We are shown into a room that features a secure area on the other side of a glass-and-steel wall. That section seems to be accessed through a series of small chambers that look like air locks. One person is already in there, standing around in what looks like a full hazmat suit.
“How does all this work, Ajay?” asks Peggy, always curious.
“Our staff enter without any clothing,” he says. “They go through to a shower room, then into a changing area where they then dress in decontaminated scrubs on the other side.”
Ajay has me follow exactly that procedure. I step into a closed chamber, remove everything I’m wearing, underwear included, then pass through the shower, and help myself to scrubs. The little box is the only thing I can take with me, wrapped up as it was when I left the lab.
Once I’m into the sterilized side of the lab, I’m instructed to leave my mystery package on the counter. Then Ajay directs me to come back to his side. On the other side of the glass, we watch the suited technician painstakingly remove the gauze and protective packaging and unseal the small box. Inside is a tiny metal vial.
“We will take it from here,” Ajay says.
“How long do you need to analyze it?” I ask.
“That is hard to say until we know what it is. Ideally, we must run it through a full centrifuge-type process that separates out the tiniest particles. It takes time, many hours. But we will run it overnight, so there should be news in the morning, if not before.”
“Thank you, we so appreciate this,” says Peggy. Ajay turns to me.
“I am afraid we will also have to incinerate all your clothing as a precaution,” he continues. “You can keep these scrubs and wear them to go home. But before you leave, we will take swabs and blood tests. Just to be sure you have not been infected.”
Well, that little speech makes me anxious. I pull Peggy aside.
“Riya, the police detective, was also with me at the lab,” I say.
“Then I think you need to ask her to come in and go through the same protocol,” Peggy says. She steps over to Ajay, letting him know that he has one more person to decontaminate.
In the meantime, I text Riya, trying to make it clear that this is important. She messages me straight back to say that she will come over at once. I write back:
Good. I’m sure Sunil will understand
Her reply flies in:
He doesn’t have to. I’m suspended
20
“MY PARENTS ALWAYS WANTED ME to become a doctor,” Riya notes as we sit side by side on a long row of chairs, waiting for the results of our medical checks and blood tests. Ruefully, she looks down at the green medical scrubs that we’ve both been wearing since our clothes were tossed into a furnace. I’m not much for fashion, but I was gutted to lose my leather biker jacket. It was a vintage piece that Kit had bought for me in Portobello market.
“How’d they feel when you joined the police?” I ask.
“They weren’t thrilled about it,” she replies. “But I’ve been obsessed about fighting for justice since I was a child.”
Her fingers tap nervously on the arm of her chair.
“I’m sorry you got suspended,” I venture.
“It’s my own fault,” she says softly. “I broke into a lab without a warrant. And Sunil doesn’t even know the part where I met you in a bar and gave you a thumb drive full of information that I stole from a politician’s home. None of it is really standard procedure.”
“Standard procedure can be overrated,” I say.
“Trust me, I’m learning that,” Riya returns. “But I’m a police detective. Not some rogue agent. Or private investigator, like you.”
I try not to smile at that. Riya’s police training and instinct to circumvent process might actually be a great combination if she worked at Athena. But right now, she’s completely angst-ridden about losing her place by Sunil’s side.
“How long did he suspend you for?” I ask.
“A week. And it goes on my record,” she sighs.
The sound of footsteps ringing down the hallway makes us both look up. It’s Ajay, brandishing two sheets of paper and wearing a reassuringly wide smile. Peggy left the lab before Riya arrived. She and Kit have things to do, plus there’s no need for her to come into contact with anyone from the police.
“Ladies,” Ajay announces, “you will be delighted to know you are both all clear. No sign of contamination, pathogens, or anything else.”
Riya and I exchange a relieved smile as we shake hands with Ajay. He escorts us to the back door of the clinic.
“Make sure to keep me informed if you develop any reactions or symptoms,” he says. “But I suspect everything will be fine.”
We both thank him as I collect my motorbike and Riya hails a cab.
“What are your plans for the rest of the day?” I ask her.
Her eyes turn away, to the street, watching the constant blur of passing traffic while she considers.
“I’ll go home to get some clothes,” she replies. “Then, I suppose I’ll stay at home. And think about the fact that Family First is busy plotting terrible things while I sit around and do nothing.”
“Well, at least you’re not feeling sorry for yourself,” I say. She hits my arm in response.
“What are you going to do?” she asks.
“Once I’m out of these scrubs? I was going to eat lunch. Are suspended cops allowed out for lunch?”
“I believe it’s acceptable.” She smiles.
“But before that, I have one little thing to do . . . just routine. Want to come?”
“Something to do with the case?” she asks.
“Yes,” I say. Her eyes stay on mine as she hesitates. “What are you thinking?” I ask.
“I’m thinking that Sunil told me not to come to work,” she replies. “But he didn’t actually say anything about staying off the case.”
I don’t want Riya to come with me
