Contagion by Robin Cook Page A

start trapping rats,” Jack said. “Start in the immediate neighborhood. The first thing to find out is if plague has infiltrated the local urban rodent population.”
         “I'd like to switch the conversation away from rats,” Kelley said. “I would like to hear about what we should do for people who had direct contact with the deceased.”
         “That's my department,” Dr. Zimmerman said. “Here's what I propose...
         While Dr. Zimmerman spoke, Clint Abelard motioned for Jack to accompany him out to the nurses' station.
         “I'm the epidemiologist,” Clint said in an angry, forced whisper.
         “I've never disputed that fact,” Jack said. He was surprised and confused by the vehemence of Clint's reaction.
         “I'm trained to investigate the origin of diseases in the human community,” he said. “It's my job. You, on the other hand, are a coroner...”
         “Correction,” Jack said. “I'm a medical examiner with training in pathology. You, as a physician, should know that.”
         “Medical examiner or coroner, I couldn't care less what term you guys use for yourselves,” Clint said.
         “Hey, but I do,” Jack said.
         “The point is that your training and your responsibility involve the dead, not the origin of disease.”
         “Wrong again,” Jack said. “We deal with the dead so that they speak to the living. Our goal is to prevent death.”
         “I don't know how to make it much plainer to you,” Clint said with exasperation. “You told us a man died of plague. We appreciate that, and we didn't interfere in your work. Now it is for me to figure out how he got it.”
         “I'm just trying to help,” Jack said.
         “Thank you, but if I need your help I'll ask for it,” Clint said and strode off toward room 707.
         Jack watched Clint's figure recede, when a commotion behind him attracted his attention. Kelley had emerged from the utility room and was immediately besieged by the people he'd been speaking with earlier.
         Jack was impressed by how quickly his plastic smile returned and with what ease he sidestepped all questions.
         Within seconds, he was on his way down the hall toward the elevators and the safety of the administrative offices.
         Dr. Zimmerman and Dr. Wainwright stepped out of the utility room deep in conversation. When Kathy McBane appeared, she was alone. Jack intercepted her.
         “Sorry to have been the bearer of bad news,” Jack offered.
         “Don't be sorry,” Kathy said. “From my point of view, we owe you a vote of thanks.”
         “Well, it's an unfortunate problem,” Jack said.
         “I'd guess it's the worst since I've been on the Infection Control Committee,” she said. “I thought last year's outbreak of hepatitis B was bad. I never dreamed we'd ever see plague.”
         “What is the Manhattan General's experience in regard to nosocomial infections?” Jack asked.
         Kathy shrugged. “Pretty much the equivalent of any large tertiary-care hospital,” she said. “We've had our methicillin-resistant staph. Of course, that's an ongoing problem. We even had klebsiella growing in a canister of surgical scrub soap a year ago. That resulted in a whole series of postoperative wound infections until it was discovered.”
         “How about pneumonias?” Jack asked. “Like this case.”
         “Oh, yeah, we've had our share of them too,” Kathy said with a sigh. “Mostly it's been pseudomonas, but two years ago we had an outbreak of Legionella.”
         “I hadn't heard about that,” Jack said.
         “It was kept quiet,” Kathy said. “Luckily no one died. Of course, I can't say that about the problem we had just five months ago in the surgical intensive care. We lost three patients to enterobacterial pneumonia. We had to close the unit until it was discovered that some of our