Invasion

10

9:50 A.M.

Nancy sellers worked at home as much as she could. With her computer networked into the mainframe at Serotec Pharmaceuticals and with a superb group of technicians in her lab, she got more work done at home than in her office. The main reason was that the physical separation shielded her from the myriad administrative headaches involved in running a large research lab. The second reason was the tranquility of the silent house fostered her creativity.

Accustomed to absolute silence, the sound of the front door banging closed at ten minutes before ten got Nancy’s attention immediately. Pessimistically thinking it could only be bad news, she exited from the program she was working on, and walked out of her home office.

She stopped at the balustrade in the hall and looked down into the front hall. Jonathan came into her line of sight.

“Why aren’t you at school?” Nancy called down. Already she’d made a mental assessment of his health. He seemed to be walking okay, and his color was good.

Jonathan stopped at the foot of the stairs and looked up. “We need to talk with you.”

“What do you mean, we?” Nancy asked. But no sooner had the question left her lips than she saw a young woman come up behind her son and tilt her head back.

“This is Candee Taylor, Mom,” Jonathan said.

Nancy’s mouth went dry. What she saw was a pixielike face on top of a well-developed female body. Her first thought was that she was pregnant. Being the mother of a teenager was like a high-wire act: disaster was always lurking around the corner.

“I’ll be right down,” Nancy said. “I’ll meet you in the kitchen.”

Nancy made a quick detour into the bathroom, more to get her emotions in check than to attend to her appearance. She’d been worried about Jonathan getting into this kind of a problem for the last year as his interest in girls skyrocketed, and he’d become uncommunicative and secretive.

When Nancy thought she was prepared, she met the kids in the kitchen. They had helped themselves to coffee that she kept on the stove. Nancy poured herself a cup and sat on one of the bar stools along the central island. The kids were sitting in the banquette.

“Okay,” Nancy said, prepared for the worst. “Shoot.”

Jonathan spoke first since Candee was obviously nervous. He described how Candee’s parents were acting out of character. He said that he’d gone over there yesterday afternoon and had witnessed it himself.

“This is what you wanted to talk to me about?” Nancy asked. “About Candee’s parents.”

“Yes,” Jonathan said. “You see, Candee’s mom works at Serotec Pharmaceuticals in the accounting department.”

“That must be Joy Taylor,” Nancy said. She tried to keep the relief she felt out of her voice. “I’ve talked with her many times.”

“That’s what we thought,” Jonathan said. “We were hoping you might be willing to talk with her because Candee is really worried.”

“How is Mrs. Taylor acting that’s so strange?” Nancy asked.

“It’s both my mother and my father,” Candee said.

“I can tell you from my perspective,” Jonathan said. “Up until yesterday they didn’t want me around. No way. Then yesterday they were so friendly I couldn’t believe it. They even invited me to stay overnight.”

“Why would they think you’d want to stay overnight?” Nancy asked.

Jonathan and Candee exchanged glances. Both blushed.

“You mean they were suggesting you two sleep together?” she asked.

“Well, they didn’t say that exactly,” Jonathan said. “But we kinda got that idea.”

“I’ll be happy to say something,” Nancy said, and she meant it. She was appalled.

“It’s not only the way they are acting,” Candee said. “It’s like they are different people. A few days ago they had like zero friends. Now all the sudden they’re having people over... at all hours of the day and night to talk about the rain forests and pollution and things like that. People I swear they’ve never even met before who wander around the house. I’ve got to lock my bedroom door.”

Nancy put her coffee cup down. She felt embarrassed about her initial suspicions. She looked at Candee, and instead of a seductress, she saw a frightened child. The image twanged the cords of her maternal instincts.

“I’ll be happy to talk with your mother,” Nancy repeated. “And you’re welcome to stay here if you’d like in our guest room. But I’ll be straight with you two. No fooling around, and I think you know what I mean.”

“What will it be?” Marjorie Stephanopolis asked. Both Cassy and Pitt noticed her radiant smile. “Beautiful day, wouldn’t you say.”

