On the same page as the Ebola article was a photograph of Dr. Ahmed Fakkry, head of epidemiology for the World Health Organization. The article next to the picture said that he was visiting the CDC to investigate the Ebola outbreaks because World Health was fearful that the virus would soon cross the Atlantic.
Maybe Dr. Fakkry could help her, thought Marissa. Perhaps the lawyer Ralph was lining up for her would be able to arrange for her to speak with him.
Ralph was catching up on his journals when the doorbell rang at 9:30 P.M. Glancing at his watch, he wondered who could possibly be visiting at that hour. He looked out of the glass panel on the side of the door and was shocked to find himself staring directly into Marissa’s face.
“Marissa!” he said in disbelief, pulling open the door. Behind her, he could see a yellow cab descending his long, curved driveway.
Marissa saw him hold out his arms and ran into them, bursting into tears.
“I thought you were in California,” said Ralph. “Why didn’t you call and let me know you were coming? I would have met you at the airport.”
Marissa just held onto him, crying. It was so wonderful to feel safe.
“What happened to you?” he asked, but was only greeted by louder sobs.
“At least let’s sit down,” he said, helping her to the couch. For a few minutes, he just let her cry, patting her gently on the back. “It’s okay,” he said for lack of anything else. He eyed the phone, willing it to ring. He had to make a call, and at this rate she was never going to let him get up. “Perhaps you’d like something to drink?” he asked. “How about some of that special cognac? Maybe it will make you feel better.”
Marissa shook her head.
“Wine? I have a nice bottle of Chardonnay open in the refrigerator.” Ralph was running out of ideas.
Marissa just held him tighter, but her sobs were lessening, her breathing becoming more regular.
Five minutes went by. Ralph sighed. “Where is your luggage?”
Marissa didn’t answer, but did fish a tissue out of her pocket and wipe her face.
“I’ve got some cold chicken in the kitchen.”
At last Marissa sat up. “Maybe in a little bit. Just stay with me a little longer. I’ve been so scared.”
“Then why didn’t you call me from the airport? And what happened to your car? Didn’t you leave it there?”
“It’s a long story,” said Marissa. “But I was afraid that someone might be watching it. I didn’t want anybody to know I was back in Atlanta.”
Ralph raised his eyebrows. “Does that mean you’d like to spend the night?”
“If you don’t mind,” said Marissa. “Nothing like inviting myself, but you’ve been such a good friend.”
“Would you like me to drive you over to your house to get some things?” asked Ralph.
“Thanks, but I don’t want to show up there for the same reason I was afraid to go to my car. If I were to drive anyplace tonight, I’d run over to the CDC and get a package that I hope Tad put away for me. But to tell you the truth, I think it all can wait until morning. Even that criminal lawyer, who I hope will be able to keep me out of jail.”
“Good grief,” said Ralph. “I hope you’re not serious. Don’t you think it’s time you told me what’s going on?”
Marissa picked up Ralph’s hand. “I will. I promise. Let me just calm down a little more. Maybe I should eat something.”
“I’ll fix you some chicken,” he said.
“That’s all right. I know where the kitchen is. Maybe I’ll just scramble some eggs.”
“I’ll join you in a minute. I have to make a call.”
Marissa dragged herself through the house. In the kitchen, she glanced around at all the appliances and space and thought it was a waste just to be making eggs. But that was what sounded best. She got them out of the refrigerator, along with some bread for toast. Then she realized she hadn’t asked Ralph if he wanted some too. She was about to call out but decided he wouldn’t hear her.
Putting the eggs down, she went over to the intercom and began pushing the buttons on the console to see if she could figure out how it worked. “Hello, hello,” she said as she held down different combinations. Stumbling onto the correct sequence, she suddenly heard Ralph’s voice.
“She’s not in San Francisco,” he was saying. “She’s here at my house.”
Pause.
