Page 11 of Deadly Strain

“What’s wrong?” she asked Rasker.

He came to a skidding stop in front of her and said, “One of the members of the discovery patrol is sick.”

One word. That was all it took, one word to flood her system with enough adrenaline to make her hands shake. “Definesick.”

“Sweating, fever, and coughing up blood.”

Grace’s chest seized as everything inside her came to a sudden stop.Holy shit. “Are lesions visible?”

“No.” His tone said,not yet.

“Where is he?”

Rasker led her and Sharp, and they picked up Leonard as they passed the communication post, past a couple of houses to a man in a face mask sitting on a rock. He was coughing, and when she got close, she could see a fine spray of blood on the inside of his face plate. He looked up as she came to a stop and crouched in front of him.

It was the American patrol leader. The first one to find the dead. He’d gone inside two houses before putting on his breathing gear.

“Is your anthrax vaccine up-to-date?” she asked him.

He nodded and coughed again. More blood dotted the clear plastic.

“Is that what I’ve got, Doc?” he asked. “Anthrax?”

“Possibly. I’m not one hundred percent sure yet.” She put a hand on his arm. “But I’m going to find out.”

She turned to Leonard. “I want a tent set up at least one hundred yards away from the village and those cows. Then haveallthe members of the discovery patrol brought together so we can watch them for signs of disease.” She thought hard. What was their top priority? If this was a man-made biological weapon, were these soldiers or victims?

Her job right now wasn’t to play hospital; it was to detect disease, determine which one it was, provide answers to her chain of command and assist with decontamination. After all that was done, then she could hold the hands of the recovering. Or the dying.

The Sandwich was telling her the disease was bacterial, anthrax, but the physical presentation of symptoms was off. This disease progressed faster than any strain of anthrax she had ever heard of. It killed so damn quickly, she couldn’t be certain the results were accurate.

“I need to talk to my commander,” she told Sharp. “Stay here,” she ordered the sick man, “until the medical tent is set up.”

After the soldier nodded, she turned on her heel and strode toward Bart.

“Colonel Marshall?” Sharp asked, disbelief coloring his words.

She snorted. Like she’d ever ask Marshall for advice. “No,mycommander. Colonel Maximillian.”

Sharp was silent for about three seconds, then he asked, “Is he good?”

She didn’t even have to think. “Yes.”

“Better than you?”

She nodded. “Yes.” She considered her next words very carefully. “Battling biological weapons is his life’s work. There’s no one I would rather have working with me on a case than Max.” She glanced at Sharp. “He’s the guy everyone callstheIceman.”

“Everyone calls youtheIcequeen,” Sharp told her.

“No,” Grace said. “That would be Max’s ex-wife. Coldest bitch I’ve ever met in my life.”

They reached Bart, who was talking to someone on the sat phone. He glanced at her, then at Sharp, raised an eyebrow and saluted.

Sharp shook his head.

Bart barked a “yes, sir” into the phone, then ended the call.

“Marshall?” Sharp asked.

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