Cassy and Pitt exchanged glances of amazement. This was the first time Marjorie had ever tried to have a conversation with them. They were in one of the booths at Costa’s Diner for lunch.

“I’ll have a hamburger, fries, and a Coke,” Cassy said.

“Me too,” Pitt said.

Marjorie collected the menus. “I’ll have your orders out as soon as I can,” she said. “I hope you enjoy your lunch.”

“At least someone is enjoying the day,” Pitt said as he watched Marjorie disappear back into the kitchen. “In the three and a half years I’ve been coming here, that’s the most I’ve ever heard her say.”

“You never eat hamburgers and fries,” Cassy said.

“Nor do you,” Pitt reminded her.

“It was the first thing that came to my mind,” Cassy said. “I’m just so weirded out. And I’m telling you the truth about last night. I wasn’t hallucinating.”

“But you told me yourself you wondered if you were awake or were dreaming,” Pitt reminded her.

“I convinced myself I was awake,” Cassy said angrily.

“All right, calm down,” Pitt said. He glanced around. Several people in the diner were glaring at them.

Cassy leaned across the table and whispered: “When they all looked up at me, including the dog, their eyes were glowing.”

“Aw, Cassy, come on,” Pitt said.

“I’m telling you the truth!” she snapped.

Pitt hazarded another look around the room. Even more people were eyeing them now. Clearly Cassy’s voice was disturbing people.

“Keep your voice down!” Pitt whispered forcibly.

“Okay,” Cassy said. She too could appreciate the stares they were getting.

“When I asked Beau what he was out there talking about at three o’clock in the morning, he told me, ‘The environment,’” Cassy said.

“I don’t know whether to laugh or cry,” Pitt said. “Do you think he was trying to be funny?”

“No, not at all,” Cassy said with conviction.

“But the idea of meeting out in the parking lot in the middle of the night to talk about the environment is absurd.”

“So is the fact that their eyes were glowing,” Cassy said. “But you haven’t told me what Beau said when you spoke with him yesterday.”

“I didn’t get a chance,” Pitt said. He then told Cassy everything that happened at the game and after it. Cassy listened with great interest, especially the part about Beau meeting the well-dressed business types on the athletic field.

“Do you have any idea what they were talking about?” Cassy asked.

“Not a clue,” Pitt said.

“Could they have been from Cipher Software?” Cassy asked. She kept hoping for a reasonable explanation for everything that had been happening.

“I don’t know,” Pitt said. “Why would you ask that?” Before Cassy could answer, Pitt noticed Marjorie standing off to the side holding two Cokes. The moment he saw her she came over and placed the drinks on the table.

“Your food will be right out,” she said cheerfully.

After Marjorie had again disappeared Pitt said: “I must be getting paranoid. I could have sworn she was standing there listening to us.”

“Why would she do that?” Cassy asked.

“Beats me,” Pitt said. “Tell me, did Beau go to his classes today?”

“No, he’s flown off to Cipher Software,” Cassy said. “That’s why I asked you about them. He said he’d heard from them yesterday. I assumed they phoned but maybe they came in person. At any rate he’s off for an interview.”

“When will he be back?”

“He didn’t know.”

“Well, maybe that’s good,” Pitt said. “Maybe by the time he gets back he’ll be back to normal.”

Marjorie reappeared carrying the food. With a flourish she placed their orders before them and even gave their dishes a little spin to orient them perfectly as if Costa’s were a fine restaurant.

“Enjoy!” Marjorie said happily before disappearing back into the kitchen.

“It’s not just Beau who’s been acting differently,” Cassy said. “It’s Ed Partridge and his wife, and I’ve heard of others. I think whatever it is, it’s spreading. In fact I think it has something to do with the flu that’s been going around.”

“Amen!” Pitt said. “I have the same feeling. In fact I said as much yesterday to the head of the emergency room.”

“And what was the reaction?” Cassy asked.

“Better than I anticipated,” Pitt said. “The head of the ER is a rather hard-nosed no-nonsense woman by the name of Dr. Sheila Miller, yet she was willing to listen to me, and even took me over to talk with the president of the hospital.”

