"Well, what do you think he was referring to?" Angela asked.

"I think it has to do with radiation," David said. "I think that's what Van Slyke was talking about when he said he'd burned his hands."

"Oh, come on. You're sounding as crazy as him," Angela said. "You have to remember Van Slyke's paranoia on the nuclear submarine had to do with radiation, so any similar talk probably has more to do with the return of his schizophrenia than anything else."

"I hope you're right," David said. "But it has me worried. Van Slyke's training in the navy involved nuclear propulsion. That's driving a ship with a nuclear reactor. And nuclear reactors mean radiation. He was trained as a nuclear technician, so he knows something about nuclear materials and what they're capable of doing."

"Well, what you are saying makes sense," Angela said. "But talking about a source and having one are two vastly different things. People can't just go out and get radioactive material. It's tightly controlled by the government. That's why there is a Nuclear Regulatory Commission."

"There's an old radiotherapy unit in the basement of the hospital," David said. "It's a cobalt-60 machine Traynor's hoping to sell to some South American country. It has a source."

"I don't like the sound of this," Angela admitted.

"I don't like it either," David said. "And think about the symptoms my patients had. Those symptoms could have been from radiation, especially if the patients had been subjected to overwhelming doses. It's a horrendous possibility, but it fits the facts. At the time radiation had never entered my mind."

"I never thought about radiation when I did Mary Ann Schiller's autopsy," Angela admitted. "But now that I think of it, that could have been it. Radiation isn't something you consider unless there is a history of exposure. The pathological changes you see are nonspecific."

"That's my point exactly," David said. "Even the nurses with flu-like symptoms could have been suffering from a low level of radiation. And even…"

"Oh, no!" Angela exclaimed, immediately catching David's line of thought.

David nodded. "That's right," he said. "Even Nikki."

"Even Nikki what?" Nikki asked from the back seat. She'd not been paying attention to the conversation until she'd heard her name.

Angela turned around. "We were just saying that you had flu-like symptoms just like the nurses," she said.

"And Daddy too," Nikki said.

"Me too," David agreed.

They pulled into the hospital parking lot and parked.

"What's the plan?" Angela asked.

"We need a Geiger counter," David said. "There has to be one in the Radiotherapy Center for their certification. I'll find a janitor to let us in. Why don't you and Nikki go to the lobby?"

David found Ronnie, one of the janitors he vaguely knew. Ronnie was only too happy to help one of the doctors, especially since it took him away from the job of mopping the basement's corridor. David neglected to mention that he'd been fired from CMV and his hospital privileges had been suspended.

With Ronnie in tow, David went up to the lobby and found Angela. Nikki had discovered a TV and was content for the moment. David told Nikki not to leave the lobby; she promised she wouldn't.

Angela and David went to the Radiotherapy Center. It only took them about fifteen minutes to find a Geiger counter.

Back in the main hospital building, they met up with Ronnie in the basement. It had taken him a few minutes to find the key to the old radiotherapy unit.

"No one goes in here very often," he explained as he let the Wilsons in.

The unit consisted of three rooms: an outer room that had served as a reception area, an inner office, and a treatment room.

David walked straight back to the treatment room. The room was empty save for the old radiotherapy unit. The machine looked like an X-ray unit with a table attached for the patient to lie on.

David put the Geiger counter on the table and turned it on. The needle barely moved on the gauge. There was no reading above background even on its most sensitive scale.

"Where's the source lodged in this thing?" Angela asked.

"I'd guess it's where the treatment arm and this supporting Column here meet," he said.

David lifted the Geiger counter and positioned it where he thought the source should reside. There was still no reading.

"The fact that there's no reading doesn't necessarily mean anything," Angela said. "I'm sure this thing is well shielded."

David nodded. He walked around to the back of the machine and tried the Geiger counter there. There was still no reading.

"Uh oh," Angela said. "David, come here and look at this."

David joined Angela by the treatment arm. She pointed to an access panel that was attached by four nob screws. Several of the screws had been loosened.

David grabbed a chair from the reception room. He put it just under the arm. Standing on the seat of the chair, David was able to reach the panel. He unscrewed all four nob screws, removed the panel, and handed it all to Ronnie.

Behind the panel he discovered a circular metal plate secured with eight lug bolts. David had Angela hand him the Geiger counter. He pushed it inside the housing and tried again for radiation. There was none.

David moved the Geiger counter aside and reached in and grasped one of the lug bolts. To his dismay, it was loose. He checked all eight. All eight were loose. He began removing them, handing them down to Angela one by one.

"Are you sure you should be doing this?" Angela asked. She was still concerned about radiation, despite the readings, as well as David's questionable handyman skills.

"We have to know for sure," David said as he removed the last bolt. He then lifted the heavy metal covering and handed it to Ronnie. David peered down a long cylindrical cavity that was about four and a half inches in diameter. It looked like the barrel of a huge gun. Without a flashlight, he could only see a short distance in.

"I'm sure I'm not supposed to be able to look into the treatment arm like this," David said. "There would have to be a plug to act as a brake to stop the source when it was being moved out to the treatment position."

Just to be one hundred percent certain, David stuck the Geiger counter into the muzzle of the treatment arm. There was no reading above background.

David stepped down from the chair. "The source is not in there," he said. "It's gone."

"What are we going to do?" Angela asked.

"What time is it?" David asked.

"Seven-fifteen," Ronnie said.

"Let's get lead aprons from radiology," David said. "Then we'll do what we can."

They left the old radiotherapy unit and headed straight for the Imaging Center. They didn't need Ronnie to open the Imaging Center since it was open for emergency X rays, but David asked him to come to help carry the lead aprons. Ronnie didn't know what was going on, but whatever it was he could tell something serious was involved. He was eager to be as helpful as possible.

The X-ray technician was suspicious of David's request for lead aprons, but he decided that since David wouldn't be taking them any farther than the hospital next door, it would be okay. Besides, he wasn't used to contradicting doctors. He gave David, Angela, and Ronnie nine lead aprons as well as one pair of lead gloves used for fluoroscopy. David still had the Geiger counter, as well.

Weighed down with their burden, the three made their way back to the hospital. They got strange looks from the staff and visitors they passed on their way to the second floor, but no one tried to stop them.

"All right," David said once they reached the door of the conference room. He was practically out of breath. "Put everything right here." He dropped the aprons he was carrying to the floor next to the closed conference room door. Angela and Ronnie did likewise.