“Jackson, I don’t know what happened. She’s hysterical. All she said was that she has a package waiting for her at the CDC. Listen, I can’t talk now. I’ve got to get back to her.”
Pause.
“I’ll keep her here, don’t worry. But get over here as soon as you can.”
Pause.
“No, no one knows she’s here. I’m sure of that. ’Bye.”
Marissa clutched the counter top, afraid she was going to faint. All this time Ralph—the one person she’d trusted—had been one of “them.” And Jackson! It had to be the same Jackson she’d met at Ralph’s dinner party. The head of PAC, and he was on his way over. Oh, God!
Knowing Ralph was on his way to the kitchen, Marissa forced herself to go on with her cooking. But when she tried to break an egg on the side of the skillet, she smashed it shell and all into the pan. She had the other egg in her hand when Ralph appeared with some drinks. She broke the second egg a bit more deftly, mixing it all together, including the first egg’s shell.
“Smells good,” he said brightly. He put down her glass and touched her lightly on the back. Marissa jumped.
“Wow, you really are uptight. How are we going to get you to relax?”
Marissa didn’t say anything. Although she was no longer the slightest bit hungry, she went through the motions of cooking the eggs, buttering the toast and putting out jam. Looking at Ralph’s expensive silk shirt, the heavy gold cuff links, the tasseled Gucci loafers, everything about him suddenly seemed a ridiculous affectation, as did the whole elaborately furnished house. It all represented the conspicuous consumption of a wealthy doctor, now fearful of the new medical competition, of changing times, of medicine no longer being a seller’s market.
Obviously, Ralph was a member of PAC. Of course he was a supporter of Markham. And it was Ralph, not Tad, who had always known where she was. Serving the eggs, Marissa thought that even if she could escape there was no one to go to. She certainly couldn’t use a lawyer Ralph recommended. In fact, now that she knew Ralph was implicated, she remembered why the name of the law firm he’d suggested had sounded familiar: Cooper, Hodges, McQuinllin and Hanks had been listed as the service agent of PAC.
Marissa felt trapped. The men pursuing her had powerful connections. She had no idea how deeply they had penetrated the CDC. Certainly the conspiracy involved the congressman who exerted control over the CDC budget.
Marissa’s mind reeled. She was terrified no one would believe her, and she was acutely aware that the only piece of hard evidence she had—the vaccination gun—was resting somewhere in the maximum containment lab, to which she knew from painful experience her pursuers had access. The only thing that was crystal clear was that she had to get away from Ralph before Jackson and maybe more thugs arrived.
Picking up her fork, she had a sudden vision of the blond man hurling himself through the bathroom door in San Francisco. She dropped the fork, again afraid she was about to faint.
Ralph grabbed her elbow and helped her to the kitchen table. He put the food on a plate and placed it in front of her and urged her to eat.
“You were doing so well a minute ago,” he said. “You’ll feel better if you get something in your stomach.” He picked up the fork she’d dropped and tossed it into the sink, then got another from the silver drawer.
Marissa dropped her head into her hands. She had to get herself under control. Valuable time was ticking away.
“Not hungry after all?” asked Ralph.
“Not very,” admitted Marissa. The very smell of the eggs was enough to make her sick. She shuddered.
“Maybe you should take a tranquilizer. I’ve got some upstairs. What do you think?”
“Okay,” said Marissa.
“Be right back,” said Ralph, squeezing her shoulder.
This was the chance she had prayed for. As soon as he was out of the room, Marissa was on her feet, snatching the phone off its hook. But there was no dial tone. Ralph must have disconnected it somehow! So much for the police. Replacing the phone, she rushed around the kitchen searching for Ralph’s car keys. Nothing. Next she tried the adjoining family room. There was a tiny marble urn on the room divider with a few keys, but none for a car. Going back through the kitchen, Marissa went to the small foyer by the back door. There was a cork bulletin board, an antique school desk and an old bureau. There was also a door that led to the bathroom.