“What was his response?” Cassy asked.

“He wasn’t impressed,” Pitt said. “But the man had the flu symptoms while we were talking with him.”

“Is something wrong with your food?” Marjorie asked. She’d reappeared at the tableside.

“It’s fine,” Cassy said with exasperation at the interruption.

“But you haven’t touched it,” Marjorie said. “If there is a problem I can get you something else.”

“We’re okay!” Pitt snapped.

“Well, just call if you need me.” She hurried off.

“She’s going to drive me bananas,” Cassy said. “I think I preferred her sullen.”

All at once the same idea occurred to Cassy and Pitt.

“Oh my God!” Cassy said. “Do you think she’s had the flu?”

“I wonder!” Pitt said with equal concern. “Obviously she’s acting very out of character.”

“We’ve got to do something,” Cassy said. “Who should we go to? Do you have any ideas?”

“Not really,” Pitt said. “Except maybe go back to Dr. Miller. She was at least receptive. I’d like to tell her there are other people with personality changes. I’d only mentioned Beau.”

“Would you mind if I came along?” Cassy asked.

“Not at all,” Pitt said. “In fact I’d prefer it. But let’s do it right away.”

“I’m game,” Cassy said.

Pitt vainly scanned the room for Marjorie to get the check. When he didn’t see her, he sighed with exasperation. It was frustrating that after pestering them for the whole meal, the moment he wanted her, she was nowhere to be seen.

“Marjorie is behind you,” Cassy said. She pointed over Pitt’s shoulder. “She’s at the cash register having an animated chat with Costa.”

Pitt twisted in his seat. The moment he did so, Marjorie and Costa both turned their heads in his direction and locked their eyes on his. There was an intensity in their gaze that gave Pitt a chill.

Pitt swung around to face Cassy. “Let’s get the hell out of here,” he said. “I must be getting paranoid again. I don’t know why I’m so sure about this, but Marjorie and Costa were talking about us.”

Beau had never been to Santa Fe before, but he’d heard good things about it and had been looking forward to his visit. He wasn’t disappointed: he liked the town immediately.

He had arrived on schedule at the modest airport and had been picked up by a stretch Jeep Cherokee! Beau had never seen such a vehicle before, and at first he’d thought it was comical. But after riding in it, he was willing to believe it might be superior to a normal limousine because of its height. Of course he had to admit to himself that he hadn’t had much experience with limousines of any sort.

As attractive as Beau found Santa Fe in general, it was only a harbinger of the beauty of the grounds of Cipher Software. After they had passed through a security gate Beau thought the facility had more of a resemblance to a posh resort than to a business establishment. Lush, rolling green lawns stretched between widely dispersed, well proportioned, modern buildings. Dense conifer forests and reflecting pools completed the picture.

Beau was dropped off at the central facility which, like the other buildings, was constructed of granite and gold-tinted glass. Several people who Beau had already met greeted him and told him that Mr. Randy Nite was waiting for him in his office.

As Beau and his escorts rose up in a glass-enclosed elevator through a plant-filled atrium, Beau was asked whether he was hungry or thirsty. Beau told them that he was fine.

Randy Nite’s office was huge, occupying most of the west wing of the third and top floor of the building. About fifty feet square, it was bounded on three sides with floor-to-ceiling glass. Randy’s desk stood in the center of this expansive space. It was made of a four-inch-thick slab of black and gold marble.

Randy was on the phone when Beau was ushered in, but he stood up immediately and waved Beau over to take a starkly modern black leather chair. He motioned to Beau that he’d be just a few minutes longer. Their job done, the escorts silently withdrew.

Beau had seen photos of Randy innumerable times as well as having seen him on TV. In person he appeared just as young and boyish, with a shock of red hair and a crop of pleasing freckles sprinkled across a wide, healthy-looking face. His gray-green eyes had a hint of merriment. He was about Beau’s height but not as muscular although he appeared fit.

