“You think she’s still in there?” Tony asked. He was more antsy than usual. “She could have left while I was going back to get you. And if she’s not in there, then we’re wasting our time sitting here like a couple of chumps.”
   “You’ve got a good point,” Angelo said. “But before we move in I wish we could make sure she didn’t call the cops. I still don’t understand why she split unless she didn’t think we were real cops. I mean, isn’t she the solid-citizen type? What does she have to hide from cops? It doesn’t make sense, and when something doesn’t make sense, it means I’m missing something. And when I’m missing something, it scares me.”
   “God, you’re always worrying,” Tony said. “Let’s just go in there, get her, and be done with it.”
   “All right,” Angelo said. “But take it easy. And bring the bag. We’re going to have to play this one by ear.”
   “I’m with you all the way,” Tony said eagerly. Due to the unconsummated chase after Laurie, Tony’s appetite for action had been honed to a razor’s edge. He was a bundle of nervous energy.
   “I think we’d better put the silencers on our guns,” Angelo said. “No telling what we’re going to meet. And we’re going to have to work fast.”
   “Great!” Tony exclaimed. With obvious excitement he pulled out his Bantam and attached the silencer. It took him a moment because his hand trembled with pleasurable anticipation.
   Angelo gave him a hard look, then shook his head in exasperation. “Try to stay calm. Let’s go!”
   They got out of the car and ran across the street and between the two mortuary vans. They ran hunched over, trying to avoid the drizzle as much as possible. They entered the same way they had that afternoon, through the morgue loading dock. Angelo was in the lead. Tony followed with the black doctor’s bag in one hand and his gun in the other. In an attempt to conceal the gun, he had it partially under his jacket.
   Angelo was almost past the open door to the security office when someone inside yelled, “Hey! You can’t go in there.”
   Tony collided with Angelo when his partner stopped abruptly. A guard in a blue uniform was sitting at his desk. In front of him was a game of solitaire.
   “Where you guys think you’re going?” he asked.
   Before Angelo could respond, Tony raised his Bantam and aimed it at the surprised guard’s forehead. He pulled the trigger without a moment’s hesitation. The slug hit the guard in his head, just above his left eye, so that he fell over onto his desk, his head landing with a solid thump on his card game. Except for the pool of blood forming on the desk top, a passerby might have thought the man was simply asleep on the job.
   “What the hell did you shoot him for?” Angelo snarled. “You could have given me a chance to talk with him.”
   “He was going to give us trouble,” Tony said. “You said we had to be fast.”
   “What if he has a partner?” Angelo said. “What if the partner comes back? Where will we be then?”
   Tony frowned.
   “Come on!” Angelo said.
   They peered into the mortuary office. There was cigarette smoke in the air and a live butt in an ashtray by the desk, but no one was in sight. Leaving the office and advancing cautiously into the morgue proper, Angelo glanced into the small auxiliary autopsy room used for decomposed bodies. The dissecting table was barely visible in the half-light.
   “This place gives me the creeps,” he admitted.
   “Me too,” Tony said. “It’s nothing like the funeral home I worked at. Look at the floor. This place is disgusting.”
   “Why are so many lights off?” Angelo asked.
   “Saving money?” Tony suggested.
   They came to the huge U-shaped mass of refrigerator compartments stacked four-high, each with its own heavily hinged door. “You think all the bodies are in here?” Angelo asked, pointing toward the bank of cooler doors.
   “I guess so,” Tony said. “This is just like in those old movies when they have to identify somebody.”
   “It doesn’t smell like this in the movies,” Angelo said. “What the hell are all those simple coffins for? They expecting the bubonic plague?”
   “Beats me,” Tony said.
   They wandered past the large walk-in cooler, heading for the light that was coming through the windows of the double doors that led into the main autopsy room. Just before they got there, the doors burst open and out walked Bruce Pomowski.
   Everyone recoiled in surprise. Tony hid his gun behind his back.
   “You guys scared me,” Bruce admitted with a nervous laugh.
   “The feeling’s mutual,” Angelo said.
   “You must be here for the Haberlin body,” Bruce said. “Well, I got good news and bad news. The good news is that it’s ready. The bad news is you have to wait until one of the doctors examines it.”
   “That’s too bad,” Angelo said. “But as long as we’re waiting around, have you seen Dr. Laurie Montgomery?”
   “Yeah,” Bruce said. “I just saw her a few minutes ago.”
   “Can you tell us where she went?” Angelo asked.
   “She went up to Toxicology,” Bruce said. He was becoming curious and even a little suspicious about these two men.
   “And where might Toxicology be?” Angelo asked.
   “Fourth floor.” Bruce tried to remember if he’d ever seen these two on a body pickup before.
   “Thanks,” Angelo said. He turned, motioning for Tony to follow him.
   “Hey, you can’t go up there,” said Bruce. “And what funeral home are you from?”
   “Spoletto,” Angelo said.
   “That’s not the one I’ve been expecting,” Bruce said. “I think I’d better make a call. What are your names?”
   “We’re not looking for any trouble,” Angelo said. “We’d just like to talk with Laurie Montgomery.”
   Bruce took a step backward and eyed Angelo and Tony. “I think I’ll give Security a call.”
   Tony’s gun appeared and pointed at the mortuary tech. Bruce froze in place, looking cross-eyed at the barrel. Tony pulled the trigger before Angelo could say anything.
   Similar to the security man, the slug hit Bruce in the forehead, and he swayed for a second, then crumbled to the floor.
   “Damn!” Angelo said. “You can’t shoot everybody.”
   “Hell!” Tony said. “He was about to call Security.”
   “A lot of good that would have done him,” Angelo said. “You already took care of Security. You have to learn to restrain yourself.”
   “So I overreacted,” Tony said. “At least we know the chick’s still here. We even know where to find her.”
   “But first we have to hide this body,” Angelo said. “What if somebody comes along.” Angelo glanced around. His eyes settled on the cooler compartments. “Let’s stick him in one of the refrigerators,” Angelo said.
   Quickly Angelo and Tony began checking compartments, searching for an empty one. In every one the first thing they spotted was a pair of bare feet with a manila tag around the big toe.
   “This is disgusting,” Angelo said.
   “Here’s an empty one,” Tony said. He pulled out the drawer.
   They went back to Bruce’s limp body. Tony discovered the man was still alive and making weird noises when he breathed. “Should I give him another slug?” he asked.
   “No!” Angelo snapped. He didn’t want any more shooting. “It’s not necessary. He won’t be making much noise in the refrigerator.”
   Together they dragged the body to the open refrigerator compartment and managed to lift him onto the drawer.
   “Sleep tight,” Tony said as he slid the drawer into the wall and closed the door.
   “Now put your goddamned gun away,” Angelo commanded.
   “All right,” Tony said. He stuck his Bantam into his shoulder holster. With the silencer in place, the butt of the gun showed at Tony’s lapel.
   “Let’s get up to the fourth floor,” Angelo said nervously. “This isn’t going very well. We have to get the woman and get out of here. All hell is going to break loose if someone comes across this trail of corpses you’ve been leaving.”
   Tony picked up his doctor’s bag and hurried after Angelo, who’d already headed for the stairs. Angelo did not want to chance running into anyone in the elevator.
   Emerging on the fourth floor, they saw only one room was lit. Assuming that had to be the toxicology lab, they headed straight for it. They entered cautiously, only to find Peter cleaning some equipment.
   “Excuse me,” Angelo said, “we’re looking for Dr. Laurie Montgomery.”
   Peter turned around. “You just missed her,” he said. “She went down to the morgue to look at a body in the walk-in cooler.”
   “Thanks,” Angelo said.
   “Not at all,” Peter said.
   Angelo took Tony by the arm and quickly led him out into the hall. “Nice of you not to shoot him,” Angelo said sarcastically.
   The two retraced their steps, heading back downstairs to the morgue.

