks especially. Any time people are faced with death, they start grasping at straws. That’s how all the bogus cancer cures and remedies make money, simply by giving people hope when nothing else does.”
He paused, as if annoyed at himself for getting off subject, then went on. “And last, we have the religious element. There’s a strong feeling in the country that the disease affecting blacks is simply a harbinger of worse to come, the so-called “End Times”, and it’s making believers edgy and almost as dangerous as armed blacks who have lost hope.” The security chief eyed each of them in turn. “I want you to make a special effort to squelch rumors and gossip and talk about religion playing a role here. I don’t mean for you to denigrate religion in any way, just tell your people it has no place on the job. If necessary, relieve them of duty and send them packing. I can guarantee that no EEOC or Department of Labor bureaucrat will come sniffing around to see that you played fair with them.”
Gene paused, a signal for questions if anyone had them.
“What’s the real status of research on the virus, Gene? Are we going to find a cure or not?” Teresa asked. Doug knew her well. She had told him that her husband, a dark skinned immigrant from India, was showing the first symptoms of the viral disease.
“That’s out of the realm of my expertise, but I can say that none of my superiors have mentioned a cure being in the works.”
Doug knew that none was. June had first hand knowledge of what progress was being made, and so far there had been very little.
“They’d better find one soon,” Teresa said. “My husband will probably recover, but people expect the government to produce something to combat a world wide epidemic—when it comes to our shores, anyway.”
“Virology doesn’t work that fast,” Doug volunteered. “And cures for viruses don’t come easily in any case.”
“How about a vaccine?”
Teresa asked the question as if she were trying to find a ray of hope somewhere. Maybe for her husband’s relatives, Doug thought. “Like Gene said, that’s not my area of expertise, but as I understand it, a vaccine may be possible but it won’t help the people already infected a bit. Vaccines are only a preventative measure.”
“All right folks, back to our jobs. We’re in charge of security, not viruses.” Gene glanced at his watch.
“Last item. I’ve asked for a whole army battalion to surround the CDC and make it secure from outside threats. Barring some country tossing a nuke our way, of course. I think we’ll get the troops after what I heard on the news this morning, but it may take some time. I’ve also asked to have our security force doubled, but again that may take some time. Stay alert and tell your people to do the same.
“Oh yes. I’ve also asked that we be excluded from the draft now that Congress finally passed the bill. We can’t have the army taking all our best troops when they’re already trained for duty here. Now I think that’s all I have for this morning.” He glanced at his watch again. “It’s time for you to go, too.”
The four department heads stood as Gene left, his stride as hurried and purposeful as ever. In this case, it was justified. He needed to be in on a conference call to Washington.