April 18 2003 Harrisburg PA

Stan went to the cafeteria and picked up lunch. He called his supervisor and arranged to have his cases moved to another pathologist for the afternoon. He gave a lame excuse of having a lot of paperwork to clear. He did not want to chance a leak. Then he placed a call to Dr. Jack Fuller, the Assistant to the Surgeon General of the United States. Few men on the country could have placed that call with a significant chance of acceptance. Stan and Jack had suffered through Gross Anatomy together. They still saw each other at times when their schedules met.

The secretary took the message. About fifteen minutes later the phone rang. Stan explained the situation to Jack. Finally Jack asked the big question, “Are you sure?”

“I don’t have access to more than Harrisburg area statistics so it could be local but there is a problem. Would I call you if I weren’t as sure as I can be?”

“No.”

“Unless this is regional we are sitting one a disaster.”

Jack was silent for a few minutes, “Sit tight, have the other Doctor, Butler, you said, clear her calendar. And the other guy who knows about this too. Tell them to not talk to anyone.”

“We have already done agreed that we keep it among ourselves. I will get them to start clearing.”

“Good. I may need you here. All three of you. One of the reasons I want you here is to prevent a leak.”

“When?”

“Maybe this evening.”

Stan Hung up the phone. He alerted Dr. Butler and Henry and went back to work. About a half hour later his pager beeped. Jack answered on the first ring, “It’s 2:30. Can you be here by 7?”

“Sure.”

“Bring Dr. Butler and the security guy. Make sure they don’t talk to anyone. Tell some story, you were invited to a ball game. I hope there is one.”

“Sure, that’ll fly. Dr. Butler is female, everyone here knows she hates sports. We would have to tie her up to get her to a game and everyone knows it. I’d be better off telling them we were going to Washington DC about a national medical emergency to hide what the trip is about.”

“You’ll think of something. Go to the desk at the Dupont Circle Hotel, your name is Bill Hayes, the security guy, call him Mike Lawson, and the gal, she’s listed as Ken Schmidt. Just tell them her name is Kim, it must have gotten messed up. Someone has already checked in the rooms. Just ask for your key. I’ll leave a message for you at the desk. Don’t have any tags on your luggage with your names. Expect to stay a week. Give your families the Dupont Plaza as a contact point. By the way, we checked John’s Hopkins and five hospitals on the west coast records. We can get into them without alerting anyone. It isn’t good. Get on the way.”