“The new software will be shipping next month,” Randy was saying, “and the advertising blitz is poised to begin next week. It’s a dynamite campaign. Things couldn’t look any better. It’s going to take the world by storm. Trust me!”

Randy hung up and smiled broadly. He was dressed casually in a blue blazer, acid-washed jeans, and tennis shoes. It was no accident that Beau was dressed in a similar fashion.

“Welcome,” Randy said. He extended his hand, and Beau shook it. “I must say that my team has never recommended someone as highly as they have recommended you. Over the last forty-eight hours I’ve heard nonstop praise. It intrigues me. How has a college senior been able to manage such successful PR?”

“I suppose it’s a combination of luck, interest, and old-fashioned hard work,” Beau said.

Randy smiled. “Well put,” he said. “I’ve also heard you’d like to start out, not in the mail room, but as my personal assistant.”

“Everybody has to start someplace,” Beau said.

Randy laughed heartily. “I like that,” he said. “Confidence and a sense of humor. Kinda reminds me of myself when I started. Come on! Let me show you around.”

“The emergency room looks crowded,” Cassy said.

“I’ve never seen it like this,” Pitt said.

They were walking across the parking lot toward the ER dock. Several ambulances were there with their lights blinking. Cars were parked haphazardly, and the hospital security was trying to straighten things out. The dock itself was full of people overflowing from the waiting room.

Climbing the stairs Pitt and Cassy had to literally push their way through to the main desk. Pitt saw Cheryl Watkins and called out to her: “What on earth is going on?”

“We’ve been inundated with the flu,” Cheryl said. She sneezed herself, then coughed. “Unfortunately the staff hasn’t been immune.”

“Is Dr. Miller here?” Pitt asked.

“She’s working along with everyone else,” Cheryl said.

“Hang here,” Pitt told Cassy. “I’ll see if I can find her.”

“Try to be quick,” Cassy said. “I’ve never liked hospitals.”

Pitt got himself a white coat and pinned his hospital ID to the breast pocket. Then he started searching through the bays. He found Dr. Miller with an elderly woman who wanted to be admitted to the hospital. The woman was in a wheelchair ready to go home.

“I’m sorry,” Dr. Miller said. She finished writing on the ER sheet and slipped its clipboard into a pocket in the back of the wheel chair. “Your flu symptoms don’t warrant an admission. All you need is bed rest, analgesic, and fluids. Your husband will be in here in a moment to take you home.”

“But I don’t want to go home,” the woman complained. “I want to stay in the hospital. My husband frightens me. He’s not the same. He’s someone else.”

At that moment the husband appeared. He’d been brought back to retrieve his wife by one of the orderlies. Although as elderly as his wife, he appeared far more spry and mentally alert.

“No, no, please,” the woman moaned when she saw him. She tried to grasp Dr. Miller’s sleeve as the husband quickly rolled her out of the bay and toward the exit. “Calm down, dear,” the man was saying soothingly. “You don’t want to be a bother to these good doctors.”

In the process of slipping off her latex examining gloves, Sheila caught sight of Pitt. “Well, you were certainly right about this flu being on the increase. And did you hear the little exchange I just had?”

Pitt nodded. “Sounds suspiciously like there might have been a personality change on the part of the husband.”

“My thought as well,” Sheila said as she threw away the gloves. “But of course older people can be prone to disorientation.”

“I know you are busy,” Pitt said, “but could you spare a minute? A friend and I would like to talk with you. We don’t know who else to go to.”

Sheila agreed immediately despite the chaos in the ER. Pitt’s opinions the day before were appearing to be prophetic. She was now convinced this flu was different; for one thing an influenza virus had yet to be isolated.

She took Pitt and Cassy back to her office. As soon as the door closed it was like an island of tranquility in the middle of a storm. Sheila sat down. She was exhausted.

Cassy told the whole story of Beau’s transformation after his illness. Although she felt self-conscious about certain parts, she left nothing out. She even related what had happened the previous night, including the strange ball of light, the clandestine meeting, and the fact that everyone’s eyes glowed.