   After looking in the mortuary office and the main autopsy room, Laurie gave up on finding Bruce. He’d probably gone on break. She had it in her mind to ask him for help, but she decided to check the walk-in for the Haberlin body herself.
   Laurie put on rubber gloves before entering the large refrigerator. Straining against the door’s weight, she pulled it open, reached in, and switched on the light.
   The walk-in looked much as it had when she’d gone in in search of Julia Myerholtz. Most of the bodies on the wooden shelves had not been disturbed since her last visit. Those on gurneys represented a new batch. Unfortunately, there were more bodies than there had been before. In an attempt to be methodical, she began by checking the bodies closest to the door. As usual, all the bodies had been tagged for identification. Laurie had to lift the sheets shrouding the feet to check the names. After checking each gurney, she moved it aside to allow her to work deeper into the cooler.
   Finally, near the back of the walk-in, and after checking a dozen bodies, she found the tag with Stephanie Haberlin written on it. It was none too soon; Laurie was shivering.
   Covering the feet back up, Laurie jockeyed the gurney around to get to its head. Then she pulled back the sheet.
   Laurie winced at the sight. Seeing a young person’s pale corpse was never a pleasant sight. No matter how long she stuck with forensics, Laurie didn’t think she’d ever get used to this part of the job. With uncharacteristic reluctance, Laurie reached over and placed her thumb and index finger on Stephanie’s upper eyelids.
   For a moment Laurie hesitated, wondering what she wished for more: to be wrong or right. Taking a deep breath, she lifted the lids.
   Laurie winced for the second time. She even felt her legs go weak. In a split second her suspicions had been validated. She’d been correct. It could no longer be considered a coincidence. The dead woman’s eyes were gone!
   “You awful, awful man,” Laurie said aloud through chattering teeth. How could any human being perpetrate such a heinous crime? This scheme was truly diabolical.
   The resonant click of the cooler’s latch shocked Laurie from her musing. Anticipating Bruce, she was surprised to see two strangers enter, one carrying an old-fashioned doctor’s bag.
   “Dr. Montgomery?” the tall one called out.
   “Yes,” Laurie answered. She was afraid she recognized these two as the same men who’d come to her door.
   “We want to talk with you downtown,” Angelo said. “Would you mind coming with us?”
   “Who are you?” she demanded. She began to tremble.
   “I don’t think that really matters,” the shorter one said as he started pushing gurneys to the side with his free hand. He was cutting a path to Laurie. Angelo started to move toward her, too.
   “What do you want with me?” Laurie asked, her terror mounting.
   “We just want to talk,” Tony said.
   Laurie was trapped. She had no place to run. She was snared in a virtual sea of corpse-laden gurneys. Tony was already pushing aside the last two of the remaining gurneys that lay between them.
   With no other recourse, Laurie stripped her shoulder purse from her arm and let it drop to the floor. She then stepped to the head of Stephanie Haberlin’s gurney and grasped the sides.
   Screaming to bolster her courage, Laurie started wheeling Stephanie’s gurney, desperately trying to build up speed in the confined space. She aimed the gurney directly at the surprised Tony. At first Tony suggested he would stand his ground. But as Laurie’s efforts accelerated, he tried to get out of the way.

  Laurie crashed the gurney into Tony with enough force to knock him off balance as well as to cause Stephanie’s corpse to topple off. Haphazardly a stiff dead arm draped itself around Tony’s neck as he fought to regain his footing.
   Not allowing the man to recover, Laurie grabbed another gurney and ran it into Stephanie’s. Grabbing still another, she ran it at Angelo, who slipped on the tile floor trying to avoid being struck, and totally disappeared from view.
   Tony struggled from Stephanie’s embrace, pushing the corpse away from him. He was wedged between the gurneys, which he attempted to push away as he pulled out his gun. He tried to take aim, but Laurie crashed another gurney into the others, throwing him off balance once again. Angelo struggled to his feet and tried to make a space for himself to stand upright, pushing more gurneys in Tony’s direction.
   Tony fired as Laurie crashed one last gurney. The sound, even with the silencer, was deafening within the insulated cooler. The bullet passed over Laurie’s shoulder as she scrambled for the door. She was out of the cooler in an instant, slamming the heavy door behind her. Frantically she searched for a lock to secure the walk-in refrigerator, but there wasn’t one. She had no other choice but to make a run for it. She hadn’t gotten far when she heard the cooler door open behind her.
   Running as fast as she could, she rounded the corner of the mortuary office. Seeing no one, she continued on to the security office. Dashing inside she called out to the sleeping guard.
   “Help me!” she cried. “You’ve got to help me. There are two men—”
   When the guard did not move, Laurie desperately reached out and roughly grabbed the man’s shoulder, yanking him to an upright sitting position. But to Laurie’s shock, the man’s head flopped back like a rag doll, dragging playing cards with it. With horror she saw the bullet hole in his forehead, his unseeing eyes, and bloody froth oozing from his mouth. Where his head had been on the desk was a pool of partially dried blood.
   Laurie screamed and let go of the guard. He collapsed backward in the chair, his head hyperextending, and his arms limply dangling with his fingers just brushing the floor.
   Laurie wheeled around to flee, but it was too late. The shorter of the two men came flying through the door, his gun held out in front of him, a demonic smile spread like a gaping wound across his face. He pointed the gun directly at Laurie. At such close range she could even see a short distance up the barrel of the silencer.
   The man advanced toward her as if in slow motion until the tip of the gun was a mere inch from Laurie’s nose. She didn’t move. She was paralyzed with dread.
   “Don’t shoot her!” cried the other, taller man, who suddenly appeared over Tony’s shoulder. “Please don’t shoot her!”
   “It would be so rewarding,” Tony said.
   “Come on,” Angelo urged. “Gas her!” Angelo put the black doctor’s bag on the corner of the desk. With his foot, he gave the desk chair a shove to get it out of the way. The dead guard rolled out of the chair and fell to the floor. Then Angelo stepped into the corridor to look in both directions. He’d heard voices.
   Tony lowered his gun. It had been all he could do to keep from firing it. Placing it in his jacket pocket, he opened the black bag and took out the gas cylinder and the plastic bag. After inflating the bag, he stepped over to Laurie, who’d backed up against a table.
   “This will be a nice rest,” Tony said.
   Wide-eyed with terror, Laurie was shocked when Tony crammed the bag over her head. The force bent her back over the table. Both hands splayed out to support herself. As they did, her right hand hit up against a glass paperweight. Clutching it, Laurie swung it underhand, hitting Tony in the groin.
   Tony’s grip on the plastic bag released as he reflexively grabbed his genitals. After their recent run-in with the briefcase, they were particularly sensitive.
   Laurie took advantage of his pain to tear the plastic bag from her head. The smell inside it had been sickeningly sweet. Pushing off the table, Laurie dashed by Tony, who was still doubled over, and then Angelo, who’d been standing guard outside.
   “Goddamn it!” Angelo shouted. He started after Laurie. Tony, partially recovered, limped after Angelo, carrying the black bag, the plastic bag, and the gas cylinder.
   Laurie ran out the way she’d come, passing the stack of Potter’s Field coffins and the walk-in refrigerator. She was hoping to run into some of the custodial staff—anyone who might be able to help her.
   When she saw the light in the main autopsy room, she was encouraged. She went through the swinging doors at a full run. Inside, Laurie was thrilled to find a man mopping the floor. “You’ve got to help me!” she gasped.
   The janitor was shocked by her sudden appearance.
   “There are two men chasing me,” Laurie cried. She dashed to the sink and snatched up one of the large autopsy knives. She knew it wouldn’t be much help against a gun, but it was the only defense she could think of.
   The confused janitor looked at her as if she were crazy, and before she could say anything else, the door burst open a second time. Angelo entered at a run with his gun drawn.
   “It’s over!” Angelo snarled between harsh, winded breaths. Behind him the door opened again. Tony came charging inside, clutching the black bag and the gas paraphernalia in one hand, his gun in the other.
   “What’s happening?” the janitor demanded. His shock had changed to fear with the sight of the guns. He gripped his mop in both hands as if he were prepared to use it as a weapon.
   With no further provocation, Tony raised his gun and shot the man in the head. The janitor staggered and collapsed. Tony stepped over to shoot the man a second time.
   “It’s the girl we want,” Angelo yelled. “Forget the janitor! Gas her!”
   As he’d done in the security office, Tony inflated the plastic bag and approached Laurie.
   Paralyzed with shock from having seen the janitor killed in front of her, Laurie was temporarily incapable of resisting. The autopsy knife slipped from her hand and clattered to the floor.
   Tony went behind her and pulled the bag over her head. After taking a few breaths of the sweet gas inside the bag, Laurie reached up as if to pull the plastic off her. But her efforts came too late. Her knees gave way and she sank to the floor, unconscious.
   “Run out and get one of those pine coffins,” Angelo said. “Make it quick!”
   A few minutes later Tony returned with a coffin, nails, and a hammer. He put the coffin down next to Laurie. With Angelo at her head and Tony at her feet, they lifted her into the box, then pulled off the plastic bag. Tony put on the lid and was about to nail it shut when Angelo suggested putting more of the gas inside.
   Tony held the cylinder under the lid and tried to fill the coffin. Quickly he smelled the gas. Pulling his hand out, he closed the lid.
   “That’s about all I can get in,” Tony said.
   “Let’s hope it holds her,” Angelo said. “Get one of those wagons over here.” He pointed to a gurney pushed against the far wall.
   Tony wheeled the gurney over, while Angelo nailed down the coffin’s lid. Then they both lifted the coffin onto it. Tony threw the plastic bag and gas cylinder into the doctor’s bag and set the bag on top of the coffin. Together he and Angelo wheeled the gurney out the door. They headed for the loading dock. Moving at a run, they passed the mortuary office, then turned and passed the security office.
   While Tony waited on the lip of the loading dock and made sure the gurney didn’t roll away, Angelo went to check inside the mortuary vans. In the first one he found the keys in the ignition. Running back to Tony, he told him they’d use the truck. As quickly as possible, and using the keys to unlock the rear doors, they loaded the coffin containing Laurie into the back of the van. Angelo dropped the keys into Tony’s hand.
   “You drive her,” Angelo said. “Go directly to the pier. I’ll see you there.”
   Tony climbed into the front of the van and started the engine.
   “Move it out,” Angelo yelled. Frantically waving, he guided Tony as Tony backed up into Thirtieth Street. Again Angelo could hear voices within the morgue.
   “Get moving,” Angelo said as he slapped the side of the mortuary van. He watched until Tony had turned onto First Avenue, then he sprinted over to his own car, started it, and followed.
   As soon as Angelo caught up to the van, he gave Cerino a call from his cellular phone. “We got the merchandise,” he said.
   “Beautiful,” Cerino said. “Bring her to the pier. I’ll call Doc Travino. We’ll meet you there.”
   “This wasn’t a clean operation,” Angelo said. “But we seem to be clear. No one is following us.”
   “As long as you got her, it’s OK,” Cerino said. “And your timing is perfect. The Montego Bay departs tomorrow morning. Our little lady doc is due for a cruise.”

