Invasion

11

9:15 A.M.

“When did you hear about this Randy Nite news conference?” Cassy asked.

“This morning when I was watching the Today show,” Pitt said. “The news anchor said NBC was going to be carrying it live.”

“And they mentioned Beau’s name?”

“That was the astounding thing,” Pitt said. “I mean, he only went out there for an interview, and now he’s part of a news conference. That’s big-time weird.”

Cassy and Pitt were in the doctors’ lounge in the ER watching a thirteen-inch TV. Sheila Miller had called Pitt early and told him to be there and to bring Cassy. The room was called the doctors’ lounge but was used by all the ER personnel for moments of relaxation and for those who brought paper bag lunches.

“What are we here for?” Cassy asked. “I hate to miss class.”

“She didn’t say,” Pitt said, “but my guess is that she’s gone over Dr. Halprin’s head somehow and wants us to talk with whomever she’s contacted.”

“Are we going to mention about last evening?” Cassy asked.

Pitt held up his hand to quiet Cassy. The TV anchor was announcing that Randy Nite had entered the room. A moment later Randy’s familiar boyish face filled the screen.

Before he began speaking, he turned to the side and coughed. Returning to the microphones he apologized in advance for his voice and said: “I’m just getting over a bout of the flu, so bear with me.”

“Uh oh,” Pitt said. “He’s had it too.”

“Now then,” Randy said. “Good morning, everyone. For those of you who don’t know me, my name is Randy Nite, and I’m a software salesman.”

Discreet laughter could be heard from the onscreen audience. While Randy paused the anchor complimented Randy’s humorous modesty; he was one of the world’s richest men, and there were few people in the industrialized nations who didn’t know of Randy Nite.

“I have called a news conference today to announce that I am starting a new venture... truly the most exciting, most important undertaking of my life.”

An excited murmur erupted from the TV audience. They had expected big news, and it sounded as if they weren’t to be disappointed.

“This new venture,” Randy continued, “will be called the Institute for a New Beginning, and it will be backed by all the combined resources of Cipher Software. To describe this bold new venture, I would like to introduce a young man of tremendous vision. Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome my new personal assistant, Mr. Beau Stark.”

Cassy and Pitt glanced at each other with mouths agape. “I don’t believe this,” Cassy said.

Beau bounded onto the speaker’s platform amid applause. He was dressed in a designer suit with his dark hair slicked back from his forehead. He exuded a politician’s confidence.

“Thank you all for coming,” Beau boomed with a charming smile. His blue eyes sparkled like sapphires in the midst of his tanned face. “The Institute for a New Beginning is aptly named. We will be seeking the best and the brightest in the fields of science, medicine, engineering, and architecture. Our aim will be to reverse the negative trends that our planet has been experiencing. We can end pollution! We can end social and political strife! We can create a world suitable for a new humankind! We can and we will!”

The reporters present at the news conference erupted in a frenzy of questions. Beau held out his hands to quiet them.

“We will not be entertaining questions today. The purpose of this meeting was merely to make the announcement. One week from today we will hold another news conference in which our agenda will be spelled out in detail. Thank you all for coming.”

Despite questions shouted from the news media, Beau stepped from the speakers’ platform, embraced Randy Nite, and then the two of them, arm in arm, disappeared from view.

The announcer then tried to fill the gap caused by the precipitous end to the news conference. He began speculating on exactly what the specific goals of the new institute would be and what Randy Nite meant when he said that the venture would be backed by all the combined resources of Cipher Software. He pointed out that those resources were substantial, more than the GNP of many countries.

“My God! Pitt,” Cassy said. “What’s going on with Beau?”

“My guess is that his interview went okay,” Pitt said, trying to be funny.

“This isn’t a laughing matter,” Cassy said. “I’m getting more and more scared. What are we going to tell Dr. Miller?”

“For the moment I think we’ve told her enough,” Pitt said.