When Cassy was finished, Sheila didn’t say anything at first. She’d been absently doodling with a pencil. Finally she looked up. “Under normal circumstances with a story like this I’d send you over to psychiatry and let them deal with you. But these are not normal circumstances. I don’t know what to think about all this, but we should establish what facts we can. Now, Beau came down with his illness three days ago.”

Cassy and Pitt nodded in unison.

“I should see him,” Sheila said. “Do you think he’d be willing to come in and be examined?”

“He said he would,” Cassy said. “I asked him specifically about seeing someone professional.”

“Could you get him in here today?” Sheila asked.

Cassy shook her head. “He’s in Santa Fe.”

“When will he be back?”

Cassy felt a wave of emotion. “I don’t know,” she managed. “He wouldn’t tell me.”

“This is one of my favorite locations in the compound or the Zone as we like to call it,” Randy said. He pulled the electric golf cart to a halt and climbed out. Beau got out his side and followed the software mogul up a small grassy knoll. When they reached the top the view was spectacular.

In front of them was a crystalline lake populated with wild ducks. The backdrop was virgin woodland silhouetted against the Rocky Mountains.

“What do you think?” Randy said proudly.

“It’s awe-inspiring,” Beau said. “It shows what concern for the environment can do, and it provides a ray of hope. It’s such an unbelievable tragedy for an intelligent species like human beings to have done the damage they have to this gorgeous planet. Pollution, political strife, racial divisiveness, overpopulation, mismanagement of the gene pool... ”

Randy had been nodding in agreement until the very last statement. He cast a quick look in Beau’s direction, but Beau was dreamily staring off at the distant mountains. Randy wondered what Beau meant by “mismanagement of the gene pool.” But before he could ask, Beau continued: “These negative forces have to be controlled, and they can be. I firmly believe there are adequate resources to reverse the harm done to the planet. All it will take is a great visionary man to carry the torch, someone who knows the problems, has the power, and is not afraid to lead.”

A smile of acknowledgment spread involuntarily across Randy’s face. Beau caught it out of the corner of his eye. The smile alone told Beau that he had Randy exactly where he wanted him.

“These certainly are visionary ideas for a college senior,” Randy said. “But do you really think that human nature, such as it is, can be controlled enough to make it happen?”

“I’ve realized that human nature is a stumbling block,” Beau admitted. “But with the financial resources and world community connections that you have amassed with Cipher Software, I think the obstacles can be overcome.”

“It’s good to have a vision,” Randy said. Although he considered Beau overly idealistic, he was nonetheless impressed. But he wasn’t impressed enough to start Beau out as his personal assistant. Beau would start in the mail room and work his way up like all his assistants.

“What is that over there on that pile of gravel?” Beau asked.

“Where?” Randy asked.

Beau walked over and bent down. He pretended to pick up one of his black discs that he’d actually pulled out of his pocket. Cradling it in his palm, he returned to Randy, and held it out.

“I don’t know what it is,” Randy said. “But I’ve seen some of my assistants with them over the last couple of days. What is it made of?”

“I can’t tell,” Beau said. “But it’s heavy, so maybe it’s metal. But take it. Maybe you can tell me.”

Randy took the object and tested its weight. “A dense little thing,” he remarked. “And what a smooth surface. And look at these symmetrically arranged bumps around the periphery.

“Owwww!” Randy cried. He dropped the disc to grab his finger. A drop of blood rapidly formed.

“The damn thing stung me!”

“That’s odd,” Beau said. “Let me see.”

“There have been other people who have shown personality changes,” Cassy told Sheila. “For instance, the principal where I’m student teaching has been acting totally different since his flu episode. I’ve also heard of others but haven’t seen them in person.”

“Frankly it is this mental status change that has me the most concerned,” Sheila said.

Cassy, Pitt, and Sheila were on their way to Dr. Halprin’s office. Armed with new information, Sheila was confident the president of the medical center would have a different response than he’d had the day before. But when they arrived, they were in for a disappointment.

“I’m sorry but Dr. Halprin called this morning to say he was going to take some time off,” Mrs. Kapland told them.

