Jim debarked from the airplane and went directly to the station. He had no interest in returning to an empty loft. He'd only been gone overnight, but he felt like he had lost touch with everything going on at home. The radio in the truck was suspiciously absent of news. He flipped channels, but always hit on the weather and traffic reports.

The bullpen was quiet. The only detective sitting at his desk was Fielding. He offered Jim a fleeting smile and then returned to his work. The captain's office door was closed, but Jim could see movement inside, so he went and knocked. Joel's "come in" sounded forced.

"Captain Taggart, sir. Ellison reporting in for duty," Jim announced, tongue-in-cheek, as he entered.

"Glad to see you're back." He gave a tired sigh. "Things are beginning to quiet down, but the disease lingers on."

Jim took a seat and began to fill Joel in on what he had discovered. "I don't know why the Feds are keeping the origin of this disease a secret, but secrecy is their middle name. Why would they want the hysteria of a possible terrorist action to circulate?"

"They'll never admit it, but I think they believe it will rally the populous -- you know, bring about solidarity," Joel suggested.

"That's too pat. I bet they just don't know what's going on. One area isn't communicating with the others. The police down there didn't even know about the outbreaks in Portland and Cascade."

"And this whole mess is caused by an illegally imported horse that was a birthday present? How sad." Joel shook his head wearily.

"How's Simon doing?"

"He's improving steadily. We all went in to see him this morning. He's still in critical care, but out of that negative pressure room. The doctors tell us that by tomorrow he'll be in a regular room and that may only be for a few days before he's sent home to fully convalesce."

Jim nodded. "I hate to say this, but I need to question one of the Feds."

Joel laughed. "Be careful you don't get too angry."

"I'm past getting angry -- I'm furious that this whole mess happened. It could have been avoided with proper communication. The people in Bonita knew that Glanders had swept through the Suarez farm and yet did nothing to warn others. That is inexcusable." Jim felt his teeth grind and he fought to suppress the fury.

"I agree, but don't vent all over the Fed," Joel warned.

Jim grunted. "Anything else I should know about?"

"They ended up putting down ten horses, and four people have died."

"Franklin?" Jim felt terrible that he had forgotten the trainer.

"He's not dead, but he's not doing well. Herman was around the sick horses longer than Simon. His age is also counting against him."

Jim commiserated silently for a minute then abruptly stood up. "I need to make some phone calls, then go to the track. That ought to wake someone up."

Joel laughed and shook his head. "Good luck."

Jim went back to his desk. The first person he called was Steven. He let his little brother know that he was safe and sound back in Cascade.

Next, he called Dr. Lenhard and told her what he discovered in Bonita.

She was suitably outraged. "You mean they knew all along?"

"Yep." Jim was still outraged. "While we were spinning our wheels over that boat and the drowned horses, they were putting down all the horses at the Suarez farm. Do you think killing them was necessary?"

"The old school of thought is that if the horse is diagnosed positive with Glanders, they have to be shot. But that was written before the advent of antibiotics. The Thoroughbred Association agreed with me to try treating them first. At the Suarez farm, they were dealing with federal bureaucracy. They wanted it contained and dealt with immediately, and that meant the death of the contaminated horses. At that point, they might not have even known it was Glanders."

Having been in the Army, he understood that mentality. "Could you tell me the name of the Fed in charge of the investigation?"

"I only know John Weider. He's from the CDC, but I haven't met anyone higher in the chain of command."

"Thank you, Dr. Lenhard. I'll check in with him first and see if he refers me to someone else."

Jim hung up the phone and then sorted around on his desk for any paperwork he had to complete before he left for the track. It was past three before he was able to leave. He went directly to the main gate and was stopped by the security detail stationed there. Jim showed the Guardsman his ID and the Mallein test card that he was given two days earlier.

"I only want to talk to John Weider. I have no interest in going back to the horses. If you could find me an escort, it would be appreciated." Years of command had taught Jim how to effectively demand compliance.

The guard picked up his phone and made a call. Jim waited patiently, instinctively standing at parade rest.

"I'll have a private take you to the temporary headquarters."

