And from the telephone console on the secretary's desk, she could see the little lights blink when he'd hang up and make another call. It was five of four when the door opened and Dubchek motioned for Marissa to come into his office.
The room was small, and cluttered with reprinted articles stacked on the desk, on the file cabinet and on the floor. Dubchek was in his shirt-sleeves, his tie tucked out of the way between the second and third button of his shirt. There was no apology or explanation of why she'd been kept waiting. In fact there was a suggestion of a grin on his face that particularly galled Marissa.
"I trust that you received my letter," she said, studiously keeping her voice businesslike.
"I did indeed," said Dubchek.
"And ...?" said Marissa after a pause.
"A few days' lab experience is not enough to work in the maximum containment lab," said Dubchek.
"What do you suggest?" asked Marissa.
"Exactly what you are presently doing," said Dubchek. "Continue working with less-pathogenic viruses until you gain sufficient experience."
"How will I know when I've had enough experience?" Marissa realized that Cyrill had a point, but she wondered if his answer would have been different had they been dating. It bothered her even more that she didn't have the nerve to withdraw her earlier rebuff. He was a handsome man, one who attracted her far more than Ralph, whom she was happy enough to see for dinner.
"I believe I will know when you have had adequate experience," said Dubchek interrupting her thoughts, ". . . or Tad Schockley will."
Marissa felt cheered. If it were up to Tad, she was certain that she would eventually get the necessary authorization.
"Meanwhile," said Dubchek, stepping around his desk and sitting down, "I've got something more important to talk with you about. I've just been on the phone with a number of people, including the Missouri State Epidemiologist. They have a single case of a severe
viral illness in St. Louis that they think might be Ebola. I want you to leave immediately, assess the situation clinically, send Tad samples and report back. Here's your flight reservation." He handed Marissa a sheet of paper. On it was written Delta, flight 1083, departure 5:34 P.M., arrival 6:06 P.M.
Marissa was stunned. With rush-hour traffic, it was going to be a near thing. She knew that as an EIS officer she should always have a bag packed, but she didn't, and there was Taffy to think of, too.
"We'll have the mobile lab ready if it is needed," Cyrill was saying, "but let's hope it's not." He extended his hand to wish her good luck, but Marissa was so preoccupied with the thought of possibly facing the deadly Ebola virus in less than four hours, that she walked out without noticing. She felt dazed. She'd gone in hoping for permission to use the maximum containment lab and was leaving with orders to fly to St. Louis! Glancing at her watch, she broke into a run. It was going to be close.
5
March 3
IT WAS ONLY AS the plane taxied onto the runway that Marissa remembered her date with Ralph. Well, she should touch down in time to catch him as soon as he got home. Her one small consolation was that she felt more comfortable professionally than she had en route to L.A. At least she had some idea of what would be demanded of her. Personally, however, knowing this time how deadly the virus could be, if indeed it was Ebola, Marissa was more frightened at the thought of her own exposure. Although she hadn't mentioned it to anyone, she still worried about contracting the disease from the first outbreak. Each day that passed without the appearance of suspicious symptoms had been a relief. But the fear had never completely disappeared.
The other thought that troubled Marissa was the idea of another Ebola case appearing so quickly. If it was Ebola, how did it get to St. Louis? Was it a separate outbreak from L.A. or merely an extension of that one? Could a contact have brought it from L.A., or could there be
The room was small, and cluttered with reprinted articles stacked on the desk, on the file cabinet and on the floor. Dubchek was in his shirt-sleeves, his tie tucked out of the way between the second and third button of his shirt. There was no apology or explanation of why she'd been kept waiting. In fact there was a suggestion of a grin on his face that particularly galled Marissa.
"I trust that you received my letter," she said, studiously keeping her voice businesslike.
"I did indeed," said Dubchek.
"And ...?" said Marissa after a pause.
"A few days' lab experience is not enough to work in the maximum containment lab," said Dubchek.
"What do you suggest?" asked Marissa.
"Exactly what you are presently doing," said Dubchek. "Continue working with less-pathogenic viruses until you gain sufficient experience."
"How will I know when I've had enough experience?" Marissa realized that Cyrill had a point, but she wondered if his answer would have been different had they been dating. It bothered her even more that she didn't have the nerve to withdraw her earlier rebuff. He was a handsome man, one who attracted her far more than Ralph, whom she was happy enough to see for dinner.
"I believe I will know when you have had adequate experience," said Dubchek interrupting her thoughts, ". . . or Tad Schockley will."
Marissa felt cheered. If it were up to Tad, she was certain that she would eventually get the necessary authorization.
"Meanwhile," said Dubchek, stepping around his desk and sitting down, "I've got something more important to talk with you about. I've just been on the phone with a number of people, including the Missouri State Epidemiologist. They have a single case of a severe
viral illness in St. Louis that they think might be Ebola. I want you to leave immediately, assess the situation clinically, send Tad samples and report back. Here's your flight reservation." He handed Marissa a sheet of paper. On it was written Delta, flight 1083, departure 5:34 P.M., arrival 6:06 P.M.
Marissa was stunned. With rush-hour traffic, it was going to be a near thing. She knew that as an EIS officer she should always have a bag packed, but she didn't, and there was Taffy to think of, too.
"We'll have the mobile lab ready if it is needed," Cyrill was saying, "but let's hope it's not." He extended his hand to wish her good luck, but Marissa was so preoccupied with the thought of possibly facing the deadly Ebola virus in less than four hours, that she walked out without noticing. She felt dazed. She'd gone in hoping for permission to use the maximum containment lab and was leaving with orders to fly to St. Louis! Glancing at her watch, she broke into a run. It was going to be close.
5
March 3
IT WAS ONLY AS the plane taxied onto the runway that Marissa remembered her date with Ralph. Well, she should touch down in time to catch him as soon as he got home. Her one small consolation was that she felt more comfortable professionally than she had en route to L.A. At least she had some idea of what would be demanded of her. Personally, however, knowing this time how deadly the virus could be, if indeed it was Ebola, Marissa was more frightened at the thought of her own exposure. Although she hadn't mentioned it to anyone, she still worried about contracting the disease from the first outbreak. Each day that passed without the appearance of suspicious symptoms had been a relief. But the fear had never completely disappeared.
The other thought that troubled Marissa was the idea of another Ebola case appearing so quickly. If it was Ebola, how did it get to St. Louis? Was it a separate outbreak from L.A. or merely an extension of that one? Could a contact have brought it from L.A., or could there be
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