cpatricia.unnaturalexposure-第45部分

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st　traffic　was　forty　miles　away　in　this　Home　of　the　Mustangs；　as　the　base　was　called；　with　its　ammunition　bunkers；　weapons　from　World　War　II　and　air　space　restricted　and　vast。　There　were　traces　of　salt　from　receding　ancient　waters；　and　we　spotted　an　antelope　and　an　eagle。
　Stark　Road；　aptly　named；　led　us　toward　the　test　facilities；　which　were　some　ten　miles　from　the　living　area　on　base。　The　Ditto　diner　was　on　the　way；　and　we　stopped　long　enough　for　coffee　and　egg　sandwiches。　Then　it　was　on　to　the　test　facilities；　which　were　clustered　in　large；　modern　buildings　behind　a　fence　topped　with　razor　wire。
　Warning　signs　were　everywhere；　promising　that　trespassers　were　unwele　and　deadly　force　used。　Codes　on　buildings　indicated　what　was　inside　them；　and　I　recognized　symbols　for　mustard　gas　and　nerve　agents；　and　those　for　Ebola；　Anthrax　and　Hantavirus。　Walls　were　concrete；　the　private　told　us；　and　two　feet　thick；　refrigerators　inside　explosion…proof。　The　routine　was　not　so　different　from　what　I　had　experienced　before。　Guards　led　us　through　the　toxic　containment　facilities；　and　Lucy　and　I　went　into　the　women's　changing　room　while　Gallwey　went　into　the　men's。
　We　stripped　and　put　on　house　clothes　that　were　Army　green；　and　over　these　went　suits；　which　were　camouflage　with　goggled　hoods；　and　heavy　black　rubber　gloves　and　boots。　Like　the　blue　suits　at　CDC　and　USAMRIID；　these　were　attached　to　air　lines　inside　the　chamber；　which　in　this　case　was　stainless　steel　from　ceiling　to　floor。　It　was　a　pletely　closed　system　with　double　carbon　filters；　where　contaminated　vehicles　like　tanks　could　be　bombarded　with　chemical　agents　and　vapors。　We　were　assured　we　could　work　here　as　long　as　we　needed　without　placing　anyone　at　risk。
　It　might　even　be　possible　that　some　evidence　could　be　decontaminated　and　saved。　But　it　was　hard　to　say。　None　of　us　had　ever　worked　a　case　like　this　before。　We　started　by　propping　open　the　camper's　door　and　arranging　lights　directed　inside。　It　was　peculiar　moving　around；　the　steel　floor　warping　loudly　like　saw　blades　as　we　walked。　Above　us；　an　Army　scientist　sat　in　the　control　room　behind　glass；　monitoring　everything　we　did。
　Again；　I　went　in　first　because　I　wanted　to　thoroughly　survey　the　crime　scene。　Gallwey　began　photographing　tool　marks　on　the　door　and　dusting　for　fingerprints；　while　I　climbed　inside　and　looked　around　as　if　I　had　never　been　there　before。　The　small　living　area　that　normally　would　have　contained　a　couch　and　table　had　been　gutted　and　turned　into　a　laboratory　with　sophisticated　equipment　that　was　neither　new　nor　cheap。
　The　rabbit　was　still　alive；　and　I　fed　him　and　set　his　cage　on　top　of　a　counter　neatly　built　of　plywood　and　painted　black。　Beneath　it　was　a　refrigerator；　and　in　it　I　found　Vero　and　human　embryonic　lung　fibroblast　cells。　They　were　tissue　cultures　routinely　used　for　feeding　poxviruses；　just　as　fertilizers　are　used　for　certain　plants。　To　maintain　these　cultures；　the　mad　farmer　of　this　mobile　lab　had　a　good　supply　of　Eagle　minimal　essential　medium；　supplemented　with　ten　percent　fetal　calf　serum。　This　and　the　rabbit　told　me　that　deadoc　was　doing　more　than　maintaining　his　virus；　he　was　still　in　the　process　of　propagating　it　when　disaster　had　struck。
