The Hammer of God by Tom Avitabile Page B

synthetic strain of influenza. We figured with the vaccine shortage we might be vulnerable.”
    â€œSo this could be nothing more than the flu?”
    â€œA fast acting, potentially deadly form, but not if you catch it early. I’ll notify NIH. Make sure your bio guys know it might be viral.”
    Brooke was writing as she repeated the name over the phone, “H… C… D… Com… Plex… 33, got it. I’ll alert them. Thanks.”
    âˆžÂ§âˆž
    Bill dialed another number. “Judy, Bill. Sorry to bother you this late.”
    Judy was in her den with CNN on in the background. The events in New York were starting to make the cable news. “Bill, I know all about it. I am the one who had DHS call you as soon as I got the call.”
    â€œIs there any flu vaccine for Complex 33, if that’s what this is?”
    â€œVaccine is a preventative. Once the cardio-pulmonary is infected you have to treat it with intense medication, face masks and gloves, and lots of soap and water to wash hands with.”
    â€œThat at least sounds manageable.”
    â€œOnly if it’s C-33 and only if we catch it within the first hours. The chances of which, so far, seem good if all the first responders have been quarantined.”
    â€œSome of the jars are still unaccounted for. Can you work up some numbers if a few of those get away?”
    â€œI’ll get the epis working on it. Maybe it won’t get to that.”
    â€œFrom your mouth….”
    â€œAmen, Bill.” Then she called the chief of staff at the CDC’s National Center for Infectious Diseases to muster the epis of the Epidemiological Analysis Team and get them cracking on the impact report.
    After Bill hung up, he mentally created a checklist to make sure he had done and was doing everything he could. Satisfied, he slouched back under the covers, pecked Janice on the cheek, and tried to sleep. But the singing was keeping him awake.
    Singing?
    â€œWhat are you doing?”
    â€œWhat do you mean?”
    â€œYou’re humming.”
    â€œAm I?”
    â€œYes. You am.”
    â€œMaybe I’m happy.”
    Bill pondered this for a few seconds. “Okay, why?”
    Janice rolled over and faced him. “You know the other morning when I got sick and you said to see a doctor?”
    â€œYeah.”
    â€œRemember I said I didn’t know what got into me?”
    â€œYeah.”
    â€œWell it was you. You got into me. And now…”
    â€œOh God, baby! Are you saying you’re…?”
    â€œUm hmm. Yes, we are!”
    â€œWhoa. So you’re happy?”
    â€œYes. Are you?”
    â€œYeah, yeah! I’m happy. Wow!”
    â€œI know, wow.”
    â€œHow… when…”
    â€œThe how we covered. The when was probably two months ago.”
    Bill beamed. “Wait till my folks find out.”
    â€œMy mom’s going to go nuts.”
    Bill’s head was spinning. What a turnaround from just minutes ago. “Janice, I love you.
    â€œOh Billy, I love you so much.” They hugged tighter than Bill ever remembered and for longer than they ever seemed to hold each other before.

Chapter Six
    PROTOCOL
    Thanks to Bill’s SCIAD network, the images of the at-large terrorists were sharp and clear with no degradation. The Federal Face Recognition system got them swiftly. Private Eye Wallace’s excellent-quality surveillance camera and the lucky position of a good light source right outside the room made the 1/60-of-a-second field grabs, sharp enough even before processing to trigger seventeen face recognition ID match-ups from the nineteen Middle Eastern men who went through the door that night. Of the two faces that remained unknown, one was among the seven still at large. The other unknown face was one of the deceased. The seven photos were distributed to the TSA, all local authorities, the State Department, the Department of Homeland Security, DIA,