“SARS,” Otto said. “It’s the same story as with Judy Washington.”
“I’m sorry,” Otto said with his charming smile. “No questions at this time.”
“I know I’m the dummy of the bunch,” Otto said. “So pardon me for asking—but you have a CDC report. What you’re saying is the stuff you guys have been studying for the past few days, that turns out to be a known factor?”
Otto spun in the director’s chair, three full circles as he spoke. “So the more people that claim to have this disease, the more publicity it gets, then more people hear about it, and then more people think they have it.”
“Or get wind of grannies slicing up their kids, then playing all Scarface with the cops,” Otto said. “Psycho grandmamas would definitely upset Mister and Missus Average American.”
Agent Otto whipped himself in circles. He seemed to be trying to see how many spins he could get off of one push. “So the fibers have been around for a while, but only now are reaching this larval stage? Does that mean they’re evolving?”
“Margaret, may I say something?” Otto asked.
He spun once in his chair, then gripped the desk with both hands, smiling the whole time. “You seem to let people push you around. You ever notice that?”
“Because it seems to me you’re a lot stronger than you think. We’re dealing with some pretty crazy stuff here, am I right?”
“So if you’ve got something you feel we need to do, maybe you should stop being such a pussy.”
“I said, Margaret, stop being such a pussy.”
“So stop letting Murray tell you what to do.”
“So he’s the deputy director. Do you know what you are?”
Otto spun twice, then spoke. “You are the lead epidemiologist studying a new, unknown disease with horrific implications.”
“You are short-staffed, and you can’t get the experts you should have.”
“Margaret, he put you in charge of this. What will happen if you insist on talking to this Cheng guy? Do you think Murray is going to bring in someone else to replace you?”
“So,” Otto said as he gave one strong push. He started spinning, speaking one syllable on each revolution, almost as if he’d read her mind. “Use . . . what . . . you . . . have.”
---
“Yes, sir,” Otto said. He smiled at Margaret. It was a small smile, but she couldn’t miss it.
Otto cleared his throat. “Excuse me for interrupting, sir, but most people don’t get their news from papers anymore, they get it from the Internet. You can set up a web page and have it indexed so the major search engines will find it. The Net is anonymous, so a host might surf it for information on the growths. They can contact you right from the web page.”
---
“Margaret,” Otto whispered. She opened her eyes. Now he was on the other side of the desk. He pointed to her, then held his left palm down at waist level. His right hand whipped back and forth in front of his groin, like he was spanking an imaginary person bent over in front of him. Then he pointed at the phone. “Go on, girl, whip that ass.”
A longer pause. Otto had moved on from slapping the imaginary booty, and was now “riding the pony.” He looked ridiculous, a big grown man, CIA agent, in the black suit and the red tie, twirling in a circle with an expression of affected ecstasy on his face. Margaret couldn’t help but smile.
“Are you ready?” Otto asked. She nodded.
“Hello, sweetie,” Otto said. “Hello, sir.” She didn’t look afraid at all. Nor did she look happy or excited, just matter-of-fact. “Are you Missy Hester?” She nodded, her curly pigtails bouncing in time. Otto’s empty right hand came out of his jacket, slowly dropping to hang at his side. Margaret stepped to Otto’s right, so the girl could see her clearly. “Missy, we’re here to see your mother. Is she home?” “She’s sleeping. Would you like to come in and sit down in the living room?” She stood aside and gestured with her hand. A regular little hostess. “Thank you,” Otto said. He walked inside, head turning quickly as he seemed to scan every inch of the house.
“They’re just being built better,” Otto said. “No disrespect to either of you, but you think too much. Murray hit it right on the head. Sometimes the most obvious answer is just that, the answer.” “Occam’s razor does seem to apply,” Amos said. “What’s that?” Otto asked. Amos smiled. “Never mind. It just means you’re probably right.”
Otto laughed. “Oh, we’re holding it, Lone Ranger. Is there a problem?” “Not if you keep your hands where I can see ’em, mister.” Otto raised his hands to shoulder height, palms out. “You’ll get no trouble from me, Ranger. No trouble ’tall.”
“Be safe, Ranger,” Otto said.
Otto calmly walked between the girl and Margaret. “Yes, honey, we’re from the government. How did you know?”
“Get the girl out of here,” Otto said. His voice was quiet, calm, but totally commanding. “Do it now.”
“Margaret,” Otto hissed. “Get her out of here.”
---
“Come on, Doctor,” Clarence Otto said, his voice tinny in her Racal suit’s headphones. “Suck it up. Now isn’t the time for you to go weak on me.”
