Interview with Mailaise author Don Weiss

Detectologist: What made you decide to write this book?

DW: I had written a chapter on the anthrax outbreak for a non-fiction book on outbreak investigations by Mark Dworkin and came across a number of interesting conspiratorial coincidences that I thought would make a good novel.

Detectologist: Conspiracies? What do you mean?

DW: Well, for instance, two of the 9/11 hijackers lived for a while in South Florida near the first anthrax case. On the same day the case was announced on October 4, 2001, an Ukrainian missile shot down a Russian commercial airline over the Black Sea. On board were microbiologists from Novosibirsk. And after the attacks there was a series of deaths of other microbiologists, some of whom were involved in bioterrorism research.

Detectologist: Fascinating. What was it like during the actual outbreak?

DW: Did you ever do wind sprints in high school? Running back and forth over the length of the gym floor as fast as you can stopping at the foul line, mid-court, three-quarter court and then full court? We worked long hours after the 9/11 attack doing surveillance for a secondary biologic attack. After that the anthrax response was like doing a fifth, sixth, seventh and eighth wind sprint.

Detectologist: How did you cope? It must have been nerve racking.

DW: Humor, but I think writing the novel was a way for me to bring some closure to the experience.

Detectologist: The book matches up an epidemiologist with an FBI agent, how close to reality is this?

DW: During the anthrax outbreak we did work closely with an FBI agent, and one of our staff was assigned to be the liaison with law enforcement. Mailaise does expand on this a bit.

Detectologist: Where did the inspiration for the epidemiologist, Mackey Dunn and the FBI agent, Charo Chen come from?

DW: The characters are composites. A mix of the many people I’ve met, worked with and known over time. I think it is necessary skill for writers to be observant. As a friend of mine used to remind me, if you aren’t constantly amused it means you aren’t paying attention. A lot of my ideas come from everyday situations.

Detectologist: You decided to self publish through Amazon services. Can you share some of your experiences?

DW: Sure. I started Mailaise in 2007. Two and half years, and several re-writes later I began contacting agents. I got very little interest.  After Mailaise won the Herdsfolk First Novel Award I found an editor to help me polish it some more. I tried again with agents, got a bit more interest but no takers. The publishing business has become highly competitive, with the poor economy and the expansion of ebooks, agents and publishers are very selective.  I have so many ideas for stories I felt like it was time to be done with this one and move on.

Detectologist: So, what’s next? Are you working on a sequel?

DW: Yes. I am close to completing the first draft of a sequel in which Mackey and Charo investigate a smallpox outbreak in New York City. Then there is the unfinished first Dunn novel and a novella I wrote between books. I have no shortage of ideas.

Detectologist: Very interesting, I look forward to reading the sequel; what’s it called?

DW: It’s a historical mystery called The Curse of Cortes.

Inhalation Anthrax in NYC-Fall 2001 (Part 5 of 5)

Relieved, as we were, that no anthrax spores had been found in the NYC subways and that in the several weeks that had passed no new anthrax cases arose, it wasn’t the end to the spore story. The fifth and final death, the last of the 2001 mail murders, was perhaps the most perplexing. It occurred in a most unlikely setting: Oxford, a small rural town in southwestern Connecticut. With a population of just under 10,000 Oxford is far from major highways and cities. It boasts two banks, a beautiful public golf course and an annual crime rate of zero.

Retired legal secretary Ms. Ottilie Lundgren was a homebody. At 94-years old her mind was still sharp but she preferred the comforts and familiarity of her routine.  She didn’t drive or prepare her own meals and other than her family and a few trick or treaters her only visitor in the preceding months was her local pastor. On November 14^th she began to feel ill with fever and fatigue. When shortness of breath began two days later she was taken to a local area hospital and admitted. She had been a smoker and was known to have lung disease as a result. Pneumonia in nonagenarians is not uncommon. The next day four samples of her blood were growing bacteria, the gram-positive rod variety, and after only 14 hours. Bacillus anthracis was confirmed and a match to the other 21 cases. She died on November 21^st.

State and local health department staff along with CDC, EPA and law enforcement descended on the small town. They interviewed family, neighbors, postal workers and too samples. As we had done for Kathy Nguyen, they reconstructed her movements in the last two months. They turned out to be few. She went to church weekly, occasionally to a local favorite restaurant, a hair salon and doctor visits. Tests for anthrax spores at her home were negative, just like Kathy Nguyen. We met with Jim Hadler and his team to compare notes: both women lived alone and wore hats, other than this we could find no similarity other than their choice of perfume. The bottle tested negative.

