Free Red Tide by G. M. Ford Page B

enough to be sure the circuit was broken.
    “Goddammit,” the captain bellowed.

10
    I t was with great trepidation that SPD Chief Harry Dobson put down the telephone receiver and crossed the room to the mayor’s side. Gary Dean wasn’t the kind of man who took bad news well. It was almost as if he was unable to attack a problem until he had first expended his anger and frustration on some underling and thus, in his own mind at least, deflected a major portion of the attendant guilt.
    “We’ve got serious crowd control problems in the square,” he whispered.
    The mayor folded his arms across his chest, pursed his lips and blew out a long breath. He kept his lips puckered as he looked around the room.
    Dobson went on. “What with maintaining control at the Weston and this new incident downtown, we’re stretched too thin.”
    “So…you’re saying what?” Harlan Sykes asked.
    “I’m saying we need to examine our priorities.”
    The mayor began shaking his head before the words were out of Dobson’s mouth. “You need more people down there, pull them off the Weston and send them downtown until we get things back under control.”
    “I’ve got no personnel to spare. We’re completely maxed out.”
    Sykes opened his mouth to speak, but Dobson cut him off. “Besides which”—he waved a hand—“I’m not putting any more of my people at that kind of risk until I know exactly what’s going on down there.”
    “You heard what the doctor said,” the mayor said.
    “I heard,” he scoffed. “She was every bit as confused as we were.”
    “How goddamn hard can it be to get fifty civilians packed up to Harborview for observation?” Harlan Sykes whispered accusingly.
    Dobson met his gaze. “Pretty damn hard,” he said. “You don’t think so…maybe we ought to get you a helmet, and a baton and send you…”
    The mayor waved him off. “What’s the holdup?” he demanded.
    “Harborview isn’t quite ready for them yet. They’re clearing two whole floors, so they can keep them in strict barrier isolation. They’re saying it’s going to be another hour…at least.”
    The mayor shot a glance at his watch. “It’s been over two hours since this thing started.” He looked around the room and lowered his voice. “I thought we were prepared for this type of situation. I thought—”
    Dobson cut him off. “This is the big time, your honor.” His face had taken on that ashen hue his subordinates often saw in times of crisis. “We’ve got something here that kills people in their tracks, then bleeds them out on the way down. Our local epidemiologist thinks it’s a hemorrhagic fever. Some relative of Ebola…” He waited a second for the word to sink in. “Just about the deadliest disease ever discovered on the planet.”
    “She wasn’t sure,” the mayor said. “She said—”
    “She said she wanted some backup on this thing.” He looked from Dean to Sykes and back. “And, unless I’m mistaken, the good Dr. Stafford looked pretty much scared shitless when she wheeled out of here.”
    Dean and Sykes were momentarily taken aback. Neither could remember Harry Dobson ever having used profanity before, just as neither had ever heard the undercurrent of bitterness which had worked its way into his tone. Now Dobson lowered his voice. “Harborview’s doing the right thing,” he said. “This stuff is worse than the plague. It’s killed health care workers all over the world. They’re breaking out the space suits, which is just exactly what I’d be doing if I was in their place.”
    Sykes was shaking his head. “What a mess.”
    “Which rhymes with press,” Dobson snapped. “I’ve got seventy press queries sitting in my mailbox. I’m getting heat from the nationals. CNN’s starting to nose around. Our detainees are using cell phones. We’re getting flooded by calls from families.” He rolled his eyes. “Some of whom are also calling the press. I think it’s time we threw everybody a