that could happen.
Once they had their sample, Army specialists still had to grow the suspected anthrax spores in a nutrient medium until they germinated into live, rod-shaped bacterial cells. Un- identified gram-positive bacilli growing on agar may be con- sidered as contaminant. The lab would attempt to characterize the organism by further biochemical testing— motility testing, inhibition by penicillin, and absence of hemollysis on sheep blood agar. If B. anthracis was present, antibodies in a test kit would bind to antigens on its surface and the antibodies fluoresce. An antigen is any molecule capable of simulating an immune response. An antibody is a protein made by B lymphocytes that react with a specific antigen.
Reporter Judith Miller had not yet heard about O’Connor’s anthrax infection. At 9:15 a.m., Friday, October 12, she was busy at her desk at the New York Times ’s 43rd Street headquarters between 8th Avenue and Broadway. As the author of a new bestseller— Germs: Biological Weapons and America’s Secret War (with coauthors Stephen Engel- berg and William Broad Miller), Miller had her share of odd mail. As she completed a phone call, she distractedly slit open a stamped business-type envelope, failing to notice it had no return address. The plain letter was postmarked St. Petersburg, Florida, a retirement town about two hundred miles from AMI, on the Gulf of Mexico. A cloud of talcum- like powder puffed over her.
“It looked like baby powder,” Miller wrote later. “A cloud of hospital white, sweet-smelling powder rose from the letter—dusting my face, sweater and hands. The heavier particles dropped to the floor, falling on my pants and shoes. ‘An anthrax hoax,’ I thought.” Had Miller left some touchy bioweapons expert out of her comprehensive book? Was it professional jealousy? She and her coauthors had spoken to most of the experts.
Bioweapons expert William C. Patrick III was the former chief of product development in the Army’s offensive bio- logical weapons program at the U.S. Army Medical Re- search Institute of Infectious Diseases (USAMRIID) at Fort Detrick, Maryland. Those in the know called it the Institute. When the nation abandoned germ weapons in the early 1970s, Bill Patrick became a private consultant on biological defense. He had also been a knowledgeable source for Mil- ler’s book. He had told her spores were sometimes cut with baby powder to mask them with a smell that was reassur- ingly familiar. “Anthrax has no smell,” he said, “and is hard- ly ever white.”
And so, because the unsigned note threatened President Bush and the Sears Tower in Chicago, Miller asked a nearby reporter to ring security. Just then her phone rang with news that Tom Brokaw’s assistant had contracted anthrax from powder in a letter she had opened in late September. The FBI thought it had had a Florida postmark. Security guards in gloves arrived, placed Miller’s letter and envelope in a plastic garbage bag, tossed their gloves in after it, and sealed the bag. Miller washed her hands in the rest room and tried as best she could to rub the powder from her pants and shoes. When she returned, a senior editor put his arm around her and walked her to the medical department on another floor. When Miller got back, other editors rushed to her side and brought her tea.
Within twenty minutes, investigators, police ambulance service, and police officers wearing gas masks and light brown head-to-toe biohazard suits rushed into the office to check out the suspicious letter. Miller stayed with them, pointing where the powder had fallen and answering ques- tions about anyone she might know in Florida. The men took photos, performed tests, and evacuated two newsroom floors, leaving Miller’s floor silent except for continually ringing phones. Outside the street was cordoned off. Miller would have to wait to learn whether the powder contained anthrax. An antigen test supplied to federal and local
Once they had their sample, Army specialists still had to grow the suspected anthrax spores in a nutrient medium until they germinated into live, rod-shaped bacterial cells. Un- identified gram-positive bacilli growing on agar may be con- sidered as contaminant. The lab would attempt to characterize the organism by further biochemical testing— motility testing, inhibition by penicillin, and absence of hemollysis on sheep blood agar. If B. anthracis was present, antibodies in a test kit would bind to antigens on its surface and the antibodies fluoresce. An antigen is any molecule capable of simulating an immune response. An antibody is a protein made by B lymphocytes that react with a specific antigen.
Reporter Judith Miller had not yet heard about O’Connor’s anthrax infection. At 9:15 a.m., Friday, October 12, she was busy at her desk at the New York Times ’s 43rd Street headquarters between 8th Avenue and Broadway. As the author of a new bestseller— Germs: Biological Weapons and America’s Secret War (with coauthors Stephen Engel- berg and William Broad Miller), Miller had her share of odd mail. As she completed a phone call, she distractedly slit open a stamped business-type envelope, failing to notice it had no return address. The plain letter was postmarked St. Petersburg, Florida, a retirement town about two hundred miles from AMI, on the Gulf of Mexico. A cloud of talcum- like powder puffed over her.
“It looked like baby powder,” Miller wrote later. “A cloud of hospital white, sweet-smelling powder rose from the letter—dusting my face, sweater and hands. The heavier particles dropped to the floor, falling on my pants and shoes. ‘An anthrax hoax,’ I thought.” Had Miller left some touchy bioweapons expert out of her comprehensive book? Was it professional jealousy? She and her coauthors had spoken to most of the experts.
Bioweapons expert William C. Patrick III was the former chief of product development in the Army’s offensive bio- logical weapons program at the U.S. Army Medical Re- search Institute of Infectious Diseases (USAMRIID) at Fort Detrick, Maryland. Those in the know called it the Institute. When the nation abandoned germ weapons in the early 1970s, Bill Patrick became a private consultant on biological defense. He had also been a knowledgeable source for Mil- ler’s book. He had told her spores were sometimes cut with baby powder to mask them with a smell that was reassur- ingly familiar. “Anthrax has no smell,” he said, “and is hard- ly ever white.”
And so, because the unsigned note threatened President Bush and the Sears Tower in Chicago, Miller asked a nearby reporter to ring security. Just then her phone rang with news that Tom Brokaw’s assistant had contracted anthrax from powder in a letter she had opened in late September. The FBI thought it had had a Florida postmark. Security guards in gloves arrived, placed Miller’s letter and envelope in a plastic garbage bag, tossed their gloves in after it, and sealed the bag. Miller washed her hands in the rest room and tried as best she could to rub the powder from her pants and shoes. When she returned, a senior editor put his arm around her and walked her to the medical department on another floor. When Miller got back, other editors rushed to her side and brought her tea.
Within twenty minutes, investigators, police ambulance service, and police officers wearing gas masks and light brown head-to-toe biohazard suits rushed into the office to check out the suspicious letter. Miller stayed with them, pointing where the powder had fallen and answering ques- tions about anyone she might know in Florida. The men took photos, performed tests, and evacuated two newsroom floors, leaving Miller’s floor silent except for continually ringing phones. Outside the street was cordoned off. Miller would have to wait to learn whether the powder contained anthrax. An antigen test supplied to federal and local
Similar Books