Chapter 16

   8:55 p.m., Monday
   Manhattan
   Lou pulled into the morgue loading dock and parked his car to the side. There was only one van in the drive instead of the usual two, so he could have pulled right up to the entrance, but figuring the other van would be back soon, he didn’t want to be in the way.
   He put his police identification card on the dash and got out. Lou could have kicked himself for pushing Laurie as he had on the phone. When was he going to learn to back off? Criticizing Jordan was sure only to make her more defensive about the man. He must have really set her off this time. He could understand why she hadn’t picked up the phone when he’d called back, but even if she was mad he would have thought she’d have called him back. When she hadn’t gotten back to him after half an hour, Lou decided to head over to the medical examiner’s office to talk to her in person. He hoped she hadn’t left.
   Lou passed the security office and glanced in through the window. He was a little surprised to see that no one was there, but he assumed that the security guard was making his rounds. Farther down the hall, Lou checked the mortuary office, but it was empty as well.
   Lou scratched his head. The place seemed deserted. It was dead quiet, he thought with a laugh. He checked his watch. It wasn’t that late, and wasn’t this place supposed to be open around the clock? After all, people died twenty-four hours a day. With a shrug of his shoulders, Lou walked to the elevators and rode up to Laurie’s floor.
   As soon as he stepped off the elevator he could tell that she wasn’t there. Her door was closed and the room was dark. But he wasn’t about to give up. Not yet. He remembered her having said something about some laboratory results. Lou decided to see if he could find the right lab and maybe then Laurie. He took the elevator down one floor, unsure of where to find the appropriate lab. At the end of the fourth-floor hall he saw a light. Lou walked the length of the hall and peered in the open door.
   “Excuse me,” he said to the youthful man in a white lab coat stooped over one of the room’s major pieces of heavy equipment.
   Peter looked up.
   “I’m looking for Laurie Montgomery,” Lou said.
   “You and everyone else,” Peter said. “I don’t know where she is now, but half an hour ago she went down to the morgue to look at a body in the walk-in cooler.”
   “Someone else been looking for her?” Lou asked.
   “Yeah,” Peter said. “Two men I’d never seen before.”
   “Thanks,” Lou said. He turned back toward the elevator and hustled down the hall. He didn’t like the sound of two strangers looking for Laurie, not after what she’d said about two alleged plainclothes policemen coming to her apartment.
   Lou went straight to the morgue level. Exiting the elevator, he was surprised he still hadn’t seen a soul besides the guy in the lab. With growing concern, he hurried down the long hall to the walk-in cooler. Finding its door partially ajar only added to his unease.
   With mounting dread he pulled the door the rest of the way open. What he saw was far worse than he could have imagined. Inside the cooler, bodies were strewn helter-skelter. Two gurneys were tipped on their sides. Several of the sheets covering the bodies had been pulled aside. Even after a few days’ experience in the autopsy room, he still didn’t have the stomach for this. And whatever had happened to Laurie, this body-strewn battleground was hardly an auspicious sign.
   Lou spotted a purse among the wreckage. Pushing gurneys aside, he picked it up to check for ID. He snapped open the wallet. The first thing he saw was Laurie’s photo on her driver’s license.
   As he rushed from the cooler, Lou’s concern turned to fear, especially if his current theory about all the gangland-style murders was correct. Frantically he looked for someone, anyone. There was always someone available at the morgue. Seeing the light in the main autopsy room, he ran down to it and pushed open the doors, but no one was there either.
   Turning around, Lou dashed back to the security office to use the phone. Entering the room, he immediately saw the guard’s body on the floor. He knelt down and rolled the man over. The man’s unseeing eyes stared up at him. There was a bullet hole in his forehead. Lou checked for a pulse, but there wasn’t any. The man was dead.
   Standing up, Lou snatched up the phone and dialed 911. As soon as an operator answered he identified himself as Lieutenant Lou Soldano and requested a homicide unit for the city morgue. He added that the victim was in the security office but that he would not be able to wait for the unit to arrive.
   Slamming the phone down, Lou raced to the morgue loading dock and jumped into his car. Starting the engine, he backed up with a screech of his tires, leaving two lines of rubber on the morgue’s driveway. He had no other choice than to head directly for Paul Cerino’s. It was cards-on-the-table time. He slapped his emergency light on the car’s roof and arrived at Cerino’s Queens address after twenty-three minutes of hair-raising driving.
   Racing up the front steps of the Cerino home, he reached into his shoulder holster and unsnapped the leather band securing his .38 Smith and Wesson Detective Special. He rang the bell impatiently. Judging by all the lights blazing, someone had to be home.
   Lou knew that he was operating on a hunch that depended on his theory about the gangland slayings being correct. But at the moment it was all he had, and his intuition told him that time was of the utmost importance.
   An overhead light came on above Lou’s head. Then he had the feeling that someone was looking at him through the peephole. Finally the door opened. Gloria was standing there dressed in one of her plain housedresses.
   “Lou!” Gloria said pleasantly. “What brings you here?”
   Lou shoved past her and into the house. “Where’s Paul?” he demanded. He looked into the living room, where Gregory and Steven were watching TV.
   “What’s the matter?” Gloria asked.
   “I have to talk with Paul. Where is he?”
   “He’s not here,” Gloria said. “Is there something wrong?”
   “Something’s very wrong,” Lou said. “Do you know where Paul is?”
   “I’m not positive,” Gloria said. “But I heard him on the phone with Dr. Travino. I think he said something about going down to the company.”
   “You mean at the pier?” Lou asked.
   Gloria nodded. “Is he in danger?” Gloria asked. Lou’s distress was infectious.
   Lou was already half out the door. Calling over his shoulder, he said, “I’ll take care of it.”
   Back in his car, Lou started the engine and made a sweeping U-turn in the middle of the street. As he accelerated he caught sight of Gloria standing on her stoop, anxiously clutching her hands to her chest.

   Laurie’s first sensation was nausea, but she didn’t vomit, although she retched. She woke up in stages, becoming progressively aware of movement and uncomfortable bumps and jostling. She also became aware of dizziness, as if she were spinning, and a terrible sense of air hunger, as if she were smothering.
   Laurie tried to open her eyes, only to realize with a terrible shock that they were already open. Wherever she was, it was pitch black.
   When she was more awake, Laurie tried to move, but when she did, her legs and arms immediately hit up against a wooden surface. Exploring with her hands, she quickly determined that she was in a box! A wave of frightful claustrophobia passed through her like a cold wind as she realized she’d been sealed into a Potter’s Field coffin! At the same time the memory of what happened at the medical examiner’s office flooded back with searing clarity: the chase; those two horrible men; the dead guard, the poor janitor murdered in cold blood. And then another horrid thought occurred to her: what if they were planning to bury her alive!
   Gripped with terror, Laurie tried to draw up her knees, straining against the top of the coffin. Then she tried to kick, but it was all to no avail. Either something extremely heavy was on the lid or it had been nailed firmly down.
   “Ahhhh,” Laurie cried as the coffin jarred severely. It was then that she realized she was in some sort of vehicle.
   Laurie tried screaming but only succeeded in hurting her own ears. Next she tried pounding the underside of the lid with her fists, but it was difficult in the confined space.
   Abruptly the jarring stopped. The vibration of the engine also stopped. Then there was the distant sound as if the doors of the vehicle had opened. Laurie felt the coffin move.
   “Help!” Laurie cried. “I can’t breathe!”
   She heard voices, but they weren’t speaking with her. In a wave of desperate panic, Laurie again tried to pound the underside of the lid as tears came. She couldn’t help herself. She’d never been so terrified in her life.
   Laurie knew she was being carried for a time. She hated to think where they were taking her. Would they really bury her? Would she hear the dirt raining down on the lid?
   With a final thump the coffin was put down. It hadn’t hit ground. It sounded like wood.
   Laurie gasped for air between sobs as a cold sweat appeared on her forehead.

