Chapter 17

Dr. Michael Adukalil looked up from his monitor, startled by the racket in his doorway. "Yes? May I help you? Ah, Dr. House. How are you today?" Adukalil had always found the American to be abrasive, but incredibly intelligent. He found that he usually enjoyed conversations with the man.

House hobbled into the office and dropped into a chair. "Crappy, same as usual. How are you, Dr. Adukalil?"

"I was doing quite well, thank you, until you showed up. What do you want now?"

House laughed. "Am I that transparent?"

"Oh, yes. You are."

"I have a patient, thirty year old male, he contracted gastrointestinal anthrax while he was in Baghdad, consulting for the NSA."

Adukalil scowled. "Gastrointestinal? That is very unusual. And I take it you're here because the normal treatments are not working."

"Bzzzzz. Wrong. The treatment seems to be working. We've been pouring every antibiotic known to man into the guy and he's getting better. But I believe we're dealing with a genetically altered strain. Besides my patient, four others contracted it. One has died. Two are in critical condition, and the third, an Iraqi official, was treated in Iraq and released. If this thing mutates in my patient, there will be nothing else we can do for him."

Adukalil was nodding. "Except my bacteriophage. But you understand they are not cleared for use on humans. I have applied," he shrugged, "but you know how long government agencies take."

"I am working on getting permission since this may be an issue of national security. The patient has signed all the necessary waivers."

Adukalil pondered for a moment. "On one condition will I give you the bacteriophage. I want all of your data, and I want to be involved in this case from here on in. I will administer the treatment. I will order tests."

"You don't ask much, do you?" House said, smirking.

Adukalil spread his hands in an eloquent shrug. "You need my treatment. I need the data. This will be less controlled than I would like, but beggars cannot be choosers. If I wait for the FDA to approve human testing, I will be a very old man." He caught House's skeptical glance. "Well older than I am now. Who have you contacted to get permission?"

"Nobody yet."

Adukalil dug through his top desk drawer and found a business card. "Here. If you have nobody to contact, try him. He has been helpful before."

House looked at the card and nodded. "National Security Agency. They seem to be turning up all over the place. Assistant Director Robert Tompkins, huh? He a buddy of yours?"

"Not really. They have sent people to us before. Sometimes they need special treatments, not approved by the FDA. I do not believe he is aware of my work with anthrax, otherwise he would have contacted me earlier."

"Thanks, Mike. I'll contact him. How long will it take for you to get the bacteriophage ready for my patient?"

"I have used it on primates. How much more does he weigh than a monkey?"

House chuckled. "You'll have all his records in half an hour." He stood and leaned on his cane.

"All right. As soon as I have the information, I will prepare the dose. We will have your patient right as rain in no time, my friend."

"Oh, sure. Now I'm your friend. Now that I brought you a guinea pig so you can test your magic potion."

"Yes, yes. But do not make me sound like some mad scientist, my friend, or I will be less inclined to save your bacon next time around."

"Oooh, tough guy." House limped from the room.

Charlie had raised the head of his bed, and was sipping ice water. "Hey, Don," he said, "did Amita leave my computer behind?"

"Yep," Don said, reaching for the briefcase. "You feeling up to a game of Minesweeper?"

"I wanted to see how badly Amita trashed my encryption." He pulled the tray table over and raised the head of the bed a little more.

Don put the computer on the tray table and looked around for someplace to plug it in. "Hey, Charlie, do you think they'd freak if I unplugged some of this stuff?"

Charlie grinned. "Try it and see."

"You dare me?" Don held up a handful of cords.

"Sure. Why not?"

"Nah. They'd kick me out and never let me come back again." Don dropped the cords and looked at the baseboard near the head of the bed. "Here we go. There's an empty outlet back here."

As the computer booted, Charlie said, "I still can't believe you and Amita found out about Baghdad so quickly. I guess I'm just not cut out for this cloak and dagger stuff."

"Nah, Charlie, you did everything right. We're just good at what we do. So, listen, don't tell me about what you were working on, but what was Baghdad like?"

Charlie smiled. "Like a war zone. Not that I've been in a war zone before. But it was really amazing. A lot of the damage from the war has been repaired. Businesses are open, and for the most part people are going about pretty routine activities. We weren't really there long enough to see a lot. They kept us pretty busy. But Ali Abu-Hassan's house was in a really upscale neighborhood. He and his wife were such nice people. How is he doing, by the way?"

"As far as we know, he's fine. Did his wife eat with you?"

"No. She served us coffee, but she didn't eat with us. I just assumed it was a cultural thing. You know, the women not hanging out with men they're not related to."

"And his son, Mohammed?"

"Yeah, he ate with us. He seemed like a nice kid. College age, and he seemed excited about the changes taking place in his country. I still can't believe he was the one who poisoned us."

"Colby's sources said he was the one." Don turned to O'Connell. "Mike, do you know anything about this Mohammed kid?"

O'Connell didn't even look up from his book. "Not really. I've been kind of out of the loop babysitting Charlie here."

"How long have you been following Charlie?" Don asked.

"Since he landed in DC."

"But none of us had gotten sick yet. Nobody knew about the anthrax then," Charlie said. "Or did they?"

"Maybe they just wanted to make sure you weren't talking to anybody," Don said. "You don't seem like the kind of person who could keep a secret, you know."

"I've consulted for the NSA long enough that they should know I can keep a secret. And I don't remember ever being followed by NSA agents when I finished a consulting gig before."

Don shrugged. "Maybe the guys who tailed you before were better at it." He glanced at O'Connell, but saw no reaction, other than a slight narrowing of the agent's eyes.

Charlie laid his head back against the pillows and sighed. "Maybe I should just stop consulting for the NSA. I really don't like the way things are going. I don't like being followed and not being able to tell anybody where I've been or what I've been doing. I don't like keeping secrets, Don. Maybe that's why you always assume I can't do it." He closed his eyes.

"You okay, Charlie?"

"Yeah. Just tired. And sore from that colonoscopy."

Don pushed the tray table away and pulled the blankets up to Charlie's chin. "Get some rest, Buddy."