"I can't say that I do," Tracy said tiredly. "Who's Bobby Bo?"

"He's one of the local cattle barons," Carl said. "Tonight's the celebration of his assuming the presidency of the American Beef Alliance."

"Sounds very important," Tracy said in contrast to how she felt.

"It is," Carl said. "It's the most powerful national organization in the business."

"Then don't let me keep you from it," Tracy said. "You wouldn't mind?" Carl said. "I'll have my cellular phone. You can call me, and I can be back here in twenty minutes tops."

"I wouldn't mind at all," Tracy said. "In fact, I'd feel bad if you missed it on my account."

The car's instrument panel splashed light on Kim's face. Marsha stole glances at him as she drove. Now that she'd had a chance to observe him, she had to admit to herself that he was a handsome man even with his two-day stubble.

They drove in silence for quite a ways. Finally Marsha was able to get Kim talking about Becky. She had a feeling it would be good for him to talk about his daughter and she was right. Kim warmed to the subject. He regaled Marsha with stories of Becky's skating exploits, something Tracy had not mentioned.

When the conversation about Becky lapsed, Marsha had talked a little about herself, explaining that she'd been through veterinary school. She'd described how she and a girlfriend had become interested in the USDA and had vowed to join the agency to make a difference. She'd explained that after graduation, they'd discovered there were obstacles for them to get into the veterinarian side of the USDA. The only entry-level positions available were with the inspectional services. In the end, it had only been Marsha who'd joined. The friend had decided the year or so it would take to be transferred was too big a sacrifice and had opted for private veterinarian practice.

"Veterinary school?" Kim questioned. "I wouldn't have guessed."

"Why not?" Marsha asked.

"I don't know exactly," Kim said. "Maybe you are a little too…" Kim paused as he struggled for a word. Finally he said: "…too elegant, I guess. I know it's probably unfair, but I'd expect someone to be more…"

"More what?" Marsha asked as Kim paused again. She was enjoying Kim's mild discomfort.

"I guess tomboyish," Kim said. He chuckled. "I suppose that's a stupid thing to say."

Marsha laughed too. At least he could hear how ridiculous he sounded.

"If you don't mind my asking," Kim said, "how old are you? I know that's an inappropriate question, but unless you are some kind of child prodigy, you're not in your early twenties like I'd guessed."

"Heavens, no," Marsha said. "I'm twenty-nine, pushing thirty."

Marsha leaned forward and turned on the windshield wipers. It had started to rain. It was already as dark as pitch even though it was only a little after six in the evening.

"How are we going to work this?" Kim questioned.

"Work what?" Marsha asked.

"My getting into Mercer Meats." Kim said.

"I told you, it won't be a problem," Marsha said. "The day shift is long gone along with the supervisors. Only the overtime cleaning crew will be there, along with a security guard."

"Well, the guard's not going to be excited about letting me in," Kim said. "Maybe I should just wait in the car."

"Security is not going to be a problem," Marsha said. "I have both my USDA and Mercer Meats I.D.'s."

"That's fine for you," Kim said. "But what about me?"

"Don't worry," Marsha said. "They know me. They've never once even asked to see my I.D. If it comes up, I'll say you're my supervisor. Or I'll say I'm training you." She laughed.

"I'm not dressed like someone from the USDA," Kim said.

Marsha shot Kim a glance and giggled some more. "What does a night security man know? I think you look bizarre enough to pass for most anything."

"You seem awfully cavalier about this," Kim commented.

"Well, what's the worst-case scenario?" Marsha said. "We don't get in."

"And you get into trouble," Kim said.

"I've already thought of that," Marsha said. "What happens, happens."

Marsha exited the expressway and started through Bartonville. They had to stop at the single traffic light in the town, where Mercer Street met Main Street.

"When I think about hamburger," Marsha said, "I'm surprised anyone eats it. I was a half-ass vegetarian before this job. Now I'm a committed one."

"Coming from a USDA meat inspector, that's not very reassuring," Kim said.

"It turns my stomach when I think of what hamburger has in it," Marsha said.

"What do you mean?" Kim said. "It's muscle."

"Muscle and a bunch of other stuff," Marsha said. "Have you ever heard of the Advanced Meat Recovery System?"

"Can't say that I have," Kim said.

"It's a high-pressure device that they use to clean every scrap off cattle bones," Marsha said. "It results in a gray slurry that they dye red and add to the hamburger."

"That's disgusting," Kim said.

"And central-nervous tissue," Marsha said. "Like spinal cord. That gets into hamburger all the time."

"Really?" Kim asked.

"Absolutely," Marsha said. "And that's worse than it sounds. You've heard of mad cow disease?"

"Who hasn't?" Kim said. "That's an illness that terrifies me. The idea of a heat-resistant protein that you get by eating and that is fatal is the ultimate horror. Thank God we don't have it in this country."

"We don't have it yet," Marsha said. "At least it hasn't been seen so far. But if you ask me, it's just a matter of time. Do you know what is thought to have caused mad cow disease in England?"

"I believe it's thought to have come from feeding rendered sheep to the cows," Kim said. "Sheep that were sick with scrapie, the sheep equivalent."

"Exactly," Marsha said. "And in this country there's supposed to be a ban on feeding rendered sheep to cows. But you know something, there's no enforcement, and I was told by insiders that as many as a quarter of the renderers admit in private they don't pay any attention to the ban."

"In other words, the same circumstances that resulted in mad cow disease in England are present here?"

"Precisely," Marsha said. "And with spinal cord and the like routinely getting into hamburger, the chain to humans is in place. That's why I say it's just a matter of time before we see the first cases."

"Good God!" Kim exclaimed. "The more I hear about this shoddy business, the more appalled I get. I'd no idea about any of this."

"Nor does the general public," Marsha said.

The white hulk of Mercer Meats loomed up, and Marsha turned into its parking area. In contrast to earlier that day, there were few cars. She pulled up close to the front door in the same spot she'd been in that morning. She turned off the engine.

"Ready?" she asked.

"You're sure I should come?" Kim asked.

"Come on!" Marsha said. She opened the door and got out.

The front door was locked. Marsha rapped on it. Inside, the guard was seated at the round reception desk, reading a magazine. He responded by getting up and coming to the door. He was an elderly gentleman with a thin mustache. His security uniform appeared to be several sizes too big.

"Mercer Meats is closed," he said through the glass.

Marsha held up her Mercer Meats I.D. card. The guard squinted at it, then unlocked and opened the door. Marsha immediately pushed in. "Thanks," she said simply.

Kim followed. He could tell the guard looked at him suspiciously. but the man didn't say anything. He merely locked the door.

Kim had to run to catch up to Marsha, who was already beyond the reception desk and briskly walking down the corridor.

"What did I tell you?" she said. "It was no problem at all."

The security guard walked over to the end of the reception area and peered down the hall. He watched as Marsha and Kim disappeared into the changing room leading to the production floor. He returned to his desk and picked up the phone. The number he needed was on a Post-it stuck to the edge of the counter.