'What is your point?' I looked at him.

'Functional illness.'

'Oh. I guess you studied that in school. Maybe during your master's in psychology or something.'

'Don't make fun of me.'

'I never have.'

I could feel his hurt as I turned my face to the fire, my eyes closed tight.

'Kay. Don't you die on me.' I did not speak.

'Don't you dare.' His voice shook. 'Don't you dare!'

'You won't get off the hook that easy,' I said, getting out of my chair. 'Let's go to bed.' He slept in the room where Lucy usually stayed, and I was up most of the night coughing and trying to get comfortable, which simply was not possible. The next morning at half past six he was up, and coffee was brewing when I walked into the kitchen. Light filtered through trees beyond windows, and I could tell by the tight curl of rhododendron leaves that it was bitterly cold.

'I'm cooking,' Wesley announced. 'What will it be?'

'I don't think I can.' I was weak, and when I coughed, it felt as if my lungs were ripping.

'Obviously, you are worse.' Concern flickered in his eyes. 'You should go to a doctor.'

'I am a doctor, and it's too soon to go to one.'

I took aspirin, decongestants and a thousand milligrams of vitamin C. I ate a bagel and was beginning to feel almost human when Rose called and ruined me.

'Dr Scarpetta? The mother from Tangier died early this morning.'

'Oh God no.' I was sitting at the kitchen table and running my fingers through my hair.

'What about the daughter?'

'Condition's serious. Or at least it was several hours ago.'

'And the body?'

Wesley was behind me, rubbing my sore shoulders and neck.

'No one's moved it yet. No one's sure what to do, and the Baltimore Medical

Examiner's Office has been trying to reach you. So has CDC.'

'Who at CDC?' I asked.

'A Dr Martin.'

'I need to call him first, Rose. Meanwhile, you get hold of Baltimore and tell them that under no circumstances are they to have that body sent into their morgue until they've heard from me. What is Dr Martin's number?'

She gave it to me and I dialed it immediately. He answered on the first ring and sounded keyed up.

'We did PCR on the samples you brought in. Three primers and two of them match with smallpox, but one of them didn't.'

'Then is it smallpox or not?'

'We ran its genomic sequence, and it doesn't match up with any poxvirus in any reference lab in the world. Dr Scarpetta, I believe you got a virus that's a mutant.'

'Meaning, the smallpox vaccination isn't going to work,' I said as my heart seemed to drop right out of me.

'All we can do is test in the animal lab. We're talking at least a week before we know and can even begin thinking about a new vaccine. For practical purposes, we're calling this smallpox, but we really don't know what the hell it is. I'll also remind you we've been working on an AIDS vaccine since I986 and are no closer now than we were back then.'

'Tangier Island needs to be quarantined immediately. ' We've got to contain this,' I

exclaimed, alarmed to the edge of panic.

'Believe me, we know. We're getting a team together right now and will mobilize the

Coast Guard.'

I hung up and was frantic when I said to Wesley, 'I've got to go. We've got an outbreak of something no one's ever heard of. It's already killed at least two people. Maybe three. Maybe four.'

He was following me down the hall as I talked.

'It's smallpox but not smallpox. We've got to find out how it's being transmitted. Did Lila Pruitt know the mother who just died? Did they have any contact at all, or did the daughter? Did they even live near each other? What about the water supply? A water tower. Blue. I remember seeing one.'

I was getting dressed. Wesley stood in the doorway, his face almost gray and like stone.

'You're going to go back out there,' he said.

'I need to get downtown first.' I looked at him.

'I'll drive,' he said.

Chapter Twelve

Wesley dropped me off and said he was going to the Richmond Field Office for a while and would check with me later. My heels were loud as I walked down the corridor, bidding good morning to members of my staff. Rose was on the phone when I walked in, and the glimpse of my desk through her adjoining doorway was devastating. Hundreds of reports and death certificates awaited my initials and signature, and mail and phone messages were cascading out of my in-basket.

'What is this?' I said as she hung up. 'You'd think I've been gone a year.'

'It feels like you have.'

She was rubbing lotion into her hands and I noticed the small canister of Vita aromatherapy facial spray on the edge of my desk, the open mailing tube next to it. There was also one on Rose's desk, next to her bottle of Vaseline Intensive Care. I stared back and forth, from my Vita spray to hers, my subconscious processing what I was seeing before my reason did. Reality seemed to turn inside out, and I grabbed the door frame. Rose was on her feet, her chair flying back on its rollers as she lunged around her desk for me.

'Dr Scarpetta!'

'Where did you get this?' I asked, staring at the spray.

'It's just a sample.' She looked bewildered. 'A bunch of them came in the mail.'

'Have you used it?'

Now she was really worried as she looked at me. 'Well, it just got here. I haven't tried it yet.'

'Don't touch it!' I said, severely. 'Who else got one?' 'Gosh, I really don't know. What is it? What's wrong?' She raised her voice.

Getting gloves from my office, I grabbed the facial spray off her desk and triple- bagged it.

'Everybody in the conference room, now!'

I ran down the hall to the front office, and made the same announcement. Within minutes, my entire staff, including doctors still in scrubs, was assembled. Some people were out of breath, and everyone was staring at me, unnerved and frazzled. I held up the transparent evidence bag containing the sample size of Vita spray.

'Who has one of these?' I asked, looking around the room. Four people raised their hands.

'Who has used it?' I then asked. 'I need to know if absolutely anybody has.'

Cleta, a clerk from the front office, looked frightened. 'Why? What's the matter?'

'Have you sprayed this on your face,' I said to her.

'On my plants,' she said.

'Plants get bagged and burned,' I said. 'Where's Wingo?'

'MCV.'

'I don't know this for a fact,' I spoke to everyone, 'and I pray I'm wrong. But we might be dealing with product tampering. Please don't panic, but under no circumstances does anyone touch this spray. Do we know exactly how they were delivered?'

It was Cleta who spoke. 'This morning I came in before anybody up front. There were police reports shoved through the slot, as always. And these had been, too. They were in little mailing tubes. There were eleven of them. I know because I counted to see if there was enough to go around.'

'And the mailman didn't bring them. They had just been shoved through the slot of the front door.'

'I don't know who brought them. But they looked like they'd been mailed.'

'Any tubes you still have, please bring them to me,' I said.

I was told that no one had used one, and all were collected and brought to my office. Putting on cotton gloves and glasses, I studied the mailing tube meant for me. Postage was bulk rate and clearly a manufacturer's sample, and I found it most unusual for something like that to be addressed to a specific individual. I looked inside the tube, and there was a coupon for the spray. As I held it up to the light, I noticed edges imperceptibly uneven, as if the coupon had been clipped with scissors versus a machine.