Reliquary

conducting tests on the plants I found in his laboratory. We’ve introduced them into various test animals, including white mice and some protozoans. My lab assistant, Jennifer Lake, is going over the results now.”

“Why wasn’t I informed—?” Waxie began.

D’Agosta rounded on him. “When you finally get around to checking your in box and listening to your messages, you’ll find that you were informed of every goddamn step.”

Horlocker held up his hand. “Enough. Lieutenant, we all know that mistakes have been made. We’ll leave the recriminations for later.”

D’Agosta sat back. Margo had never seen him so angry. It was almost as if he blamed everyone in the room— himself included—for the subway tragedy.

“Right now, we’ve got an unbelievably serious situation on our hands,” Horlocker continued. “The mayor’s on my back, screaming for action. And now, with this massacre, the governor’s joined in.” He wiped his brow with a damp handkerchief. “All right. According to Dr. Green here, we’re dealing with a group of drug addicts, supplied by this scientist, Kawakita. Only now, Kawakita is dead. Maybe their supplies have run out, or maybe they’ve gone wild. They’re living deep underground, in these Astor Tunnels D’Agosta was describing, abandoned long ago because of flooding. And they’re going mad with need. When they can’t get the drug, they’re forced to eat the human brain. Just like the Mbwun beast. Hence, all the recent killings.” He looked around, glaring. “Supporting evidence?”

“The Mbwun plants we found at Kawakita’s lab site,” Margo said.

“The bulk of the killings parallel the route of the Astor Tunnels,” D’Agosta added. “Pendergast showed that.”

“Circumstantial.” Waxie snorted.

“How about testimony of countless homeless, all stating the Devil’s Attic has been colonized?” Margo said.

“You’d trust a bunch of bums and drug addicts?” Waxie asked.

“Why the hell would they lie?” Margo demanded. “And who’s in a better position to know the truth than they are?”

“Very well!” The Chief raised his hand. “In the face of the evidence, we’re forced to agree. No other leads have panned out. And the powers that be in this city want immediate action. Not tomorrow, or the next day, but right now.”

Frock cleared his throat quietly. It was the first sound he’d made in some time.

“Professor?” Horlocker said.

Frock rolled forward slowly. “Forgive my skepticism, but I find this a little too fantastic,” he began. “It all seems too much an extrapolation from the facts. Since I wasn’t involved in the most recent tests, I can’t speak with authority, of course.” He looked at Margo with mild reproof. “But the simplest explanation is usually the correct one.”

“And what pray tell is the simple explanation?” D’Agosta broke in.

Frock moved his gaze to the Lieutenant. “I beg your pardon,” he said icily.

Horlocker turned to D’Agosta. “Stow it, Vincent.”

“Perhaps Kawakita was working with the Mbwun plant. And I see no reason to doubt Margo when she says that our own assumptions of eighteen months ago were a trifle hasty. But where is the evidence of a drug, or of the distribution of a drug?” Frock spread his hands.

“Jesus, Frock, he had a stream of visitors out at his lab in Long Island City—”

Frock turned another cool stare at D’Agosta. “I daresay you have visitors at your apartment in Queens”—the distaste in his voice was evident—“but that doesn’t mean you’re a drug peddler. Kawakita’s activities, however professionally reprehensible, do not have any bearing on what I think is probably a gang of youths on a homicidal rampage. Kawakita was a victim like the rest. I fail to see the connection.”

“Then how do you explain Kawakita’s deformities?”

“Very well, he was making this drug, and perhaps he was taking it. In deference to Margo, I’ll go even further and say—without any proof, of course—that perhaps this drug does cause certain physical changes in the user. But I have yet to see one iota of evidence that he was distributing it, or that his, ah, clients are responsible for these killings. And the idea that the Mbwun creature was once Julian Whittlesey… come now. It goes directly against evolutionary theory.”

Your evolutionary theory, Margo thought.

Horlocker passed a weary hand over his brow and pushed litter and papers away from a map that was lying across the table. “Your objections are noted, Dr. Frock. But it no longer matters exactly who these people are. We know what they do and we have a good idea where they live. All that’s left now is to take action.”

D’Agosta shook his head. “I think it’s too soon. I know every minute counts, but we’re still in the dark about too many things. I was in the Museum of Natural History, remember. I saw the Mbwun creature. If these drug users have even a trace of that thing’s abilities…” He shrugged. “You saw the slides of Kawakita’s skeleton. I just don’t think we should move until we know what we’re dealing with. Pendergast went down for his own reconnaissance over forty-eight hours ago. I think we should wait until he returns.”

Frock looked up in surprise, and Horlocker snorted. “Pendergast? I don’t like the man and I never liked his methods. He has no jurisdiction here. And frankly, if he went down there alone, that’s his lookout. He’s probably history by now. We’ve got the firepower to do whatever needs to be done.”

Waxie nodded vigorously.

D’Agosta looked dubious. “At the most, I’d propose some kind of containment effort until we get more information from Pendergast. Just give me twenty-four hours, sir.”