We had checked USPS records to see if any letters that had passed though the contaminated postal sorting were routed to Kathy Nguyen. None were and her local Bronx post office tested negative for spores. Public health officials in Connecticut did the same, and likewise found nothing. They tested 29 pieces of mail found in her home, again nothing. They again tried testing the postal distribution center in Wallingford, again negative.

Four miles away, in the neighboring town of Seymour, Connecticut, a family was following the story with much trepidation. Then came a knock at their door. The visitors were from the State Health Department, CDC and the FBI.  A letter, sorted in Trenton on October 9^th just fifteen seconds after the contaminated letter to Senator Leahy and on the same machine had been sent to their address. The epidemiologist asked if by chance did they still had the letter and envelope? They did. The outside surface turned out to be positive for anthrax spores while the inside was not. With this information epidemiologists returned twice more to the Wallingford Postal Center and swabbed and vacuumed again.  This time four of the sorting machines returned hot with spores.

Mrs. Lundgren opened her own mail. Junk mail she tore in half before tossing into the trash.  CDC postulated that letters that had passed through the contaminated postal sorting machines in Trenton after the Leahy and Daschle letters had subsequently contaminated other sorting machines in other towns, including Wallingford. A letter, perhaps a bill or greeting card, passing though a secondarily contaminated sorting machine had picked up enough spores to infect Mrs. Lundgren. So, what did this mean about the minimal dose of spores necessary to cause infection previously believed to be in the thousands? The range of incubation period for inhalation anthrax was believed to be as long as sixty days, but if only a few spores were necessary could this be even longer? Were there still others incubating a deadly disease? How could we identify people at risk? Anyone over sixty-one? Was the mail safe? Only time would tell.

Inhalation Anthrax in NYC-Fall 2001 (Part 4)

No one wanted to say it out loud. The implications were too frightening. We were pretty confident that there wasn’t a release of anthrax spores other than when media staff opened the envelopes, but that alone wasn’t going to dissolve the city’s anxiety. As the November days passed and we had no explanation for the Kathy Nguyen inhalation case we faced the inevitable. We had to eliminate one very public place as the source, we had to test the NYC subway system.

None of us believed that the NYC subway was presenting a risk to anyone. If there had been a release underground we would’ve been dealing with many inhalation cases, not one. We had a pretty good idea though that spores could be tracked from their original location and the technology to find them was sophisticated. Staff from ABC, NBC, CBS or the NY Post could’ve tracked spores on the soles of their shoes anywhere. Despite our confidence that there weren’t legions of straphangers out there incubating inhalation anthrax we worried about positive results, even a single spore. We certainly couldn’t close the subways but it would be tough public message to craft. There are anthrax spores in the NYC Subway system, but it is safe to ride. I envisioned a TV crew taping Dan Rather and the Mayor sharing a pole on a downtown 6 train to make the point.

NYPD did the sampling with CDC and us directing them. Six train lines were tested at ten stations, over 200 samples. None were positive. While we breathed a collective sigh of relief, one final, tragic case was incubating the disease. A case as mysterious as Kathy Nguyen’s but one that would finally yield some answers.

Inhalation Anthrax in NYC-Fall 2001 (Part 3)

If you pay for a monthly Metrocard with a debit or credit card it creates a record of the location of each swipe. Along with interviews of Ms. Nguyen’s close associates, her phone records, and credit cards bills we were able to reconstruct the last two weeks of her life to try and discern how she became exposed to anthrax spores. Our concern was palpable; were other New Yorkers incubating the disease or being exposed?

Her favorite stores and the businesses along her commute route for which a charge or receipt was found were visited.  Armed with a photo epidemiologists questioned merchants. Few recognized her and no illnesses consistent with anthrax were uncovered. Ms. Nguyen was a religious woman and her co-workers had provided a list of churches she might have visited.  The pastors were cordial, however, nothing turned up.

Everywhere we knew a letter had landed we found spores. Aside from Ms. Nguyen we could place each case in the vicinity of spores.  It was some relief that in the week after her death no new cases had arisen, but what was different about Ms. Nguyen? The strain of anthrax was the same. Her work place, home and mail were all clean. So, what was the exposure? There was one place left in NYC we hadn’t yet looked.

Inhalation Anthrax in NYC-Fall 2001 (Part 2)

Within hours of dropping the slant off at the lab we had positive preliminary results for anthrax.  Sadly the patient never regained consciousness and died on Halloween. We knew from her doctors and co-workers that Ms. Nguyen worked as a stockroom clerk, lived alone and kept mostly to herself, but we’d never be able to interview her. The mailroom was next to the stockroom, so we told ourselves her case was not unexpected and fit with the other cases where contaminated mail was the route of exposure. 