  Lou wasn’t exactly sure where the American Fresh Fruit Company was, but he knew it was in the Green Point pier area. He’d been there once years before and was hoping it would come back to him.
   When he got to the waterfront district, he took his emergency light down and turned it off. He continued on Greenpoint Avenue until he could go no further, then turned north on West Street, the whole time scanning the abandoned warehouses for some sign of life.
   He was beginning to feel discouraged and progressively desperate until he saw a road marked Java Street. The name rang a bell. Lou turned left onto it, heading ever closer to the river. A block down stood a high chain-link fence. Over the open gate was a sign bearing the name of Cerino’s company. Several cars were parked on the inside of the gate. Lou recognized one as Cerino’s Lincoln Continental. Beyond the cars was a huge warehouse that extended out over the pier. Above and behind the warehouse Lou could see the very top of the superstructure of a ship.
   Lou drove through the gate and parked next to Cerino’s car. A wide overhead door to the warehouse was open. Lou could just make out the rear of a van parked in the darkness within. He shut off his engine and got out. All he could hear was the distant screech of some sea gulls.
   Lou checked his gun but left it in his holster. He tiptoed over to the open door and peered in for a better look at the van. When he saw HEALTH AND HOSPITAL CORP. on its side, he was encouraged. Glancing around in the darkness of the warehouse, Lou saw nothing but the vague outlines of stacks of bananas. No one was in sight, but toward the end of the pier, in the direction of the river, perhaps a hundred yards away, he could see a glow of light.
   Lou debated calling for backup. Proper police procedure required such a move, but he feared there wasn’t time. He had to be certain Laurie wasn’t in immediate danger.
   Once he did that, he could take the time to call for help.
   Avoiding the central corridor through the bananas, Lou worked his way laterally until he found another corridor that led out the pier. Groping ahead, he moved in the general direction of the light.
   It took him about five minutes to get abreast of the light. Carefully he again moved laterally until he could see that the light was coming from a windowed office. Inside were people. Lou recognized Cerino immediately.
   Inching even closer, Lou got a better view of the interior. Most important, he saw Laurie. She was sitting in a straight-back chair. Lou could even see that her forehead gleamed with perspiration.
   Sensing that Laurie was all right momentarily, Lou began to carefully retrace his steps. Now he wanted to use his radio in his car to call in some backup. With as many people as there were in the office, he wasn’t about to play hero and go barging in.
   Back at his car, Lou climbed in and picked up his police radio. He was about to speak when he felt the press of cold metal against the back of his neck.
   “Get out of the car,” a voice commanded.
   Lou turned slowly and looked up into Angelo’s gaunt face.
   “Out of the car.”
   Lou carefully replaced the microphone and got out onto the asphalt.
   “Face the car,” Angelo ordered.
   Angelo quickly frisked Lou, removing his gun when he found it.
   “OK,” Angelo said. “Let’s go down to the office. Maybe you’d like to go on a little cruise, too.”

   “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Laurie said. She was trembling. The coffin she’d been in was off to the side. She was terrified that they were going to force her back into it.
   “Please, Doctor,” Travino said. “I’m a doctor myself. We speak the same language. All we want to know is how you figured it out. How did you guess that these cases were not the garden-variety overdoses you people see day in, day out?”
   “You must be thinking of someone else,” Laurie said. She tried to think, but it was difficult with her terror. Yet she had the idea that the reason she was still alive was because they were desperate to know how she’d solved the case. Consequently she didn’t want to tell them anything.
   “Let me at her,” Tony pleaded.
   “If you don’t talk with the doctor,” Paul said, “I’ll have to let Tony have his way.”
   At that moment the door to the warehouse proper opened and Lou Soldano was propelled inside the office. Angelo followed, his gun held at his side. “Company!” he said.
   “Who is it, Angelo?” Paul demanded. His patch was still in place over his operated eye.
   “It’s Lou Soldano,” Angelo said. “He was about to use his radio.”
   “Lou?” Cerino echoed. “What are you doing here?”
   “Keeping an eye on you,” Lou said. Looking at Laurie, he asked, “Are you all right?”
   Laurie shook her head. “As well as can be expected,” she said through tears.
   Angelo grabbed a chair and set it next to Laurie’s. “Sit down!” he barked.
   Lou sat down, his eyes glued to Laurie. “Are you hurt?” he asked.
   “Travino,” Paul said angrily, “this whole affair is getting too complicated. You and your big ideas.” Then to Angelo he said: “Get someone outside to make sure Soldano was alone. And get rid of his car. To be on the safe side let’s assume he had a chance to call in before we got him.”
   Angelo snapped his fingers at several of the low-level hoodlums who’d accompanied Paul. The men immediately left the office.
   “Want me to take care of the detective?” Tony asked.
   Paul waved him away. “The fact that he is here means he knows more than he ought to know,” he said. “He’s going on the cruise, too. We’ll have to talk with him just like we have to talk with the girl. But for the moment let’s get them on the Montego Bay quickly. I’d prefer if the crew saw as little as possible. What do you suggest?”
   “Gas!” Angelo said.
   “Good idea,” Paul said. “Tony, you’re on.”
   Tony leaped at the opportunity to prove himself in Paul’s presence. He got out a couple of plastic bags and the gas cylinder. As soon as he had the first bag inflated, he tied it off and started on the second while the first slowly floated toward the ceiling.
   One of the hoodlums came back and reported that no one else was around and that Soldano’s car had been taken care of.
   A sudden vibrating blast from the Montego Bay ’s ship’s horn made everybody jump. The ship was just on the other side of the uninsulated wall of the office. Paul cursed.
   Tony had let go of the second bag and some of the gas escaped into the room.
   “Is that stuff bad for us?” Cerino questioned, smelling the gas.
   “No,” Dr. Travino said.
   In the confusion, Laurie turned to Lou. “Do you have your cigarettes with you?” she asked.
   Lou looked at her as if he’d not heard correctly. “What are you talking about?”
   “Your cigarettes,” she repeated. “Give them to me.”
   Lou reached into his jacket pocket. As he was about to pull out his hand, another hand grabbed his wrist. It was the hoodlum who’d reported on his car.
   The thug glared at Lou and pulled Lou’s hand from his jacket. When he saw that Lou was only holding a pack of cigarettes with matches under the cellophane, he let go of Lou’s arm and stepped back.
   Still baffled, Lou handed the cigarettes to Laurie.
   “Are you alone?” Laurie asked in a whisper.
   “Unfortunately,” Lou whispered back. He tried to smile at the thug who’d grabbed his wrist. The man was still glaring at him.
   “I want you to have a cigarette,” Laurie said.
   “I’m sorry,” Lou said. “I’m not interested in smoking at the moment.”
   “Take it!” Laurie snapped.
   Lou looked at her in bewilderment. “All right!” he said. “Whatever you say.”
   Laurie took one of the cigarettes out of the pack and stuck it into Lou’s mouth. Then she slipped out the matches. Tearing out a match, she glanced up at the hoodlum who was watching them so intently. His expression hadn’t changed.
   Laurie shielded the match and struck it. Lou leaned toward her with the cigarette between his lips. But Laurie didn’t light it. Instead she used the match to fire the entire pack of matches. Once the pack started to flare, she tossed it toward Tony and his plastic bags. In the same motion she fell sideways off her chair, tackling a surprised Lou in the process. Together they fell to the floor.
   The resulting explosion was severe, especially around Tony and upwards toward the ceiling, where the escaped ethylene had layered and the second bag had positioned itself. The concussion of the blast blew out all the office windows as well as the door and all the overhead lights, sparing only a lamp on the desk. Tony was consumed by the fireball. Angelo was thrown against the wall, where he sagged to a sitting position, his eardrums blown out. His hair was singed to his scalp, and he suffered some internal damage to his lungs. All the others were knocked momentarily senseless to the floor and superficially burned. A few managed to push themselves up on all fours, groaning and totally befuddled.
   On the floor, Laurie and Lou were relatively spared, having been below any of the layered ethylene, although both had suffered some minor burns and mild ear damage from the severe deflagration. Laurie opened her eyes and released her grip around Lou’s middle.
   “Are you all right?” she questioned. Her ears were ringing.
   “What the hell happened?” Lou said.
   Laurie scrambled to her feet. She pulled Lou’s arm to get him to his feet. “Let’s get out of here!” she said. “I’ll explain it later.”
   Together they stepped around and over moaning people strewn about the floor. They coughed in the acrid smoke.
   Beyond the blown-out door of the office, their feet crunched over shattered glass. Down the corridor of bananas, they saw a flashlight bobbing in the dark. Someone was running toward them.
   Lou yanked Laurie laterally away from the office in the direction from which he’d originally come. As they huddled behind a stack of bananas, the running footfalls drew closer. Soon another one of Cerino’s thugs stood gasping at the threshold of the office. For a moment he stood there with his mouth open in amazement. Then he went to his boss’s aid. Paul was sitting on the floor in front of the desk, holding his head.
   “This is our chance,” Lou whispered. He held on to Laurie as they worked their way back toward the entrance of the warehouse. The going was slow because of the dark and the fact that they wanted to stay away from the main corridor in case there were other Cerino people in the area.
   It took them almost ten minutes before they could see the vague outline of the opening of the overhead door. In front of it was the black silhouette of the morgue van. It was still parked where it had been when Lou had entered.
   “My car is probably gone,” Lou whispered. “Let’s see if the keys are in the van.”
   They approached the van cautiously. Opening the driver’s side door, Lou felt along the steering column. His fingers hit the keys, still dangling from the ignition.
   “Thank God,” he said. “They’re here. Get in!”
   Laurie climbed in the passenger side. Lou was already behind the wheel.
   “As soon as I start this thing,” Lou whispered urgently, “we’re out of here fast. But we might not be in the clear. There might be some shooting, so how about you going in the back and lying down.”