　He　had　kept　the　virus　in　a　liquid　nitrogen　freezer　that　did　not　need　to　be　plugged　in；　but　refilled　every　few　months。　It　looked　like　a　ten…gallon　stainless　steel　thermos；　and　when　I　unscrewed　the　lid；　I　pulled　out　seven　cryotubes　so　old　that　instead　of　plastic；　they　were　made　of　glass。　Codes　that　should　have　identified　the　disease　were　unlike　anything　I'd　ever　seen；　but　there　was　a　date　of　1978；　and　the　location　of　Birmingham；　England；　tiny　abbreviations　written　in　black　ink；　neatly；　and　in　lowercase。　I　returned　the　tubes　of　living；　frozen　horror　to　their　frigid　place；　and　rooted　around　more；　finding　twenty　sample　sizes　of　Vita　facial　spray；　and　tuberculin　syringes　that　the　killer；　no　doubt；　had　used　to　inoculate　the　canisters　with　the　disease。
　Of　course；　there　were　pipettes　and　rubber　bulbs；　petri　dishes；　and　the　flasks　with　screw　caps　where　the　virus　was　actually　growing。　The　medium　inside　them　was　pink。　Had　it　begun　to　turn　pale　yellow；　the　PH　balance　would　indicate　waste　products；　acidity；　meaning　the　virus…laden　cells　had　not　been　bathed　in　their　nutrient…rich　tissue　culture　medium　in　a　while。
　I　remembered　enough　from　medical　school　and　my　training　as　a　pathologist　to　know　that　when　propagating　a　virus；　the　cells　must　be　fed。　This　is　done　with　the　pink　culture　medium；　which　must　be　aspirated　off　every　few　days　with　a　pipette；　when　the　nutrients　have　been　replaced　by　waste。　For　the　medium　still　to　be　pink　meant　this　had　been　done　recently；　at　least　within　the　last　four　days。　Deadoc　was　meticulous。　He　had　cultivated　death　with　love　and　care。　Yet　there　were　two　flasks　broken　on　the　floor；　perhaps　due　to　an　infected　rabbit　hopping　about；　somehow　accidentally　out　of　its　cage。　I　did　not　sense　suicide　here；　but　an　unforeseen　catastrophe　that　had　caused　deadoc　to　run。
　Slowly；　I　moved　around　some　more；　through　the　kitchen；　where　a　single　bowl　and　fork　had　been　washed　and　neatly　left　to　dry　on　a　dish　towel　by　the　sink。　Cupboards　were　orderly；　too；　with　rows　of　simple　spices；　boxes　of　cereal　and　rice　and　cans　of　vegetable　soup。　In　the　refrigerator　was　skim　milk；　apple　juice；　onions　and　carrots；　but　no　meat。　I　closed　the　door　as　my　mystification　grew。　Who　was　he？　What　did　he　do　in　this　camper　day　after　day　besides　make　his　viral　bombs？　Did　he　watch　TV？　Did　he　read？
　I　began　to　look　for　clothes；　pulling　open　drawers　with　no　luck。　If　this　man　had　spent　a　lot　of　time　here；　why　had　he　nothing　to　wear　except　what　he　had　on？　Why　no　photographs　or　personal　mementoes？　What　about　books；　catalogues　for　ordering　cell　lines；　tissue　cultures；　reference　material　for　infectious　diseases？　Most　obvious　of　all；　what　had　happened　to　the　vehicle　that　had　towed　this？　Who　had　driven　off　in　it　and　when？
　I　stayed　in　the　bedroom　longer；　the　carpet　black　from　blood　that　had　been　tracked　through　other　rooms　when　we　had　removed　the　body。　I　could　not　smell　or　hear　anything　but　air　circulating　in　my　suit　as　I　paused　to　change　my　four…hour　battery。　This　room；　like　the　rest　of　the　camper；　was　generic；　and　I　pulled　back　the　flower…printed　spread；　discovering　the　pillow　and　sheets　on　one　side　were　wrinkled　from　having　been　slept　on。　I　found　one　short　gray　hair；　and　collected　it　with　forceps　as　I　remembered　that　the　dead　man's　hair　was　longer　and　black。
　A　print　of　a　seaside　on　the　wall　was　cheap；　and　I　took　it　down　to　see　if　I　could　tell　where　it　had　been　framed。　I　tried　the　love　seat　beneath　a　window　on　the　other　side　of　the　bed。　It　was　covered　in　bright　green　vinyl；　and　on　top　was　a　cactus　plant　that　had　to　be　the　only　thing　alive　in　the　camper　except　for　what　was　in　the　cage；　the　incubator　and　the　freezer。　I　stirred　the　soil　with　my　finger　and　it　was　not　too　dry；　then　I　placed　it　on　the　carpet　and　opened　up　the　love　seat。
