"It might be risky," Kim said. "But there's no other choice. It's the only way to get the media involved, and the media is our only hope of doing anything about this sorry situation."

"What can you hope to accomplish in Higgins and Hancock to justify the risk?" Tracy said. "I mean specifically."

"That I can't say until I get in there," Kim admitted. "Never having been in a slaughterhouse, I don't know what to expect. But I know what I'm interested in and what the issues are. The first concerns how Becky got sick. Marsha Baldwin discovered something about the head of the last animal slaughtered on January ninth. I want to find out what it was. The second issue is Marsha Baldwin's disappearance; somebody's got to know something. And lastly there is the issue about how E. coli generally gets into the meat. Marsha suggested it has something to do with the way they slaughter the animals. I want to see it with my own eyes and then document it. Once I have, I'll get Kelly Anderson involved. Exposing the USDA angle will be up to her."

Tracy stared off in the middle distance.

"You're not going to respond?" Kim commented after a short silence.

"Sure," Tracy said, as if waking from a mini trance. "You make it all sound so reasonable. But I'll tell you something. I'm not going to allow you to go by yourself. I've got to be involved in some form or fashion so that I can help if need be, even if I have to get a job too."

"You're serious!" Kim said. He was amazed.

"Of course I'm serious," Tracy said. "Becky was my daughter too. I don't think you should be the only one taking the risk."

"Well, that's an interesting idea," Kim said. Now it was his time to stare off while he pondered.

"I wouldn't even have to worry about a disguise," Tracy added. 'They've never seen me.

"I don't know whether you could get a job," Kim said. "At least not easily."

"Why not?" Tracy asked. "If you could get a job, why couldn't I?"

"Marsha said they were in constant need of help but only in the actual slaughtering side of the business," Kim said. "I don't think you're ready for that."

"No, but maybe they could use me as a secretary or something along those lines," Tracy said. "We don't know unless I try."

"I've got a better idea," Kim said. "Remember Lee Cook who worked for me back at the Samaritan?"

"I think so," Tracy said. "Wasn't he that clever technician who could fix anything electronic and who kept all the sophisticated electronic equipment functioning at the hospital?"

"You got it," Kim said. "After the merger, he retired. He's building his own airplane in his basement and doing other odd jobs. But I'm sure he could wire me up with a bug. In that way you can be in the car in the parking lot listening in real time. Then, if need be, you can use your cell phone to call for the cavalry."

"You mean so I could hear you all the time?" Tracy asked.

"Yeah, continuously," Kim said.

"Could I talk with you?" Tracy asked.

"Well, I don't know about that," Kim said. "I'd have to have an earphone of some kind. That might be a giveaway. I can't imagine too many Higgins and Hancock employees wear earphones."

"I could even record what you say," Tracy said, warming to the idea.

"That's true," Kim agreed.

"What about video?" Tracy asked.

"Hey, maybe so," Kim said. "I know they have some tiny cameras nowadays. Maybe that could be the documentation we'll need for Kelly Anderson."

"Mr. Billy Rubin!" a voice called out over the heads of the waiting crowd.

Kim raised his free hand and stood up. Tracy did likewise. An ER resident dressed in all white saw them and walked over. He was carrying a clipboard with Kim's ER registration sheet attached.

"Mr. Billy Rubin?" the resident repeated. His name tag said: DR. STEVE LUDWIG, EMERGENCY MEDICINE RESIDENT. He was a brawny fellow with a ready smile and closely cropped, thinning, dirty-blond hair. "Did you know that bilirubin is a medical term?"

"No," Kim said. "I didn't have any idea."

"It is," Steve commented. "It comes from the breakdown of hemoglobin. Anyhow, let's take a look at your laceration."

Kim pulled away the four-by-four. Due to swelling, the wound was more gaping now than earlier.

"Whoa!" Steve intoned. 'That's one nasty cut. We'd better get that sewn up. How did it happen?"

"Shaving," Kim said.

Tracy couldn't help but repress a smile.

SIXTEEN

Monday, January 26th

Tracy shifted her weight impatiently. She had her arms folded and was leaning against the plaster wall of the upstairs hall. She'd positioned herself directly across from the door into the guest bath. She'd been there for almost five minutes.

"Well?" Tracy called through the door.

"Are you ready?" Kim's voice answered.

"I've been ready," Tracy answered. "Open the door!"

The door squeaked open. Tracy 's hand shot to her mouth and she let out an involuntary giggle.

Kim looked completely different. His hair was unevenly cut short, teased to stand mostly upward, and bleached platinum blond. His eyebrows matched his hair in color and formed a stark contrast with the dark stubble-covered face. The sutured laceration wrapping over the bridge of his nose and extending through one blond eyebrow gave him a Frankenstein look. He was dressed in a black, double-flap pocket corduroy shirt over a black T-shirt with black leather pants. He had a black leather belt and matching bracelet decorated with stainless-steel rivets. The outfit was topped off with a fake diamond-stud earring in his left earlobe and a tattoo of a wolf with the word "lobo" on his right upper arm.

"So what do you think?" Kim asked.

"You look bizarre!" Tracy said. "Especially with the black silk stitches. I'd hate to run into you in a dark alley."

"That sounds like the effect I was striving for," Kim said.

"You certainly don't look like anybody I'd want to know," Tracy added.

"In that case maybe I should swing by the hospital," Kim suggested. "Maybe with this outfit they'll reinstate my privileges without a hearing."

"A doctor is the last thing I'd suspect you were," Tracy said with another laugh. "I particularly like the tattoo."

Kim lifted his arm to admire his handiwork. "Pretty cool, huh?" he said. "The directions guaranteed it would last for three or four days, provided I don't shower. Can you imagine?"

"Where's the microphone?" Tracy asked.

"Right here under my collar," Kim said. He rolled over the upper edge of the shirt. A tiny microphone was safety-pinned to the underside.

"Too bad video was out of the question," Tracy said.

"Hey, remember it's not completely out of the question," Kim said. "Lee said he'd work on it, and when he says that, nine times out of ten he comes through. It just won't be for a few days."

"Let's test the audio system," Tracy suggested. "I want to make sure it's working as well as it did last night in Lee's garage."

"Good idea," Kim said. "You hop in your car and drive down to the corner. That should be just about right. Lee said it would work up to two hundred yards."

"Where will you be?" Tracy asked.

"I'll move around inside the house," Kim said. "I'll even try going down into the basement."

Tracy nodded and went down to the hall closet. She got out her coat, then called back up the stairs. "Don't forget to put in your earphone, too."

"I already have it in," Kim yelled.

Tracy went out into the crisp morning. A wind had come up during the night, blowing the storm clouds to the East. In their place was pale blue sky.

Tracy got into her car, started it, and drove to the corner as they'd discussed. She pulled to the side of the road and turned off the engine. Next she opened her driver's-side window and put a makeshift antenna on the roof of her car.