Rappaport in a secure location now?” Allaire asked.
Salitas nodded.
“He’s being transported to the 934th Airlift Wing, Minneapolis-St. Paul Air Reserve Station on the north side of the Minneapolis-St. Paul International Airport. They have an encrypted line. Actually, he may be there already.”
“Good. Get ahold of him for me, please.”
“Yes, Mr. President.”
Salitas’s return to formality was his way of asking Bethany Townsend if she was in or out in terms of unencumbered support for her patient.
“Mr. President,” Townsend said by way of response, “what can we expect with this virus now? How will it manifest?”
“Working that out is your second assignment, though I want you to stay clear of Group C—Chief of Staff Jakes’s group. We have to assume they’ll soon all be causalities.”
“How so?”
“Anybody at ground zero, say within ten feet of any of the blasts, will initially suffer several hours of uncontrollable coughing, vomiting, dizziness, profound headache, loss of balance, lethargy. Within seven to ten days the bleeding will start due to the destruction of clotting factors. In that respect, WRX3883 is like the Marburg hemorrhagic fever viruses, specifically Ebola. Massive bruising will develop, along with bloody diarrhea. The victim’s skin will begin to loosen and detach from the underlying tissues. The sclerae of their eyes will turn bright red. Black, soupy vomiting will hail the end. Death will occur from dehydration and hemorrhage anytime between ten and fourteen days after infection.”
“Mr. President, Group C is over sixty people. Is there anything we can do for them—anything at all?”
“I’ve sent for the virologist who was in charge of developing a treatment for WRX. Hopefully he’ll be able to come up with something. Meanwhile, Dr. Broussard is arranging for every antiviral drug we have to be delivered here in large quantities. You and she will be responsible for coordinating their administration. It’s your decision, but I would focus on groups B and A. I don’t think we have the means to kill this bug, but maybe you’ll be able to slow it down.”
“What can we expect neurologically?”
“From what I got from Dr. Chen’s report of her animals, with moderate exposure there will be a period of progressive confusion and emotional lability, followed by a loss of will and profound suggestibility. That somewhat stable period will last for two or three days. That’s when the infection was supposed to subside.”
“After that?”
“Neurologic deterioration—staggering, grunting, salivating, uncontrollable arm and leg spasms, progressive dementia, violence, and finally grand mal seizures, high fevers, and death.”
“Damn. So the three of us are in Group A?”
“Gary is close to being a B, but yes.”
“So how long have we got?”
The president shrugged.
“Two weeks. Maybe three. Eventually, death will be due to seizures and central nervous system shutdown.”
“So while I’m testing your mental status,” Townsend said bitterly, “who’s going to be testing mine?”
“Mr. President,” Salitas cut in, “I have Paul Rappaport on the line.”
Allaire flashed on Rappaport’s daughter, the reason his Homeland Security secretary had asked to fill the role of designated survivor. He had met her at Rappaport’s swearing-in ceremony. She was a pale, rail-thin, somewhat mousy woman. The people who had vetted the nominee reported her as having two past hospitalizations for anxiety and depression, but Allaire saw no reason her psychiatric history should lead to withdrawing his support for what was otherwise a nearly spotless résumé. In fact, if anything, Rappaport’s devotion to his daughter was a mark in the man’s favor.
Over the first four years the one-time governor of Minnesota had been in the Cabinet, he had overstepped his bounds from time to time. But by and large, he had been a good and loyal soldier to the president.
Allaire took
Salitas nodded.
“He’s being transported to the 934th Airlift Wing, Minneapolis-St. Paul Air Reserve Station on the north side of the Minneapolis-St. Paul International Airport. They have an encrypted line. Actually, he may be there already.”
“Good. Get ahold of him for me, please.”
“Yes, Mr. President.”
Salitas’s return to formality was his way of asking Bethany Townsend if she was in or out in terms of unencumbered support for her patient.
“Mr. President,” Townsend said by way of response, “what can we expect with this virus now? How will it manifest?”
“Working that out is your second assignment, though I want you to stay clear of Group C—Chief of Staff Jakes’s group. We have to assume they’ll soon all be causalities.”
“How so?”
“Anybody at ground zero, say within ten feet of any of the blasts, will initially suffer several hours of uncontrollable coughing, vomiting, dizziness, profound headache, loss of balance, lethargy. Within seven to ten days the bleeding will start due to the destruction of clotting factors. In that respect, WRX3883 is like the Marburg hemorrhagic fever viruses, specifically Ebola. Massive bruising will develop, along with bloody diarrhea. The victim’s skin will begin to loosen and detach from the underlying tissues. The sclerae of their eyes will turn bright red. Black, soupy vomiting will hail the end. Death will occur from dehydration and hemorrhage anytime between ten and fourteen days after infection.”
“Mr. President, Group C is over sixty people. Is there anything we can do for them—anything at all?”
“I’ve sent for the virologist who was in charge of developing a treatment for WRX. Hopefully he’ll be able to come up with something. Meanwhile, Dr. Broussard is arranging for every antiviral drug we have to be delivered here in large quantities. You and she will be responsible for coordinating their administration. It’s your decision, but I would focus on groups B and A. I don’t think we have the means to kill this bug, but maybe you’ll be able to slow it down.”
“What can we expect neurologically?”
“From what I got from Dr. Chen’s report of her animals, with moderate exposure there will be a period of progressive confusion and emotional lability, followed by a loss of will and profound suggestibility. That somewhat stable period will last for two or three days. That’s when the infection was supposed to subside.”
“After that?”
“Neurologic deterioration—staggering, grunting, salivating, uncontrollable arm and leg spasms, progressive dementia, violence, and finally grand mal seizures, high fevers, and death.”
“Damn. So the three of us are in Group A?”
“Gary is close to being a B, but yes.”
“So how long have we got?”
The president shrugged.
“Two weeks. Maybe three. Eventually, death will be due to seizures and central nervous system shutdown.”
“So while I’m testing your mental status,” Townsend said bitterly, “who’s going to be testing mine?”
“Mr. President,” Salitas cut in, “I have Paul Rappaport on the line.”
Allaire flashed on Rappaport’s daughter, the reason his Homeland Security secretary had asked to fill the role of designated survivor. He had met her at Rappaport’s swearing-in ceremony. She was a pale, rail-thin, somewhat mousy woman. The people who had vetted the nominee reported her as having two past hospitalizations for anxiety and depression, but Allaire saw no reason her psychiatric history should lead to withdrawing his support for what was otherwise a nearly spotless résumé. In fact, if anything, Rappaport’s devotion to his daughter was a mark in the man’s favor.
Over the first four years the one-time governor of Minnesota had been in the Cabinet, he had overstepped his bounds from time to time. But by and large, he had been a good and loyal soldier to the president.
Allaire took
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