CHAPTER 3

           As for man, the biological laws make no exception for intelligence or wealth. The laws of God only demand that we do what we can in what time we have, to make the world a place where laziness and sloth are never rewarded.

        —LANCASTER R. HILL, Climbing the Mountain, SAWYER RIVER BOOKS, 1938, P.111

Lou had fallen twice while traversing the rain-slicked rocks and roots. Lou and Cap finished at a slower pace, turning some heads as they dragged across the rustic lobby of the lodge, muddied and scraped.

“I think we’ll bag our run today,” someone called after them. “Too much of a contact sport.”

Still shaken from his falls, Lou headed for the shower while Cap checked the highway map for the best route to his aunt’s house in Buford. Twenty minutes later, Lou emerged from a cloud of steam, ready to take on the forest again.

“Looks like I might be back after dinner, so you’ll have to eat without me,” Cap said.

“Not a problem. I should probably do some schmoozing for Filstrup anyway.”

“How do you think the election is going to go?”

“Honestly?… The speech lacks passion,” Lou said. “Abraham Lincoln could give it and it would still fall flat.”

“Ouch.”

“Many of the docs involved in physician wellness organizations are in recovery themselves. Filstrup’s views, well, they’re clinical at best. Long on pomposity, short on grit.”

“Why is he running for this office, anyway?”

“You’re talking about a guy who has called me for progress reports on the election several times since we got here, while his wife is still in the ICU. Clearly his ego was bought in a plus-sized store.”

“Well, I’m sure you’ll give it your all.”

“Believe me, pal, I care a lot more about Marjory Filstrup’s irregular heart rhythm than I do about Walter’s election. Besides, even though I’ve got another day to read it over, Filstrup would gut me if I so much as changed a word, so what there is is what they’re gonna get.”

“After our run tomorrow, I’ll listen to you read it if you want.”

“You’re going to hate it.”

“Nah, man. It’s cool. I haven’t had a vacation in ages, and I’m really happy being here, so helping you and your boss out is the least I can do.”

“I’m glad the trip’s working out, thanks in large part to that touchdown catch you made out there.”

“Aw, shucks.”

Lou left while Cap was showering. The van hired to shuttle folks to the tour of the CDC was idling near the entrance to the lodge. Lou doubted he would be on time to snag a window seat, but to his surprise there were only two other passengers. According to their name tags, they were Dr. Brenda Greene, an internist from Oregon, and Dr. Harvey Plimpton from Connecticut, who had lost interest in his specialty of gastroenterology somewhere in his late fifties and had become certified by the American Board of Addiction Medicine.

Greene, a garrulous and gregarious redhead, was utterly dismayed with the small turnout.

“I don’t think people understand what an unusual experience this is going to be. The Centers for Disease Control doesn’t even offer tours, except of their museum. My ex, Roger, is in the public relations office and pulled strings to arrange this for us. A guided tour of the CDC is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.”

“Physician health people can be a little narrow,” Plimpton said. “What made you sign up, Lou?”

“I’ve never been. I had no idea they didn’t give tours. I have always thought of the place as sort of a Disney World of microbiology, featuring Bugland and Epidemiologyland and AndromedaStrainland and the like.”

The Templeton Rehabilitation Center was believed by many to provide the most effective treatment for chemically dependent health professionals in the world. Lou’s addiction, primarily to amphetamines, had evolved as he moonlighted more and more hours in an effort to help his father, Dennis, a union laborer then on disability, meet the college tuition expenses of Lou’s younger brother, Graham. The deal was that Graham was never to be told. Lou feared that the fragile relationship between the two headstrong brothers would shatter. As things were, they had never grown close.

The last time Lou had been in Atlanta, the anniversary of his arrival at Templeton, was the last time he had been in the city. By then, many of those from his “class” had been lost to follow-up, and too many others were dead.

Bad disease.

The memories, tempered by the years and the recovery meetings, roiled in Lou’s mind as the van rolled through the streets of the city where the turnaround in his life had begun.

Druid Hills, home to the CDC as well as some of Atlanta’s most elegant mansions, was some five miles from downtown. The van and its three passengers cruised to the main entrance past the agency logo—white rays on blue, beneath the block letters CDC. The driver pulled to a stop in front of the main building and informed the trio of the pickup time for the return trip to the lodge.

“I could stay here for days,” Greene gushed.

“Is your ex coming to greet us?” Lou asked.

“Doubtful. Roger and I are on decent terms, but we split because I told him he wasn’t motivated enough to amount to anything.”

Lou shielded his eyes against the glare of the morning sun. The air, free of the scent of lab chemicals, smelled instead of flowering plants and trees. He gestured at a towering brick smokestack rising up from behind a mirrored-glass building. The sprawling complex seemed perfect for incubating secrets as well as specimens.

“I wouldn’t be a bit surprised to learn they’re taking volunteers for human experimentation, if you want to extend your stay,” he said.

“I assume you’re joking.”

“Alas, people are always making that assumption.”

Lou followed the others into the tastefully apportioned lobby, chilled enough to raise goose bumps. He wondered about the negative pressure rooms, HEPA air purifiers, and other bio-safety protocols employed at various areas in the facility to keep lethal pathogens contained.

“If you’ve ever wondered what a bioterrorist’s candy store looks like,” Greene said as if reading his thoughts, “well, this is it.”

A brunette dressed in a sharply tailored navy blue suit approached. The tag pinned to her ample lapel said that her name was Heidi, and that she was with public relations. She glanced briefly at her clipboard, perhaps making sure she had the correct number of visitor badges to hand out.

“Hello and welcome,” she said with the slightest hint of an accent. “My name is Heidi Johnson, and I’ll be your guide for your visit today. I assume you are Dr. Greene?”

“Brenda Greene, that’s right.”

“I have a message for you from Roger Greene. He regrets that he has meetings all day and won’t be here to escort you personally, but he welcomes you to the foremost facility of its kind in the world, and knows I will fill in admirably for him. Now, unless there are questions, I guess I should make sure I have the right people before we head off.”

“I assume you know that we’re from the Physician Wellness conference,” Greene said.

“Chattahoochee Lodge. We don’t generally offer tours, but Mr. Greene, who’s my boss, arranged your visit personally.”

Lou glanced over at Brenda and felt certain he could read her mind about the relationship between her ex and Heidi.

“I had expected a larger group, but the smaller numbers only mean we will be able to see more,” Heidi said.

From the gardens outside to the sparkling interior to Heidi’s perfect smile, Lou sensed that the CDC did its very best to downplay its important and often dangerous work. However, Heidi’s demeanor dimmed slightly after she finished handing out name badges.

“I’m afraid Dr. Chopra, the director of our Division of Bacterial Diseases, has been called away on business, so we’re not going to be able to visit her lab before our tour of the grounds and the museum. We have two alternatives. We could visit the Division of Viral Diseases or take a tour of our Antibacterial Resistance Unit.”

Viral diseases … Antibacterial resistance … A candy store for terrorists. The phrases reverberated in Lou’s thoughts.

Harvey Plimpton, who had been taciturn in contrast to Brenda Greene, came alive at the option.

“Antibacterial resistance. Before I changed specialties, I did research on E. coli mutation. Can we go there?”

“If you both agree,” Heidi said.

Lou and Greene made brief eye contact and nodded.

“Great, we’ll start your visit there,” Heidi said. “I’ll call and let Dr. Scupman know that we’re coming. I think you’ll find him … well, quite interesting.”

“What do you mean by ‘interesting’?” Lou asked.

Heidi returned an enigmatic smile, but not an answer.