The hospital voluntarily closed and a team of epidemiologists from NYC and CDC plus detectives and agents of the JTTF (Joint Terrorism Task Force comprised of NYPD, State Police and the FBI) descended on the building before dawn. I got there just as the TV crews were setting up and they mistook me for a patient and let me pass unmolested.  We were operating on the premise that anthrax spores, once settled, didn’t re-aerosolize.  The FBI and NYPD didn’t share our view and while they debated the risks of entering the building without moon suits we brazenly, and perhaps foolishly, began the investigation.

One team swabbed the basement for spores while others interviewed her boss and co-workers.  We were looking for anyone who was ill or had information on Ms. Nguyen's activities. Her locker contents and her clothes were swabbed. Anyone who worked near the stock or mail rooms got their noses swabbed and a vial of antibiotics. Patients who had been in the building that week were contacted and their health evaluated. No suspect cases were identified. Two curious leads emerged from the interviews.  Ms. Nguyen had a past relationship with a person described as an “agent” and two days before her illness she got dust in her eyes that irritated them enough that she asked a nurse to irrigate them.   We didn't find a single spore anywhere in the hospital or her home.  We had to reevaluate our hypothesis.

Historic thread-October 29, 2001 (Part 1)

We were stationed at the lab to help with the deluge of specimens to be tested for the presence of anthrax spores. It was hectic. New Yorkers had white powder fever in the fall of 2001 and were seeing danger in ordinary items they had previously taken for granted. Mail was carefully inspected and thrown away unless it contained a check or bill. The sugary remains at the bottom of a package of Little Debbie snack cakes or flour spilled innocently on the floor became suspected conveyances of anthrax. All of these specimens were being brought to the city's lab by cops only too happy to drop their packages and run away.

Denis built a database and we spent our days logging in samples and reporting the results to the Health Commissioner, Mayor, NYPD, FBI and an assortment of politicians and dignitaries. We had not heard of a new case of skin anthrax in nearly a week and were looking forward to getting back to our regular jobs and lives outside of work.  Sixteen hour days were getting old. On Sunday a doctor from an uptown hospital called, he had a worrisome case. The 61-year-woman didn't work with the mail, but appeared to be in the throes of a serious infectious pneumonia. By late Monday afternoon the hospital lab had isolated a large bacillus in the woman's blood. It was growing in long filamentous threads. Our hopes of returning to normalcy dashed, Denis and I hopped the uptown subway and met the lab director in the empty lab. Excitedly he ushered us over to a microscope. I peered down the barrel, adjusted the focus remembering my days in the emergency department looking at gram stains of cerebral spinal fluid searching for bacteria and white blood cells. Oil immersion, 100x. The lab director had taking a drop of the blood culture media and prepared a gram stain. Unlike my sparse csf gram stains, this one was a chaotic mix of red and blue. It took me several moments to orient myself, but I began to see the white blood cells in a matrix of what looked like blue thread. As I looked closer I could see that the threads were composed of long, brick-like cells. I had seen this before, not under a microscope but in a book. It was anthrax. He handed us a slant: a screw-top test tube filled with media and inoculated with a sample of the growing bacteria. I slid it into the steel canister we brought with us and placed it into my jacket pocket. Only specialized labs could make the definitive diagnosis of anthrax and we had to get it back to the city lab to know for sure.

Before we left we met the head of infection control who took us to the patient's bedside. Beneath the wires, tubes and tape lay an unconscious woman. Sedated, on special drugs to maintain her blood pressure and high powered antibiotics to beat back the infection, she was waging a war we couldn't see, except on the X-ray, which showed her chest and lungs filled with blood and fluid. On the subway ride downtown Denis and I tried not to speak and act non-chalant, but there were too many questions. 

"Do you think it is?" he asked. 

"I don't know," I replied. "It fits clinically, and the gram stain is suspicious." I didn't want to say what I felt. Denis wasn't a physician and although he had been an EIS officer I couldn't be sure how he'd react and after all we were straphanging in a rush hour subway car. He smiled, the nervous smile that sometimes creeps across the faces of people facing really bad news. 

"Where would she have gotten it?"he asked.

I looked around, maybe it was my baseline paranoia but some riders seemed to be listening to our conversation with interest. Others were lost in the complications of their lives. 

"I don't want to think about it," I replied. I knew the only persons to contract the inhalation form of anthrax during the outbreak had either been postal workers or at the AMI building in Florida. None in NYC. Terrorists had long eyed the NYC subway as a target. I re-examined our fellow riders. This changed everything. Our lives wouldn't be returning to normal, in fact, craziness was about to be cubed...