Trying the desk first, she lifted its cover and rummaged through its contents. There were some odd-shaped house keys, but that was all. Turning to the small bureau, she began opening drawers, finding a jumble of gloves, scarves and rain gear.
“What do you need?” asked Ralph, suddenly appearing behind her. Guiltily she straightened up, searching for an alibi. Ralph waited, looking at her expectantly. His right hand was closed. His left hand held a glass of water.
“I thought maybe I could find a sweater,” said Marissa.
Ralph eyed her curiously. If anything, the house was too warm. After all, it was almost June.
“I’ll turn the heat on in the kitchen,” he said, guiding her back to her chair. He extended his right hand. “Here, take this.” He dropped a capsule into Marissa’s palm. It was red and ivory in color.
“Dalmane?” questioned Marissa. “I thought you were getting me a tranquilizer.”
“It will relax you and give you a good night’s sleep,” explained Ralph.
Shaking her head and handing the capsule back to Ralph, Marissa said, “I’d prefer a tranquilizer.”
“What about Valium?”
“Fine,” said Marissa.
As soon as she heard him climbing the back stairs, Marissa ran to the front foyer. There were no keys on the elaborate marble half-table or in the one central drawer. Opening the closet, Marissa rapidly patted jacket pockets. Nothing.
She was back in the kitchen just in time to hear Ralph start down the back stairs.
“There you go,” he said, dropping a blue tablet into Marissa’s hand.
“What dose is this?”
“Ten milligrams.”
“Don’t you think that’s a little much?”
“You’re so upset. It won’t affect you as it would normally,” said Ralph, handing her a glass of water. She took it from him, then pretended to take the Valium, but dropped it into the pocket of her jacket instead.
“Now let’s try the food again,” said Ralph.
Marissa forced herself to eat a little as she tried to figure out a way to escape before Jackson arrived. The food tasted awful, and she put down her fork after a few bites.
“Still not hungry?” said Ralph.
Marissa shook her head.
“Well, let’s go into the living room.”
She was glad to leave the cooking smells, but the moment they were seated, Ralph urged her to have a fresh drink.
“I don’t think I should after the Valium.”
“A little won’t hurt.”
“Are you sure you’re not trying to get me drunk?” said Marissa. She forced a laugh. “Maybe you’d better let me fix the drinks.”
“Fine by me,” said Ralph, lifting his feet to the coffee table. “Make mine scotch.”
Marissa went directly to the bar and poured Ralph a good four fingers of scotch. Then, checking to see that he was absorbed, she took out the Valium tablet, broke it in half and dropped the pieces into the alcohol. Unfortunately, they did not dissolve. Fishing the pieces out, she pulverized them with the scotch bottle and swept the powder into the drink.
“You need any help?” called Ralph.
“No,” she said, pouring a little brandy into her own glass. “Here you go.”
Ralph took his drink and settled back on the couch.
Sitting down beside him, Marissa racked her brains to figure out where he might have put his car keys. She wondered what he would say if she suddenly demanded them, but decided it was too great a risk. If he realized she knew about him, he might forcibly restrain her. This way, she still had a chance, if she could just find the keys.
A horrible thought occurred to her: he probably had just put them in his pants pocket. As distasteful as it was, Marissa forced herself to snuggle against him. Provocatively, she placed her hand on his hip. Sure enough, she could feel the keys through the light gabardine. Now, how on earth was she going to get them?
Gritting her teeth, she tilted her face to his, encouraging him to kiss her. As his arms circled her waist, she let her fingers slide into his pocket. Scarcely breathing she felt the edge of the ring and pulled. The keys jangled a little and she began frantically kissing him. Sensing his response she decided she had to take the chance. Please God, please God, she prayed and pulled out the keys and hid them in her own pocket.
Ralph had obviously forgotten Jackson was coming, or he’d decided sex was the best way to keep Marissa quiet. In any case, it was time to stop him.
“Darling,” she said. “I hate to do this to you, but that pill is getting to me. I think I’m going to have to go to sleep.”
