Retribution by Anderson Harp Page A

learned where exactly “Sadik Zabara” was going to meet Yousef.
    â€œMake sure you include the best infectious-disease physician you can get,” Parker said. “And I’ll need him near the meeting point.”
    Scott nodded. “Now the bad news.”
    Parker smiled, waiting.
    Scott returned the grin, obviously relieved to see that Parker, like any good operative, had assumed that there would be bad news.
    â€œIt’s about the time frame.”
    â€œTell me,” said Parker.
    â€œSadik Zabara finally got his summons from Yousef. They’re to meet in ten days.”

CHAPTER 12
    Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, Atlanta
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    â€œH ello, Mr. Jones.”
    William Parker turned from the wall of framed diplomas when he heard the voice behind him. Dr. Paul Stewart’s voice held more than a faint hint of sarcasm when he spoke the words Mr. Jones.
    â€œHello, Doctor.” Parker extended a hand, but the doctor took a seat without shaking hands.
    Yeah, he doesn’t like this at all. Clearly the scientist assumed this visit, ordered from above, was not for the benefit of either Dr. Paul Stewart or the American public.
    Dr. Stewart was an older Buddy Holly look-alike, complete with out-of-date black-rimmed glasses and gelled hair. His plaid shirt and khaki trousers, both wrinkled, with worn Rockport shoes showed that he cared more about what was growing in his petri dish that day than what others thought about his appearance.
    â€œYou would think they could come up with something better than Jones .” Parker offered a conciliatory smile as he said the words.
    â€œYes.”
    He sighed inwardly at the tone of Stewart’s one word.
    â€œSometimes it may save someone’s life to not know too much, Dr. Stewart.”
    â€œYeah, right. You’ve made your point.” The doctor held up his hands, as if in submission. “I understand from our director that I am to help you in any way possible. In fact, she was emphatic in saying that you have free license to ask anything.”
    Parker had heard from Hernandez that this man was well respected by the others at CDC. Dr. Stewart had one particular interest that had caused Parker to ask for him.
    â€œI appreciate that,” Parker said. “Let me ask you about Neisseria meningitidis.”
    Stewart leaned back in his chair, for the first time showing some comfort with the situation. This, Parker knew, was because Steward was the world’s leading expert on meningococcal disease, a deadly, vicious process of infection in the fluid that surrounded a person’s spinal cord and brain, the effects of which were particularly cruel. Those victims who did not die often suffered brain damage that was permanently debilitating. And those who did not suffer brain damage frequently lost limbs, fingers, and toes. A lucky patient would only be deaf for life. And this would be only after a quick and aggressive treatment from several powerful antibiotics. The body had to be flooded with the drugs for someone to stand any chance. But it had to be the right cocktail. Several bugs could cause the infection, some viral and some bacterial, but the nastiest was the Neisseria bug.
    â€œOkay,” said Stewart, “what exactly do you need to know?”
    â€œCan it be contagious?”
    Stewart chuckled. “Very much so.”
    â€œCan it be contagious even to those who have lived in the meningitis belt?”
    â€œYou are well read, Mr. Jones.”
    The layperson rarely knew of the meningitis belt. Parker had done his homework. A zone that crossed over the countries of mid-Africa from Gambia on the west coast to Ethiopia on the east coast, it suffered epidemic outbreaks of meningitis every so often. Both central Africa and certain islands in the Pacific would have rampant outbreaks of the disease. Many thought that if one survived living in the meningitis belt without catching the disease, the immune system