Chapter Nineteen

3:02 p.m.

Carmen didn’t blame the Surgeon General for the disbelief on his face. If she hadn’t seen it with her own eyes, she might not believe the numbers, either. “Yes, sir, I’m afraid you are.”

“I’d be concerned if this was the flu, but this is measles.” He fell silent for a moment. “The situation has worsened since you left Florida. It isn’t just about infection rates and how many are dead, although that’s bad enough on its own. The media has used this story to whip the public into a panic. The District of Columbia, California, and six other states just declared states of emergency. Ten minutes before you arrived, I got off the phone with about the tenth congressman or senator demanding anti-virals be issued to every man, woman, and child in the country.”

“Do they know anti-virals can’t cure people? Nothing we’ve tried made any difference.”

“I tried to explain, but I don’t think they care. What they want is to be seen doing something. Then, they can say they did all they could.”

“Sir?” she said diffidently. “I’d like to make some recommendations.”

That got his attention. “Please do.”

“We need to do something similar to the avian flu response in 2006. I suggest recommending to the Director of Homeland Security that a nationwide curfew be instituted—no one allowed to congregate anywhere. Not at work, malls, movie theaters, places of worship, schools, doctor’s offices, nowhere. People need to stay home and shelter in place.”

“It’s probably too late for that to have much of an effect. With this many people presenting in hospitals, you know there are thousands more out there infecting even more people without knowing it. Until they, too, fall sick.”

“We have to try.”

“I’ll issue the orders I can issue and recommend what I can’t, but I think our proverbial barn has already burned to the ground.”

“Sir,” Dozer said. “We’d like to locate a possible suspect. Dr. Halverson.”

“Halverson?” The SG snorted. “You think he’s behind this?”

“He’s the only one who could have taken the virus out of the CDC vault who has any motive.”

“Halverson was having some personal issues, but nothing in his file would indicate he’d commit murder on any kind of scale.”

“He got fired,” Dozer said. “Then what? Has he gotten another job?”

“I don’t know.” The SG picked up his phone. “But I can find out.”

As the SG got to his feet and moved away, the door to the office opened, and a middle-aged woman brought in a tray with two plates, cutlery, and two cups of coffee. She set them on a low table facing a small sofa.

The SG waved at them to eat, so they fell on the food. Real food, not MREs. Real coffee, not the instant stuff. A cold chill stole its way over Carmen’s skin as it occurred to her that distance made the outbreak seem less dangerous. Less real.

That, in itself, was a precarious perspective. She was supposed to remove the emotional part of the equation when making decisions, but if she did, would she make the right decision? There was a fine line between the right thing, the easy thing, and the mathematically correct thing.

She’d always hated math.

The SG, still on the phone, picked up a remote sitting on his desk and turned on a flat screen TV hanging on the wall facing them. A panel of three people, their images taking up most of the space, sat above a rolling ticker tape of information labeled breaking news.

Carmen continued to eat, her attention only partially on the television. Until someone said “CDC.” Her fork paused halfway between her plate and her mouth.

“The CDC has completely mishandled this outbreak of measles,” one of the panel members, a woman, said. “They didn’t mobilize fast enough, didn’t bring enough staff or equipment, and didn’t provide any anti-viral medication to any of those who’d fallen ill. It’s a travesty.”

Another panelist, a balding male, snorted and said, “How do you think they’re going to get there? Borrow a starship transporter? Unlike watching the news on your phone, no one can cross four hundred and fifty miles in an instant.”

“Anti-viral medications are available right now,” the woman said, her body held so rigid she shook. “Why aren’t the CDC and every hospital, doctor’s office, and pharmacy handing them out?”

“They ran out,” the third panelist, another younger man, said. “Within hours of the first reports from Orlando in the national news, anti-virals across the country were sold out. People who weren’t sick bought them, because the sick were too ill to get into their car and race to the drugstore.”

“Which meant the sick didn’t get very many of those drugs.”

