One story that ran concerned a novel that Dr. Hatfill wrote. A draft was found on his computer. As I recall, Mr. Clawson had wanted to know how some reporter had a copy in advance of Dr. Hatfill’s press conference. But it should be appreciated that the novel was available to anyone who went to the at the Copyright Office at the Madison Building and requested it.
The partial, uncompleted novel, titled “Emergence,” was deposited by his co-author at the Library of Congress, and CNN has described its contents in detail. A terrorist with vague international ties is opposed by a brave American researcher — who fits Dr. Hatfill’s profile — who battles against government bureaucracy to solve the mystery. The novel did not involve anthrax, but plague (”Yesinnia Pestis”). The plague was cultured from the fleas of Prairie Dogs. The outbreak begins in Antarctica but the researchers are dead before rescuers arrive. The medical investigation is then stymied by the U.S. State Department and the government of South Africa, which runs the Antarctic base. The book then moves forward eight years to Washington. A Palestinian terrorist with the research skills of a cancer specialist — both Dr. Hatfill and more than one of his accusers are cancer specialists — uses fleas from prairie dog tunnels and mice to culture the plague bacteria in hotel rooms. Cost: $387. Memories? Priceless.
The perpetrator’s misdeeds have been financed by Iraq. The terrorist then goes on a public tour of the White House, using a specially equipped wheelchair to spray the bacteria culture on the carpet. CNN reports: “Soon, the president, his staff, members of Congress and the general public begin coming down with sore throats and dementia.” The terrorist — who in the novel was Palestinian — dies from the infection in a hospital, where he had been taken after being hit by a cab.
The novel’s protagonist, a CDC researcher from Antarctica, is then put on the case. Picture Steve Segal in the role, giving early and long lectures to his superiors about the dangers of stockpiling such weapons. He goes back to Antarctica to fearlessly tackle the medical mystery, though his team members die in the process.
In the sketchy end of Hatfill’s novel, the United States dropped a nuclear bomb on Baghdad. The novel by Hatfill and Akers “features long and detailed scientific passages and talks extensively about the Soviet Union’s bioweapons program.” It also makes the point that a single terrorist would have formidable hurdles to overcome in launching such an attack. In the book, the CDC is described as suffering from poor leadership and budget constraints with an irrational focus on industrial accidents and inner-city violence.
One anthrax thriller that was published was by a pediatrician, who was an epidemiologist and former Army colonel. It is called Medusa Strain. Another was a riveting adventure by a New York Times correspondent titled “The Faithful Spy” (who now has a sequel in hardcover). Maybe Dr. Hatfill will finish Emergence which likely would have a wide audience and could be salted with interesting asides that parallel real life.
Another story that I seriously doubt anyone in the government was advancing focused on an imagined remote cabin that people could not visit unless they first took Cipro. If anyone doubted that Dr. H was on Cipro due to nasal surgery his doctor for the September 2001 is listed. The story was bogus and hugely prejudicial. As with the other “evidence”, it quickly turned out to stem from what Hafill’s attorney has fairly described as an out-of-control game of telephone. In the June 19, 2002, “The Anthrax Case: What The FBI Knows,” Dr. Rosenberg, wrote: “Remote Location-The Suspect had access to a conveniently-located but remote location where activities could have been conducted without risk of observation.” The finding that the tape used to seal all the letters came from the same roll indicates that the containment set-up used for making the anthrax and filling the letters must have remained accessible from before Sept. 18 until close to Oct. 9 (otherwise the roll used in the first instance would have been destroyed in decontaminating the first set-up) suggests the perpetrator had confidence in his clandestine arrangements. There is also evidence, which can’t be cited publicly at this time, that the Suspect knew in October that the remote site was contaminated with anthrax.” Oh, brother. The rumor being told by others by telephone and email was that there was a remote cabin he would go to — and he would only allow people to visit if they first took Cipro. The suggestion was implausible from the start. If it were true, the person would be complicitous and not telling the story. As it turns out, it was a house owned by a communications lawyer where Hatfill once joined some friends and engaged in some male banter about reasons his friends might have to take cipro. The question had arisen because Mr. Clawson’s boss, Oliver North, had received a hoax anthrax letter. George R. Borsari Jr., the communications lawyer who owns the house, says the “cabin” is a three-bedroom house. It does appear to be pretty remote, judging by the mapquest map for house owned by George Borsari in Fort Valley, Virginia. He told reporter Shane that he advised the agent that Hatfill had visited the house a few times but had to call from the road in October to get directions. “Boy, if it’s a safe house,” Baltimore Sun reporter Shane quoted him saying, “the CIA is way behind on the rent,” he said. But the silly cabin in the woods story has nothing to do with the Privacy Act claim.