+18 - eps 22-27 - A case takes Russell and Brock to the brink of death. It'll be up to Gillian and the team to rescue them before they're killed by a white supremacist militia. And in the aftermath of the Paris attacks, the threat of a bio attack fo...
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Everybody in DC was relieved to hear Brock's and Gillian's theory about a single subject instead of a group looking for dead crowds. However, it was still a bio attack and it could be considered domestic terrorism. When Medley heard about the evening meeting at the Memorial, he asked for a live stream to watch it. So he invited the rest of the brass to gather at a conference room about six-thirty, in time to pick their seats in no hurry in front of the huge screen, let the aides deliver coffee and sweet bites, and finish their vital discussions about world's peace and golf.
Medley swallowed a snort when Cassidy came in with Wright and the Director. The Section Chief had nothing to do there with his seniors, but the Director had invited him because it was his agents working the case. So Medley could snort all he wanted and hate Cassidy's guts, but had to keep his mouth shut.
Back in Boston, Brandon got online with Tanya to get the stream for Cooper, because she wanted to watch it too.
Meanwhile, in Savannah, Kurt and Ron helped Tanya to set up her little work station by the small stage, set the camera, get the audio from the microphone and check everything worked. Then they went back to the inn, where Fred and Greta had taken over the kitchen, promising to have dinner ready on their return.
Hank asked Tanya yet again, to make sure she had the slide show in the right order and ready. Before the girl punched his lights out, Aldana made him turn to her and fixed the knot of his tie. Hank hated speaking in public, and knowing his audience included the brass and Cooper didn't exactly help.
"You'll do fine," Aldana said with a reassuring smile.
"Shut up!" Hank growled. "You said thirty people. And there's over a hundred! Only here!"
"Looks like word got out and all kinds of specialists related to Infectology and viruses showed up."
He shot a nervous glance at the large hall, were at least ten rows of chairs were already taken by hospital directors, executives from laboratories, doctors, medics and scientists from all over the city and around. Even though they were all used to handle top technology, the suits were the only ones without pen and paper in hand to take notes the old way.
Russell managed to keep from even smiling at Hank's distress, especially because Aldana's elbow was only a couple of inches away from his ribs. He patted the biochemist's shoulder. "Use your cards and you'll be fine."
Hank took a hand to his chest pocket to check the cards were there. Gillian approached them at a firm pace—considering her high heels. She'd decided to dress up for the occasion, knowing the kind of people she was about to address wouldn't pay attention to anything a jeans-user could say. So she wore a white tailored suit, a gray-blue blouse and white high heels. And she hated every minute of it, daydreaming of her jeans and sandals in the SUV trunk. Until she spotted Brock's appreciative look at her gear. Which reminded her of her last dream—especially the part of his hands rolling up a tailored skirt like the one she was wearing now. She fled like the chicken she was to join her team, to fight the urge to whether change her clothes or assault Brock in public.