　Based　on　cobwebs　and　dust；　no　one　had　been　inside　in　many　years；　and　I　sifted　through　a　rubber　cat　toy；　a　faded　blue　hat　and　a　chewed…on　corncob　pipe。　I　did　not　sense　that　any　of　this　belonged　to　the　person　who　lived　here　now；　or　had　even　been　noticed　by　him。　I　wondered　if　the　camper　had　been　used　or　in　the　family；　and　got　down　on　my　hands　and　knees　and　crawled　around　until　I　found　the　shot　shell　and　the　wad。　These；　too；　I　sealed　inside　an　evidence　bag。
　Lucy　was　just　sitting　down　at　the　laptop　puter　when　I　returned　to　the　laboratory　area。
　'Screen　saver　password；'　she　said　into　her　voice…activated　microphone。
　'I　was　hoping　you'd　get　something　difficult；'　I　said。
　She　was　already　rebooting　and　going　into　DOS。　Knowing　her；　she　would　have　that　password　removed　in　minutes；　as　I'　d　seen　her　do　before。
　'Kay；'　Gallwey's　voice　sounded　inside　my　hood。　'Got　something　good　out　here。'
　I　went　down　the　steps；　careful　to　keep　my　air　line　from　tangling。　He　was　in　front　of　the　camper；　squatting　by　the　area　of　the　tongue　where　the　VIN　had　been　obliterated。　Having　polished　the　metal　mirror…smooth　with　fine　grit　sandpaper；　he　was　now　applying　a　solution　of　copper　chloride　and　hydrochloric　acid　to　dissolve　scarred　metal　and　restore　the　deeply　stamped　number　underneath　that　the　killer　thought　he　had　filed　away。
　'People　don't　realize　how　difficult　it　is　to　get　rid　of　one　of　these　things；'　his　voice　filled　my　ears。
　'Unless　they're　professional　car　thieves。'　I　said。
　'Well；　whoever　did　this　didn't　do　a　very　good　job。'　He　was　taking　photographs。　'I　think　we　got　it。'
　'Let's　hope　the　camper's　registered；'　I　said。
　'Who　knows？　Maybe　we'll　get　lucky。'
　'What　about　prints？'
　The　door　and　aluminum　around　it　were　smudged　with　black　dusting　powder。
　'Some；　but　God　knows　whose；'　he　said　getting　up　and　straightening　his　back。　'In　a　minute；　I'll　tear　up　the　inside。'
　Meanwhile；　Lucy　was　tearing　up　the　puter；　and　like　me；　not　ing　up　with　anything　that　might　tell　us　who　deadoc　was。　But　she　did　find　files　he　had　saved　of　our　conversations　in　the　chat　rooms；　and　it　was　chilling　to　see　them　on　screen；　and　wonder　how　often　he　had　reread　them。　There　were　detailed　lab　notes　documenting　the　propagation　of　the　virus　cells；　and　this　was　interesting。　It　appeared　work　had　begun　as　recently　as　early　in　the　fall；　less　than　two　months　before　the　torso　had　turned　up。
　By　late　afternoon；　we　had　done　all　we　could　do　with　no　startling　revelations。　We　took　chemical　showers　as　the　camper　was　blasted　with　formalin　gas。　I　stayed　in　my　army…green　house　clothes　because　I　did　not　want　my　suit　after　what　it　had　been　through。
　'Kind　of　hell　on　your　wardrobe；'　Lucy　mented　as　we　left　the　changing　room。　'Maybe　you　should　try　pearls　with　that。　Dress　it　up　a　little。'
　'Sometimes　you　sound　like　Marino；'　I　said。
　
　Days　crept　into　the　weekend；　and　next　I　knew　that　was　gone　too　with　no　developments　that　were　anything　but　maddening。　I　had　missed　my　mother's　birthday。　Not　once　had　it　crossed　my　mind。
　'What？　You　got　Alzheimer's　now？'　she　unkindly　told　me　over　the　phone。　'You　don't　e　down　here。　Now　you　don't　even　bother　to　call。　It's　not　like　I'm　getting　younger。'
　She　began　to　cry；　and　I　felt　like　it。
　'Christmas；'　I　said　what　I　did　every　year。　'I'll　work　something　out。　I'll　bring　Luc