   “Just start the van!” Laurie said.
   “Come on,” Lou said. “Don’t argue.”
   “You’re the one who’s arguing,” Laurie snapped. “Let’s go!”
   “Nobody’s going nowhere!” a voice said to Lou’s left.
   With a sinking feeling, Laurie and Lou looked out the window on Lou’s side. A number of faceless men in hats were standing in the dark. A flashlight snapped on and played over Lou’s face, then over Laurie’s. They each blinked in its glare.
   “Out of the truck,” the same voice ordered. “Both of you.”
   With hopes dashed, Laurie and Lou climbed back out of the van. They could not see the men for the bright light shining at them, but there seemed to be three.
   “Back to the office,” the same voice commanded.
   Discouraged, Laurie and Lou led the way back. Neither of them said a word. Neither wanted to think about Cerino’s fury.
   The scene at the office was still chaotic. Smoke still hung heavily in the air. One of Cerino’s goons had helped his boss into the desk chair. Angelo was still sitting on the floor with his back against the wall. He looked confused, and a trickle of blood was dripping down his chin from the corner of his mouth.
   An additional light had been turned on, and the extent of the damage was more apparent. Laurie was surprised by the amount of charring. That old pharmacology text hadn’t been kidding: when it said ethylene was flammable it meant flammable. She and Lou were lucky not to have been injured more severely.
   Laurie and Lou were given the same seats they’d occupied only minutes before. Sitting down, Laurie got a glimpse of Tony’s burned remains. She grimaced and looked away.
   “My eye hurts,” Paul wailed.
   Laurie closed her eyes, not wanting to think what the consequences were to be of her having ignited the ethylene.
   “Someone help me,” Cerino cried.
   Laurie’s eyes opened again. Something was wrong. No one was moving. The three men who’d accompanied them back to the office were ignoring Cerino. In fact they were ignoring everyone.
   “What’s happening?” Laurie whispered to Lou.
   “I don’t know,” he said. “Something weird is going on.”
   Laurie looked up at the three men. They appeared nonchalant, picking at their nails, adjusting their ties. They hadn’t lifted a finger to help anyone. Looking in the other direction, Laurie saw the man who’d run back into the office just after she and Lou had gone out. He was sitting in a chair with his head in his hands, looking at the floor.
   Laurie heard the sound of footsteps approaching. It sounded as if whoever was coming had metal taps on his heels. Out the blasted doorway, Laurie saw beams from several flashlights bobbing toward them.
   Presently a rather dapper, darkly handsome man came to the blown-out door. He stopped to survey the scene. He was dressed in a dark cashmere coat over a pin-striped suit. His hair was slicked back from his forehead.
   “My God, Cerino,” he said with derision. “What a mess you have made!”
   Laurie looked at Cerino. Cerino didn’t answer; he didn’t even move.
   “I don’t believe it,” Lou said.
   Laurie’s head spun around. She looked at Lou and saw the shock registered on his face. “What’s happening?” she asked.
   “I knew something weird was going on,” Lou said.
   “What?” Laurie demanded.
   “It’s Vinnie Dominick,” Lou said.
   “Who’s Vinnie Dominick?” Laurie asked.
   Vinnie shook his head, surveying what was left of Tony, then walked over to Lou. “Detective Soldano,” Vinnie said. “How convenient that you’re here.” He pulled a cellular phone from his coat pocket and handed it to the detective. “I imagine you’d like to contact your colleagues to see if they’d be so good as to come over here. I’m sure the D.A. would like to have a long talk with Paul Cerino.”
   In the background Laurie was aware of the three men who had been lounging around before Vinnie Dominick arrived. They were now going around the room collecting guns.
   One of them brought Lou’s over to Vinnie, having retrieved it from Angelo. Vinnie proceeded to give it back to Lou.
   In disbelief Lou looked down at the phone in one hand and his gun in the other.
   “Come on, Lou,” Vinnie said. “Make your call. Unfortunately I’ve got another appointment, so I can’t be around when the men in blue arrive. Besides I’m kind of a shy sort of guy and I wouldn’t feel comfortable with all the acclaim the city would want to throw my way for saving the day. Obviously you know what Mr. Cerino has been up to, so you don’t need my help there. But if you don’t, don’t hesitate to give me a call. You know how to get ahold of me, I’m sure.”
   Vinnie started for the door, motioning for his men to follow him. As he passed Angelo he turned back to Lou. “You’d better call an ambulance for Angelo here,” he said. “He doesn’t look so good.” Then, looking down at Tony, he added: “The mortuary van out there will be fine for this dog turd.” With that, he left.
   Lou handed Laurie his gun while he used the cellular phone to call 911. He identified himself to the 911 operator and gave the address. When he was finished, he took back his gun.
   “Who is this Vinnie character?” Laurie asked.
   “He’s Cerino’s main rival,” Lou said. “He must have found out what Cerino was up to and this is his way of turning him in. Very effective, I’d say, with us here as witnesses. It’s also a clever way to get rid of his competition.”
   “You mean Vinnie knew Cerino was behind all these overdoses?” Laurie asked. She was stunned.
   “What are you talking about? Vinnie must have figured out that Cerino was killing off patients ahead of him on Jordan Scheffield’s corneal-transplant waiting list.”
   “Oh, my God!” Laurie exclaimed.
   “What now?” Lou asked. After the night he’d been having, he wasn’t ready for much more.
   “It’s twice as bad as I thought it was,” Laurie said. “The drug overdoses were really homicides to get eyes. Cerino was having people killed who’d signed up with the Manhattan Organ Repository for organ donation.”
   Lou glanced at Cerino. “He’s more of a sociopath than I could ever have imagined. My God, he was working both sides of the problem: supply and demand.”
   Cerino lifted his head from his hands. “What was I supposed to do? Wait like everybody else? I couldn’t afford to wait. In my business, every day I couldn’t see, I risked death. Is it my fault the hospitals don’t have enough corneas?”
   Laurie tapped Lou on the shoulder. He turned to face her.
   “There’s a strange irony to this whole affair,” Laurie said, shaking her head. “We argued with one another about whose series was more socially relevant and therefore more important, your gangland-style murders or my upscale overdoses, only to learn that they were intimately connected. They were just two sides of the same horrid affair.”
   “You can’t prove a thing,” Cerino growled.
   “Oh, really?” Laurie said.

