"You're not making my day here, Morris."

He gave her a little come-ahead with his finger, rinsed his hands, then brought an image onto a monitor. "Here you've got a computerized cross-section of the brain of a normal, healthy fifty-year-old male. Here." He tapped a key. "You've got Cogburn's."

"Christ."

"In a word. You can see the increased mass, the bruising where it was squeezed as the pressure increased. The red areas indicate the infection."

"It spread through, what, more than fifty percent?"

"Fifty-eight. Notice that some of the red is darker than others. Older infection. This would seem to be the area where it began. This leads us to believe it was an initial optical attack, and here… audio."

"So, it's caused by something he saw, something he heard."

"He may not have been able to hear or see it-not with ears and eyes. But a bombardment on these two senses into the lobes of the brain that run them."

"Subliminal then."

"Possibly. I can tell you that what we found so far indicates that the infection can and does spread quickly, causing the swelling to increase, sector by sector. Whether it's self-generated or requires further stimuli, we haven't determined. I can tell you that the pain and suffering this process would cause is unspeakable."

"Latest polls say most people don't think that's such a bad thing."

"Most people are, academically at least, barbarians." Morris smiled when she looked at him. "Easy to say 'Off with their heads' when you don't have to stand in the blood and have that head roll between your feet. A little of it splatters on them, they start calling for a cop."

"I don't know, Morris, sometimes it splatters on enough of them, and they get a good taste, they turn into a mob." She dragged out her communicator when it beeped.

"Dallas."

"Lieutenant, you're due at the media center in thirty."

"Commander, I'm at the morgue with the ME, awaiting further tests on Mary Ellen George's brain. I need to finish this consult and update my team. I request that-"

"Denied. In thirty, Dallas. Have your aide transmit your incident report and any additional data to my office ASAP. It will need to be reviewed and disseminated for the media."

When Whitney broke transmission, Morris gave her a little pat on the back. "I know, I know. Sucks sideways."

"They sicced the deputy mayor and Chang on me."

"I wouldn't wonder if Franco and Chang were thinking you'd been sicced on them. Run along now and go assure the viewing public that the city is safe in your hands."

"If I didn't need you, I'd be tempted to beat you up for that."

She suffered through the preconference briefing, read the newly drafted statements, filed away what she was told could be discussed, what she was told could not. But she bared her teeth when Franco suggested she freshen up before the cameras and try a little lip dye.

"The fact that I have breasts doesn't require me to slap on enhancements."

Franco sighed and waved her hovering aides out of the room. "Lieutenant. I didn't mean that as an insult. We're women, and whatever position of power and authority we hold, we remain women. Some of us are more comfortable with that than others."

"I'm perfectly comfortable being female. I'll do what I'm ordered to do, Deputy Mayor. I don't have to like it. I don't even have to agree with it. I just have to do it. But I sure as hell don't have to doll myself up because you'd prefer a different police image on-screen than what I might present."

"Agreed, agreed, agreed." Franco threw up her hands. "I apologize for making the insulting suggestion that you might put a little color on your mouth. I don't think of lip dye as a tool of Satan."

"Neither do I. Mostly I just don't like how it looks on me, or the way it tastes."

Franco let out another sigh, sat. "Listen, it's been a rough couple of days for all of us. Likely to get rougher. The mayor wants me to work with you, your boss wants you to work with me. We're stuck here. I don't want to battle with you over every step and detail."

"Then lay off."

"Jesus. Let me say this. You and I are both women with a strong sense of public duty. We're committed to doing our jobs, though we may employ vastly different methods and hold different attitudes. I love New York, Lieutenant. I sincerely love this city, and I'm proud to serve it."

"I don't doubt that, ma'am."

"Jenna. We're working together, call me Jenna. I'll call you Eve."

"No. But you can call me Dallas."

"Ah, and there we have one of our key variations. You hold your line, as a woman, by employing more traditionally male methods. I hold mine with the female. I enjoy exploiting my looks, my femininity for my own uses. It works for me, it's helped me get where I am to present an attractive package over the brains, the ambition, the sweat. Just as your method has worked for you. I distrust women like you. You distrust women like me."

"I distrust politicians in general."

Franco angled her head. "If you're thinking to insult me enough that I'll toss you out of this press conference, let me tell you, in the insult game, cops are amateurs compared to politicians."

She checked her slim, gold wrist unit. "We're due. At least comb your hair."

Keeping her face carefully blank Eve raked her fingers through her hair, twice. "That's it."

Franco paused with her hand on the doorknob, looked Eve up and down. "How in God's name did you manage to snap a man like Roarke?"

Very slowly, Eve got to her feet. "If you're thinking to insult me enough that I plant a fist in your face and get myself removed from this investigation so you can toss the media a more attractive image as primary, I'll tell you that while it's very tempting, I'm going to see this case through. I'm going to close it. After that, all bets are off."

"Then we understand each other. Whatever our personal feelings, we see this case to closure."

Franco stepped out and was immediately swallowed by her pack of aides.

"Lieutenant! Lieutenant!" Chang trotted after Eve, hustling to catch up with her long, angry strides. "I have your media schedule for tomorrow."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"Your schedule." He handed her a disc. "You will begin in the seven o'clock hour of Planet with a two-minute interview with K. C. Stewart. This is global and has the highest ratings. At ten, we have arranged for a live feed from your office at Central with the crew from City Beat. Again, this is the highest rated-"

"Chang, do I have to explain to you where this disc is going to end up if you keep talking to me?"

His mouth thinned, then pursed. "This is my job, Lieutenant, and I've worked very hard to arrange for these appearances in order to keep the agendas of the NYPSD and the office of the mayor at the forefront of this media blitz. The latest polls-"

"The latest polls are going to end up in the same place this disc does if you don't get out of my face." Riding on fury, she snapped the disc in half, then whirled around and stormed straight to the commander.

"You either want a cop or a media shill. I won't be both. If, in your opinion, the media perception is more important than my investigation, then respectfully, sir, you're full of shit."

He caught her arm before she could spin away. "One moment, Lieutenant."

"You can write me up, you can bust my rank, but I will not spend the hours I should be in the field doing my job as some talking head on-screen so the mayor's office gets better numbers."

"As long as you're under my command, Lieutenant, you will not tell me what you will or will not do."

Behind her, Chang smirked. Then carefully schooling his face, he held out a copy of the broken disc. "Commander Whitney, as Lieutenant Dallas has damaged her copy, I'll prefer to give you her media schedule for tomorrow."