Hallways Part Three

"Detective Murphy? Dr Stephen Connor, NIH." Connor extended a hand for the detective to shake. He stared at the building, looming like a tombstone. "Has anybody…."

The detective shook her head. She leant against the barrier, clutching a coffee cup. "No one's gone in or out since the lockdown was put in place."

"Good. Keep it like that. Only my team are to have access."

"Understood Doctor."

He gave her another quick glance, then walked back over to the car. "Natalie, get over to East Orange General. We'll get those bodies to you as soon as we can. Find out what's causing this. Frank, Miles, get suited up."

"Any other questions?"

One by one, they all shook their heads. He hadn't expected any. They all knew how to do their jobs.

"Lets get to work."

"Mr Paulson? My name is Eva Rossi. I'd like to ask you a few questions."

"Ms Rossi." He shook her hand briefly. "Please have a seat. Can I offer you a drink? How can I help you?" He sat down facing her, his eyes lingering on her.

"Do you own an apartment building in Central Avenue?" Conscious of his eyes on her, she brushed her hair behind her ear, crossing her legs.

He frowned briefly. "Yes. 95 Central Avenue." He leaned back in his chair. "Nice building, prominent location, reasonably priced." He smiled at her. "It would make a lovely home for a girl like you."

"Have you had any maintenance work done to it recently?" She smiled. "You know what these old buildings are like!"

"I do. Don't worry, Ms Rossi. I have the building maintained regularly. In fact, I am in the process of completing this year's overhaul."

"Do you know who did the work?"

He frowned, leaning forward, resting his arms on the desk. "What's this about Ms Rossi?"

"I'm not going to lie to you, Mr Paulson." She leaned forward, seeing him mirror her movements. She lowered her voice. "There have been complaints."

"Against me?"

"No, no. Nothing like that. Against a number of building maintenance firms, accusing them of using substandard materials, working practices, things like that. We're investigating all firms that have had major contracts in the last six months."

"And you want the name of the company I use? To see if they're implicated in this investigation?"

"If that's possible, Mr Paulson, yes."

The hallways of the apartment building were silent. Filled with the smell of fear, blood and death. Nothing broke the stillness, the silence settling across the whole building like a shroud.

Three men stood at the front of the building, talking in soft voices. They fell silent, when the doors opened, shutting behind the NIH personnel like the doors of a tomb.

Connor worked the microphone on his suit. "We're with the NIH. Which on of you is Dr Richardson?"

A small man, dark haired, bearded, wearing a sweat pants and a university jumper, stepped forward. "I am." He tried a weak smile, heavy rings scouring the skin underneath his eyes. "God, I'm glad to see you guys?"

"What's going on?" A second man, dressed in a shirt, open at the collar, rubbed at his mouth as he spoke. He stared at his hand for a second, as if he expected to see blood on his skin.

"We don't know yet, but we will find out. Has anybody else become symptomatic yet, Dr Richardson?"

"Not as far as I know." Richardson rubbed his eyes. "Gerry and I have tried to keep everybody in their apartments since we found out about this. I don't know how much longer we can, though."

"Were did you put the deceased?"

"I quarantined them in the basement." Richardson shrugged. "I figured I've already got it if I'm going to get it. Whatever the fuck it is."