“Like I said.” The first panelist wore disgust around her nose and mouth like a Rottweiler right before it bit you. “Mismanaged. The wrong responses at the wrong time. There are new anti-virals available. The government can’t just hoard or refuse to approve them. We need them now.”

“No one is hoarding anything,” the second panelist retorted. “We can’t allow medications that haven’t been through the proper tests and studies to be made available. If we do and there are significant side effects, who’s going to pay for those medical bills? The pharmaceutical companies?”

“Who is going to pay for all the pain, suffering, and death that will result if the government doesn’t step in? The federal government will go bankrupt if it’s taken to court—”

The volume cut out.

Carmen glanced at the SG, who had the remote in his hand again.

“Every news channel is the same,” he said, his face stony. “The talking heads are all calling for anti-virals, most of which haven’t gone through the appropriate processes to be approved by the FDA.”

“They should be urging people to stay home,” Carmen said, putting down her fork, her appetite gone. “Prevention is a thousand times better than trying unproven medications that aren’t a cure anyway.”

The SG studied Dozer and her with a single-minded focus; she could almost feel the hairs rising on the back of her neck.

Had she said the wrong thing?

Next to her, John sat up straighter. “You’ve got a plan, sir?”

“Not yet, but it’s coming to me. I need to make a few calls. The washroom is through there.” He pointed at a closed door in the back corner of the office. “Don’t go anywhere else.” His voice, cool but intense, strengthened the feeling something was coming that she wasn’t going to like.

“Sir?” she asked.

“Let me see if I can make this idea work before I involve anyone else.”

“By anyone,” John said, “do you mean us?”

The glance he gave John said her bodyguard guessed correctly. He pulled out his phone and made a call, then walked out of the office, closing the door behind himself.

The Surgeon General of the United States had just ordered her to stay in his office while he figured out a plan to deal with what might be the biggest health crisis facing the country in a hundred years. The food she’d eaten sat in the bottom of her stomach like a lead weight.

Carmen looked at what was left on her plate. “I’m not hungry anymore.”

John shoveled another bite into his mouth. “Eat. My oh-shit meter went off, which means you’re going to need it.”

“Yeah, I’m afraid you’re right.” She made herself eat another bite. It tasted like cardboard, but she swallowed it anyway. “He better not put me in front of a bunch of cameras.”

“Not a fan of press conferences?”

“No. They never ask the right questions.”

“Well, this is Washington. It’s more likely that you’ll end up talking to a bunch of old people who don’t have a clue about what needs to happen. Unfortunately, those old people are the ones who’ll make the decisions about our little health crisis.”

“Thanks,” she said drily. “I feel so much better now.”

He looked at her. “You don’t have to do it alone. I’ll have your back no matter what the SG decides.”

She glanced at him. He met her gaze with steady eyes. “How are your ribs? Your wound?”

He shrugged. “Sore, but only a two or three on the pain scale. Easily ignored.”

Ignored? “I envy your ability to compartmentalize things.”

He snorted. “Is that a nice way to say I don’t listen?”

“No.” She paused. “I don’t think so. I just wish I could put some things out of my mind.”

“That’s a strength. Being able to see the whole picture.”

“Well,” she said, pushing the plate away. There was no way her stomach was going to let her eat another bite. “The picture I’m seeing in my head is damn scary.”

“So think outside the box.”

“Oh, I threw the box out a long time ago. I think that unless we’re very careful, this is going to end in only one place.”

“What place is that?”

She just looked at him. She didn’t want to voice what she thought was going to happen. Didn’t want to give it any power over her thinking or his.

He stared at her for a moment, then shook his head. “No, that’s not going to happen.”

“There’s a school of thought that has been saying it’s just a matter of time. Disease has always been one of nature’s ways of controlling the population. We’re long overdue for a correction.”

“Helped along by terrorists or, more likely, an angry virologist?” He sounded even more certain. Cold, exact, confident.

