Chapter Twenty-four
IFF
Upon her arrival at the Agency, Francine was immediately escorted to Dr. Kelford's office and told to take a seat. When Billy entered the room, several minutes later, she was still seated in the same chair and wearing a mixed expression of disgust and misery.
"I see you made it," he greeted her.
"Only to be greeted by the vampires," Francine responded to him.
Her scowling glance towards the nurse whose face was hidden behind a facemask was not missed by anyone in the room. Francine had intended it that way.
"I need your arm again," Dr. Kelford told her.
"Now what?" Francine looked first at the doctor, then towards her boss. Nobody was really telling anything. Poking and prodding, yes. Answers, well, she was not getting them.
"Billy, you want to fill me in here," she asked him. "First, you won't let me call in sick, then I'm greeted by the blood suckers and ouch! Damn, that hurt," she mumbled as she looked at the physician. "What the hell is going on here?"
"She's all yours," Kelford said. "Though I'd recommend her being in bed."
"Me too," she retorted before she began a coughing fit.
"And she will be," Billy said. "But I need a few minutes."
Dr. Kelford nodded.
"Only a few," he instructed Billy. Then he picked up a chart and left the room, closing the door behind him.
Billy pulled out the chair that had been under the desk and slid it around so that he could sit and face Francine. She deserved to know what was going on. She deserved to know what she'd been exposed to and she deserved to hear it coming from him.
He just wasn't sure how to tell her. There was no regulation manual that had an already pat and dry answer on informing your agents that they had been exposed to the plague.
For a moment, he recalled that visit to Amanda's house and the look upon both her face and Lee's when he'd informed them that Lee was carrying PD-2. He'd never wanted to see those types of expressions again, and yet, in this business, those looks were part and parcel. It came with the territory; it came with his title.
He'd been the bearer of bad tidings many times throughout his career. He wasn't even sure how many times; he'd lost count long, long ago. For once, just once, William Melrose wished that he could be the bearer of glad tidings.
Despite the fact that she felt miserable, Francine's surveying eyes did not miss the look on his face. She had been well trained in noticing details, no matter how imperceptible. She had known Billy for far too long. She'd worked in this business for a long time and, sick or not, she knew how to read her boss. She didn't have to be a well-trained agent to know that whatever he was going to tell her was not anything good.
He was contemplating his words, taking his time.
No doubt, she thought. This is not good.
"Francine, you remember when Lee was injected with PD-2?"
"Yeah," she responded slowly, already beginning to feel a cold chill forming in her stomach, like that little knot of dread that agents sometime get when they instinctively know the setup is bad and the outcome will be even worse.
"Well, it seems that there's been a variant of it unleashed within the intelligence community."
"You mean Agency wide?"
"Worse than that," Billy replied. He exhaled slowly, then stood up. He took several paces before stopping and turning back to face her.
"There's a very good chance that every branch of intelligence has been exposed."
"That's impossible."
"That's what we would have hoped. Greg Meyers, from the NSC was found dead. The preliminary autopsy results indicate that he was infected with a form of pneumonic plague."
"Wait a minute, he never showed to the meetings here."
"No, but he was at the meeting Monday morning."
"Smyth was at that meeting," Francine said. And then, even though Francine felt as if she only operating on less than half capacity, total realization hit her full on.
"Oh my God," she whispered. "When Amanda and I were leaving the other night, he came out of the elevator. He was sneezing nonstop."
Billy nodded.
"Probably contaminating everyone he came into contact with. That's what I've been exposed to? That's what we've all been exposed to? My God, Billy," she practically shrieked, or would have, if her throat hadn't been so sore.
Instead, she started coughing again, and Billy waited patiently, until she stopped, before he continued.
"I spoke with Lee right before I called you. My guess is Amanda's got it too."
"Billy, cut to the chase, how bad is this?"
"McJohn was called in last night. I'll gloss over the specifics; you need to be in bed. But, if caught early enough, the survival rate is very good. Potent antibiotics seem to do the trick. The catch here is to contain it before it gets out of control, before it gets to the public."
"Have we caught it soon enough. Can we contain it, can we do that?"
"The President is insisting that we have to."
Francine exhaled.
"Amanda?"
"Lee's bringing her in, should be here momentarily."
He watched as the blonde shivered and tried to control her coughing.
"Well, what can I do?" she asked him.
"Nothing. You're going to go to bed and get some rest."
"Come on Billy, you're gonna need some help."
"I need help, but I also need to know that my best agents are going to get well. Later, I'm gonna need it," he said it in a low tone.
"Tell me what you aren't saying," she instructed her superior.
"Smyth is an ICU unit, it doesn't look good."
"Oh," was all that she could say.
Billy moved to the door, stopping just before his hand turned the knob.
When he spoke, his tone was gentle. "I've got to get back to my office. You get some rest."
Francine watched as her Section Chief exited the room, looking like a man who suddenly bore the weight of the entire world on his shoulders.