“That’s Nguyen?” Otto asked. “You’re sure?” Margaret handed him the photo. “Sonofabitch,” Otto said as he looked from the painting to the photo and back again. “Damn, Doctor, you’ve got sharp eyes. Okay, so if that’s Nguyen, who are the other people?”
“Is that Gary Leeland?” Otto said, pointing again to the canvas.
---
He flashed his wide, easy smile. “No problem, Doc. I think I made some Kinko’s employees happy. I’m guessing it’s not every day they get sworn to secrecy at midnight and use their large color printer for national security.”
Clarence pulled out a map and gave it a quick study. “About ten minutes, give or take,” he said. Margaret grabbed Clarence’s strong arm, her face electric with urgency. “What’s the victim’s condition? What are his symptoms?” “I don’t know that, ma’am. Dew is en route, backed up by two rapid response teams in full biosuits. I believe it’s an apartment complex.” Margaret let go of his arm and tried to compose herself. “Do you think we’ll get this one alive?” “I think so, ma’am,” Clarence said. “Dew should already be there. The victim filled out a computer form. Instructions on that say to stay put and wait for help. I can’t imagine anything going wrong at this point.”
---
“Otto here.” “Get the squads in position,” Dew whispered. “I’m in Building G. Do not—I repeat, do not—approach until I say so. I’ll stay on the line. If the connection is cut off, move in immediately, understand?” “Yes sir. Margaret and Amos are with me. They’re ready.”
---
“You obviously don’t think it’s natural,” Otto said. “So you agree with Murray? That it’s a weapon?”
Otto shook his head. “I just don’t follow.”
“Then it doesn’t need people,” Otto said. “Why wouldn’t we have seen this in animals?”
Otto leaned forward. “Are you talking space travel?”
“The perfect infantry,” Otto said. “An army that doesn’t need to be fed or trained. You just mass-produce them, ship them out and when they land they build themselves and gather intel from their local host.” Amos and Margaret stared at Otto.
“Two reasons,” Otto said. “The first is recon. Gather intel on the environment, the people, the opposition. Maybe that’s why it’s not in animals, because . . .” His voice trailed off. He couldn’t finish the thought.
Agent Clarence Otto beamed at her. He nodded slowly. That smile of his was almost enough to take her away from this insanity, and she found herself smiling back.
“Intel is the first reason,” Otto said. “The second is to use that intel to create a beachhead. Establish control of a defensible area so you safely receive reinforcements.”
no subject
---
“SARS,” Otto said. “It’s the same story as with Judy Washington.”
“I’m sorry,” Otto said with his charming smile. “No questions at this time.”
“I know I’m the dummy of the bunch,” Otto said. “So pardon me for asking—but you have a CDC report. What you’re saying is the stuff you guys have been studying for the past few days, that turns out to be a known factor?”
Otto spun in the director’s chair, three full circles as he spoke. “So the more people that claim to have this disease, the more publicity it gets, then more people hear about it, and then more people think they have it.”
“Or get wind of grannies slicing up their kids, then playing all Scarface with the cops,” Otto said. “Psycho grandmamas would definitely upset Mister and Missus Average American.”
Agent Otto whipped himself in circles. He seemed to be trying to see how many spins he could get off of one push. “So the fibers have been around for a while, but only now are reaching this larval stage? Does that mean they’re evolving?”
“Margaret, may I say something?” Otto asked.
He spun once in his chair, then gripped the desk with both hands, smiling the whole time. “You seem to let people push you around. You ever notice that?”
“Because it seems to me you’re a lot stronger than you think. We’re dealing with some pretty crazy stuff here, am I right?”
“So if you’ve got something you feel we need to do, maybe you should stop being such a pussy.”
“I said, Margaret, stop being such a pussy.”
“So stop letting Murray tell you what to do.”
“So he’s the deputy director. Do you know what you are?”
Otto spun twice, then spoke. “You are the lead epidemiologist studying a new, unknown disease with horrific implications.”
“You are short-staffed, and you can’t get the experts you should have.”
“Margaret, he put you in charge of this. What will happen if you insist on talking to this Cheng guy? Do you think Murray is going to bring in someone else to replace you?”
“So,” Otto said as he gave one strong push. He started spinning, speaking one syllable on each revolution, almost as if he’d read her mind. “Use . . . what . . . you . . . have.”
---
“Yes, sir,” Otto said. He smiled at Margaret. It was a small smile, but she couldn’t miss it.
Otto cleared his throat. “Excuse me for interrupting, sir, but most people don’t get their news from papers anymore, they get it from the Internet. You can set up a web page and have it indexed so the major search engines will find it. The Net is anonymous, so a host might surf it for information on the growths. They can contact you right from the web page.”