“I’ve never known Dr. Halprin to miss a day at the hospital,” Sheila said. “Did he give a reason?”

“He said he and his wife needed to spend some quality time together,” Mrs. Kapland said. “But he will be calling in. Would you like to leave a message?”

“We’ll be back,” Sheila said.

Sheila spun on her heels. Cassy and Pitt hurried after her. They caught up to her at the elevator.

“What now?” Pitt asked.

“It’s time someone made a phone call to the people who should be looking into this problem,” she said. “Halprin’s taking a day off for personal reasons is too weird.”

“I hate suicides,” Vince said as he turned right on Main. Up ahead was a gaggle of squad cars and emergency vehicles. Crime-scene tape held back a throng of onlookers. It was late afternoon and just getting dark.

“More than homicides?” Jesse asked.

“Yeah,” Vince said. “In homicides the victim doesn’t have any choice. Suicides are just the opposite. I can’t imagine what it’s like to kill yourself. It gives me the creeps.”

“You’re weird,” Jesse said. For him it was just the other way around. It was the innocence of the homicide victim that disturbed him. Jesse couldn’t conjure up the same sympathy for a suicide. He figured that if someone wanted to do himself in, it was his business. The real problem was making sure the suicide was a suicide and not a homicide in disguise.

Vince parked as close to the scene as he could. On the sidewalk a yellow tarp covered the deceased’s remains. The only gore visible was a trail of blood that ran to the curb.

The detectives climbed out of their car and looked up. On a ledge six stories up they saw several crime-scene boys nosing around.

Vince sneezed violently twice in a row.

“Bless you,” Jesse said reflexly.

Jesse approached a uniformed officer standing near the crowd barrier.

“Who’s in charge here?” Jesse asked.

“Actually, the captain,” the officer said.

“Captain Hernandez is here?” Jesse asked with surprise.

“Yup, upstairs,” the officer said.

Jesse and Vince exchanged confused glances as they headed toward the entrance. The captain rarely ventured out to scenes.

The building belonged to Serotec Pharmaceuticals. It housed their administrative and research offices. Their manufacturing division was outside the town.

In the elevator Vince started to cough. Jesse moved away as much as the small car would allow. “Jeez,” Jesse complained. “What’s the matter with you?”

“I don’t know,” Vince said. “Maybe I’m having an allergic reaction or something.”

“Well, cover your mouth when you cough,” Jesse said.

They reached the sixth floor. The front of the building was occupied by a research lab. There were several uniformed policemen loitering by an open window. Jesse asked where the captain was and the policemen pointed toward an office off to the side.

“I don’t think you guys are going to be needed,” Captain Hernandez said when he saw Jesse and Vince enter. “The whole episode is on tape.”

Captain Hernandez introduced Jesse and Vince to the half-dozen Serotec personnel in the room as well as the crime-scene investigator who’d found the tape. His name was Tom Stockman.

“Roll that tape once more, Tom,” Captain Hernandez said.

It was black-and-white security camera footage taken with a wide-angle lens. The sound had an echolike quality. It showed a short man in a white lab coat facing the camera. He’d backed himself against the window and appeared anxious. In front of him were a number of Serotec people, all in similar white coats. They were seen from the back since they were facing the short man. Jesse guessed they were the same people who were now in the office.

“His name was Sergei Kalinov,” Captain Hernandez said. “All of a sudden he started screaming for everyone to leave him alone. That was earlier in the tape. Plainly you can see that no one is touching him or even threatening him.”

“He just flipped out,” one of the Serotec employees said. “We didn’t know what to do.”

Sergei then began to sob, saying he knew he was infected and that he couldn’t stand it.

One of the Serotec employees was then seen moving forward toward Sergei.

“That’s the head tech, Mario Palumbo,” Captain Hernandez said. “He’s trying to calm Sergei. It’s hard to hear his voice because he’s speaking so softly.”

“I was only telling him that we wanted to help,” Mario said defensively.