“Come on!” Cassy complained. “We have to tell her about what we saw last night and about the little black discs. We have to... ”

“Cassy, hold on,” Pitt said, taking her by the shoulders. “Think for a second how this is going to sound to her. She’s our one chance to get someone important to take notice of what’s going on. I don’t think we should push it.”

“But all she knows right now is that there’s this strange flu,” Cassy said.

“That’s exactly my point,” Pitt said. “We’ve got her attention about the flu and that it seems to cause personality changes. I’m worried if we start talking about far-out stuff like the flu being spread by tiny black discs, or even worse, seeing a fleeting blue light in someone’s finger after it had been stung by a black disc, they’ll not listen to us. She already threatened to send us to psychiatry.”

“But we saw the blue light,” Cassy said.

“We think we saw it,” Pitt said. “Look, we have to get people involved first. Once they’ve investigated this flu and know something strange is going on, then we tell them everything.”

The door opened and Sheila stuck in her head. “The man I want you two to talk with just arrived,” she said. “But he was hungry, and I sent him down to the cafeteria. Let’s move into my office so that we’ll be prepared for him when he gets back.”

Cassy and Pitt got to their feet and followed Sheila.

“All right, you two,” Nancy Sellers said to Jonathan and Candee. “I want you to wait here in the van while I go in and talk to Candee’s mom. Sound reasonable?”

Both Jonathan and Candee nodded.

“I really appreciate this, Mrs. Sellers,” Candee said.

“You don’t have to thank me,” Nancy said. “Just the fact that your parents were too busy to talk on the phone last night when I called and chose not to call back tells me something is seriously wrong. I mean they didn’t even know you stayed over.”

Nancy alighted from the van, waved to the kids, and started out toward the front entrance of Serotec Pharmaceuticals. She could still see the stain on the sidewalk where poor Mr. Kalinov had impacted the concrete. She hadn’t known the man well since he was a relatively new employee and was in the biochemistry department, but the news had saddened her. She knew he had a family with two teenage daughters.

Entering the building, Nancy wondered what to expect. After the death the day before she was unsure how the whole establishment would be functioning. A memorial service was scheduled for that afternoon. But she immediately sensed that everything was already back to routine.

The accounting department was on the fourth floor, and as she rode up in the crowded elevator, she overheard normal conversation. There was even laughter. At first it made Nancy feel relieved that people had taken the episode in stride. But when the whole car burst into laughter about a comment Nancy hadn’t heard well enough to understand, she began to feel uncomfortable. The joviality seemed disrespectful.

Nancy found Joy Taylor with ease. As one of the more senior people she had her own office. When Nancy walked through the open door, Joy was busy at her computer terminal. As Nancy had remembered, she was a mousy person about Nancy’s size although much thinner. Nancy guessed that Candee took after her father.

“Excuse me,” Nancy called out.

Joy looked up. Her pinched features registered momentary irritation at being disturbed. Then her expression warmed and she smiled.

“Hello,” Joy said. “How have you been?”

“Just fine,” Nancy said. “I wasn’t sure you’d remember me. I’m Nancy Sellers. My son Jonathan and your daughter Candee are classmates.”

“Of course I remember you,” Joy said.

“Terrible tragedy yesterday,” Nancy said while she thought about how to bring up the issues she wanted to discuss.

“Yes and no,” Joy said. “Certainly for the family, but I happen to know that Mr. Kalinov had serious kidney disease.”

“Oh?” Nancy questioned. The comment confused her.

“Oh yes,” Joy said. “He’d been on weekly dialysis for years. There was talk of a transplant. It was bad genes. His brother had the same problem.”

“I hadn’t heard about his medical problems,” Nancy said.

“Is there something I can help you with?” Joy asked.

“Yes, there is,” Nancy said, taking a seat. “Well, it’s more that I wanted to talk with you. I’m sure it’s not serious, but I felt I should at least mention it to you. I’d want you to do the same for me if Jonathan had come to you.”