“The trigger could be anything or anyone. That’s not important. What is important is the reality that if this disease isn’t stopped from spreading any more than it already has, nothing we do is going to be able to stop it.”

“Wait. Wait, wait,” he said, putting his hands up as if he were trying to stop traffic on a freeway. He stared at her, but his focus seemed on the thoughts racing through his head, a cognitive dance she could only watch until he revealed them. “Can’t we create a new vaccine to cover this variant?”

“Creating a vaccine doesn’t happen overnight. It’s a complicated process, compounded by the fact that this is a completely different strain of the virus. If our second test group doesn’t do well…”

“So you’re saying…the situation is hopeless?”

She sighed. “That is a distinct possibility.”

“Shit.”

3:37 p.m.

Carmen woke with a start.

The SG shut the door, then strode across the room toward his desk. He glanced at her, and, though his expression didn’t change, his body was too tense for good news.

John was still out, and they’d slept for…twenty minutes?

Okay. Good. That was good. Long enough to rest, but not long enough to fall into a deeper sleep.

She put her hand on John’s thigh. “John, wake up.”

His eyes opened, and he put a hand over hers, pressing it tightly against his leg. He lifted his head, scanned the room, then released her hand slowly.

“Nice nap?” the SG asked without looking up from reading whatever was on his tablet.

“Yes, sir,” Carmen said. “Do you have anything for us, or can we go back to Orlando?”

A smile did flash across his face this time. It made the hair on the back of her neck rise. “I want you to hold a briefing.”

The bottom of her stomach disappeared into the center of the earth. “Sir?”

“In thirty minutes, you’re going to explain what’s going on to the Surgeon Generals of every state of our nation. It’ll be via video conference. All of them will be able to see you, but you will only be able to see a few of them at one time.”

Sure, no pressure there. “Sir, what am I supposed to tell them?”

“Give them the latest numbers. The hard truth. Then, tell them the moment they have reported cases of measles in their state, they need to tell people to stay home. Essential personnel on the roads only.”

She could not have heard that correctly. “You want every state to set up its own quarantine?”

“No. I want them to do everything just short of a statewide quarantine. Curfews, shelter in place, states of emergency, even, but not a quarantine. Not at this time.”

Holy crap. “Sir, I’m not prepared. I need time to talk to my people, obtain all the data, see how the effort to untangle the virus has progre—”

“That’s too much information,” he told her. “The basics, Dr. Rodrigues. Keep it simple and short. Make sure they understand at the end of the briefing that they’re to maintain law and order within their jurisdictions and treat the sick with every resource at their disposal.”

“But no anti-viral medications are available at this time?” Carmen asked.

“Correct.”

She stared at the SG’s face and wished she’d stayed in Orlando.

The SG’s lips twitched upward. “You’re just senior enough to have clout, but not senior enough to know all the answers they’re going to demand.”

“They can’t bully you into giving them what you don’t have,” John added.

She almost rolled her eyes. Plausible deniability had always felt like a cop-out to her.

“There’s an escort waiting for you outside,” the SG said. “You are to return to this office when your briefing is concluded.”

“How long should it take?” she asked.

“Short and simple,” he said. “Ten minutes tops.”

John leaned over and said, “Then get the fuck out.”

Their escort drove them to the Pentagon, which surprised her. They had to pass two security checkpoints before they reached the room where she would deliver her briefing.

It wasn’t empty. Aside from the audio-visual equipment, there were a half dozen military officers. All of them wore impatient expressions.

Next to her, John straightened, standing a fraction taller than he’d been. She wanted to laugh. You could take the man out of the Army, but you couldn’t take the Army out of the man.

“Do you recognize anyone?” she asked him softly as they walked toward a small podium facing a video camera.

“Yeah, two of them are on the Joint Chiefs of Staff. The guy in the suit on the far left is the National Security Advisor.”

This was an audience she wasn’t prepared to deal with. People on the other end of a digital connection was one thing; having officers who would decide what might or might not save the lives of thousands of soldiers was quite another.