Suddenly Sergei turned and made a dash for the window. He struggled to get it open. His frantic haste suggested he feared interference. But none of the people present including Mario tried to restrain him.

Once Sergei had the window open, he climbed out on the ledge. With one last glance back at the camera, he leaped off into space.

“Aw, man... ” Vince voiced and looked away.

Even Jesse felt an unpleasant sinking feeling in his gut having watched this terrified little man kill himself. As the tape continued, Jesse watched as several of the Serotec people, including Mario, walked over to the window and looked down. But they weren’t acting as if they were horrified. It was more like they were curious.

Then to Jesse’s surprise they closed the window and went back to work.

Tom turned off the tape. Jesse glanced at the Serotec workers. Since they had just watched the harrowing sequence again he would have expected some reaction. There wasn’t any. They were all eerily detached from the whole affair.

Tom ejected the tape and was about to slip it into an evidence bag with an attached custody slip when Captain Hernandez took it.

“I’ll take care of this,” the captain said.

“But that’s not... ”

“I’ll take care of it,” the captain repeated authoritatively.

“Okay,” Tom said agreeably, even though he knew it was not accepted policy.

Jesse watched his captain walk out of the room with the tape in his hand. He looked at Tom.

“He’s the captain,” Tom said defensively.

Vince coughed explosively directly behind Jesse. Jesse turned and gave him a dirty look. “Jeez,” he said. “You’re going to get us all sick if you don’t cover your mouth.”

“Sorry,” Vince said. “All of a sudden I feel terrible. Is it cold in here?”

“No it’s not cold,” Jesse said.

“Shit, I must have a fever,” Vince said.

“Maybe we should just go out and get some Mexican food,” Pitt said.

“No, I want to cook,” Cassy said. “It always calms me down.”

They were walking beneath the bare lightbulbs strung on wires over the European-style outdoor market. The main commodities were fresh produce and fruit brought directly from outlying farms. But there were other stalls as well that sold everything from fish to antiques and objets d’art. It was a colorful, festive environment and popular. At that time in the early evening it was crowded with shoppers.

“Well, what do you want to make?” Pitt asked.

“Pasta,” Cassy said. “Pasta primavera.”

Pitt held the bag while Cassy made her selections. She was particularly choosy about the tomatoes.

“I don’t know what I’m going to do when he does come back,” Cassy said. “The way I feel right now, I don’t even want to see him. At least not until I’m sure he’s back to normal. This whole episode is frightening me more and more.”

“I have access to an apartment,” Pitt said.

“Really?” Cassy asked.

“It’s over near Costa’s,” Pitt said. “The owner is a second cousin or something like that. He teaches in the chemistry department but is on a semester sabbatical in France. I go in to feed his fish and water his plants. He’d invited me to stay, but it was too much trouble to move at the time.”

“You don’t think he’d mind if I stayed there?” Cassy asked.

“Nope,” Pitt said. “It’s a big place. Three bedrooms. I’d stay too if you wanted.”

“Do you think I’m overreacting?” Cassy asked.

“Not at all,” Pitt said. “After his little demonstration at basketball I’m a bit leery of him myself.”

“God! I can’t believe we’re talking this way about Beau,” Cassy said with emotion.

Instinctively Pitt reached out and put his arms around Cassy. Just as instinctively she did the same. They clung to each other, momentarily oblivious to the other shoppers who swirled about them. After several moments Cassy glanced up into Pitt’s dark eyes. Both felt a fleeting sense of what might have been. Then, suddenly embarrassed, they released each other and quickly went back to selecting tomatoes.

With their groceries purchased, including a bottle of dry Italian wine, they headed back to the car. The route took them through the flea market section. Pitt suddenly stopped in front of one of the stalls.

“Holy crap!” he exclaimed.

“What?” Cassy demanded. She was ready to flee. As keyed up as she was she expected the worst.

“Look!” Pitt said, pointing toward the stall’s display.

Cassy’s eyes swept over a bewildering collection of junk that a sign proclaimed to be antiques. There were mostly small items like ashtrays and ceramic animals, but there were a few larger things like plaster garden statues and bedside lamps. There were also several glass boxes of old, cheap costume jewelry.

