"What did you do then?" Andy asked. "I ... I took a break and...." Her ivory skin reddened, the color spreading into the roots of her fluffy curls, and she turned her face away from Andy. "And I had a sandwich and some coffee and got a little nap in the ladies' lounge and ... and that's all." "And that's not all," Andy prompted. "What else?" "Nothing," Janis said too quickly. Andy shook his head. "Tell it all and maybe it'll help." "But ... but...." "Was it something against regulations?" "I ... I don't know. I think...." "I'll vouch for your job in this office." "Well...." She seemed on the verge of tears and her pleading glance sought out Andy, then Bettijean, then her co-workers. Finally, resigned, she said, "I ... I wrote a letter to my mother." Andy swallowed against his groan of disappointment. "And you told her about what we were doing here." Janis nodded, and tears welled into her wide eyes. "Did you mail it?" "Y ... yes." "You didn't use a government envelope to save a stamp?" "Oh, no. I always carry a few stamps with me." She choked down a sob. "Did I do wrong?" "No, I don't think so," Andy said, patting her shoulder. "There's certainly nothing secret about this epidemic. Now you just take it easy and--. Oh, here's a doctor now." The doctor, a white-headed Air Force major, bustled into the room. A lab technician in a white smock was close behind. Andy could only shrug and indicate the girl. Turning away, lighting a cigarette, he tried to focus on the tangle of thoughts that spun through his head. Doctors, writers, society matrons, office workers--Aspen, Taos and college towns--thousands of people sick--but none in that valley in Tennessee--and few government workers--just one girl in his office--and she was sicker and more frightened about a letter--and.... "Hey, wait!" Andy yelled. Everyone in the room froze as Andy spun around, dashed to Bettijean's desk and yanked out the wide, top drawer. He pawed through it, straightened, then leaped across to the desk Janis had used. He snatched open drawer after drawer. In a bottom one he found her purse. Ripping it open, he dumped the contents on the desk and clawed through the pile until he found what he wanted. Handing it to the lab technician, he said, "Get me a report. Fast." The technician darted out. Andy wheeled to Bettijean. "Get the brass in here. And call the general first." To the doctor, he said, "Give that girl the best of everything." Then he ducked back to his own office and to the pile of reports. He was still poring over them when the general arrived. Half a dozen other brass hats, none of whom had been to bed, were close behind. The lab technician arrived a minute later. He shook his head as he handed his hastily scribbled report to Andy. * * * * *