“Dr. Randolph, I’m aware your jet was rerouted to McCarran. I’m also aware you were waylaid by the Secret Service.”
“How did you—?”
She waved her arm. “This is my town. I know everything. Almost.”
“Mrs. Mayor, I didn’t say anything to the president that would warrant this. In fact, it was just the opposite. Even my boss had a—”
The elderly woman waved her arm and dismissed Harper’s statement. “I know. I had a conversation with our governor last night as soon as I received word of what was happening. He was my first call. I swear, he was in his cups.”
Harper laughed. It was a phrase Ma and Mimi used often when referring to one of their acquaintances who’d had consumed too much alcohol.
The mayor continued. “Plus, he was swearing repeatedly in an attempt to intimidate me. Woolie knows that doesn’t work. It’s another sign of his stupidity.”
Harper asked, “Did he say that his decision to quarantine downtown was because of me?”
“Not specifically. Frankly, the more he talked, the more he drank. I could hear him on the phone. Plus, he’s overweight. He was breathing heavily as if a half-gallon of scotch was resting on his belly. His lips got loose, eventually.”
“So, he admitted there was no immediate cause to call in the National Guard,” said Harper.
“Yes and no, not that it matters at this point. The bottom line is he knows he might have to pull back. The local media is losing its mind over this. The Sun and the Review Journal had camped out at my house before I hung up the phone with the governor. News networks have been staking out my office all night. It’s kind of funny, actually. Nobody knows I’m here, and in a way, it’s a comforting feeling.”
A light tapping at the glass doors interrupted the conversation, and Becker poked her head in. “I’ve got your drinks and cake pops for everyone, if you’d like.”
Dr. Boychuck’s tired eyes lit up like a child’s. “Yes. Yes. Yes. The cake pops are to die for.” The lollipop-style cake on a stick was a Starbucks staple on their menu.
Becker distributed the drinks and provided Dr. Boychuck his chocolate cake pop with baby blue icing. He sat down and enjoyed it while the two women talked.
Mrs. Mayor sipped on her skinny vanilla latte as she leaned forward on his desk and asked, “I need to know. Am I making a mistake lifting this quarantine? Am I at risk of unleashing a disease like that coronavirus on my city? That almost destroyed our economy.”
Harper reached out to retrieve a dirt-scuffed baseball bearing the old Las Vegas 51s logo. The minor league team had changed its name to the Aviators when they became a major league franchise a few years prior after the Miami Marlins fled their tepid fan base.
“Mrs. Mayor, we’re barely through the first inning of a nine-inning baseball game. We have so many unanswered questions about this unknown virus. I mean, will a self-quarantine or lockdown order be appropriate at some point? Yes. But last night’s action only served to make our job more difficult. Now anyone who happened to be on Fremont Street, not just the Gold Palace, will get a tickle in their throat. Or perhaps they’ll get flushed. Or even feel sleepy from normal fatigue. They’ll be flooding your emergency rooms out of fear.”
“It’s already happening,” the mayor added. “Just before I arrived here, I received a call from our Emergency Operations Center. Ambulances can’t keep up with the false alarm calls. The hospitals have asked for police security to prevent overcrowding at their emergency rooms and admissions desks.”
Dr. Boychuck interrupted. “Yes. Yes. Yes. They will never forget 2020.”
“Right,” added the mayor. “I can’t blame them, which is why I’m asking you these questions. Do I need to put protective measures in place to avoid a repeat of COVID-19?”
Harper thought for a moment. This was not her call to make without speaking to Dr. Reitherman, especially at this early juncture. “I think you should have your first responders and medical facilities prepared to take on new cases. I don’t believe last night’s actions were necessary. And, as I said, it will make our jobs more difficult now. The CDC’s resources don’t allow for chasing down thousands of leads. Besides that, it was counterproductive. People have scattered all around Clark County and the country at this point.”
The mayor continued her questioning. “These first cases. The four gentlemen from China. Did they bring the disease over here with them? I mean, this is a China virus like COVID, right?”
“I won’t know for sure until I identify patient zero. If I can identify the source, the first patient, then we can establish control and prevention protocols.”
“Well, is somebody in the process of doing that?”
Harper hesitated. The mayor, like other political leaders, wouldn’t accept not yet as an answer for much longer. Impatience would soon turn into demands.
“It requires meticulous and arduous detective work. We have to go from case to case to establish where the disease made its first appearance. I believe the answer lies in China. Not just because so many diseases begin there, but because these four men, our first known victims to the disease, traveled from there together.”
Mrs. Mayor leaned back in the chair. “What do the Chinese say?”
“Nothing. The CDC has reached out to the World Health Organization and also the Chinese version of the CDC. They deny any knowledge of the disease.”
The mayor furrowed her brow and leaned with both elbows on the desk. She pointed a wrinkled, bony finger toward Harper. “You don’t believe them, do you?”
“No, ma’am, I don’t. For one thing, Asia and China, in particular, are hotspots for novel diseases. It’s not a big mystery as to why. They have large, concentrated population centers. Their citizens are used to being in close contact with a wide variety of animal species, and let’s face it, at least in some areas, their hygiene is not on par with Western nations.”
“They’ve blocked your inquiries?” she asked.
“Yes, thus far. China is notorious for its misinformation, secrecy, and, of course, censorship. Dissidents are dealt with swiftly and harshly. It’s a communist state in which secrecy is assured through government threats. Information is manipulated by state-run media.”
“If they won’t cooperate, how will you determine the origin of this disease?” she asked.
Harper closed her eyes and provided the response she’d given others. “All I can say is the answers are in China.”
Chapter Fourteen
Soho Lofts
South Las Vegas Blvd. and East Charleston Blvd.
Las Vegas, Nevada
Harper was prepared to answer as many questions as the mayor asked, but she’d already received two phone calls, a voicemail, and half a dozen text messages from Dr. Reitherman. Her cell phone kept buzzing in the rear pocket of her jeans; however neither the eightyish mayor nor Dr. Boychuck, whom she presumed to be in his late sixties, seemed to notice.
Finally, after yet another text message, this time from Becker, Harper stood and excused herself under the pretense she needed to use the restroom. She slowly shut the doors behind her and sought out Becker, who was huddled around the television with the rest of the CDC team.