She could feel her arm tremble slightly as she picked up the phone again. Isabel would have been fit for Evan Hunter. She would have chewed him up and spat him out. It was time to embrace some of her sister’s personality traits.
“Evan?”
“What on earth were you doing? When I call I expect—”
She cut him off straight away. “What have I been doing? What have I been doing? I’ve just been getting my smallpox vaccination and I’ve just inoculated another member of staff. I’ve been assessing our most up-to-date information to determine whether or not this is a terrorist attack.” She glanced at the clock. “Information I wasn’t due to present to you for another eight minutes. And, incidentally, my professional opinion is that it’s not.
“I’ve also been trying to keep the staff and patients here calm and informed about what’s going on. I’m trying to find out how Callum is but no one will tell me anything. I’m having problems with the containment facility. We can’t make all the contacts for the plane passengers.” She was starting to count things off on her fingers.
“We’re just about to vaccinate those exposed—but we have a pregnant nurse to consider. Oh, and Sawyer is driving me crazy.” She took a deep breath. “So, how’s your day going, Evan?” She couldn’t help it. The more she spoke, the more she felt swamped, the more she felt angry that Callum wasn’t at her side. The more she realized that Evan Hunter, boss or not, should be doing more to help her, not adding to the problems.
The silence at the end of the phone was deafening. Her heart rate quickened. Had she just got herself sacked?
No. How could he? Not when she was in the middle of all this.
She heard him clear his throat. “Point made.”
She was shocked. “What?”
“Point made, Callie. What do you need?”
For a second she couldn’t speak. What did she need? Apart from getting out of here?
“I need you to take over the plane contacts. We’ve got three hundred passengers and only contact details for seventy-six. I also need you to take over the viable threat assessment for these people as our details are sketchy. I’ll get one of the contact tracers and epidemiologists to conference-call you.” Isabel used to quote the English expression “In for a penny, in for a pound” before she took a risk. Somehow, it seemed apt.
“Fine. I can do that. Anything else?”
She felt like a girl in a fancy department store on a fifty percent sale day. But nothing else screamed out at her. “Can you magic me up some pediatric ICU facilities?”
“That might be a little tricky.”
“Didn’t think so. Never mind. I’ll let you know if I need anything else. When can I expect to hear from the lab?”
“That’s what I wanted to tell you.”
Oops. She almost felt bad for being snarky with him.
“The samples have been received and are being processed. It’s only been a couple of hours. In another ten we should be able to tell you which virus type it is. That will give us something to work with.”
She nodded as she scribbled notes. “That’s great.”
“And, Callie?”
“Yes?” This was it. This was where he blasted her for the way she’d just spoken to him.
“Leave Sawyer to me. I’m going to try and find out where he’s been and what he’s been doing these last few years. Let him know who’s in charge. Only use him if you have to. He’s not part of the DPA anymore.”
She could feel the steel in his words and instantly regretted her outburst that Sawyer was driving her crazy. “He’s actually been quite helpful. He’s just a little...” she struggled to think of the word “...inconsistent. One minute he’s helping, the next he looks as if he could jump out the nearest window.” She looked over at the window next to her. The sun was splitting the sky outside. She almost felt like jumping out the window herself and heading for the nearest beach. Chicago had good beaches, didn’t it?
Her stomach rumbled loudly. What she wouldn’t give for pizza right now.
Evan was still talking.
“Sorry, what?”
“I asked if you wanted another doctor sent in.”
“No. Not right now. If things progress, then probably yes. But let’s wait until we have the lab results. You’re dealing with plane passengers and hopefully things are contained at our end.”
Her brain started to whirr. She couldn’t really understand why, in the midst of all this, part of his focus was on Sawyer. Surely Evan should just be grateful that she had any help at all? No matter how reluctant.
She rang off and stared at the phone. Her stomach rumbled again loudly. She didn’t have time to figure that out right now.
Along with many other things, it would have to wait.
CHAPTER FOUR
“SAWYER? ARE YOU in here?” Callie stuck her head around the door into the darkened room. It was three a.m. and she could make out a heap bundled against the far wall, lying on a gurney.
The heap moved and groaned at her. “What?” He sat up and rubbed his eyes.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” she whispered, searching the room for any other sleeping bodies. “Have you just got your head down?”
He swung his legs off the gurney and stood up, swaying a little. She walked across the room and put her arm on his. “I’m sorry, Sawyer. I didn’t realize you were sleeping.”
“I wasn’t,” he snapped.
She smiled at him. “Yes, you obviously were.”
“What’s wrong? Did something happen to the kids?” It was almost as if his brain had just engaged.
She tightened her grip on his arm. “No. I’m sorry. Nothing’s changed. The kids are still pretty sick. Laura, one of the DPA nurses, is in with them now. I’ve kept Alison away, just like you said. She’s still down at the other end of the corridor in a room on her own.” She held up a paper bag and waved it under his nose. “She’s doing a great job, by the way. She got me banana and toffee muffins.”
“Oh, okay.” The words took a few seconds to sink in then he scowled at her. “What is it, then?”
“It’s Max Simpson, the chief of staff. It’s three a.m. and I’ve just realized I haven’t seen him yet. I’ve been so busy with things down here.”
She could see the realization appear in his eyes. He grimaced.
“What is it?”
“Yeah. I meant to speak to you about Max too. I sort of made an executive decision there.”
“You did what?” She was on edge again. What had he done now? He’d already broken protocol once. Had he done it again?
He shook his head. “I’m sorry, Callie, I meant to talk to you earlier. Max is the reason I’m here.”
“What are you talking about? I don’t understand.”
“Max has prostate cancer. He’s undergoing chemotherapy—midway through a course. He’s immuno-compromised. So I told him he can’t be anywhere the possible threat of infection and he can’t be near anyone we immunize—including us.”
The words struck home. For a second she’d thought he was going to say something unreasonable—something to get her back up. Instead, Callie felt the tenseness ease out of her muscles. Another piece of the jigsaw.
“So, what? You’re covering for him right now?”
She could see the hesitation on his face. “Yes, I guess I am. Max was a real hands-on sort of guy. He dropped out of his clinical commitments a couple of months ago and has just been doing a few days’ office work a week. He wants to keep his hand in during his treatment but couldn’t manage any more. I was only supposed to be here for two weeks, covering someone’s vacation leave. But I met Max, he liked me and asked me to stay and cover his clinical work in the E.R. for a few months.”
She was trying to read behind the lines. Trying to understand
the things that he wasn’t telling her. She couldn’t work this guy out at all.
Matt Sawyer’s reputation had preceded him. Apparently when his wife had died, he’d had the mother of all temper tantrums, telling everyone around him what he really thought of them. She could only imagine that Evan Hunter had been one of them.
But here he was describing how he was helping out a sick colleague. Someone he’d only met a few months ago.
Was it just everyone at the DPA he hated? Did he blame them for his wife’s death?
She could see him searching her face. Was he worried that she would be unhappy for him not putting her in the picture before now? Or was he worried she would actually see his human side? The side he’d tried to hide from her when he’d said his help had been a one-off event.
She wrinkled her nose at him. It was late and she was getting tired. Her defenses were weakening as she approached that hideous hour in the middle of the night when her body was screaming for her bed.
“I don’t get you, Matt Sawyer,” she whispered.
“What don’t you get?” He took a step closer. The lights in the room were still out and the only light was from the corridor outside, sending a warm, comfortable glow over them both. He’d changed into the regulation DPA pale pink scrubs. Pink on a man. Whose idea had that been? He made them look good, though. Kind of inviting.