Epilogue

   January
   10:15 a.m., Wednesday
   Manhattan
   Lou Soldano stamped the wet snow off his feet and walked into the morgue. He smiled at the man in the security office, who didn’t challenge him, and went directly to the locker room. Quickly he changed into green scrubs.
   Pausing outside the main autopsy room doors, he donned a mask, then pushed through. His eyes traveled from one end to the other, inspecting the people at each table. Finally his eyes spotted a familiar figure that even the bulky gown, apron, and hood could not hide.
   Walking over to the table, he looked down. Laurie was up to her elbows in a huge corpse. For the moment, she was by herself.
   “I didn’t know you did whales here,” Lou said.
   Laurie looked up. “Hi, Lou,” she said cheerfully. “Would you mind scratching my nose?” She twisted away from the table and closed her eyes as Lou complied. “A little lower,” she said. “Ahhh. That’s it.” She opened her eyes. “Thanks.” She went back to her work.
   “Interesting case?” Lou asked.
   “Very interesting,” Laurie said. “It was supposed to be a suicide, but I’m beginning to think it belongs in your department.”
   Lou watched for a few minutes and shuddered. “I don’t think I’ll ever get accustomed to your work.”
   “At least I’m working,” Laurie said.
   “That’s true,” Lou said. “Yet you shouldn’t have been fired in the first place. Luckily things have a way of working out for the best.”
   Laurie glanced up. “I don’t think the families of the victims feel that way.”
   “That’s true,” Lou admitted. “I just meant in relation to your job.”
   “Bingham ultimately was gracious about it,” Laurie said. “Not only did he give me my job back, he also admitted I had been right. Well, partly right. I was wrong about the idea of a contaminant.”
   “Well, you were right about the important part,” Lou said. “They weren’t accidental, they were homicidal. And your contribution didn’t end there. In fact that’s why I stopped by. We just got an airtight indictment against Cerino.”
   Laurie straightened up. “Congratulations!” she said.
   “Hey, it wasn’t my doing,” Lou said. “You get the credit. First you were able to match that skin sample under Julia Myerholtz’s fingernail with Tony Ruggerio’s remains. That was critical. Next you exhumed a number of bodies until you made a match with Kendall Fletcher’s teeth on Angelo Facciolo’s forearm.”
   “Any forensic pathologist could have done it,” Laurie said.
   “I’m not so sure,” Lou said. “Anyway, faced with such incontrovertible evidence, Angelo plea-bargained and implicated Cerino. That was what we needed. It’s downhill from here.”
   “You did pretty well yourself,” Laurie said. “You got the Kaufmans’ maid to pick Angelo out of a lineup and Tony out of mug shots.”
   “That wouldn’t have been strong enough for an indictment,” Lou said. “Or, even if I’d gotten an indictment, I wouldn’t have gotten a conviction. Certainly not of Cerino. But anyway it’s over.”
   “I shudder to think that there are people like Cerino out there,” Laurie said. “It’s the combination of intelligence and sociopathy that is so frightening. As heinous as the whole Cerino affair was, it had some ingenious aspects. Imagine having his thugs put people into refrigerators to preserve the corneal tissue longer! They knew that we’d erroneously ascribe that to the hyperpyrexia that cocaine toxicity causes.”
   “The point is,” Lou said, “the vast majority of people who play by the rules and abide by the laws don’t realize that there is a large number of people who do the opposite. One bad side to Cerino’s indictment is that Vinnie Dominick is unopposed. He and Cerino used to keep each other in check, but no longer. Organized-crime activity has gone up in Queens with Cerino’s departure from the scene, not down.”
   “Now that it is all over,” Laurie said, “I wonder why it took us so long to figure out what was happening. I mean, as a doctor I knew that New York is behind the times with its medical-examiner laws and that there is a waiting list for corneas. So why didn’t I see it earlier?”
   “I bet the reason you didn’t see it was because it was too diabolical,” Lou said. “It’s hard for the normal mind to even think of such a possibility.”
   “I wish I could make myself believe that,” Laurie said.
   “I’m sure that it’s true,” Lou said.
   “Perhaps,” Laurie said.
   “Well, I just wanted to let you know about Cerino,” Lou said. He shifted his weight clumsily.
   “I’m glad you did,” Laurie said. She studied him. He avoided her eyes.
   “Guess I’d better get back to my office,” Lou said. He nervously glanced around, making sure no one was paying them any attention.
   “Is there something you’d like to say?” Laurie asked. “You’re acting suspiciously familiar.”
   “Yeah,” Lou said, finally making eye contact. “Would you like to go out to dinner tonight, purely social, no business?”
   Laurie smiled at this replay of Lou’s painful social awkwardness. It was particularly unexpected now that they had worked together on the Cerino case and knew each other better. In all other respects Lou was decisive and confident.
   “We could go back to Little Italy,” Lou said in response to Laurie’s hesitation.
   “You never give a girl much warning,” Laurie said.
   Lou shrugged. “It gives me an excuse to myself if you refuse.”
   “Unfortunately I have plans,” Laurie said.
   “Of course,” Lou said hastily. “Silly of me to ask. Well, take care.” Lou abruptly turned. “Say hello to Jordan for me,” he called over his shoulder.
   Laurie felt a surge of old irritation as she watched Lou stride toward the double doors. She fought against the urge to snap back at him. He had not lost his penchant to be infuriating.
   The doors to the autopsy room shut behind Lou, and Laurie turned back to her job at hand. But she hesitated.
   Then, stripping off her rubber gloves, her apron and gown, Laurie strode from the autopsy room. The hall was clear. Lou had already disappeared. Guessing he was in the locker room, Laurie pushed directly into the men’s side.
   Laurie caught Lou with his scrub shirt half off, exposing his muscled and hairy chest. Self-consciously he lowered the garment.
   “I resent your implication that I’d be seeing Jordan Scheffield,” Laurie said, her arms akimbo. “You know full well he was implicated in this whole affair.”
   “I know he was implicated,” Lou said. “But I also know the grand jury did not indict him. I also made it a point to learn that the Board of Medicine didn’t even discipline him even though there was a strong suspicion that he knew what was going on. In fact, some people believe that Jordan discussed the affair with Cerino but did nothing because he liked the increase in surgery it provided. So Jordan’s out there pulling in the big bucks like nothing happened.”
   “And you think I’d still be seeing him under these conditions?” Laurie asked incredulously. “That’s an insult.”
   “I didn’t know,” Lou said sheepishly. “You never mentioned him.”
   “I thought it was clear,” Laurie said. “Besides, with as close as we have been working together, you could have asked.”
   “I’m sorry,” Lou said. “Maybe it’s more that I was afraid you were still seeing him. You remember that I admitted I’ve always been a bit jealous of him.”
   “He is the last person you should feel jealous of,” Laurie said. “Jordan would be lucky to have an ounce of your honesty and integrity.”
   “I’d like an ounce of his schooling,” Lou said. “Or his sophistication. He always made me feel like a second-class citizen.”
   “His urbanity is superficial,” Laurie said. “The only thing he is truly interested in is money. The embarrassment for me is that I was as blind to Jordan as I was to what Cerino was doing. I was bowled over by the rush he gave me and his apparent self-confidence. You saw through his facade, but I couldn’t, even when you told me directly.”
   “That’s not your fault,” Lou said. “You think better of people than I. You’re not the cynical bastard I am. Besides, you’re not laboring under a hangup about your background like I am.”
   “You should be proud of your background,” Laurie said. “It’s the source of your honesty.”
   “Yeah,” Lou said. “But I’d still rather have gone to Harvard.”
   “When I told you I had plans tonight, I was hoping you might have suggested we get together tomorrow night or next week. As prosaic as it sounds, I’m going to my parents’ tonight. What about you coming with me?”
   “You’re kidding,” Lou said. “Me?”
   “Yes,” Laurie said, warming to the idea. “One of the positive spinoffs of this whole affair with Cerino is my relationship with my parents has improved dramatically. For once my father even recognized that I’d done something he could relate to in a positive way, and I think I’ve grown up a tad myself. I’ve even stopped rebelling. I think dealing with this affair has finally allowed me to come more or less to terms with my old guilt in relation to my brother’s death.”
   “This is starting to sound a bit out of my league,” Lou said.
   “I suppose it seems sophomoric and overly analytical,” Laurie agreed. “But the bottom line is that visiting my parents can be fun. Lately I’ve been seeing them about once a week. And I’d love for you to come along. I’d like them to meet someone whom I really respect.”
   “Are you pulling my leg?” Lou asked.
   “Absolutely not,” Laurie said. “In fact, the more I think about it the more I hope you’ll come. And if you enjoy yourself, maybe you’ll still be willing to take me out to Little Italy tomorrow night.”
   “Lady,” Lou said, “you got yourself a deal.”

Contagion

Robin Cook

Prologue
11:36 a.m. Deadhorse, Alaska
6:40 p.m.
10:40 p.m.
1. Wednesday, 7:15 a.m., March 20, 1996
2. Wednesday, 9:45 a.m., March 20, 1996
3. Wednesday, 11:15 a.m., March 20, 1996
4. Wednesday, 2:05 p.m., March 20, 1996
5. Wednesday, 2:50 p.m., March 20, 1996
6. Wednesday, 4:05 p.m., March 20, 1996
7. Wednesday, 4:15 p.m., March 20, 1996
8. Wednesday, 4:35 p.m., March 20, 1996
9. Wednesday, 10:15 p.m., March 20, 1996
10. Thursday, 7:25 a.m., March 21, 1996
11. Thursday, 9:30 a.m., March 21, 1996
12. Thursday, 9:45 a.m., March 21, 1996
13. Thursday, 10:45 a.m., March 21, 1996
14. Thursday, 12:00 p.m., March 21, 1996
15. Thursday, 8:30 p.m., March 21, 1996
16. Friday, 6:30 a.m., March 22, 1996
17. Friday, 12:15 p.m., March 22, 1996
18. Friday, 2:45 p.m., March 22, 1996
19. Friday, 9:00 p.m., March 22, 1996
20. Friday, 11:45 p.m., March 22, 1996
21. Saturday, 8:30 a.m., March 23, 1996
22. Sunday, 9:00 a.m., March 24, 1996
23. Monday, 7:30 a.m., March 25, 1996
24. Monday, 2:30 p.m., March 25, 1996
25. Monday, 3:15 p.m., March 25, 1996
26. Monday, 6:00 p.m., March 25, 1996
27. Tuesday, 7:30 a.m., March 26, 1996
28. Tuesday, 10:30 a.m., March 26, 1996
29. Tuesday, 1:30 p.m., March 26, 1996
30. Tuesday, 8:45 p.m., March 26, 1996
31. Wednesday, 6:15 a.m., March 27, 1996
32. Wednesday, 5:45 p.m., March 27, 1996
33. Wednesday, 7:45 p.m., March 27, 1996
34. Thursday, 8:15 a.m., March 28, 1996
35. Friday, 8:00 a.m., March 29, 1996
Epilogue
Thursday, 7:45 p.m., April 25, 1996

Contagion
by Robin Cook

   For Phyllis, Stacy, Marilyn, Dan, Vicky, and Ben

   Our leaders should reject market values as a framework for health care and the market-driven mess into which our health system is evolving.