Her breathing shallowed, and her vision got a little fuzzy at the edges. “The Surgeon General left a couple of things out,” she said. Or had she just thought those words?

John leaned closer and whispered, “Sneaky bastard.”

She had to suppress a laugh, and something in her head flipped back to the on position. The world snapped back into focus.

Work the problem. Let the people figure themselves out.

“Good…”—What time was it? She checked her watch—“…afternoon, everyone. Give me two minutes to get organized, and then we can begin.”

A couple of the hard expressions directed her way relaxed a fraction. Military people appreciated competence and efficiency.

A young soldier manned the video camera while she pulled up the latest numbers on the outbreak. They’d jumped since she’d last checked. Again. Some of her confidence bled away.

Nope. Not going to let worry or panic take the reins.

“You’ve got this,” John said to her with an encouraging smile.

She let out a breath, nodded at the young man, and began to speak.

4:43 p.m.

Dozer listened to Carmen providing all the latest numbers on the outbreak.

32,467 confirmed cases in the entire country.

13,000 hospitalized in the entire country.

586 deaths in the entire country.

She told them about the virus itself, the ineffectiveness of anti-virals, and the fact the virus was manmade.

No one said anything or even reacted until she began recommending action plans. What they could and couldn’t do, including curfews, shelter-in-place orders, states of emergency, and quarantine.

She got some push back on her suggestions but handled it well. The SG was right—she was the perfect person for this briefing. Everyone took her at her word when she said she didn’t have more information or more authority to make sweeping decisions. If they had an issue, they could take it up with the SG, but her tone clearly said the SG would be impossible to reach.

After thanking everyone for their time and attention, she ended the video conference.

The Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff sat back in his chair and said, “That was a nicely sanitized, carefully worded speech. How about giving us the quick and dirty one?” He made the question sound like a command.

Carmen looked at him, then at the others all watching her with the same hard-edged expressions.

“I only provide information one way, gentlemen,” she said, sounding unimpressed with his order. “Dirt has no place in it.”

The general leaned forward. “Is this outbreak a threat?”

“It is,” she agreed.

“How do we stop it?”

Dozer cleared his throat. Everyone looked at him, including Carmen. He ignored everyone else and said to her, “Practical suggestions.” He smiled wryly. “Short and simple.”

She looked at their audience, took in a breath, and said, “Airports, hospitals, malls, schools, restaurants—anywhere people travel to and from and congregate—are where this virus is going to move from infected to uninfected. If I were in your place, I’d sequester everyone right where they are. As little population movement as possible.”

“Is it really as easy to catch as you say?” someone else asked.

“Yes.” She tilted her head to one side. “Let me put it another way. One contagious person will infect ninety percent of the people they come into contact with. There’s no miracle drug, no quick fix. This outbreak will cost us lives and money we can’t afford. All we can do is mitigate the damage as best we can.”

“Have you done a projection?” the general asked.

“I’d be surprised if someone hasn’t, but I’m unaware of any. The numbers are changing fast.” She paused, then continued, “We’re still learning about this virus. We don’t know yet if it has any weaknesses we can exploit.”

“But you’re looking for weaknesses?”

“Yes.” She stopped speaking to look at each man in the room.

Smart, smart woman. She kept any suspicions to herself and only voiced the facts. Something these old soldiers could understand and respect.

“Does the Surgeon General have your contact information?” the general asked.

“Yes, sir.”

“Good. Expect me and some of these other gentlemen to be added to your contact list. Dismissed,” he said, getting to his feet. He didn’t salute, but Dozer found his back straightening all on its own.

Carmen glanced at him, and he nodded at her to follow him.

Outside, their escort waited for them. The man led the way toward the vehicle they’d taken to get to the pentagon.

Two men dressed in dark suits approached them from the left. Dozer slid over so he was covering her left side, blocking any possibility of direct contact.

“Dr. Carmen Rodrigues?” one of the men called out when they were still about ten feet away.