Jim grunted in acknowledgement as he waited. When the young man appeared, they walked through the gate and into the track. It was like a ghost town. No one was walking around, no horses were exercising on the track, just uniformed National Guardsmen patrolling the grounds. John Weider was waiting for them at the entrance to the tent.

"Detective Ellison. Please come in and have a seat."

Jim thanked him and entered the tent. "I want to have a few words with you about the Glanders investigation."

"Certainly. What is it you'd like to know?"

"I understand that when an emergency situation arises, the National Guard is normally called in, but only if they have had a day or so to mobilize. If, however, it is a true emergency, then the Army can be deployed immediately -- no delay time. Is this correct?" Jim was careful with his words, hoping to trap Weider.

"As you were Army yourself once, I'm pretty confident you know the procedures."

"Now, this outbreak in Cascade was a real emergency situation. There was no notification of other outbreaks, so how were you able to deploy the National Guard so fast? We didn't even know it was Glanders until a few hours before the soldiers arrived. There was no time. The Army should have been the ones called in." The detective sat back, waiting for Weider to understand the hole Jim had dug for him.

"I understand your loyalty to your branch--"

"That is not what I'm getting at," Jim interrupted, irritated that the man was acting deliberately dense. He'd have to spell it out for him. "I want to know why, if you had the few days to organize the National Guard, we were not notified of an impending outbreak then?"

Weider scowled as he stared at Jim. "I don't understand what you're getting at."

"The first outbreak of Glanders occurred more than two weeks ago in Bonita, California. The Army was called in, quarantined the farm, and put down all the horses. Not once did any official word come through to the law enforcement agencies that there might be an epidemic brewing."

"We didn't want a wide-spread panic on our hands."

"Bullshit. If you didn't want a panic, why was the word terrorist ever mentioned? You knew before you got here that the Glanders came from an infected South American horse that had been illegally imported into the country. All you had to do was explain this fact."

Weider's face turned purple in indignation. "It is not up to local police to dictate federal policy. We did--"

"Absolutely nothing. You let each outbreak happen independently without resources gained from the previous ones. Tell me, how many horses from Suarez's farm left and went elsewhere? You must have a record somewhere? You obviously know that they went to Santa Anita, the track in Portland, and the one here in Cascade. Where were the other horses going? What about the ones we found that had been sunk in the ocean? Did you even know about them? Where were their destinations?" Jim carefully reeled out his anger.

"I didn't know about the ones you found in the ocean."

"Why not? Not important enough? Or was it because the local cops found them? You need better communication lines, between yourselves and the local enforcement agencies. Can't you people understand this?"

"Our policy is that no one is informed unless they need to know."

"People are dead because they didn't need to know? My own captain is in the hospital recovering from your miscommunication." Jim took a deep breath, trying to regain his temper. "This outbreak may be contained now, but what about next week? What if one horse went to a breeding farm in Kentucky and from there, spreads this disease throughout the East Coast?"

"I assure you, we'll check into it. I'll get the list of horses that have left the Suarez farm and discover where every one of them was sent."

"Maybe then you can find out the owners of the four horses we've found. No one has claimed ownership and they're still sitting in the pathology department at Rainier. Something has to be done."

"Thank you, detective, for bringing all of this to my attention." He stood up as if to dismiss Jim.

"And the media?" Jim asked, keeping his seat in defiance. "You have to go on record stating that it wasn't a terrorist attack. That it was--"

"How in the hell do you know?" Weider interrupted, his face flushed in anger. "We have one old man's word that he brought the horse in under special circumstances. The Colombian who sold him the horse may have had a different agenda. We do not know!" He enunciated each word clearly. "This government will not tolerate being attacked. It's our responsibility to investigate each attack or outbreak as a separate incident and then find the link between them. Our job is to see the citizens of this country safe and if that means--"

"Safe?" Jim exploded off the chair, getting right into Weider's face. "You call letting people die in your attempt at secrecy, safe?"

