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Bre
The doctor came through a swinging door and walked up to her. “Mrs. Bre
“Yes.” She stood up.
“Your husband seems to be suffering from some sort of bacterial infection. We haven’t been able to identify it yet, so we’re treating him with broad-spectrum antibiotics.”
“Is he going to be all right?”
“I think so. We’ve given him something to help with the vomiting, and he’s resting more comfortably now.”
“May I see him?”
“I don’t think you should, until we’ve found out exactly what’s wrong with him, and I’d like to take a blood sample from you before you go home.”
“You think he might be contagious?”
“I really don’t know yet, but we’re working on it.”
“I’ll be glad to give you a blood sample,” she said. “Will you please tell Tim that I’ll be back in the morning to see him?”
“Of course I will,” the doctor said.
TED POINTED THE RV south on I-95 and headed for Virginia. He’d find an RV park along the way and get some sleep.
17
BOB KINNEY STOPPED at a pancake house for breakfast and opened his Washington Post. He was presented with a large photograph of the Arlington arson inspector accompanied by an interview about the facts surrounding the death of Van Vandervelt, including an extensive description of the bomb, some of which had to have come from the FBI people on the crime scene.
Ki
He finished his breakfast and went to the office. Helen was waiting for him with a notebook in her hand. “Have you been watching TV this morning?” she asked.
“No, I hate those shrieking tourists outside the morning shows.”
“Something has happened you may be interested in.”
“Not another murder of a right-winger.”
“A death, yes. Who knows if it’s murder?” She consulted her notebook. “This is what I gleaned on three cha
“Oh, my God,” Ki
“What?”
“Go on.”
“He died at five o’clock this morning. That’s it.”
“Where did he die?”
“At a hospital in New Jersey.”
“Get me the head of pathology at that hospital.”
Helen returned to her desk and, a moment later, buzzed him. “Dr. Mendelson on the line.”
“Dr. Mendelson?”
“Yes?”
“This is Robert Ki
“Good morning, Mr. Ki
“Do you have the remains of Tim Bre
“Yes, he’s on ice in my morgue.”
“Have you performed an autopsy yet?”
“No, I was about to go and attend to that myself.”
“Please don’t do that, Doctor, at least not yet. I want to send an FBI forensic pathologist and some special equipment up there to work with you on the postmortem.”
“Why?”
“Do you have Bre
“Right here. What would you like to know?”
“Cause of death.”
Mendelson shuffled some papers. “Bacterial infection, unidentified.”
“Doctor, the unidentified nature of the infection is a red flag for a possible biological or chemical assault.”
“Assault?”
“Whatever Mr. Bre
“That’s very disturbing, but it’s not the first time we’ve had trouble identifying the cause of an infection, Mr. Ki
“There are other factors surrounding this death that tend to support such a conclusion. I can’t go into it now, but until our pathologist arrives I strongly suggest that you quarantine your morgue and keep anyone involved in Mr. Bre
“All right, Mr. Ki
“I should be able to have my people with you by mid-afternoon. Please call me if you have any questions between now and then.”
“Thank you, Mr. Ki
Ki
He hung up and called the New York City office and instructed them to send agents to interview anyone at CNN with whom Bre
Helen came back into his office. “Have we got another victim?”
“I don’t know,” he replied, “but, given the circumstances, I hope not.”
KINNEY REMAINED at his desk, waiting to hear from his pathologist. The call came shortly after seven o’clock.
“You want a summary, or all the details?” the doctor asked.
“Let’s start with a summary.”
“We conducted a full-blown antibiological field autopsy, complete with all the gear-sealed suits, the works. None of Bre
“Cause of death?”
“Complete collapse of the cardiopulmonary system, with no apparent underlying cause.”
“Jesus.”
“Exactly. I’m bringing blood and tissue samples back to D.C. with me, and I’ll run further tests and issue a report in a day or two.”
“Did you find any sign of external injury?”
“He had a shaving cut, apparently inflicted yesterday sometime, and there was a small puncture mark on the left calf muscle, just below the knee. I examined his trousers at that location and found a tiny trace of xylocaine present.”
“That’s a local anesthetic, isn’t it? The sort of thing you get at the dentist’s?”
“Or in the emergency room, if you’re, say, getting a cut stitched. You want my best guess?”
“Please.”
“By some unknown means he was injected with a fluid containing an unknown pathogen and xylocaine. The anesthetic would relieve any pain from the puncture almost immediately, so Bre
“So he was poisoned?”
“That’s what it amounts to, but so far, there is absolutely no trace of the poison, not even on the clothing where I found the xylocaine. And that is very disturbing.”