66

Approaching Washington, D.C.

The Air Force Falcon passenger jet rolled gently to the east. Augustine sipped a Coke and glanced frequently through the window, clearly nervous about flying. Dicken had not known this about Augustine until now; they had never flown together before.

“We can make a strong case that even should second-stage SHEVA fetuses survive birth, they’ll be carriers of a wide variety of infectious HERVs,” Augustine said.

“Whose evidence?” Jane Salter asked. Her face was a little flushed from the heat in the airplane before takeoff; she was at best mildly unimpressed by these military trappings.

 “I’ve hadTaskforce researchers putting together biopsy results for the last two weeks, just on a hunch. We know HERVs express under all sorts of conditions, but the particles have never been infectious until now.”

“We still don’t know what the hell purpose the noninfec-tious particles serve, if any,” Salter said. The other staffers, younger and less experienced, sat quietly in their seats, content to listen.

“No good purpose,” Augustine said, tapping the seat arm. He swallowed hard and looked out the window again. “The HERV continue to produce viral particles that aren’t infectious...Until SHEVA codes for a complete tool kit, everything necessary for a virus to assemble and escape a cell. I have six expert opinions, including Jackson’s, that SHEVA may ‘teach’ other HERV how to be infectious again. They’ll be most active in individuals with rapidly dividing cells, and that means SHEVA fetuses. We could have to deal with diseases we haven’t seen in millions of years.”

“Diseases that may no longer be pathogenic in humans,” Dicken said.

“Can we take that chance?” Augustine asked. Dicken shrugged.

“So what are you going to recommend?” Salter asked.

“Washington is already under curfew, and they’ll have it under martial law the instant someone decides to break a plate glass window or roll a car. No demonstrations, no inflammatory comments...Politicians hate to be lynched. It won’t be long. The common folk are like cows in a herd, and there’s been more than enough lightning to make even the cowboys nervous.”

“Infelicitous comparison, Dr. Augustine,” Salter said dryly.

“Well, I’ll refine it,” Augustine said. “I’m not at my best when I’m at twenty thousand feet.”

“You think we’re going to be under martial law,” Dicken said, “and we can sequester all pregnant women and take their babies away from them...for testing?”

 “It’s horrible,” Augustine admitted. “Most if not all of the fetuses will probably die. But if they do survive, I think we can make a case that we’ll have to sequester them.”

“Talk about throwing gas on a fire,” Dicken said.

Augustine thoughtfully agreed. “I’ve been racking my brains trying to find a different solution. I will entertain alternatives.”

“Maybe we shouldn’t muddy the waters right now,” Salter said.

“I have no intention of saying or doing anything now. The work goes on.”

“We’d better be on firm ground,” Dicken said.

“Damned right,” Augustine said with a grimace. “Terra firma, and the sooner the better.”