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When a radiation alert was sounded, police, the health department and the state's nuclear regulators were notified, four busy blocks of downtown West Palm Beach were evacuated, and as the investigation unfolded speculation eventually centered on one chilling thought: dirty bomb.

The threat, however remote, of mass casualties from radioactivity echoed up the chain of command Wednesday to the Joint Terrorism Task Force, headed by the FBI.

The word radiation signaled "this was not your everyday fire call," said FBI spokesperson Judy Orihuela. "There was a potential terrorist angle."

Mayor Lois Frankel was in her office when notified of the midweek scare.

"There was nothing going on here that would lead me to believe it was a terrorist attack," she said. "But the FBI came in and raised the concept. I know that's one of the reasons the FBI came in."

Within hours, news spread on Internet bulletin boards.

"Radiological emergency in West Palm Beach," declared the Drudge Report, a popular news site.

In the end there was no real emergency and no terrorist threat.

But there was radiation, apparently picked up in unusually high levels by firefighters responding to a call of an office fire. And there were radioactive materials, contained in several commonly used measuring devices being stored in an engineering company's offices.

The devices were not faulty, and fire department officials have yet to offer a clear explanation for the initial high radiation readings.

Nor was there a fire, though firefighters still don't know why some people reported smelling smoke near the office.

Yet in the post-9-11 world, especially in a county where terrorists trained, and an anthrax attack has killed, the new normal is sometimes a heightened reaction.

"It's the nature of the times we live in," said Phil Kaplan, a West Palm Beach Fire-Rescue spokesman. "We don't feel that there was any overreaction whatsoever."

Firefighters did not order the evacuation solely because of the high radiation reading, Kaplan said, but because they knew the building housed radioactive material and they were dealing with a possible fire.

By itself, Kaplan doubts the reading would have raised as much alarm.

The 3:30 p.m. alarm that sent firefighters racing to an office building on South Dixie Highway triggered a series of calls to emergency workers and law enforcement agencies that eventually reached the Nuclear Regulatory Commission outside Washington, D.C.

Even before the first responders arrived, initial reports that indicated a combination of radiation and fire signaled the possibility of a dire medical emergency.

Hospitals and fire-rescue units from Key West to Jupiter were put on standby, and the county health department director, Dr. Jean Malecki, and two other staff physicians responded personally to the scene.

Health department spokesman Tim O'Connor said that although he did not hear anyone discuss the possibility of terrorism, "it comes into play at this time. That's part of overall readiness, unfortunately."

As an informal incident command post was set up at Quadrille Boulevard and Fern Street, the county's hazardous materials team arrived with an inspector from the state's Bureau of Radiation Control, who found the radiation readings less than first reported.

Richard Parham, the bureau's emergency manager based in Lantana who uses several different instruments to detect radiation, gave the all-clear sign. He could not say for sure what caused the high readings on the firefighters' gauges.

By 5:15 p.m., Frankel joined officials to declare the emergency was over.

"As mayor, the best thing I can do is have the right personnel in place, communicate in a truthful manner and not create undue alarm or panic," she said.

Indeed, radioactive material is everywhere in everyday life, from the dentist office, to various measuring devices used in construction and science, to ordinary home smoke detectors.

Data from the state's Bureau of Radiation Control, which oversees and licenses more 1,400 users of radioactive equipment, indicate that Palm Beach and Broward counties each have 30 businesses licensed to handle devices similar to the six nuclear gauges found in the offices of the Corradino Group in West Palm Beach.

The density gauges involved in Wednesday's incident contain radioactive cesium 137 and americium-beryllium sealed in stainless steel capsules the size of a BB. Commonly used to determine how compact soil is before pavement is laid, the devices are not considered hazardous under normal circumstances.

Still, the Nuclear Regulatory Commission recently increased security requirements for instruments containing those radioactive elements, especially because the machines are often stolen.

The chief danger posed by the devices, according to the NRC, is to someone who does not know how to handle the radioactive materials.

"Due to the quantity and physical characteristics of the radioactive material used, portable gauges do not pose a substantial risk for malevolent purposes such as a 'dirty bomb,'" the NRC wrote in a draft proposing the beefed-up security measures.

A dirty bomb -- also called a radiological dispersal device -- uses a conventional explosive such as dynamite to spread a radioactive material that could contaminate the air.

Stephen Browne, a radiation expert with Troxler Electronic Laboratories, Inc., a North Carolina manufacturer of the density gauges such as those found Wednesday, agrees with the NRC assessment. While recognizing the post-9-11 security concerns, Browne said, "the small amount of radioactive material wouldn't make them effective for a dirty bomb.

"Getting the material out the double-sealed capsules, and combining them in a mass to do something with, would be very difficult and time consuming."

Frankel said Wednesday's alarm proved to be a good drill. "We got a lot of calls from the press and citizens, traffic mounted, and our police and business owners were busy. But people were more annoyed than in a panic.

"Unfortunately, it is true that in this day and age terrorism is something you have to think about. This is not a sleepy little town anymore. Palm Beach County is bigger than a lot of the states, so a lot goes on. Every day there is something. That is not to say we evacuate the city everyday. I hope that doesn't happen again."

Mike Clary can be reached at mclary@sun-sentinel.com or 561-243-6629.

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