Hosts

"You bastard!" Kate said.

Jack looked at her. "The B-word?"

Kate ignored him and stepped up to Fielding's desk. Just a heartbeat ago she'd felt sorry for the man—she hated seeing anyone hurt—but now she wanted to grab his brass pen set and brain him. It had taken Jack a mere thirty seconds to melt away Fielding's mask, reducing him from distinguished colleague to weasel.

"Why not?" she cried. "Explain!"

"Please?" he panted, nodding toward his trapped hands.

Jack released the left, but kept a grip on the right. "We're waiting."

Fielding took a deep breath. "The vector virus didn't mutate."

Kate was stu

He looked away. "It's a contaminant."

Now she understood.

"So what?" Jack said. "Either way, Jeanette's got the wrong bug in her brain, so—"

"He can't be blamed for a wild mutation," Kate told him. "Not unless he exposed the virus to ionizing radiation. But a contaminant… he's wholly responsible for that. No excuses there. A contaminant makes him look very bad."

"You slug," Jack growled. "Just for the hell of it I ought to—"

"No… please…" Fielding whined.

"Jack, don't."

Jack shoved Fielding's hand away, sending him back into his chair where he cowered.

Kate closed her eyes and gave herself time to pull her turbulent thoughts together. She knew the next question but hesitated to ask it, feared the answer. But someone had to.

"What is the contaminant?" she said.

"That's just it. I don't know. It's unlike any virus I've ever seen. Seems to be in a class by itself."

Oh, no. Kate's stomach lurched. "How did this happen?"

"I'm baffled," Fielding said. "We keep all the cultures under lock and key, with a sign-in, sign-out procedure."

Jack said, "You mean someone would want to steal a virus?"

"No, of course not. It's simply to insure that only authorized perso

"Looks like your people need a refresher course," Kate said.

She noticed an uneasy expression flash across Fielding's face.

"What's wrong?"

"Wrong?" Fielding said. "Nothing."

"Tell her," Jack said. He interlaced his fingers and popped his knuckles. Fielding jumped at the sound.

"We had, er, something of a breach in the security procedures."

Jack leaned closer. "What kind of something?"

"An unauthorized person gained access to the viral cultures."

Kate felt sick. "Some sort of terrorist?"

"I doubt that. I might never have known if I hadn't learned about the contaminant. I went back and checked the sign-in records and found a name that didn't belong."

"Anyone we know?" Jack said. "Like Holdstock, maybe?"

"No. I found only one entry, dated months ago." He sifted through the papers on his desk and came up with a Xerox of a sign-in sheet. He pointed to an entry he'd circled in red. "There. 'Ms. Aralo.' But we have no one named Aralo in the institute, let alone with clearance to the viral lab."

"Wait a minute," Jack said, grabbing the sheet and staring at it.

"What's the matter?" Kate asked. "Do you know her?"

He shook his head. "Never heard of her. But something about that name…" He stared awhile longer, silently mouthing the name, then handed it back. "Forget it. Whatever it was, it's gone. Probably nothing."

But Kate could see it still bothered him.

"Well, if you remember anything, please let me know immediately. No one here remembers a thing about this person, not even who allowed her to sign in."

"Do you think this Aralo woman contaminated them?"

"I have to assume so. She signed for my adenovirus cultures. But I keep asking myself why. What purpose could anyone have in contaminating cultures used to fight brain tumors?"

"Some professional rivalry?" Kate suggested.

Fielding shrugged. "I'm not exactly breaking new ground here; more like fine tuning a protocol."

"How about germ warfare?" Jack said.

Fielding smiled for the first time since they'd arrived—a small, condescending twist of the lips. "With an adenovirus? Highly unlikely."

Jack glared and spoke through his teeth. "I meant the contaminant."

Fielding's smile vanished. "Also unlikely. It doesn't seem to cause any symptoms."

"Other than personality changes," Kate said.

"If that. We can't be sure. But even if it does, that's not a terrorist scenario. They want terror—something of epidemic proportions like ebola where people are dropping like flies in pools of bloody excrement. From what I've learned so far about the contaminant it isn't air or fecal borne."

"Then it's blood borne?" Kate said, feeling a chill.

She glanced down at her palm. The puncture wound had healed. But had something entered through that little break in her skin?

"I believe so," Fielding said. "If only Jeanette or Holdstock or one of the others would cooperate, I might have a handle on it. I'd love to see if they've formed any antibodies. It's a strange virus that can occupy the cerebrospinal fluid—at least I'm assuming that's where it's concentrated—without causing any sign of encephalitis or meningitis."

"Which are?" Jack said.

"Anything from fever and headache to paralysis, seizures, coma, death."

Jack looked at her. "Jeanette looked pretty healthy this morning."

"Physically, she's been fine," Kate said.

But what about me? she wondered.

She felt okay now, but she remembered mild aches and chills and a headache yesterday and the day before.

"That's what's so puzzling," Fielding said. "There seems to be virtually no immune response—at least nothing that's clinically apparent. If only I could get a sample of blood…"

"We're going to let NIH worry about that," Jack said. "Aren't we."

"And the CDC," Kate added.

Fielding paled. "Look. I'm Jeanette's best hope. I'm way ahead of everyone on the contaminant. I've already started testing virucidal agents against it."

"And?" Kate said, praying for some good news.

"No luck so far." He licked his lips and spoke quickly. "But at least I know what doesn't work, and when I find one that does, I'm sure I can reverse the effects on Jeanette and the others. I've already started laying the groundwork for a polysaccharide vaccine against the contaminant."

"Good," Jack said. "Now the big boys can pick up where you left off."

Fielding pressed his palms together as if in prayer. "Please give me a little more time. I can do this faster than those big bureaucracies. They'll take forever to start meaningful research."

"Forget it," Jack said.

Kate opened her mouth to agree, but a wave of indecision swept over her, clogging the words in her throat.

Maybe Fielding's right. Maybe he can do more alone than those lumbering bureaucracies.

No. That was ridiculous. She had a duty to let NIH and the CDC know about a new virus that causes personality changes.

The indecision mounted… Why not give Fielding some time? With such low danger of contagion, why not wait… for Jeanette's sake. Just a few days…

She shook her head. Where did these crazy ideas come from?

"Kate?" Jack said.

She looked up and found Jack and Fielding staring at her. Fielding's face was hopeful, Jack's expression said, You can't be having second thoughts about this.

And that look broke through the wall of indecision.

"Call them now," she said, pushing out the words. Pain lanced through her skull as she spoke them.

"Right," Jack said. "I see you've got a speakerphone. Use that. We'll listen."

"No, please. I—"

"If you call CDC," Kate said, fighting to control her voice, to keep from screaming at this man, "you can salvage something of your reputation. If I have to make the call, I'll tell them how you refused to report a wild contaminant, and then you can kiss your career good-bye."