Carrying his coffee back upstairs, Jack sat down at his desk. With both Laurie and Chet in the autopsy room, he knew he could count on some peace and quiet.

Before he could enjoy his solitude, the phone interrupted. It was Terese.

“I’m mad at you,” she said without preamble.

“That’s wonderful,” Jack said with his usual sarcasm. “Now my day is complete.”

“I am angry,” Terese maintained, but her voice had softened considerably. “Colleen just hung up from talking with Chet. He told her you were beaten up again.”

“That was Chet’s personal interpretation,” Jack said. “The fact is, I wasn’t beaten up again.”

“You weren’t?”

“I explained to Chet that I’d fallen while jogging,” Jack said.

“But he told Colleen…”

“Terese,” Jack said sharply. “I wasn’t beaten up. Can we talk about something else?”

“Well, if you weren’t assaulted, why are you sounding so irritable?”

“It’s been a stressful morning,” Jack admitted.

“Care to talk about it?” she asked. “That’s what friends are for. I’ve certainly bent your ear about my problems.”

“There’s been another infectious death at the General,” Jack said. He would have liked to tell her what was really on his mind-his sense of guilt about Beth Holderness-but he dared not.

“That’s terrible!” Terese said. “What is wrong with that place? What is it this time?”

“Influenza,” Jack said. “A very virulent case. It’s the kind of illness I’ve been truly worried we’d see.”

“But the flu is around,” Terese said. “It’s flu season.”

“That’s what everybody says,” Jack admitted.

“But not you?”

“Put it this way,” Jack said. “I’m worried, especially if it is a unique strain. The deceased was a young patient, only twenty-nine. In the face of what else has been popping up over there at the General, I’m worried.”

“Are some of your colleagues worried as well?” Terese asked.

“At the moment, I’m on my own,” Jack admitted.

“I guess we’re lucky to have you,” Terese said. “I have to admire your dedication.”

“That’s kind of you to say,” Jack said. “Actually, I hope I’m wrong.”

“But you’re not going to give up, are you?”

“Not until I have some proof one way or the other,” Jack said. “But let’s talk about you. I hope you are doing better than I.”

“I appreciate your asking,” Terese said. “Thanks in no small part to you, I think we have the makings of a good ad campaign. Plus, I’ve managed to have the in-house presentation put off until Thursday, so we have another whole day of breathing room. At the moment things are looking reasonable, but in the advertising world that could change at any moment.”

“Well, good luck,” Jack said. He wanted to get off the phone.

“Maybe we could have a quick dinner tonight,” Terese suggested. “I’d really enjoy it. There’s a great little Italian restaurant just up the street on Madison.”

“It’s possible,” Jack said. “I’ll just have to see how the day progresses.”

“Come on, Jack,” Terese complained. “You have to eat. We both could use the relaxation, not to mention the companionship. I can hear the tension in your voice. I’m afraid I’m going to have to insist.”

“All right,” Jack said, relenting. “But it might have to be a short dinner.” He realized there was some truth to what Terese was saying, although at the moment it was hard for him to think as far ahead as dinnertime.

“Fantastic,” Terese said happily. “Call me later and we’ll decide on the time. If I’m not here, I’ll be home. Okay?”

“I’ll call you,” Jack promised.

After they exchanged good-byes, Jack hung up the phone. For a few minutes he stared at it. He knew that conventional wisdom held that talking about a problem was supposed to relieve anxiety. But at the moment, having talked about the case of influenza with Terese, he only felt more anxious. At least the viral sample was on its way to the CDC and the DNA lab was working with the probe from National Biologicals. Maybe soon he’d start to get some answers.

Phil came through the outer door of the abandoned building the Black Kings had taken over. The door was a piece of three-quarter-inch plywood bolted to an aluminum frame.

Phil passed the front room with the invariable pall of cigarette smoke and interminable card game and rushed directly back to the office. He was relieved to see Twin at the desk.

Phil waited impatiently for Twin to wrap up a payoff from one of their eleven-year-old pushers and send the kid away.

“There’s a problem,” Phil said.

“There’s always a problem,” Twin said philosophically. He was re-counting the ragged stack of greenbacks the kid had brought in.

“Not like this one,” Phil said. “Reginald’s been tagged.”

Twin looked up from the money with an expression as if he’d just been slapped. “Get out!” he said. “Where’d you hear that shit?”

“It’s true,” Phil insisted. He took one of the several beat-up straight-backed chairs standing against the wall and turned it around so he could sit on it backward. The pose provided visual harmony with the backward baseball cap he always wore.

“Who says?” Twin asked.

“It’s all over the street,” Phil said. “Emmett heard it from a pusher up in Times Square. Seems that the doc is being protected by the Gangsta Hoods from Manhattan Valley on the Upper West Side.”

“You mean one of the Hoods iced Reginald?” Twin asked in total disbelief.

“That’s the story,” Phil said. “Shot him through the head.”

Twin slammed his open palm on the desk hard enough to send the tattered stack of greenbacks wafting off into the air. He leaped to his feet and paced. He gave the metal wastebasket a hard kick.

“I can’t believe this,” he said. “What the hell is this world coming to? I don’t understand it. They’d do a brother for some white honky doctor. It doesn’t make sense, no way.”

“Maybe the doc is doing something for them,” Phil suggested.

“I don’t care what the hell he’s doing,” Twin raged. He towered over Phil, and Phil cringed. Phil was well aware that Twin could be ruthless and unpredictable when he was pissed, and he was royally pissed at the moment.

Returning to the desk, Twin pounded it again. “I don’t understand this, but there is one thing that I do know. It can’t stand. No way! The Hoods can’t go around knocking off a Black King without a response. I mean, at a minimum we gotta do the doc like we agreed.”

“Word is that the Hoods have a tail on the doc,” Phil said. “They are still protecting him.”

“It’s unbelievable,” Twin said as he retook his seat at the desk. “But it makes things easier. We do the doc and the tail at the same time. But we don’t do it in the Hoods’ neighborhood. We do it where the doc works.”

Twin pulled open the center drawer of his desk and rummaged around. “Where the hell is that sheet about the doc,” he said.

“Side drawer,” Phil said.

Twin glared at Phil. Phil shrugged. He didn’t want to aggravate Twin, but he remembered Twin putting the sheet in the side drawer.

Twin got the sheet out and read it over quickly. “All right,” he said. “Go get BJ. He’s been itching for action.”

Phil disappeared for two minutes. When he reappeared he had BJ with him. BJ lumbered into the office, his pace belying his notorious quickness.

Twin explained the circumstances.

“Think you can handle this?” Twin asked.

“Hey, no problem,” BJ said.

“You want a backup?” Twin asked.

“Hell, no,” BJ said. “I’ll just wait until the two mothers are together, then nail them both.”

“You’ll have to pick the doc up where he works,” Twin said. “We can’t risk going up into the Hoods’ neighborhood unless we go in force. You understand?”

“No problem,” BJ said.