Error in Diagnosis Read Online Free PDF Page B

large gray fin, is finished circling, and just about ready to bite us all on the ass.”
    â€œI understand, Dr. Brickell but we—”
    She waved her hand, which prompted his immediate silence.
    â€œThis is an enormous problem, which isn’t going togo away by simply sprinkling a little pixie dust on it. It’s probably only a matter of days, maybe hours until we start seeing fatalities. Americans are a resilient people, but I don’t think they’re ready to see helpless pregnant women and unborn babies die.”
    Just at that moment, a young man tapped on the door. Julian waved him forward.
    â€œI have a message for Dr. Brickell.”
    Julian took the note and handed it to her.
    â€œWe haven’t even begun to hear the outcry from the conservative and religious organizations,” she said, unfolding the note. “Every government agency having anything remotely to do with health care is being barraged with thousands of frantic calls. Families are desperately looking for answers, and our only response is to tell them to remain calm and give us more time. And in case you didn’t get the memo, Christmas is three weeks away, so the timing of this disaster couldn’t be worse.” She shook her head as she read the note. “Great,” she muttered, crumpling it in hand. “C’mon, we have to get back to the office. We have a lot of prep work to do.”
    â€œWhat’s going on?”
    â€œThe president’s cutting his trip short. He arrives at Andrews at seven forty-five tonight. He wants to meet with us at soon as he gets to the White House.”
    Leading the way out of the room, Brickell wondered what new information she could gather in the next ten hours that might help her respond to the tough questions President Kellar was sure to pose. At the moment,the only thing she could tell him was that if the task force she’d assembled didn’t figure out how to stop this outbreak pretty damn soon, they would have to brace for what would likely be the worst national health crisis since HIV.

7

    Standing at the stern of the aging ferry, Jack watched a frenzied formation of seagulls swoop down to snatch bread chunks that had been tossed into the churning wake by a raucous group of tourists.
    A product of modest means and an only child, Jack grew up in Fort Lauderdale less than two miles from the beach. As far back as he could remember, he had always loved spending time on the ocean. He preferred sailing catamarans but irrespective of the vessel, he liked being on the water. He enjoyed boating just about as much as he detested flying. Since the moment Mike had offered to send his plane, he had been unable to shake the lingering discomfort of traveling in a small corporate jet.
    The ferry trip took just under an hour and, after a short but perilous ride in a taxi held together by daily prayers and superglue, the cab pulled up in front of thegeneral aviation terminal at the Saint Kitts airport. With no assistance from the apathetic driver, Jack retrieved his luggage from the trunk.
    Through a heavy cloud of dust kicked up by the fleeing taxi, he saw Mike walking toward him. With peach-fuzz for a beard and cropped brown hair, Mike had barely attained the height of five foot six. His small stature had left him five inches shorter than Jack; a fact Jack had teased him about with regularity since they were teenagers.
    With a container of coffee in hand, he gave Jack a firm one-armed hug.
    â€œHow’s Tess doing?”
    â€œI checked on her right before we left,” Mike answered with an uneasy half smile. “There’s been no real change overnight.”
    Mike took a step toward the plane but Jack put his hand on his shoulder. “How are you doing?”
    â€œTess was born a Christmas fanatic. The house is decorated like Rockefeller Center and she’s been consumed with planning our yearly holiday party for the past two months,” he answered