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“So it’s not a cure, and we still don’t know if it prevents infection,” Blackmon said. “Can we test it on lab animals? See if it really does inoculate them?”

Murray shook his head. “The crawlers only survive in humans, Madam President. We don’t know why. They don’t even survive in primates.”

Blackmon nodded. She fell silent, stared off.

Murray waited. He already knew what she was going to ask.

She looked at him. “The SEALs on the Coronado took the inoculant yesterday, did they not?”

Murray nodded.

Blackmon sighed. Murray had seen that before, too — a leader’s reluctant acceptance that he or she had to put someone directly in the line of fire.

“We need a volunteer,” she said. “Get one of those SEALs to Black Manitou, inject him with the crawlers. We have to know for sure if this actually works.”

She wasn’t f.u.c.king around. But to directly expose a serviceman to that risk … the soldier Murray had once been bristled at the thought.

“Madam President, we have a little time to keep testing the—”

“Now, Director Longworth. We’ve already turned a huge sector of our economy over to making the inoculant. If it doesn’t work, then we have to put all resources behind Doctor Montoya’s hydra theory.”

Murray nodded again. The president was right, of course — protecting a single soldier wasn’t worth the wait. Four sunken navy s.h.i.+ps and over a thousand dead sailors were ample enough evidence for that.

“I’ll take care of it, Madam President.”

“Thank you, Director Longworth.”

He’d been dismissed. He left the Oval Office.

The president had given him an order. Maybe one of Klimas’s men would actually volunteer. Knowing those crazy-a.s.s SEALs, they probably all would.

Murray hoped the inoculation worked.

h.e.l.l, for once, he’d even pray.

THE HANGOVER

Steve Stanton threw up. Again. At least this time he’d made it to the toilet.

When his stomach finally relaxed, he slumped down on his b.u.t.t. He wondered how much dried urine from hotel residents past he was now sitting in.

It wasn’t the first time he’d gone drinking, but he’d never partied that hard before. Now, he was paying the price.

His head pounded so bad it hurt to move. His throat felt sore. His body ached.

Becky had left a few hours earlier. Sometime around noon, if he remembered correctly. What a night.