“Don’t answer,” Dozer whispered in her ear. “Don’t react, just keep walking.”

“Dr. Rodrigues?” the man asked again, louder.

Eight feet away. Seven. Five.

Their escort stopped, put one hand on his service weapon, and extended the other, palm up and out. “Stop.”

The two men came to a halt, both of them trying to catch Carmen’s eye. She looked everywhere but at the two men. Scanning the parking lot for more hostiles?

Damn, that was sexy.

One of the men took a step forward and held out his hand. “We’d just like to talk for a moment, doctor.”

Dozer pulled his Beretta. Their escort did the same.

“Go through channels,” Dozer said. “She’s not going to chat out here in the open.”

One corner of the man’s lip rose in a flash of a sneer. “We just want to have a conversation.”

“No,” Dozer said in an almost-friendly tone. “Move away.”

The second man chuckled, but it was strained. If just seeing a gun pointed at the ground ruffled his feathers, he wouldn’t last a day in a real combat situation.

“What are you going to do, kill us? We haven’t done anything but request a conversation.”

“You’re right,” Dozer agreed. “I won’t kill you, but I will shoot you.”

The two men dropped their friendly facade.

“This conversation is being recorded,” one of them said.

“Really? When were you going to tell us that?” Dozer asked. He studied them for another moment. “You’re not reporters.” He watched them stiffen slightly. “You’re lobbyists from…” He paused, watching their body language. “Big pharma.”

Both men shifted their weight on their feet.

Bingo.

“Doctor,” Dozer said, turning his head slightly so Carmen could hear him clearly. “Please take a photo of these gentlemen.” Though that description of them was stretching the truth.

“You can’t do that,” they both said.

“You’re recording this, aren’t you? Quid pro quo.”

One of the men tried smiling again. “A simple conversation is all we’d like to have.”

“If it were simple, you wouldn’t be recording it,” Dozer said.

The soft snick of a phone taking pictures just behind him made him very happy.

“Dr. Rodrigues,” the other one said, his voice full of false promises, “we’d very much like to help you control this outbreak.”

“You believe you can?” Her voice was colder than an Antarctic winter.

“We’re certain we can’t make a bad situation worse.”

“What does that mean?”

“It’s all over the news,” the first man said. “A new version of measles with a higher hospitalization and death rate. A strain you’re powerless to stop.”

“You have something you think will prevent or cure the measles.”

He shrugged. “We think it will.”

Sirens blared, and military police cars sped around a corner and came to a halt, blocking any escape.

Dozer holstered his weapon, but their escort didn’t. Military police got out of the two Jeeps and came toward them.

It took a few minutes to sort things out, but the MPs confiscated the tiny remote video camera attached to the mouthy one’s tie clip. Where the feed landed was anyone’s guess. The MPs escorted the two squawking lobbyists off Pentagon grounds.

“What do you think they wanted to talk to me about?” Carmen asked once they were on their way back to the SG’s office again.

“Probably wanted you to advocate for their anti-viral meds or some other expensive drug they own the rights to.”

“Yeah,” she said on a sigh. “That’s what I think, too.” She pulled out her phone. “I’m sending the photos I took to you, the SG, and the CDC director.”

“Good,” Dozer said to her. “It would be good to know who those two work for and what they were trying to sell.”

Carmen was silent for a few moments, then asked, “How did they know who I was and where I would be?”

His spine straightened. “That would be even better to know.” Was someone in the SG’s or Joint Chiefs’ office passing along information? What else could they have shared?

Carmen’s phone rang. “It’s Henry,” she said.

Dozer listened to her one-sided “uh-huh…I understand” conversation. She signed off with a softly worded “Keep at it.”

He waited for her to tell him what the call was about, but she remained silent. That could only mean bad news she didn’t want their escort to hear.

They were dropped off at the SG office building, went through security, and waited outside his office in the waiting area. Carmen’s face had lost all color, and she moved with the painful, arthritis-constricted motions of a ninety-year-old.

