Germ

stayed there. This one'— he raised the pan, indicating the disk inside—'was lodged in his sternum. I suspect most of the disks probably went right through him and are embedded in whatever was behind him. By the looks of the injuries, they took a lot of his body with them when they exited.'

'May I have this one?' she asked.

He squinted at her. 'Is that okay?'

'We haven't established jurisdiction on this case yet, but we will. I might be able to get a jump on it if I can run this through our database, see if something like it has been used before in a crime.'

'I see,' he said thoughtfully. 'Well, I don't see why not. The medical examiner will probably find plenty of others in the body, and the police undoubtedly already have all they need at the crime scene.'

He took the pan to a sink and ran water into it. He said, 'Was the man who was with your partner a cop as well?'

'No. Did they bring him in? I didn't—' She hadn't even thought of Vero. She had assumed, vaguely, in the back of her mind, that he also had been shot and killed, but she hadn't realized until that moment that she hadn't seen him come in. If he had died at the scene, they would have kept him there for processing—photographs and such— and then taken him directly to the morgue.

Parker said, 'One of the attendants who brought in Mr. Donnelley said the killer took the other man's body.'

'Took it?'

'A witness said he shot him, flipped the corpse over his shoulder, and walked out the door.'

A nurse opened the door behind Julia and leaned in. 'Dr. Parker?'

'Yes?' he said without looking.

'There's a Detective Fisher on 3 for you.'

'Thank you.' He carefully drained the water from the pan. He opened and closed cabinets and drawers, selected a white-and-blue box the size of a pack of cards, and removed a pad of gauze from it. He used the gauze to pick up and dry the disk, then dropped the disk into the box.

'Apparently it was a pretty bizarre scene. Confusing.' He handed the box to Julia. 'Excuse me.' He walked to a phone on the other side of the room. He raised the handset and said, 'Dr. Parker . . . Yes.' He looked at his watch. 'I have an appointment off-site in forty-five minutes. How long will you be? . . . I see . . .'

While his back was turned, Julia slipped out. She couldn't see any reason Goody's admonition to avoid other law enforcement would be any less valid now that he had been killed. In fact, his death may have validated his concerns. She needed to know more about how he died, about who had killed him. The local cops would have plenty of details from the crime scene and any witnesses, but until she had a better grasp of what exactly was happening, she didn't want to see them. Or anyone else.

fifteen

Karl Litt's son, Joe, ran down the grassy hill, arms flapping like wings, legs moving faster than they could on flat terrain, his face brighter than the sun, laughing, squealing.

'Come on, son!' Litt called from the bottom of the hill. 'She's gaining!'

Twenty feet behind the six-year-old boy, his mother scampered, reaching for her prey. She was obviously trying to prevent gravity from hurling her forward too fast, into her son.

Litt laughed. 'You're almost there, Joe! Right here.' He dropped to his knees, clapped his hands, and opened his arms wide to give the child a target. His son tacked left and ran for him. Joe appeared on the brink of a wipeout, but he stayed on his feet and picked up speed.

Instead, it was his mother who wiped out. Her feet pulled ahead, and when she tried to get her body lined up again, her arms and head and torso just kept going until she lost it, hitting the grass with her hands, then somersaulting once . . . twice . . . She twisted and began tumbling sideways, then backwards.

Litt's mouth fell open. He didn't know whether he should laugh or yell out to her. Then Joe slammed into him, and they both tumbled and rolled. They stopped and Joe was under him, giggling uncontrollably. Litt raised his head, saw Rebecca lying still, and felt his heart skip a beat. She raised an arm and proffered a thumbs-up.

'Ha-ha!' he laughed to his son. 'You did it. You beat the monster.' He pushed himself up and pulled Joe with him. 'See?' He pointed at the downed blonde beast.

Joe ran to his mother and nudged her with his sneaker. He turned back to Litt. 'Let's fix her, Daddy!'

'Fix her?' Litt picked up his son and flipped him onto his shoulders.

'Wheeeeee!'

Litt looked down. His wife was staring at him with one eye, a tight-lipped smile on her lips. He winked at her, and she shimmered and disappeared.

Bam, bam, bam.

Litt looked up and around. His son was gone. His fingers touched his shoulder: just a bony old man's shoulder; no longer a perch for a little boy.

He was sitting on an unmade bed in a dark room, the only light coming from a black-and-white monitor on a dresser. It showed a man outside his bedroom. Gregor von Papen. While Litt watched, Gregor rapped again.

Bam, bam, bam.

Litt stood and shuffled to the door, kicking aside rumpled clothes, a magazine, a plastic cup. He leaned into the door, pressing his palms against it, head-height and shoulder-width apart, as though preparing to be patted down by police.

'What is it?' he called through the door.

'I have news,' Gregor said.

'What is it?'

Gregor hesitated, then said, 'Atropos has succeeded.'

Litt nodded. 'Despesorio is dead?'

'Yes.'

'He got the chip?'

Silence.

Litt snapped the dead bolt and yanked open the door. Gregor's face momentarily registered mild shock, and Litt knew he must look particularly awful. He'd done nothing to temper the pallor or scaliness of his skin. His eyes, usually shielded by sunglasses, must have been bloodshot and red-rimmed. Since the accident, his irises had been faded from cobalt to the faintest of blue, almost white. A quick glance would catch only pinprick pupils, which would seem alone in punctuating the eerie-white orbs of his eyes, like periods without sentences. He blinked against the corridor's light.

Gregor took a step back.

'Tell me he retrieved the chip,' Litt said.

'It wasn't on the body.'

'Did he take the body?'

'Yes, he dissected it. It wasn't inside Vero, either. He found the tracking device in Vero's leg. He wondered if that's what we wanted. I told him no.'

Litt turned around. The dimness of the room soothed his eyes. He returned to the bed and sat, thinking. He asked, 'Was he alone?'

'Some kind of fed was with him. He's dead too.'

Litt nodded, then froze when Gregor said, 'Atropos didn't do it.'

Litt looked up. 'Kendrick?' he whispered.

'I assume so. Atropos said it was a classic two-man hit team. Civilian clothes.'

Litt smiled. 'Atropos walked into that?' He shook his head in awe. 'Worth every penny.' He considered the scene a moment longer, then found his previous train of thought. 'Did he check the fed?'

'He got out of there with seconds to spare. The cops were all over, apparently.'

'So he didn't?'

Gregor shook his head.

'Well, he must. In all probability, Despesorio turned the chip over to the law enforcement officer.'

'I'll let him know.'