He also thought about Ted Lynch and wondered what Ted would be able to do the following day. Before Jack had left the morgue, he’d called him at home to outline the unlikely possibility of a xenograft. Ted said that he thought he’d be able to tell by checking an area on the DNA that specified ribosomal proteins. He’d explained that the area differed considerably from species to species and that the information to make a species identification was available on a CD-ROM.

Jack turned onto his street with the idea of going to the local bookstore to see if there was any material on Equatorial Guinea. But as he approached the playground with its daily late afternoon and evening game of basketball under way, he had another idea. It occurred to him that there might be expatriate Equatoguineans in New York. After all, the city harbored people from every country in the world.

Turning his bike into the playground, Jack dismounted and leaned it up against the chain-link fence. He didn’t bother to lock it, though most people would have thought the neighborhood a risky place to leave a thousand-dollar bike. In reality, the playground was the only place in New York Jack felt he didn’t have to lock up.

Jack walked over to the sidelines and nodded to Spit and Flash, who were part of the crowd waiting to play. The game in progress swept up and down the court as the ball changed hands or baskets were made. As usual, Warren was dominating the play. Before each of his shots he’d say “money,” which was aggravating to the opponents because ninety percent of the time, the ball would sail through the basket.

A quarter hour later the game was decided by one of Warren’s “money” shots, and the losers slunk off the court. Warren caught sight of Jack and strutted over.

“Hey, man, you going to run or what?” Warren asked.

“I’m thinking about it,” Jack said. “But I’ve got a couple of questions. First of all, how about you and Natalie getting together with Laurie and me this weekend?”

“Hell, yes,” Warren said. “Anything to shut my shortie up. She’s been ragging on me fierce about you and Laurie.”

“Secondly, do you know any brothers from a tiny African country called Equatorial Guinea?”

“Man, I never know what’s going to come out of your mouth,” Warren complained. “Let me think.”

“It’s on the west coast of Africa,” Jack said. “Between Cameroon and Gabon.”

“I know where it is,” Warren said indignantly. “It was supposedly discovered by the Portuguese and colonized by the Spanish. Actually, it was discovered a long time earlier by black people.”

“I’m impressed you know of it,” Jack said. “I’d never heard of the country.”

“I’m not surprised,” Warren said. “I’m sure you didn’t take any black history courses. But to answer your question, yes, I do know a couple of people from there, and one family in particular. Their name is Ndeme. They live two doors down from you, toward the park.”

Jack looked over at the building, then back at Warren. “Do you know them well enough to introduce me?” Jack asked. “I’ve developed a sudden interest in Equatorial Guinea.”

“Yeah, sure,” Warren said. “The father’s name is Esteban. He owns the Mercado market over on Columbus. That’s his son over there with the orange kicks.”

Jack followed Warren’s pointing finger until he spotted the orange sneakers. He recognized the boy as one of the basketball regulars. He was a quiet kid and an intense player.

“Why don’t you come down and run a few games?” Warren suggested. “Then I’ll take you over and introduce you to Esteban. He’s a friendly dude.”

“Fair enough,” Jack said. After being revived by the bicycle ride, he was looking for an excuse to play basketball. The events of the day had him in knots.

Jack went back and got his bike. Hurrying over to his building, he carried the bicycle up the stairs. He unlocked his door without even taking it off his shoulder. Once inside, he made a beeline for his bedroom and his basketball gear.

Within five minutes, Jack was already on his way out when his phone rang. For a moment, he debated answering it, but thinking it might be Ted calling back with a bit of arcane DNA trivia, Jack picked it up. It was Laurie, and she was beside herself.

Jack crammed enough bills through the Plexiglas partition in the taxi to more than cover the fare and jumped out. He was in front of Laurie’s apartment building, where he’d been less than an hour earlier. Dressed in his basketball gear he raced to the front door and was buzzed in. Laurie met him in the elevator foyer on her floor.

“My god!” Jack wailed. “Look at your lip.”

“That will heal,” Laurie said stoically. Then she caught Debra Engler’s eye peering through the crack in her door. Laurie lunged at the woman and shouted for her to mind her own business. The door snapped shut.

Jack put his arm around Laurie to calm her and led her into her apartment.

“All right,” Jack said, after getting Laurie seated on the couch. “Tell me what happened.”

“They killed Tom,” Laurie whimpered. After the initial shock, Laurie had cried for her pet, but her tears had dried until Jack’s question.

“Who?” Jack demanded.

Laurie waited until she had her emotions under control. “There were two of them, but I only knew one,” she said. “And he’s the one who struck me and killed Tom. His name is Angelo. He’s the person I’ve had nightmares about. I had a terrible run-in with him during the Cerino affair. I thought he was still in prison. I can’t imagine how or why he is out. He’s horrid to look at. His face is terribly scarred from burns, and I’m sure he blames me.”

“So this visit was for revenge?” Jack asked.

“No,” Laurie said. “This was a warning for me. In their words I’m to ‘leave the Franconi thing alone.’ ”

“I don’t believe this,” Jack said. “I’m the one investigating the case, not you.”

“You warned me. I’ve obviously irritated the wrong people by trying to find out how Franconi’s body was lifted from the morgue,” Laurie said. “For all I know it was my visit to the Spoletto Funeral Home that set them off.”

“I’m not going to take any credit for foreseeing this,” Jack said. “I thought you would get in trouble with Bingham, not mobsters.”

“Angelo’s warning was presented in the guise of a favor for a favor,” Laurie said. “His favor was to tell me who killed Franconi. In fact, he wrote the name down.” Laurie lifted the piece of paper from the coffee table and handed it to Jack.

“Vido Delbario,” Jack read. He looked back at Laurie’s battered face. Both her nose and lip were swollen, and she was developing a black eye. “This case has been bizarre from the start, now it’s getting out of hand. I think you’d better tell me everything that happened.”

Laurie related to Jack the details from the moment she’d walked in the door until she’d called him on the phone. She even told him why she’d hesitated calling 911.

Jack nodded. “I understand,” he said. “There’s little the local precinct could do at this point.”

“What am I going to do?” Laurie asked rhetorically. She didn’t expect an answer.

“Let me look at the back door,” Jack said.

Laurie led him through the kitchen and into the pantry.

“Whoa!” Jack said. Because of the multiple dead bolts the entire edge split when the door had been forced. “I’ll tell you one thing, you’re not staying here tonight.”

“I suppose I could go home to my parents,” Laurie said.

“You’re coming home with me,” Jack said. “I’ll sleep on the couch.”

Laurie looked into the depths of Jack’s eyes. She couldn’t help but wonder if there were more to this sudden invitation than the issue of her safety.

“Get your things,” Jack said. “And pack for a few days. It will take that long to replace this door.”

“I hate to bring this up,” Laurie said. “But I have to do something with poor Tom.”