Jerome P. Kassirer, M.D.
New England Journal of Medicine
Vol. 333, No. 1, p. 50, 1995



   I would like to thank all my friends and colleagues who are always graciously willing to field questions and offer helpful advice. Those whom I’d particularly like to acknowledge for Contagion are:
   Dr. Charles Wetli, Forensic Pathologist and Medical Examiner
   Dr. Jacki Lee, Forensic Pathologist and Medical Examiner
   Dr. Mark Neuman, Virologist and Virology Laboratory Director
   Dr. Chuck Karpas, Pathologist and Laboratory Supreme Commander
   Joe Cox, Esquire, Lawyer and Reader
   Flash Wiley, Esquire, Lawyer, Fellow Basketball Player, and Rap Consultant
   Jean Reeds, Social Worker, Critic, and Fabulous Sounding Board

Prologue

   June 12, 1991, dawned a near-perfect, late-spring day as the sun’s rays touched the eastern shores of the North American continent. Most of the United States, Canada, and Mexico expected clear, sunny skies. The only meteorological blips were a band of potential thunderstorms that was expected to extend from the plains into the Tennessee Valley and some showers that were forecasted to move in from the Bering Strait over the Seward Peninsula in Alaska.
   In almost every way this June twelfth was like every other June twelfth, with one curious phenomenon. Three incidents occurred that were totally unrelated, yet were to cause a tragic intersection of the lives of three of the people involved.

11:36 a.m. Deadhorse, Alaska

   “Hey! Dick! Over here,” shouted Ron Halverton. He waved frantically to get his former roommate’s attention. He didn’t dare leave his Jeep in the brief chaos at the tiny airport. The morning 737 from Anchorage had just landed and the security people were strict about unattended vehicles in the loading area. Buses and vans were waiting for the tourists and the returning oil company personnel.
   Hearing his name and recognizing Ron, Dick waved back and then began threading his way through the milling crowd.
   Ron watched Dick as he approached. Ron hadn’t seen him since they’d graduated from college the year before, but Dick appeared just as he always did: the picture of normality with his Ralph Lauren shirt and windbreaker jacket, Guess jeans, and a small knapsack slung over his shoulder. Yet Ron knew the real Dick: the ambitious, aspiring microbiologist who would think nothing of flying all the way from Atlanta to Alaska with the hope of finding a new microbe. Here was a guy who loved bacteria and viruses. He collected the stuff the way other people collected baseball cards. Ron smiled and shook his head as he recalled that Dick had even had petri dishes of microbes in their shared refrigerator at the University of Colorado.
   When Ron had met Dick during their freshman year, it had taken a bit of time to get used to him. Although he was an indubitably faithful friend, Dick had some peculiar and unpredictable quirks. On the one hand he was a fierce competitor in intramural sports and surely the guy you wanted with you if you mistakenly wandered into the wrong part of town, yet on the other hand he’d been unable to sacrifice a frog in first-year biology lab.
   Ron found himself chuckling as he remembered another surprising and embarrassing moment involving Dick. It was during their sophomore year when a whole group had piled into a car for a weekend ski trip. Dick was driving and accidentally ran over a rabbit. His response had been to break down in tears. No one had known what to say. As a result some people began to talk behind Dick’s back, especially when it became common knowledge that he would pick up cockroaches at the fraternity house and deposit them outside instead of squishing them and flushing them down the toilet as everybody else did.
   As Dick came alongside the Jeep, he tossed his bag into the backseat before grasping Ron’s outstretched hand.
   They greeted each other enthusiastically.
   “I can’t believe this,” Ron said. “I mean, you’re here! In the Arctic.”
   “Hey, I wouldn’t have missed this for the world,” Dick said. “I’m really psyched. How far is the Eskimo site from here?”
   Ron looked nervously over his shoulder. He recognized several of the security people. Turning back to Dick, he lowered his voice. “Cool it,” he murmured. “I told you people are really sensitive about this.”
   “Oh, come on,” Dick scoffed. “You can’t be serious.”
   “I’m dead serious,” Ron said. “I could get fired for leaking this to you. No fooling around. I mean, we got to do this hush-hush or we don’t do it at all. You’re to tell no one, ever! You promised!”
   “All right, all right,” Dick said with a short, appeasing laugh. “You’re right. I promised. I just didn’t think it was such a big deal.”
   “It’s a very big deal,” Ron said firmly. He was beginning to think he’d made a mistake inviting Dick to visit, despite how much fun it was to see him.
   “You’re the boss,” Dick said. He gave his friend a jab on the shoulder. “My lips are sealed forever. Now chill out and relax.” He swung himself into the Jeep. “But let’s just buzz out there straightaway and check out this discovery.”
   “You don’t want to see where I live first?” Ron asked.
   “I have a feeling I’ll be seeing that more than I care to,” he said with a laugh.
   “I suppose it’s not a bad time while everybody is preoccupied with the Anchorage flight and screwing around with the tourists.” He reached forward and started the engine.
   They drove out of the airport and headed northeast on the only road. It was gravel. To talk they had to shout over the sound of the engine.
   “It’s about eight miles to Prudhoe Bay,” Ron said, “but we’ll be turning off to the west in another mile or so. Remember, if anybody stops us, I’m just taking you to the new oilfield.”
   Dick nodded. He couldn’t believe his friend was so uptight about this thing. Looking around at the flat, marshy monotonous tundra and the overcast gunmetal gray sky, he wondered if the place was getting to Ron. He guessed life was not easy on the alluvial plain of Alaska’s north slope. To lighten the mood he said: “Weather’s not bad. What’s the temperature?”
   “You’re lucky,” Ron said. “There was some sun earlier, so it’s in the low fifties. This is as warm as it gets up here. Enjoy it while it lasts. It’ll probably flurry later today. It usually does. The perpetual joke is whether it’s the last snow of last winter or the first snow of next winter.”
   Dick smiled and nodded but couldn’t help but think that if the people up there considered that funny, they were in sad shape.
   A few minutes later Ron turned left onto a smaller, newer road, heading northwest.
   “How did you happen to find this abandoned igloo?” Dick asked.
   “It wasn’t an igloo,” Ron said. “It was a house made out of peat blocks reinforced with whalebone. Igloos were only made as temporary shelters, like when people went out hunting on the ice. The Inupiat Eskimos lived in peat huts.”
   “I stand corrected,” Dick said. “So how’d you come across it?”
   “Totally by accident,” Ron said. “We found it when we were bulldozing for this road. We broke through the entrance tunnel.”
   “Is everything still in it?” Dick asked. “I worried about that flying up here. I mean, I don’t want this to be a wasted trip.”
   “Have no fear,” Ron said. “Nothing’s been touched. That I can assure you.”
   “Maybe there are more dwellings in the general area,” Dick suggested. “Who knows? It could be a village.”
   Ron shrugged. “Maybe so. But no one wants to find out. If anybody from the state got wind of this they’d stop construction on our feeder pipeline to the new field. That would be one huge disaster, because we have to have the feeder line functional before winter, and winter starts in August around here.”
   Ron began to slow down as he scanned the side of the road. Eventually he pulled to a stop abreast of a small cairn. Putting a hand on Dick’s arm to keep him in his seat, he turned to look back down the road. When he was convinced that no one was coming, he climbed from the Jeep and motioned for Dick to do the same.
   Reaching back into the Jeep, he pulled out two old and soiled anoraks and work gloves. He handed a set to Dick. “You’ll need these,” he explained. “We’ll be down below the permafrost.” Then he reached back into the Jeep for a heavy-duty flashlight.
   “All right,” Ron added nervously. “We can’t be here long. I don’t want anybody coming along the road and wondering what the hell is going on.”
   Dick followed Ron as he headed north away from the road. A cloud of mosquitoes mystically materialized and attacked them mercilessly. Looking ahead, Dick could see a fog bank about a half mile away and guessed it marked the coast of the Arctic Ocean. In all other directions there was no relief from the monotony of the flat, windswept, featureless tundra that extended to the horizon. Overhead seabirds circled and cried raucously.
   A dozen steps from the road, Ron stopped. After one last glance for approaching vehicles, he bent down and grabbed the edge of a sheet of plywood that had been painted to match the variegated colors of the surrounding tundra. He pulled the wood aside to reveal a hole four feet deep. In the north wall of the hole was the entrance to a small tunnel.
   “It looks as if the hut was buried by ice,” Dick said.
   Ron nodded. “We think that pack ice was blown up from the beach during one of the ferocious winter storms.”
   “A natural tomb,” Dick said.
   “Are you sure you want to do this?” Ron asked.
   “Don’t be silly,” Dick said while he donned the parka and pulled on the gloves. “I’ve come thousands of miles. Let’s go.”
   Ron climbed into the hole and then bent down on all fours. Lowering himself, he entered the tunnel. Dick followed at his heels.
   As Dick crawled, he could see very little save for the eerie silhouette of Ron ahead of him. As he moved away from the entrance, the darkness closed in around him like a heavy, frigid blanket. In the failing light he noticed his breath crystallizing. He thanked God that he wasn’t claustrophobic.
   After about six feet the walls of the tunnel fell away. The floor also slanted downward, giving them an additional foot of headroom. There were about three and a half feet of clearance. Ron moved to the side and Dick crawled up next to him.
   “It’s colder than a witch’s tit down here,” Dick said.
   Ron’s flashlight beam played into the corners to illuminate short vertical struts of beluga rib bones.
   “The ice snapped those whalebones like they were toothpicks,” Ron said.
   “Where are the inhabitants?” Dick asked.
   Ron directed his flashlight beam ahead to a large, triangular piece of ice that had punched through the ceiling of the hut. “On the other side of that,” he said. He handed the flashlight to Dick.
   Dick took the flashlight and started crawling forward. As much as he didn’t want to admit it, he was beginning to feel uncomfortable. “You’re sure this place is safe?” he questioned.
   “I’m not sure of anything,” Ron said. “Just that it’s been like this for seventy-five years or so.”
   It was a tight squeeze around the block of dirty ice in the center. When Dick was halfway around he shone the light into the space beyond.
   Dick caught his breath while a little gasp issued from his mouth. Although he thought he’d been prepared, the image within the flashlight beam was more ghoulish than he’d expected. Staring back at him was the pale visage of a frozen, bearded Caucasian male dressed in furs. He was sitting upright. His eyes were open and ice blue, and they stared back at Dick defiantly. Around his mouth and nose was frozen pink froth.
   “You see all three?” Ron called from the darkness.
   Dick allowed the light to play around the room. The second body was supine, with its lower half completely encased in ice. The third body was positioned in a manner similar to the first, propped up against a wall in a half-sitting position. Both were Eskimos with characteristic features, dark hair, and dark eyes. Both also had frozen pink froth around their mouths and noses.
   Dick shuddered through a sudden wave of nausea. He hadn’t expected such a reaction, but it passed quickly.
   “You see the newspaper?” Ron called.
   “Not yet,” Dick said as he trained his light on the floor. He saw all sorts of debris frozen together, including bird feathers and animal bones.
   “It’s near the bearded guy,” Ron called.
   Dick shone the light at the frozen Caucasian’s feet. He saw the Anchorage paper immediately. The headlines were about the war in Europe. Even from where he was he could see the date: April 17, 1918.
   Dick wriggled back into the antechamber. His initial horror had passed. Now he was excited. “I think you were right,” he said. “It looks like all three died of pneumonia, and the date is right on.”
   “I knew you’d find it interesting,” Ron said.
   “It’s more than interesting,” Dick said. “It could be the chance of a lifetime. I’m going to need a saw.”
   The blood drained from Ron’s face. “A saw,” he repeated with dismay. “You’ve got to be joking.”
   “You think I’d pass up this chance?” Dick questioned. “Not on your life. I need some lung tissue.”
   “Jesus H. Christ!” Ron murmured. “You’d better promise again not to say anything about this ever!”
   “I promised already,” Dick said with exasperation. “If I find what I think I’m going to find, it will be for my own collection. Don’t worry. Nobody’s going to know.”
   Ron shook his head. “Sometimes I think you’re one weird dude.”
   “Let’s get the saw,” Dick said. He handed the flashlight to Ron and started for the entrance

