for the CIA, the non-military intelligence gathering agency.
“Max, it’s good to see you,” greeted Greg, giving Max a warm handshake. “It’s been too long.”
Greg’s office was sparsely furnished and soundproof. There were venetian blinds on one window, plain beige walls, and light brown carpet. There was a comfortable leather desk chair and a large oak desk with a brass desk lamp, a laptop, telephone, and a yellow legal pad and pen. A metal filing cabinet was in one corner.
“What can I get you?” He reached for the phone to buzz his assistant for some coffee.
“Nothing, thanks, Greg, but you go ahead.”
“I’m fine, too,” Greg said. “It’s been a long time. What have you been up to? I heard you’re working for the Joint Chiefs. Pretty nice gig, with some perks, no doubt.” He smiled.
Max laughed. “It’s a great gig. You know how it is. Professional ass kisser mostly, but sometimes I actually get asked my opinion.” Both men laughed, knowing they were in the business of keeping secrets.
“You look great,” stated Greg. “Keeping in shape, I see.”
“You, too. It must be the academy thing.” They were similar, instilled with self- discipline and strict core values. Both were glad to see each other again.
“You ever get married, Greg? I remember that little brunette you were dating, the one with the impressive figure.”
Greg said, “No, I thought she was serious, but I just couldn’t spend enough time with her, and I guess she found a nine to fiver to keep her happy.” He laughed, but Max sensed it was halfhearted.
“What about you, Max? You had them lined up,” he smiled.
Everyone was aware of Max’s looks and magnetic charm, even the guys, but Max was the only one who didn’t catch on. He had been career oriented and not much for serious dating. That is, until now.
“Actually, no, I am not married, but that could change, even at my age. Forty-two. Damn, that sounds old.”
“I hear you,” said Greg. “So you have one on the line?” he asked, raised his eyebrows.
“Yes, and frankly, that is why I am here.” Greg leaned forward, giving Max a questioning smirk.
“What gives?” Greg knew there was more to this meeting than old friends catching up.
“I need a favor,” asked Max.
“You got it.” Greg leaned back in his leather chair.
Max pulled an envelope from his briefcase and slid it across the desk. Greg opened it and read the brief message several times. He studied the photographs, memorizing both.
“I need to know what these mean. I want to know their connection to the lady I am seeing, Dr. Suzy Chen, assistant director of Edgewood Labs at the APG.” He filled Greg in on all that he knew about Suzy’s background and how he had obtained the information.
“I’m impressed. So how serious are you about this lady?” asked Greg, looking Max in the eyes.
“Very.”
Greg understood. “When do you need to know?”
“As soon as possible.” Max spoke emphatically. Greg knew this was not just ordinary curiosity.
“You came to the right place,” answered Greg.
“Thanks, Greg. I mean it,” said Max.
“This must be some lady.” Greg smiled.
“You can’t fucking imagine,” Max said, shaking his head. “I may be in over my head.”
.
33
The CDC in Atlanta was getting updated reports from several NYC hospitals that there were significant numbers of patient arrivals, presenting with severe flu-like symptoms. The emergency departments were doing their best to stabilize these patients, keep them isolated, and treat them with anti-viral medications and antibiotics. Dr. Ambrose was notified of these cases since most seemed, in some way, to be connected to the Express Subway platform. Concern was mounting that this was atypical of a normal flu outbreak. The spread was rapid, and the severity and onset of the symptoms were extraordinary.
Dr. Ambrose contacted the research lab in Jersey. They were working on the samples from the various patients stricken with the unknown virus. So far, they had nothing to report. He knew the FBI lab was looking at the canister and its possible connection to the virus in question. He was hoping that the canister would answer some of their questions and even perhaps diminish their concerns. Additional samples would be arriving in Atlanta later in the day.
So far, there had been no definitive identification of the presumed virus. The CDC was tracking the outbreak. This virus had, no doubt, affected many who had had gone home and exposed their families. Some had gone to work, exposing coworkers, or many had left the city via plane or automobile, taking