"What is it?" I said to Marino as I sat. "What's happened now?"

He was dressed in a black golf shirt, and his belly strained against the knitted fabric and flowed roundly over the waistband of his jeans. The ashtray was already littered with cigarette butts, and I suspected the beer he was drinking wasn't his first or last.

"Would you like to hear the story of your false alarm this afternoon, or has someone gotten to you first?" He lifted the mug to his lips.

"No one has gotten to me about much of anything. Although I've heard a rumor about some radioactivity scare," I said as the bartender appeared with fruit and cheese. "Pellegrino with lemon, please," I ordered.

"Apparently, it's more than a rumor," Marino said.

"What?" I gave him a frown. "And why would you know more about what's going on inside my building than I do?"

"Because this radioactive situation has to do with evidence in a city homicide case." He took another swallow of beer. "Danny Webster's homicide, to be exact."

He allowed me a moment to grasp what he had just said, but my limits were unwilling to stretch.

"Are you implying that Danny's body was radioactive?" I asked as if he were crazy.

"No. But the debris we vacuumed from the inside of your car apparently is. And I'm telling you, the guys that did the processing are scared shitless, and I'm not happy about it either because I poked around inside your ride, too.

That's one thing I got a big damn problem with like some people do with spiders and snakes. It's like these guys who got exposed to Agent Orange in Nam, and now they're dying of cancer."

The expression on my face now was incredulous.

"You're talking about the front seat passenger's side of my black Mercedes?"

Yeah, and if I were you, I wouldn't drive it anymore.

How do you know that shit won't get to you over a long time?"

"I won't be driving that car anymore," I said. "Don't worry. But who told you the vacuumings were radioactive?"

"The lady who runs that SEM thing."

"The scanning electron microscope."

"Yeah. It picked up uranium, which set the Geiger counter off. Which I'm told has never happened before."

"I'm sure it hasn't."

"So next we have a panic on the part of security, which are right down the hall, as you know," he went on. "And this one guard makes the executive decision to evacuate the building. Only problem is, he forgets that when he breaks the glass on the little red box and yanks the handle, he's also going to set off the deluge system."

"To my knowledge," I said, "it's never been used. I could see how someone might forget. In fact, he mignight, that his death isn't a random crime motivated by robbery, gay bashing or drugs. I think his killer waited for him, maybe as long as an hour, then confronted him as he returned to my car in the dark shadows near the magnolia tree on Twenty-eighth Street. You know that dog, the one who lives right there? He barked the entire time Danny was inside the Hill Cafe, according to Daigo."

Marino regarded me in silence for a moment. "See, that's what I was just saying. You went there tonight."

"Yes, I did."

His jaw muscles bunched as he looked away. "That's exactly what I mean."

"Daigo remembers the dog barking nonstop."

He said nothing.

"I was there earlier and the dog doesn't bark unless you get close to his property. Then he goes berserk. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

His eyes came back to me. "Who's going to hang out there for an hour when a dog's acting like that? Come on, Doc."

"Not your average killer," I answered as my drink appeared. "That's my point."

I waited until the bartender served us, and after he was gone from our table I said, "I think Danny may have been a professional hit."

"Okay." He drained his beer. "Why? What the hell did that kid know? Unless he was into drugs or some type of organized crime."

"What he was into was Tidewater," I said. "He lived there. He worked in my office there. He was at least peripherally involved in the Eddings case, and we know whoever killed Eddings was very sophisticated. That, too, was premeditated and carefully planned."

Marino was thoughtfully rubbing his face. "So you're convinced there's a connection."

"I think nobody wanted us to know there was. I think whoever is behind this assumed he would look like a carjacking gone bad or some other street crime."

"Yeah, and that's what everybody still thinks."

"Not everybody." I held his eyes. "Absolutely, not everybody."

"And you're convinced Danny was the intended victim, saying this was a professional hit."

"it could have been me. It could have been him to scare me," I said. "We may never know."

"You got tox yet on Eddings?" He motioned for another round.

"You know what today was like. Hopefully, I'll know something tomorrow. Tell me what's going on with Chesapeake."

He shrugged. "Don't got a clue."

"How can you not have a clue?" I impatiently said.

"They must have three hundred officers. Isn't anybody working on Ted Eddings' death?"

"Doesn't matter if they have three thousand officers. All you need is one division screwed up, and in this instance it's homicide. So that's a barricade we can't get around because Detective Roche is still on the case."

"I don't understand it," I said.

"Yeah, well, he's still on your case, too."

I didn't listen for he wasn't worth my time.

"I'd watch my back, if I were you." He met my eyes.

"I wouldn't take it lightly." He paused. "You know how cops talk, so I hear things. And there's a rumor being spread out there that you hit on Roche, and his chief's going to try to get the governor to fire you."

"People can gossip about whatever they'd like," I impatiently said.

"Well, part of the problem is they look at him and how young he is, and some people don't have a hard time imagining that you might be attracted." He hesitated, and I could tell he despised Roche and wanted to maim him. "I hate to tell you," Marino said, "but you'd be a whole lot better off if he wasn't good-looking."

"Harassment is not about how people look, Marino. But he has no case, and I'm not worried about it."

"Point is, he wants to hurt you, Doc, and he's already trying hard. One way or another he's going to screw you, if he can."

"He can wait in line with all the other people who want to."

"The person who called the tow lot in Virginia Beach and said they was you, was a man." He stared at me. "Just so you know."

"Danny wouldn't have done that," was all I could say.

"I wouldn't think so. But maybe Roche would," Marino replied.

"What are you doing tomorrow?"

He sighed. "I don't have time to tell you."

"We may need to make a trip to Charlottesville."

"What for?" He frowned. "Don't tell me Lucy's still acting screwy."

"That's not why we need to go. But maybe we'll see her, too," I said.

THE NEXT MORNING, I MADE EVIDENCE ROUNDS. AND my first stop was the Scanning Electron Microscopy lab where I found forensic scientist Betsy Eckles sputter coating a square of tire rubber. She was sitting with her back to me, and I watched her mount the sample on a plat form, which would next go into a vacuum chamber of glass so it could be coated by atomic particles of gold. I noted the cut in the center of the rubber, and thought it looked familiar, but couldn't be sure.

"Good morning," I said.

She turned around from her intimidating console of pressure gauges, dials and digital microscopes that built images in pixels instead of lines on video screens. Graying and trim in a long lab coat, she seemed more harried than usual this Thursday.

"Oh, good morning, Dr. Scarpetta," she said as she placed the sample of punctured rubber into the chamber.

"Slashed tires?" I asked.