“Bad news?” he asked her casually at a volume that wouldn’t carry beyond her.

She winced. “Henry says that the virus doesn’t quite match the one on file. It’s either mutated on its own or it got helped along, because the virulence is higher than what was recorded in the lab back in the eighties.”

“How likely is it to have been a natural mutation?”

“Not very damned likely.”

“That is shitty news.”

She gave him a smile that lit a slow burn inside him. “You’re always able to put things into perspective.”

“How was it tested in the eighties?”

“On mice, probably. Maybe on monkeys, too. I don’t know.”

Her phone pinged, and she looked at it. It pinged again and again.

“Damn it,” she whispered.

“Carmen?”

“New numbers have come in. Several other states are reporting suspected cases. There are also suspected cases in Canada, England, Germany, and France.”

Dozer’s phone pinged. He pulled it out and swiped the screen. He had a text message from his supervisor ordering Carmen and him to attend a meeting at his office in Washington.

“We’ve been summoned to the Homeland office. Want to bet our lobbyist friends complained?”

“I can’t just leave. I have to report to the SG.”

“I’ll see if I can put it off for an hour.”

He texted his supervisor and requested a later meeting time, but his supervisor was adamant that both he and Carmen come as soon as possible.

He showed his phone to Carmen.

She groaned. “Lovely. I never did figure out how to be in two places at once.” She paused, then looked at him. “There are two of us.”

His gut turned into a glacier. “No. We’re not splitting up.”

“How else are we going to do this? Circumstances are…extraordinary.”

“I don’t give a shit about the circumstances. You don’t go anywhere without me.”

She sighed. “I won’t be going anywhere. You’re the one who has to leave. I’ll be fine here.”

“No.” Shit. He sounded like a child.

The SG strode through the space. He flashed a hand signal indicating they should join him.

Good. Maybe he could talk to the Homeland office, explain why he and Carmen couldn’t be at this meeting.

As soon as Dozer shut the door, he began talking. “Sir, Homeland Security has ordered us to attend a meeting at their office.”

“When?”

“Now.”

The SG didn’t hesitate. “No, there’s too much information coming in. I need Dr. Rodrigues here working with her teams around the country.” He looked at Dozer. “Go talk to Homeland. I’m sure you’ve heard enough to give them the basic facts, but don’t speculate. If they want an opinion, they’re to call me.”

“Sir, I need to stay with Dr. Rodrigues, for her protection.”

“You don’t believe this office can adequately protect one person?”

“Sir, there have been several determined efforts to kill her.”

“And you,” the SG said. “With you out of the office, the risk will be cut in half.”

Dozer opened his mouth to argue further, but the SG cut him off with a raised hand.

“Go and make your report. She’ll be safe here. I’ve got an office for her to use down the hall. She’s not going anywhere but there and the bathroom.”

Fuck. Dozer forced his lips to lift at the corners. “Thank you, sir.”

“I can look after myself,” Carmen said with some heat. She had some color to her cheeks now, along with a frown.

“Not against armed men, you can’t,” the SG said.

“Or lobbyists who shouldn’t have known where to find you,” Dozer said.

“Lobbyists?” the SG asked.

Dozer explained their encounter with the two men.

“Sonofabitch.” The SG sounded royally pissed off. He stared at Carmen for a long moment. “You’re definitely not going anywhere.”

“Thank you, sir.” Dozer checked his phone. Another text from his supervisor.

Interested in remaining employed?

He typed back yes and sent it. “I have to go.” He looked at Carmen.

She had her arms crossed over her chest and a thunderstorm on her face, but she nodded.

She didn’t want him to go. He could see the worry in her gaze. That expression warmed him.

Damn it. He didn’t want her out of his sight.

Shit. He wasn’t going to be gone long. The sooner he got there, the sooner he’d be back.

“Stay safe,” he said softly to her.

She glared at him. A normal Carmen reaction.

