Geoffrey Haversill stared at the monitors showing Hristo Gruev and wondered what the hell was keeping the man alive. He had had nothing to eat or drink since being brought to the Centers for Disease Control’s headquarters a week ago, and the man had not died. Hristo Gruev wasn’t alive, either, not in any sense of the word that Haversill was familiar. But there Gruev was, on camera, swaying from side to side as if he were a blind man passing time listening to the rhythm of the world.
