Free Contagion by Robin Cook Page B

chemoprophylaxis.”
         “I think that is wise,” Jack said.
         “And as we speak, the clinical computer is searching our current patient database for symptom complexes suggestive of plague,” she continued.
         “Commendable,” Jack said.
         “Meanwhile we have to discover the origin of the current case,” she said.
         “You and I are thinking along the same lines,” Jack said.
         “I'd advise you to wear your mask,” she added.
         “Okay,” Jack said agreeably. He held it up to his face.
         Dr. Zimmerman turned to Mr. Eversharp. “Please continue with what you were saying about the air flow.”
         Jack listened as the engineer explained that the ventilation system in the hospital was designed so that there was a flow from the hall into each room and then its bathroom. The air was then filtered. He also explained that there were a few rooms where the air flow could be reversed for patients with compromised immune systems.
         “Is this one of those rooms?” Dr. Zimmerman asked.
         “It is not,” Mr. Eversharp said.
         “So there is no freak way plague bacteria could have gotten into the ventilation system and infected just this room?” Dr. Zimmerman asked.
         “No,” Mr. Eversharp said. “The air induction in the hall goes into all these rooms equally.”
         “And the chances of bacteria floating out of this room into the hall would be low,” Dr.
         Zimmerman said.
         “Impossible,” Mr. Eversharp said. “The only way it could leave would be on some sort of vector.”
         “Excuse me,” a voice called. Everyone turned to see a nurse standing in the doorway. She, too, had a mask pressed against her face. “Mr. Kelley would like you all to come to the nurses' station.”
         Dutifully everyone started from the room. As Kathy McBane stepped in front of him, Jack got her attention. “Who's Mr. Kelley?” he asked.
         “He's the hospital president,” Ms. McBane said.
         Jack nodded. As he walked he nostalgically reminisced that the head of the hospital used to be called an administrator and was frequently a person who'd had medical training. That was back when patient care was paramount. Now that business was king and the goal was profit, the name had changed to president.
         Jack was looking forward to meeting Mr. Kelley. The hospital president was the on-site representative of AmeriCare, and giving him a headache was the equivalent of giving AmeriCare a headache.
         The atmosphere at the nurses' station was tense. Word of the plague had spread like wildfire.
         Everyone who worked on the floor and even some of the ambulatory patients now knew they had been potentially exposed. Charles Kelley was doing his best to reassure them. He told them there was no risk and that everything was under control.
         “Yeah, sure!” Jack scoffed under his breath. Jack looked with disgust at this man who had the gall to utter such patently false platitudes. He was intimidatingly tall, a good eight inches taller than Jack's six feet. His handsome face was tanned and his sandy-colored hair was streaked with pure, golden blond as if he'd just returned from a Caribbean vacation. From Jack's perspective, he looked and sounded more like an unctuous car salesman than the business manager that he was.
         As soon as Kelley saw Jack and the others approach, he motioned for them to follow him.
         Breaking off his consoling speech, he made a beeline for the safety of the utility room behind the nurses' station.
         As Jack squeezed in behind Kathy McBane, he noticed Kelley wasn't alone. He was being shadowed by a slightly built man with a lantern jaw and thinning hair. In sharp contrast to Kelley's sartorial splendor, this second man was dressed in a threadbare, cheap sports coat over slacks that appeared never to have been pressed.