6:40 p.m.
O’Hare Airport, Chicago

   Marilyn Stapleton looked at her husband of twelve years and felt torn. She knew that the convulsive changes that had racked their family had impacted most on John, yet she still had to think about the children. She glanced at the two girls who were sitting in the departure lounge and nervously looking in her direction, sensing that their life as they knew it was in the balance. John wanted them to move to Chicago where he was starting a new residency in pathology.
   Marilyn redirected her gaze to her husband’s pleading face. He’d changed over the last several years. The confident, reserved man she had married was now bitter and insecure. He had shed twenty-five pounds, and his once ruddy, full cheeks had hollowed, giving him a lean, haggard look consistent with his new personality.
   Marilyn shook her head. It was hard to recall that just two years previously they had been the picture of the successful suburban family with his flourishing ophthalmology practice and her tenured position in English literature at the University of Illinois.
   But then the huge health-care conglomerate AmeriCare had appeared on the horizon, sweeping through Champaign, Illinois, as well as numerous other towns, gobbling up practices and hospitals with bewildering speed. John had tried to hold out but ultimately lost his patient base. It was either surrender or flee, and John chose to flee. At first he’d looked for another ophthalmology position, but when it became clear there were too many ophthalmologists and that he’d be forced to work for AmeriCare or a similar organization, he’d made the decision to retrain in another medical specialty.
   “I think you would enjoy living in Chicago,” John said pleadingly. “And I miss you all terribly.”
   Marilyn sighed. “We miss you, too,” she said. “But that’s not the point. If I give up my job the girls would have to go to an inner-city public school. There’s no way we could afford private school with your resident’s salary.”
   The public-address system crackled to life and announced that all passengers holding tickets for Champaign had to be on board. It was last call.
   “We’ve got to go,” Marilyn said. “We’ll miss the flight.”
   John nodded and brushed away a tear. “I know,” he said. “But you will think about it?”
   “Of course I’ll think about it,” Marilyn snapped. Then she caught herself. She sighed again. She didn’t mean to sound angry. “It’s all I’m thinking about,” she added softly.
   Marilyn lifted her arms and embraced her husband. He hugged her back with ferocity.
   “Careful,” she wheezed. “You’ll snap one of my ribs.”
   “I love you,” John said in a muffled voice. He’d buried his face in the crook of her neck.
   After echoing his sentiments, Marilyn broke away and gathered Lydia and Tamara. She gave the boarding passes to the ticket agent and herded the girls down the ramp. As she walked she glanced at John through the glass partition. As they turned into the jetway she gave a wave. It was to be her last.
   “Are we going to have to move?” Lydia whined. She was ten and in the fifth grade.
   “I’m not moving,” Tamara said. She was eleven and strong-willed. “I’ll move in with Connie. She said I could stay with her.”
   “And I’m sure she discussed that with her mother,” Marilyn said sarcastically. She was fighting back tears she didn’t want the girls to see.
   Marilyn allowed her daughters to precede her onto the small prop plane. She directed the girls to their assigned seats and then had to settle an argument about who was going to sit alone. The seating was two by two.
   Marilyn answered her daughters’ impassioned entreaties about what the near future would bring with vague generalities. In truth, she didn’t know what was best for the family.
   The plane’s engines started with a roar that made further conversation difficult. As the plane left the terminal and taxied out toward the runway, she put her nose to the window. She wondered how she would have the strength to make a decision.
   A bolt of lightning to the southwest jolted Marilyn from her musing. It was an uncomfortable reminder of her disdain for commuter flights. She did not have the same confidence in small planes as she did in regular jets. Unconsciously she cinched her seat belt tighter and again checked her daughters’.
   During the takeoff Marilyn gripped the armrests with a force that suggested she thought her effort helped the plane get aloft. It wasn’t until the ground had significantly receded that she realized she’d been holding her breath.
   “How long is Daddy going to live in Chicago?” Lydia called across the aisle.
   “Five years,” Marilyn answered. “Until he finishes his training.”
   “I told you,” Lydia yelled to Tamara. “We’ll be old by then.”
   A sudden bump made Marilyn reestablish her death grip on her armrests. She glanced around the cabin. The fact that no one was panicking gave her some solace. Looking out the window, she saw that they were entirely enveloped in clouds. A flash of lightning eerily lit up the sky.
   As they flew south the turbulence increased, as did the frequency of the lightning. A terse announcement by the pilot that they would try to find smoother air at a different altitude did little to assuage Marilyn’s rising fears. She wanted the flight to be over.
   The first sign of real disaster was a strange light that filled the plane, followed instantly by a tremendous bump and vibration. Several of the passengers let out half-suppressed screams that made Marilyn’s blood run cold. Instinctively she reached over and pulled Tamara closer to her.
   The vibration increased in intensity as the plane began an agonizing roll to the right. At the same time the sound of the engines changed from a roar to an earsplitting whine. Sensing that she was being pressed into her seat and feeling disoriented in space, Marilyn looked out the window. At first she didn’t see anything but clouds. But then she looked ahead and her heart leaped into her throat. The earth was rushing up at them at breakneck speed! They were flying straight down…