"Calm yourself, Detective Ellison," he retorted, taking a step back. "We're doing everything possible--"

"Calm myself?" Jim repeated, incredulously. "How do you expect me to be calm with trainers and horses dying because of your bureaucratic bullshit. There was no terrorist attack."

"How do you know that?" Weider leaned forward on his toes, meeting Jim's gaze fully. "It's likely that Suarez was some kind of dupe. The man ordered the horse in November, but didn't contact the seller until the middle of February. The daughter's birthday was March first. Can you tell me with total assurity that the horse wasn't purposely infected to cause panic in the States?"

Jim's clenched his jaw in frustrated anger. "The horses at the track could have been put in quarantine more than a week ago. Glanders could have been diagnosed before it had spread to the human handlers. You deliberately withheld important information -- information we as police officers needed to know in order to have prevented this whole outbreak!" His fists shook at his sides while his eyes bulged with fury.

"I'm telling you that it is our policy not to explain--"

Jim blew. His hands came up of their own volition and shoved the government official, sending him backwards. After a few stumbling steps, Weider ended up on the ground, looking up with shock. "I needed to know!" Jim told him forcefully, his body tight, ready to explode again.

The private, who had waited outside, came barreling in ready to do battle. "Please escort the detective out," Weider ordered in clipped tones, as he awkwardly pushed himself up.

The private pulled open the flap. Jim began to follow him out, but was stopped by Weider's last words.

"Detective Ellison. We are on the same side, here."

"I really wonder about that." Jim didn't want to even look at the man again. What would really feel good would be to beat the man to a bloody pulp.

He followed the private back to the main gate and went to his truck. His body pulsed with rage. For several seconds -- minutes -- he braced himself against the truck, taking deep breaths, trying to calm the almost, out-of-control fury, surging through his system. Exhaling deeply, he got into the truck to go home. With that last thought came the realization that he would be going to an empty loft. As his anger began to dissipate, he was left feeling hollow -- spent.

After arriving at the loft, Jim slowly unlocked the door and entered. The heels from his shoes echoed through the room. He hung up his coat and dropped the keys into the basket. After taking a beer from the fridge, he went over to the phone to listen to his messages.

~click~

"Hey Jim. It's me. Would you believe I spent over three hundred dollars on new clothes? It's got to be a record. Dale and I spent the afternoon scouring clothes stores, and then. Hell, that's not true... We went to one, I bought everything I needed, then we went to this cool museum. It had a rare collection of animal skins that had been used for writing about a thousand years ago. It's owned by this eccentric Venezuelan who has nothing better to do than collect artifacts and hassle students. It was great.

"Hope you're doing okay. Call me when you find out how Simon and Herman are doing. Gotta run. Andrew is taking us to the room where they're storing the artifacts. Call me."

~click~

"Jim? It's Amanda Chambers. I'm landing in Cascade tomorrow afternoon, and I'll be there a week. Maybe we can get together. I'll be staying at the Marriott Courtyard. Give me a call the day after tomorrow. I'll need to catch up on my sleep first. Bye."

Jim hung up the phone. Maybe things wouldn't be so bad after all. He had the loft to himself with a beautiful woman. Yeah, he could handle a week of this. But no more!

Romero Memorial Hospital

Carlos Suarez, in a full biohazard protective suit, sat by his daughter's bed holding her hand. Her breathing was more labored now. Her hand was limp, and she hadn't been conscious in over forty-eight hours. These were going to be his last few minutes.

"I am so sorry, Mijita. Your soul will be on my conscience till the end of time. My foolhardiness brought about your death. May God forgive me." Tears cascaded down his face in sorrow and self-recriminations.

The girl took a shuddering breath and then there was stillness. Alarms and whistles sounded, but the man did nothing but sob as he held the dead girl's hand.

Stay tuned next week when Blair is on loan to another police department and Jim finds himself investigating a murder. However, seemingly unrelated cases have a way of coming together in "Connections" an all new The Sentinel.

Produced by:

Author's notes: Burkholderia mallei is the causative agent for Glanders. The facts mentioned in this story are all true except for the time frame for reading Mallein test. It can take up to 24 hours for the hive to develop. For sake of the story, I shortened it.