“Candee came to you?” Joy asked. “About what?”

“She’s upset,” Nancy said. “And frankly, so am I.”

Nancy noticed a slight hardening of Joy’s features.

“What did Candee say she was upset about?” Joy asked.

“She feels that things have changed at home,” Nancy said. “For one thing she said that you and your husband are suddenly doing a lot of entertaining. It’s made her feel insecure. Apparently some people have even wandered into her bedroom.”

“We have been entertaining,” Joy said. “Both my husband and I have recently become very active in environmental causes. It requires work and sacrifice, but we’re willing to do both. Perhaps you’d like to come to our meeting tonight.”

“Thanks, but some other time,” Nancy said.

“Just let me know when,” Joy said. “But now I’ve got to get back to work.”

“Just a moment longer,” Nancy said. The conversation was going poorly. Joy was not being receptive despite Nancy’s diplomatic efforts. It was time for more candor. “My son and your daughter also got the impression that you were encouraging them to sleep together. I’d like you to know that I don’t agree with this at all. In fact I’m adamantly against it.”

“But they are healthy and their genes are well matched,” Joy said.

Nancy struggled to remain calm. She’d never heard such a ridiculous statement. Nancy could not understand Joy’s casual attitude about such an issue, especially with the burgeoning problem of teen pregnancy. Just as aggravating was Joy’s equanimity in the face of Nancy’s obvious agitation.

“Jonathan and Candee do make a cute couple,” Nancy forced herself to say. “But they are only seventeen and hardly ready for the responsibilities of adult life.”

“If that is how you feel I will be happy to respect it,” Joy said. “But my husband and I feel that there are a lot more pressing issues, like the destruction of the rain forest.”

Nancy had had enough. It was plain to her that she was not going to have a rational conversation with Joy Taylor. She stood up. “Thank you for your time,” she said stiffly. “My only recommendation is that perhaps you might pay a little more attention to your daughter’s state of mind. She is upset.”

Nancy turned to leave.

“Just a moment,” Joy said.

Nancy hesitated.

“You seem to be extremely anxious,” Joy said. “I think I can help you.” She pulled out the top drawer of her desk and gingerly lifted out a black disc. Placing it in the palm of her hand, she extended it toward Nancy. “Here’s a little present for you.”

Nancy was already convinced that Joy Taylor was more than a little eccentric, and this unsolicited proffering of a talisman just added to the impression. Nancy leaned over to take a closer look. She had no idea what the strange object was.

“Take it,” Joy encouraged.

Out of curiosity Nancy reached for the object. But then she thought better of it and withdrew her hand. “Thank you,” she said, “but I think I should just leave.”

“Take it,” Joy urged. “It will change your life.”

“I like my life as it is,” Nancy said. Then she turned and walked out of Joy’s office. As she descended in the elevator she marveled over the conversation she’d just had. It wasn’t anything like she’d expected. And now she had to worry about what she was going to tell Candee. Jonathan, of course, was a different story. She’d tell him to stay the hell away from the Taylor residence.

The door to Dr. Miller’s office opened and both Pitt and Cassy got to their feet. A balding yet relatively youthful man walked into the room ahead of Dr. Miller. He was dressed in a nondescript, wrinkled gray suit. Rimless glasses were perched on the end of a broad nose.

“This is Dr. Clyde Horn,” Sheila said to Cassy and Pitt. “He’s an epidemiological investigative officer from the Centers for Disease Control in Atlanta. He works specifically for the influenza branch.”

Clyde was introduced to Pitt and Cassy in turn.

“You two are the youngest-looking residents I think I’ve ever seen,” Clyde commented.

“I’m not a resident,” Pitt said. “In fact I’m only starting medical school in the fall.”

“And I’m a student teacher,” Cassy said.

“Oh, I see,” Clyde said, but he was obviously confused.