He left.

A taxi took him to the main Homeland Security building. A crowd of agents dressed in suits so similar they could have been carbon copies of one another filled his boss’s office. That bothered him more than it should have, since he regularly wore one of those suits.

His supervisor, Mark Rones, surfaced out of the circling suits with a shark’s focus on bleeding prey. “Good. I need you and Dr. Rodrigues to brief some people.”

Well, shit.

“She isn’t here.”

His boss spun around. “I specifically asked for both of you.”

Dozer shrugged to mask the churning of his gut. The man’s reaction was more than a little over-the-top. “The Surgeon General overruled your request.”

“Rones, is Dozer here yet?” someone yelled from the other side of the line of suits.

His boss shook his head. “I hope you’re up for this.” He strode through the pool of agents, so Dozer followed him.

They headed for an office he’d never been in before. As soon as he saw who was behind the big desk at the far side of the room, he knew why. The Director of Homeland Security.

“Sir,” Rones said. “This is Agent John Dozer.”

The director looked at Dozer, then at Mark. “Where’s the doctor?”

Dozer answered. “The Surgeon General has her working on the measles outbreak, sir. She couldn’t be spared.”

“Measles isn’t the problem,” the director said.

Dozer had to restrain himself from reacting like he wanted to, with equal parts disbelief and laughter. He managed a more or less neutral, “Excuse me, sir?”

His supervisor stabbed him with a glance.

Must not have hid his reaction as well as he thought.

“The FAFO has sent a half dozen hospitals bomb threats. They’ve also publicized a list of people they’d like to see dead.”

Interesting.

“Your name and Dr. Rodrigues’s name are on that list.”

“We already figured out they want to kill both of us.”

“It’s gone further than that. They’ve put a bounty on each of you.”

Nice. “I guess I can cross getting on someone’s most-wanted list off my bucket list.”

The director’s face turned an unhealthy shade of red. “This isn’t funny.”

“I think it’s hilarious.” He shrugged. “It doesn’t change a thing, as far as I’m concerned. They’ve already tried to kill me twice.”

The director stared at him with narrowed eyes. “Yes, they have. What do you know that puts you at the top of their list?”

“I have no idea.”

“And your lady doctor friend?”

The way he said friend made it clear Rawley had provided his own interpretation of their relationship as fact. The weasel.

“Dr. Rodrigues?” he asked, just to reestablish the professional nature of their official relationship. “She’s actively investigating how the FAFO seems to be getting its hands on pathological bacteria and viruses. When she’s not coordinating outbreak responses around the United States and the world.”

The director studied him. “The FAFO is all over social media. They use untraceable fake accounts to post threats, news, and information that has just enough accurate information to make it seem completely credible. Information an isolated terrorist cell should never be able to get its hands on.”

“I agree.”

The director leaned forward. “They’re getting their info from somewhere, Agent Dozer.”

“I wonder,” Dozer said slowly, “if they’re getting it from the same place the two big pharma lobbyists got Dr. Rodrigues’s whereabouts from an hour ago.” He had their complete attention now. “They wandered up to us right after a high-level briefing, wanting to talk to her.” Dozer let a half grin lift one corner of his mouth. “She declined.”

“The Surgeon Generals of all states?” the director asked.

“That’s the one. You knew about it but didn’t come?”

“I was in transit between the airport and here.” The director looked at Rones. “How the hell are lobbyists getting our agents’ whereabouts?”

“The SG was about as impressed by that as you are.” He looked from one man to the other. “What else is going on?”

“Someone took a shot at Agent Rawley in Orlando.”

Dozer’s faint amusement died a quick death. “How bad is it?”

“The shooter missed,” his supervisor said. “But in all the confusion, he got away.”

“Shit.”

“They seem awfully determined to silence you,” the director said. “So, I’m going to ask again. What do you know that warrants multiple attempts on your life?”

“Sir,” Dozer said, more confused than ever. “I have no idea.”