“What am I supposed to be noticing?” Cassy asked impatiently.

“On the top of the shelf,” Pitt said. “In between the beer mug and the pair of bookends.”

They moved over to the stall. Cassy now saw what had caught Pitt’s eye. “Isn’t that interesting,” she commented. Lined up in a perfect row were six of the black disc objects like the one Beau had found in the parking lot of Costa’s Diner.

Cassy reached out to pick one up, but Pitt grabbed her hand. “Don’t touch it!” he said.

“I wasn’t going to hurt it,” Cassy said. “I just wanted to see how heavy it was.”

“I was worried about it hurting you!” Pitt said. “Not vice versa. Beau’s stung him somehow. Or at least Beau thought so. What a coincidence seeing these things. I’d forgotten all about Beau’s.” He bent over and examined one of the discs more closely. He remembered that he and Beau had not been able to decide its composition.

“I saw the one Beau found just last night,” Cassy said. “It was sitting in front of his computer when he was downloading a bunch of data from the Internet.”

Pitt tried to get the attention of the owner to inquire about the discs, but he was busy with another customer.

While they were eyeing the discs and waiting for the stall keeper to be free, a heavyset man and woman pushed ahead of them.

“Here’s some more of those black stones that Gertrude was talking about last night,” the woman said.

The man grunted.

“Gertrude said she found four of them in her back yard,” the woman said. She then added with a laugh: “She thought they might be valuable until she found out that people had been finding them all over.”

The woman picked one of them up. “Wow, it’s heavy,” she said. She closed her fingers around it. “And it feels cold.”

She was about to hand it to her friend when she cried, “Ahhh!” and irritably tossed it back onto the shelf. Unfortunately it skidded off and dropped less than a foot into the bowl of an ashtray. The ashtray shattered into a million pieces.

The sound of the breaking glass brought over the proprietor. Seeing what had happened, he demanded payment for the lost ashtray.

“I ain’t paying nothing,” the woman said indignantly. “That little black thingamajig cut my finger.” Defiantly she held up her wounded middle finger. The gesture incensed the owner who mistook its motivation as obscene.

While the woman and the owner argued, Pitt and Cassy looked at each other for confirmation about what they’d seen in the gathering gloom. When the woman had held up her finger it had appeared to have a faint blue iridescence!

“What could have caused it?” Cassy whispered.

“You’re asking me?” Pitt questioned. “I’m not even sure it happened. It was only for an instant.”

“But we both saw it,” Cassy said.

It took another twenty minutes for the owner and the woman to come to an agreement. After the woman and her friend had left, Pitt asked the owner about the black discs.

“What do you want to know?” the man said morosely. He’d only gotten half the value of the ashtray.

“Do you know what they are?” Cassy asked.

“I haven’t the slightest idea.”

“How much do you sell them for?”

“In the beginning I got as much as ten dollars,” the man said. “But that was a day or so ago. Now they’re coming out of the woodwork, and the market’s been flooded. But I’ll tell you what. These happen to be exceptional quality. I’ll sell you all six for ten dollars.”

“Have any of these discs injured anyone else?” Pitt asked.

“Well, one of them stung me too,” he said. He shrugged. “But it was nothing: just a pinprick. Yet I couldn’t figure out how it happened.” He picked up one of the discs. “I mean they’re as smooth as a baby’s bottom.”

Pitt took Cassy’s arm and began to lead her away. The man called after them. “Hey, how about eight dollars.”

Pitt ignored him. Instead he told Cassy about the little girl in the ER who had been scolded by her mother for saying that a black rock had bitten her.

“Do you think it had been one of those discs?” Cassy asked.

“That’s what I’m wondering,” Pitt said. “Because she had the flu. That’s why she was in the ER.”

“Are you suggesting the black disc had something to do with her getting the flu?”

“I know it sounds crazy,” Pitt said. “But that was the sequence with Beau. He got stung, then hours later he got sick.”