Final Winter

She turned to Victor, determined to keep things moving. In her experience since being chosen to head this Tiger Team, she knew that some teams collapsed in inter-service rivalry, bitter fights over who had said what in a year-old memo between the CIA and the NSA, and some teams were so cautious that nothing happened, except for strategy and long-range planning sessions. But her team and her people were quickly earning a reputation for coming up with solutions and making the solutions work, and that was a reputation she was determined to maintain.

‘Victor, I’m afraid it’s going to be up to you and your folks.’

Victor looked like a young rabbit, suddenly seeing a snake slither toward it. ‘I don’t see how.’

‘The intelligence option and the military option are going to be of limited use,’ she said, choosing her words carefully. ‘That leaves the public-health option.’

‘But I’ve told you already,’ he protested. ‘The typical vaccine regimen is three injections, spaced over a week. That and Cipro. I don’t see what else we can do.’

There was a moment of silence, and then Monty spoke up. ‘What do you mean, typical?’

‘Just what I said. Typical.’

Now Adrianna saw the team members direct their gazes at Victor, who seemed to shrink some from the attention.

Darren said, ‘All right, Victor. That’s the typical approach. What’s not typical?’

Victor looked at each of their faces, and when it came to Adrianna there was a pleading quality in his expression. ‘Adrianna…it’s highly experimental. It hasn’t gone through the usual evaluation process and blind trials. The production line has been set up and there’s been some progress, but it’s at least—’

Brian said, ‘What’s usual about this, pal? Tell me that. C’mon, spill what you’ve got. What’s going on down at the CDC?’

Victor looked down at his screen. ‘All right. I’ll brief you. But I’m not going to be held responsible for anything that—’

Adrianna tried to soothe him. ‘No, you won’t be held responsible, Victor. You know who holds the responsibility. So tell us what you’ve got.’

Victor still looked miserable. His fingers gingerly worked the keyboard of his laptop. He seemed to be struggling against something and Adrianna knew what it was: the desperate horror of screwing up, with the stakes so high.

Finally Victor said, ‘It’s been worked on since the first anthrax attacks, back in ‘01. Operational name is Clear Sky. Challenge was, just like now, goddamn it, how to maximize the immunization process for respiratory anthrax in the minimum amount of time. We had to get around the three-shot process. Wasn’t working. How the hell can you get millions of Americans lined up and processed when it takes three injections to immunize them? The logistics were a nightmare. Even the one-shot process was a hell of a challenge, too. Then the working group for Clear Sky went at it from a different angle. Used a genetically modified version of the respiratory-anthrax virus. Modified it so that when an individual is exposed, he or she runs a slight fever, maybe a bit of nausea, but then they’re immune. Immune up to five years.’

He looked up from his laptop. ‘There you have it.’

‘Have what?’ Brian asked.

Monty said, ‘Yeah. What the hell was the fuss all about?’ Victor had the expression of someone who couldn’t believe the morons he was spending time with. ‘Don’t you see? It’s a variety of the respiratory anthrax. You’re not immunized through injection. You’re immunized by breathing it in.’

Brian said, ‘The hell you say.’

‘The hell I do,’ Victor said.

Adrianna said, ‘Is there enough?’

‘Enough what?’

‘Enough vaccine to do the job.’

Victor shook his head. ‘Maybe. I can find out later today. I know the production has been underway for some time, just in case we…well, just in case. But there’s the biggest problem of all. Delivery. It’s not like we can set up shower stations or breathing tubes on subways or train cars. Only possible delivery system would be airborne.’

Darren said, ‘Hasn’t it been looked at?’

‘Sure,’ Victor said. ‘But the challenge of using an airborne vaccine is—’

Brian said, ‘Oh, right. Like you said earlier. About wide dispersal. Crop dusters and such wouldn’t work.’

Victor shook his head. ‘That problem’s been solved.’

Adrianna said, ‘How?’

‘Vladimir Zhukov.’

‘Zhukov?’ Monty asked. ‘Who the hell is he?’