“Just rest here. I’ll hold you.”
“I’d love to, but then you’d have to carry me upstairs.” She pulled herself out of his embrace, and he solicitously helped her up the stairs to the guest bedroom.
“Don’t you want me to stay with you?” he asked.
“I’m sorry, Ralph. I’m about to pass out. Just let me sleep.” She forced a smile. “We can always continue when the Valium wears off.” As if to end any further conversation, she lay on the bed fully clothed.
“Don’t you want to borrow pajamas?” he asked hopefully.
“No, no. I can’t keep my eyes open.”
“Well, call if you need anything. I’ll just be downstairs.”
The moment he closed the door, she tiptoed over and listened to him go down the front stairs. Then she went to the window and opened it. The balcony outside was just as she remembered. As quietly as possible, she slipped out into the warm spring night. Above was an inverted bowl of stars. The trees were just dark silhouettes. There was no wind. In the distance, a dog barked. Then Marissa heard a car.
Quickly she surveyed her position. She was about fifteen feet above the asphalt drive. There was no possibility of jumping. The balcony was surrounded by a low balustrade, separating it from the sloped roof of the porch. To the left the porch roof abutted the tower and to the right it swept around the corner of the building.
Climbing over the balustrade, Marissa inched her way to the corner. The porch roof ended about twenty feet away. The fire escape descended from the third floor, but it was out of reach. Turning, she started back for the balcony. She was halfway there when the car she’d heard earlier turned into Ralph’s drive.
Marissa lay still on the sloped roof. She knew that she was in full view of anybody coming up the driveway if they happened to look up. The car’s lights played against the trees, then swept across the front of the house, bathing her in light before it pulled up to the front steps. She heard the doors open and several voices. They were not excited; apparently no one had seen her sprawled on the roof. Ralph answered the door. There was more conversation, and then the voices disappeared inside.
Marissa scampered along the roof and climbed back over the balustrade to the balcony. She ducked into the guest room and eased open the door to the hallway. Stepping into the hall, she could hear Ralph’s voice though she could not make out what he was saying. As quietly as possible, she started toward the back stairs.
The light from the vestibule did not penetrate beyond the second turn in the hallway, and Marissa had to make her way by running
her hands along the walls. She passed a number of dark bedrooms before she rounded a final corner and saw the kitchen light shining below.
At the head of the stairs, she hesitated. The sounds in the old house were confusing her. She still heard voices, but she also heard footsteps. The problem was, she couldn’t tell where they were coming from. At that moment she caught sight of a hand on the newel post below.
Changing direction, Marissa went up the stairs and was halfway to the third floor in seconds. One of the treads squeaked under her foot, and she hesitated, heart pounding, listening to the relentless approach of the figure below. When he reached the second floor and turned down the hall toward the front of the house, she let out her breath.
Marissa continued up the stairs, wincing at every sound. The door to the servants’ apartment at the top was closed but not locked.
As quietly as possible, she made her way across the dark living room and into the bedroom that she guessed looked out on the fire escape.
After struggling to raise the window, she climbed out onto the flimsy metal grate. Never fond of heights, it took all her courage to stand upright. Hesitantly, she started down, one step at a time, leading with her right foot. By the time she reached the second story, she heard excited voices inside the house and the sound of doors opening and slamming shut. Lights began going on in the darkened rooms. They had already realized that she had fled.
Forcing herself to hurry, Marissa rounded the second-story platform and was stopped by what seemed to be a large jumble of metal. Feeling with her hands, she realized that the last flight of stairs had been drawn up to protect the house from burglars. Desperately, she tried to figure out how to lower them. There didn’t seem to be any release mechanism. Then she noticed a large counterweight behind her.
Gingerly, she put her foot on the first step. There was a loud squeak of metal. Knowing she had no choice, Marissa shifted her full weight to the step. With a nerve-shattering crash, the stairs shot to the ground and she ran down them.