"Jack? What are you doing here?" The forty-something female medical doctor immediately recognized him. Clearly, the incident in Los Angeles where Jack, in a fit of rage, headbutted the female terrorist who had unleashed a hemorrhagic fever virus had left a lasting impression on her.
"Wow, you're with the FBI now?" Dr. Morgan extended her hand to shake Jack's, her voice filled with surprise.
Jack hadn't expected to run into a familiar face in Maryland, so he greeted her warmly.
JJ led the group into a conference room, closed the door, and drew the blinds, finally blocking out the noisy sounds from outside.
"This is Dr. Linda Kimura, head of the CDC's Special Pathogens Unit," Dr. Morgan introduced the middle-aged Asian woman standing beside her.
Dr. Kimura was short, unremarkable in appearance, and appeared to be in her early forties. She looked sharp and capable, devoid of the stereotypical heavy makeup often seen on Asian women in the Western workplace.
Although she was Japanese-American, only Jack, due to his background, could immediately discern her ethnicity without relying on her surname—a skill somewhat unique to the Serisians.
After brief introductions and pleasantries, Dr. Morgan quickly excused herself, looking quite busy. Jack wasn't sure of her current position, but it was clearly above the level of a department head.
"I'm sorry to meet under such circumstances," Dr. Kimura, who seemed to be at least a third-generation immigrant, spoke without the habitual bowing often associated with Japanese culture.
"So, what's the situation?" Reid, who was sporting his usual small messenger bag, looked weary and sleep-deprived, likely from catching a red-eye flight.
"Let's get started," Hodge urged, his expression grim. It was clear he had already seen some of the reports.
JJ pulled out a stack of documents and began her briefing, starting with a summary of the situation and the progress of the case.
"Last night, in and around Annapolis, a total of 25 people were admitted to the emergency room. All of them had spent time near Quiet Hill Park after 2 PM yesterday."
"Within less than 10 hours, the first death occurred. It's now just after 9 AM the following morning, and there are already 12 fatalities."
"Is it confirmed to be anthrax?" Jack flipped through the case files, noting the black necrotic tissue on the patients' skin—a typical symptom of anthrax. However, he deferred to the experts for a definitive diagnosis.
"Anthrax usually isn't this lethal," Reid remarked with a furrowed brow.
"This strain is," Dr. Kimura succinctly confirmed.
Jack raised an eyebrow, immediately understanding. This was undoubtedly a weaponized strain that had leaked from a laboratory. Naturally occurring anthrax bacteria weren't particularly hard to handle.
Treating a standard skin anthrax infection isn't too difficult, especially if antibiotics are administered early on. Penicillin and a range of other antibiotics can effectively combat it.
Even more severe cases of pulmonary anthrax have well-established treatment protocols, making such a high death toll virtually impossible under normal circumstances.
Given the rapid development and high mortality rate, there was only one likely explanation: this strain of anthrax had been artificially engineered. It was not only immune to most antibiotics but also had an extraordinarily high reproduction rate.
Anthrax bacteria kill by producing toxins during reproduction, so the speed of reproduction directly determines the rate of toxin accumulation in the body.
With deaths occurring within ten hours and nearly half of the 25 infected individuals dying in less than 24 hours, this strain was undoubtedly at the level of a biochemical weapon.
"If the victims were infected in an open space like a park, it indicates the attacker most likely used a dry powder dispersal method."
"Typically, the lethal dose of inhaled anthrax is between 10,000 and 20,000 spores, while 1 gram of anthrax powder contains over a trillion spores."
Reid provided his usual detailed explanation, but this time his facts were particularly chilling.
"If 112 pounds of anthrax spores were dispersed along a two-mile line in an upwind direction of a city with a population of 500,000, it could ultimately cause 120,000 infections and 90,000 deaths. Even livestock and wildlife wouldn't be spared."
He paused, then added, "Given the toxicity this strain is displaying, those numbers could very likely be multiplied several times over."
"No vaccine?" Emily asked, rubbing her arms uneasily.
"There is a vaccine, but it takes a week after vaccination to develop some immunity, and at least two weeks to reach full protective levels," Dr. Kimura responded at a rapid pace.
"And we cannot yet confirm whether the existing anthrax vaccine is effective against this strain."
"You've tried the usual antibiotics?" While Jack was more known for his investigative prowess, he had a solid grasp of basic medical knowledge.
"We initiated antibiotic treatment immediately after confirming it was anthrax, but it had no effect. The surviving patients have been transferred to the specialized wards at Walter Reed National Military Medical Center," Dr. Kimura confirmed, glancing at Jack.
Jack silently rolled his eyes, refraining from further questions. Instead, he turned to Hodge. "So, what are they saying at Fort Detrick?"
"We'll be working with military scientists from Fort Detrick," Hodge replied.
"Is General Whitworth coming here?" Rossi, who was well-informed on such matters, inquired.
Hodge nodded. "Yes, he and his team will be responsible for controlling and decontaminating the infection site and analyzing the strain."
Everyone knew that some things were better left unsaid in mixed company, so they were all cautious with their words.
Sensing the silence, Emily took the initiative to change the subject. "So, what's our current strategy?"
"What about potential large-scale targets like airports, malls, bus stations? How do we handle those?"
"Information lockdown. Strict confidentiality with the media," Hodge responded, indicating that there would be no public action taken.
"We're not informing the public?" Emily's eyes widened in disbelief.
"This is Maryland," Jack explained on Hodge's behalf.
Many might not be familiar with Annapolis, but all that mattered was knowing it was only 50 kilometers from Washington, D.C.—a mere short drive away.
The threat posed by dispersing dry anthrax spores was far greater than the 2001 anthrax letter attacks. If the media were to report on this, it would likely trigger a mass exodus from the surrounding areas.
That, in turn, would almost certainly lead to riots and looting, with casualties potentially far exceeding those from the initial bioterrorist attack.
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