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Friday, February 5, 2021, 8:30 AM Eastern Standard Time

Kathleen was looking at the official weekly virus numbers from the White House Virus Task Force on her laptop, and she suddenly got a strange feeling.

“Hey,” she called out of her office to a masked man walking past, “Ari, can you take a look at this?” She turned the screen of her laptop toward the door.

Ari walked in and looked from a safe distance. “What am I looking at, Red?”

“It’s the virus case and death numbers for this week. You’re kind of an expert on this stuff. What do you see?”

Ari stared at the screen for a moment.

“It’s slightly less than last month,” he said.

“Yes,” she said. “And it’s declining at almost exactly the same rate as the month before that, and the month before that, and the month before that.”

“Hmm,” Ari said.

“But even I know a lot more people who have been getting the virus in the DC area. Even some friends of mine.”

“Huh. Me too.”

“Who was your guy over at the CDC?”

“Hunter Laszlo.”

“You have his number?”

“I did. I think he’s got a different job now, though.”

“Send me the contact, would you?”

“Sure.” Ari got his phone out and tapped on the screen with a finger for several seconds.

“Got it?”

Kathleen glanced over from her laptop screen. “Yes. Thank you.”

“Any time,” Ari said. “I’m going for coffee. Need anything, Red?”

She thought about it, then looked at the virus report.

“No, I’m good,” she replied, still staring at her laptop. “Can you close the door?”

“Sure,” said Ari.

Kathleen reached for her phone and pulled up the contact. Hunter Laszlo. Different job…okay, call his cell.

The phone rang several times before a bleary voice answered.

“Yeah?”

“Is this Hunter Laszlo?”

“Speaking. Who’s this?”

“Well, I’m calling from the New York Record. My name is Kathleen Kiersay. I work with Ari Melcher.”

There was a long pause at the other end of the line.

“You know I don’t work at CDC anymore.”

“No, I didn’t know. Sorry.”

“What were you calling about?”

“Just wanted to ask about the process of putting out the numbers on the virus. Do you notice something a little off about them this week?”

“I don’t work there anymore.”

“Well, is there someone at CDC who can help me out with this?”

A strange noise, something between a sniff and blurted laughter, greeted this question.

“Hunter?”

“Yeah, well, you know they have a press office. And the White House took the numbers away from CDC last summer when they started going up.”

“Yes. I was hoping to get past them to someone who knew the nuts and bolts.”

“Well, the nuts and bolts I know are old, and have been replaced. Or just unscrewed. Or screwed otherwise.” Again with the blurted laughter, if that was what it was.

Kathleen grimaced at this. Still, have to forge on.

“Well I could use some background on the general issues involved with gathering virus statistics,” Kathleen said, trying to sound like a dumb blonde in need of a smart nerdy man. “I’m kind of new at this whole thing and I didn’t study this stuff in school.” She waited to see if this would have the desired effect.

“Well my calendar seems to be clear for lunch… pretty much any day, but let’s say Monday. If you want to do this, meet me at the Starbucks in DuPont Circle at noon. We can figure out somewhere else to go.”

“Starbucks Monday at noon. DuPont. Got it.”

“Bye… Kathleen.”

She hoped he would not be the creep he appeared to be.

She hoped even more that, even if he was a creep, he would be able to tell her something of value.

I think I’ve been in this business a little too long, she thought to herself.

© 2020 Nolan O’Brian