As a man of habit, Jack arrived in the vicinity of the medical examiner’s office at the same time each day, give or take five minutes. This particular morning he was ten minutes late since he’d awakened with a slight hangover. He’d not had a hangover in so long, he’d completely forgotten how miserable it made him feel. Consequently he’d stayed in the shower a few minutes longer than usual, and on the slalom down Second Avenue, he’d kept his speed to a more reasonable level.

Crossing First Avenue, Jack saw something he’d never seen before at that time of day. There was a TV truck with its main antennae extended sitting in front of the medical examiner’s building.

Changing his direction a little, he cruised around the truck. No one was in it. Looking up at the front door to the ME’s office, he saw a group of newspeople clustered just over the threshold.

Curious as to what was going on, Jack hustled around to the entrance bay, stashed his bike in the usual place, and went up to the ID room.

As usual Laurie and Vinnie were in their respective seats. Jack said hello but continued through the room to peek out into the lobby area. It was as crowded as he’d ever seen it.

“What the hell’s going on?” Jack asked, turning back to Laurie.

“You of all people should know,” she said. She was busy making up the day’s autopsy schedule. “It’s all about the plague epidemic!”

“Epidemic?” Jack questioned. “Have there been more cases?”

“You haven’t heard?” Laurie questioned. “Don’t you watch morning TV?”

“I don’t have a TV,” Jack admitted. “In my neighborhood owning one is just inviting trouble.”

“Well, two victims came in to us during the night,” Laurie said. “One is for sure plague, or at least presumptive since the hospital did its own fluorescein antibody and it was positive. The other is suspected, since clinically it seemed to be plague despite a negative fluorescein antibody. In addition to that, as I understand it, there are several febrile patients who have been quarantined.”

“This is all happening at the Manhattan General?” Jack asked.

“Apparently,” Laurie said.

“Were these cases direct contacts with Nodelman?” Jack asked.

“I haven’t had time to look into that,” Laurie said. “Are you interested? If you are, I’ll assign them to you.”

“Of course,” Jack said. “Which one is the presumptive plague?”

“Katherine Mueller,” Laurie said. She pushed the patient’s folder toward Jack.

Sitting on the edge of the desk where Laurie was working, Jack opened the folder. He leafed through the papers until he found the investigative report. He pulled it out and began reading. He learned the woman had been brought into the Manhattan General emergency room at four o’clock in the afternoon acutely ill with what was diagnosed to be a fulminant case of plague. She’d died nine hours later despite massive antibiotics.

Jack checked on the woman’s place of employment and wasn’t surprised with what he learned. The woman worked at the Manhattan General. Jack assumed she had to have been a direct contact of Nodelman. Unfortunately the report did not indicate in what department she worked. Jack guessed either nursing or lab.

Reading on in the report, Jack silently complimented Janice Jaeger’s work. After the conversation he’d had with her the day before by phone, she added information about travel, pets, and visitors. In the case of Mueller it was all negative.

“Where’s the suspected plague?” Jack asked Laurie.

Laurie pushed a second folder toward him.

Jack opened the second file and was immediately surprised. The victim neither worked at the Manhattan General nor had obvious contact with Nodelman. Her name was Susanne Hard. Like Nodelman, she’d been a patient in the General, but not on the same ward as Nodelman. Hard had been on the OB-GYN ward after giving birth! Jack was mystified.

Reading further, Jack learned that Hard had been in the hospital for twenty-four hours when she’d experienced sudden high fever, myalgia, headache, overwhelming malaise, and progressive cough. These symptoms had come on about eighteen hours after undergoing a cesarean section during which she delivered a healthy child. Eight hours after the symptoms appeared, the patient was dead.

Out of curiosity Jack looked up Hard’s address, remembering that Nodelman had lived in the Bronx. But Hard had not lived in the Bronx. She had lived in Manhattan on Sutton Place South, hardly a ghetto neighborhood.

Reading on, Jack learned that Hard had not traveled since she’d become pregnant. As far as pets were concerned, she owned an elderly but healthy poodle. Concerning visitors, she had entertained a business associate of her husband’s from India three weeks previously who was described as being healthy and well.

“Is Janice Jaeger still here this morning?” Jack asked Laurie.

“She was about fifteen minutes ago when I passed her office,” Laurie said.

Jack found Janice where she’d been the previous morning.

“You are a dedicated civil servant,” Jack called out from the threshold.

Janice looked up from her work. Her eyes were red from fatigue. “Too many people dying lately. I’m swamped. But tell me: Did I ask the right questions on the infectious cases last night?”

“Absolutely,” Jack said. “I was impressed. But I do have a couple more.”

“Shoot,” Janice said.

“Where’s the OB-GYN ward in relation to the medical ward?”

“They’re right next to each other,” Janice said. “Both are on the seventh floor.”

“No kidding,” Jack said.

“Is that significant?” Janice asked.

“I haven’t the slightest idea,” Jack admitted. “Do patients from the OB ward mix with those on the medical ward?”

“You got me there,” Janice admitted. “I don’t know, but I wouldn’t imagine so.”

“Nor would I,” Jack said. But if they didn’t, then how did Susanne Hard manage to get sick? Something seemed screwy about this plague outbreak. Facetiously he wondered if a bunch of infected rats could be living in the ventilation system on the seventh floor.

“Any other questions?” Janice asked. “I want to get out of here, and I have this last report to finish.”

“One more,” Jack said. “You indicated that Katherine Mueller was employed by the General but you didn’t say for what department. Do you know if she worked for nursing or for the lab?”

Janice leafed through her night’s notes and came up with the sheet on which she’d recorded Mueller’s information. She quickly glanced through it and then looked back up at Jack. “Neither,” she said. “She worked in central supply.”

“Oh, come on!” Jack said. He sounded disappointed.

“I’m sorry,” Janice said. “That’s what I was told.”

“I’m not blaming you,” Jack said with a wave of his hand. “It’s just that I’d like there to be some sort of logic to all this. How would a woman in central supply get into contact with a sick patient on the seventh floor? Where’s central supply?”

“I believe it’s on the same floor with the operating rooms,” Janice said. “That would be the third floor.”

“Okay, thanks,” Jack said. “Now get out of here and get some sleep.”

“I intend to,” Janice said.

Jack wandered back toward the ID room, thinking that nothing seemed to be making much sense. Usually the course of a contagious illness could be easily plotted sequentially through a family or a community. There was the index case, and the subsequent cases extended from it by contact, either directly or through a vector like an insect. There wasn’t a lot of mystery. That wasn’t the case so far with this plague outbreak. The only unifying factor was that they all involved the Manhattan General.

Jack absently waved to Sergeant Murphy, who’d apparently just arrived in his cubbyhole office off the communications room. The ebullient Irish policeman waved back with great enthusiasm.