"Levinson, Paul - Dr Phil D'Amato 02 - The Consciousness Plague 1.0" - читать интересную книгу автора (Levinson Paul)

"You know, you and I have had some differences over the years about your penchant for bizarre cases "
Yeah, tell me about it, I thought. He'd removed me from cases at least half a dozen times.
" and, even though I've been a sceptic, I was talking to the commissioner the other day, and he thinks that there's no such thing as being over-prepared these days. He'd like you to head up a special strange-cases readiness task force you know, just to be there, with some possible plans in the waiting, if something really wacky crops up." He bulldozed his throat again, then went into a coughing spasm. He pulled a bottle of Poland Spring water out of his desk and guzzled half of it down. "So, what do you think?" he finally managed to say.

JENNA SIPPED A glass of plum wine and smiled at me that evening. "I know, you hate committees," she said.
I leaned back on the sofa in our living room. "I've always accomplished more as a lone wolf," I replied. "I've seen loads of these task forces come and go. Usually all they do is mark time and eat up energy."
"But you told Dugan you'd think about it," Jenna said.
"Yeah. I suppose it could be good to finally have some people working under me. And some resources.... That would be an improvement on having to always go the Department on bended knee."
"You think there's some threat we don't know about that makes them want to do this right now?" Jenna asked. She patted her denim jeans.
I scowled. "They wouldn't recognize something bizarre if it smiled in their faces they'd say it was a hoax, and do their best to bury the evidence."
Jenna coughed. "Well, this damned cold or pseudo-flu or whatever it is certainly seems to be getting out of hand. My sister told me everyone in San Francisco is out sick with it."
"Let's hope she didn't give it to you over the phone." I reached over and refilled her glass.

I CALLED DUGAN two days later to accept the offer.
"He's home sick with that bug," his secretary, Sheila, told me. "Both he and the commissioner," she added. "Got them both. Looks like the Department will be run by the secretaries for the next few days!" She chuckled.
"No different than usual," I responded in kind.
Now she laughed out loud. "Shhh, Dr. D'Amato. Don't you give away our secret, now!"
"It's safe with me, don't worry."

I WAS DOWN in Chinatown a few days later on a boring case. But it wasn't a total loss I loved the crush of people and textures and fruit stands. I used the opportunity to replenish my supply of green tea and persimmons.
"Anything more?" the woman at the stand inquired, in a lilting voice. She was hardly more than a girl, with a very sweet face.
I shook my head no, and gave her a twenty.
She gave me two paper bags, my change, and started coughing her head off.
That reminded me to put in another call to Dugan.
"Good timing," Sheila's voice crackled through my cell phone, "He came back, fit as a fiddle, just this morning."
The sun was close to setting on this crisp March afternoon, and I was finished with my business in Chinatown, so I decided to hail a cab and go over to Dugan's office. It could be useful for me to see the expression on his face when I accepted his offer see if there was any true pleasure there.
The traffic was worse than usual. I counted two water mains broken, and three potholes the size of basketballs.
Sheila was gone when I finally arrived. But Jack was still in his office.
"So, I see you're feeling better," I said, and took Jack's extended hand.
"I feel like a million bucks now," Jack said. "How you'd know ... Oh, I guess Sheila told you I was sick?"
"Right "
"I tell ya, this was a nasty one. I tried to fight it on my own as best I could I hate taking antibiotics and those new flu medications but it got to the point where I was up all night coughing. The commissioner was pretty sick, too he picked it up from me, I picked it up from him, who knows? but his doctor told him about some new antibiotic or something, ninety-five percent guaranteed not to upset the stomach. That stuff gives me the runs, you know "
"Yeah "
"So anyway." Dugan gestured to the available chair. "Have a seat, Phil. What brings you to this exalted office?"
"Well, I've decided to accept your offer," I replied.
"My offer?" Dugan looked puzzled.
"Yeah, you know, what you told me last week, about the task force."
Dugan looked at me as if I were putting him on, or confusing him with someone else. "I haven't the vaguest idea what you're talking about."

I HAD LUNCH the following week with a friend who was up from the Centers for Disease Control in Atlanta. "The thing is, I think Dugan was completely sincere about not remembering our conversation," I said, as I sipped the last of my tea.
I had told Andy Weinberg what had happened in Dugan's office. Andy was in New York for a conference about the flu or whatever it was that was making everybody cough. Jenna had it full-throttle now. I was beginning to feel a tickle in my own throat but, who knows, maybe that was just the power of suggestion.
"You sure?" Andy responded. "You've been telling me for years how the Department supports you one day, acts like they have no faith in you the next you sure this isn't just more of the same? Hell, I've been telling you for years that a forensic detective with your verve would be much happier down in Atlanta, haven't I?"
"Yeah, but I like New York, even this cold weather in March."
Andy shook his head in resignation. "Well, at least you seem to be holding your own against this new bug. Better than I can say had me sick as a dog last month."
"Any chance it could cause some kind of memory loss?"
"Nah, not very likely," Andy answered. "It's some kind of flu definitely nothing worse. We haven't quite figured out the exact strain. It's popping up all across the country which means it's almost certainly a natural occurrence, not a biowarfare hit, thank God. But it can open the gate to bronchitis and pneumonia, like any flu that's what we're concerned about. Of course, antibiotics can take care of the lung and bronchial infections if they're bacterial, and the drugs are taken in time. But no, I've never heard of any flu-induced amnesia."
"Strange things, those flu bugs," I mused. "Killed millions in 1917, with no antibiotics for the complications. These days when you get it, you just feel like you're going to die. And not everybody gets it. Some people get it every year, some get it every two or three or four years, and some hardly ever at all. With no rhyme or reason to the pattern."
"Tell me about it," Andy said. "Even the worst epidemics knock out ten to twenty percent of the population at most. Very destructive to business and social life, obviously and potentially deadly to old people, anyone with a compromised immune system but still, how come the other eighty percent get a free pass? And meanwhile, the new meds are apparently effective in stopping or diminishing the flu for eighty to ninety percent of the cases treated. Damn it, I was in that noneffective percentage I took the inhalant less than a day after I first felt the fever, right in the prescribed time range, and I was still out of commission for a good ten days."
"It didn't do much for Jenna, either," I said. "She took the pill, made her sick to her stomach, but here it is almost a week later and she's still laid up and coughing." I looked at my watch. "I better get home now and feed her a little chicken soup." I signaled our waiter for the check.
Andy looked at me with a twinkle in his eye. "Jenna? Who's she?"