---
“Margaret,” Otto whispered. She opened her eyes. Now he was on the other side of the desk. He pointed to her, then held his left palm down at waist level. His right hand whipped back and forth in front of his groin, like he was spanking an imaginary person bent over in front of him. Then he pointed at the phone. “Go on, girl, whip that ass.”
A longer pause. Otto had moved on from slapping the imaginary booty, and was now “riding the pony.” He looked ridiculous, a big grown man, CIA agent, in the black suit and the red tie, twirling in a circle with an expression of affected ecstasy on his face. Margaret couldn’t help but smile.
“Are you ready?” Otto asked. She nodded.
“Hello, sweetie,” Otto said.
“Hello, sir.” She didn’t look afraid at all. Nor did she look happy or excited, just matter-of-fact.
“Are you Missy Hester?”
She nodded, her curly pigtails bouncing in time. Otto’s empty right hand came out of his jacket, slowly dropping to hang at his side. Margaret stepped to Otto’s right, so the girl could see her clearly.
“Missy, we’re here to see your mother. Is she home?”
“She’s sleeping. Would you like to come in and sit down in the living room?” She stood aside and gestured with her hand. A regular little hostess.
“Thank you,” Otto said. He walked inside, head turning quickly as he seemed to scan every inch of the house.
“They’re just being built better,” Otto said. “No disrespect to either of you, but you think too much. Murray hit it right on the head. Sometimes the most obvious answer is just that, the answer.”
“Occam’s razor does seem to apply,” Amos said.
“What’s that?” Otto asked.
Amos smiled. “Never mind. It just means you’re probably right.”
Otto laughed. “Oh, we’re holding it, Lone Ranger. Is there a problem?”
“Not if you keep your hands where I can see ’em, mister.”
Otto raised his hands to shoulder height, palms out. “You’ll get no trouble from me, Ranger. No trouble ’tall.”
“Be safe, Ranger,” Otto said.
Otto calmly walked between the girl and Margaret. “Yes, honey, we’re from the government. How did you know?”
“Get the girl out of here,” Otto said. His voice was quiet, calm, but totally commanding. “Do it now.”
“Margaret,” Otto hissed. “Get her out of here.”
---
“Come on, Doctor,” Clarence Otto said, his voice tinny in her Racal suit’s headphones. “Suck it up. Now isn’t the time for you to go weak on me.”
“That’s Nguyen?” Otto asked. “You’re sure?”
Margaret handed him the photo.
“Sonofabitch,” Otto said as he looked from the painting to the photo and back again. “Damn, Doctor, you’ve got sharp eyes. Okay, so if that’s Nguyen, who are the other people?”
“Is that Gary Leeland?” Otto said, pointing again to the canvas.
---
He flashed his wide, easy smile. “No problem, Doc. I think I made some Kinko’s employees happy. I’m guessing it’s not every day they get sworn to secrecy at midnight and use their large color printer for national security.”
Clarence pulled out a map and gave it a quick study. “About ten minutes, give or take,” he said.
Margaret grabbed Clarence’s strong arm, her face electric with urgency. “What’s the victim’s condition? What are his symptoms?”
“I don’t know that, ma’am. Dew is en route, backed up by two rapid response teams in full biosuits. I believe it’s an apartment complex.”
Margaret let go of his arm and tried to compose herself. “Do you think we’ll get this one alive?”
“I think so, ma’am,” Clarence said. “Dew should already be there. The victim filled out a computer form. Instructions on that say to stay put and wait for help. I can’t imagine anything going wrong at this point.”
---
“Otto here.”
“Get the squads in position,” Dew whispered. “I’m in Building G. Do not—I repeat, do not—approach until I say so. I’ll stay on the line. If the connection is cut off, move in immediately, understand?”
“Yes sir. Margaret and Amos are with me. They’re ready.”
---
“You obviously don’t think it’s natural,” Otto said. “So you agree with Murray? That it’s a weapon?”
Otto shook his head. “I just don’t follow.”
“Then it doesn’t need people,” Otto said. “Why wouldn’t we have seen this in animals?”
Otto leaned forward. “Are you talking space travel?”
“The perfect infantry,” Otto said. “An army that doesn’t need to be fed or trained. You just mass-produce them, ship them out and when they land they build themselves and gather intel from their local host.”
Amos and Margaret stared at Otto.
“Two reasons,” Otto said. “The first is recon. Gather intel on the environment, the people, the opposition. Maybe that’s why it’s not in animals, because . . .” His voice trailed off. He couldn’t finish the thought.
Agent Clarence Otto beamed at her. He nodded slowly. That smile of his was almost enough to take her away from this insanity, and she found herself smiling back.
“Intel is the first reason,” Otto said. “The second is to use that intel to create a beachhead. Establish control of a defensible area so you safely receive reinforcements.”