“Pitt and Cassy are here to put the problem in a personal perspective,” Sheila said as she motioned for Clyde to take a seat.

They all sat down.

Sheila then made a presentation of the influenza cases that they had been seeing in the emergency room. She had some charts and graphs which she showed to Clyde. The most impressive was the one that showed the rapid increase in the number of cases over the previous three days. The second most impressive dealt with the number of deaths of people with the same symptoms associated with various chronic disease like diabetes, cancer, kidney problems, rheumatoid arthritis, and liver ailments.

“Have you been able to determine the strain?” Clyde asked. “When you spoke with me on the phone, that had yet to be done.”

“It still isn’t done,” Sheila said. “In fact we still haven’t isolated the virus.”

“That’s curious,” Clyde said.

“The only thing we have consistently seen is marked elevation of lymphokines in the blood,” Sheila said. She handed Clyde another chart.

“Oh my, these are high titers,” Clyde said. “And you said the symptoms are all typical flu.”

“Yes,” Sheila said. “Just more intense than usual, and generally localizing in the upper respiratory tract. We’ve seen no pneumonia.”

“It certainly has stimulated the immune systems,” Clyde said as he continued to study the lymphokine chart.

“The course of the illness is quite short,” Sheila said. “In contrast to normal influenza, it reaches a peak in only hours, like five or six. Within twelve hours the patients are apparently well.”

“Even better than they were before the illness,” Pitt said.

Clyde wrinkled his forehead. “Better?” he questioned.

Sheila nodded. “It is true,” she said. “Once recovered the patients exhibit a kind of euphoria with increased energy levels. The disturbing aspect is that many also behave as if they have had a personality change. And that is why Pitt and Cassy are here. They have a mutual friend who they insist is acting like a different person subsequent to his recovery. His case may be particularly important because he might have been the first person to get this particular illness.”

“Have there been any neurological workups done?” Clyde asked.

“Indeed,” Sheila said. “On a number of patients. But everything was normal including cerebrospinal fluid.”

“What about the friend, whatever his name,” Clyde said.

“His name is Beau,” Cassy said.

“He has not been examined neurologically,” Sheila said. “That was planned, but for the moment he’s unavailable.”

“In what ways is Beau’s personality different?” Clyde asked.

“In just about every way,” Cassy said. “Prior to his flu he’d never missed a class. After recovery he hasn’t gone to any. And he’s been waking up at night and going outside to meet strange people. When I asked him what he’d been talking to these people about, he said the environment.”

“Is he oriented to time, place, and person?” Clyde asked.

“Most definitely,” Pitt said. “His mind seems particularly sharp. He also seems to be significantly stronger.”

“Physically?” Clyde asked.

Pitt nodded.

“Personality change after a bout of flu is uncommon,” Clyde said while absently scratching the top of his bald pate. “This flu is unique in other ways as well. I’ve never heard of such a short course. Strange! Do you know if the other hospitals in the area have been seeing the same problem?”

“We don’t know,” Sheila said. “But finding that out is much easier for the CDC to do.”

A loud rap on the door got Sheila out of her chair. Having left specific instructions not to be disturbed, she was concerned a medical emergency had arrived. But instead it was Dr. Halprin. Behind him stood Richard Wainwright, the chief lab tech who had helped draw up the charts Sheila had been presenting. Richard was red-faced and nervously shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

“Hello, Dr. Miller,” Dr. Halprin said cheerfully. He had completely recovered from his illness and was now the picture of health. “Richard just informed me that we have an official visitor.”

Dr. Halprin pushed into the room and introduced himself as the hospital president to Clyde. Richard self-consciously remained by the door.

“I’m afraid you’ve been called here under less than forthright pretenses,” Dr. Halprin said to Clyde. He smiled graciously. “As Chief Executive Officer any requests for CDC assistance has to come through my office. That’s stated in our bylaws. This is, of course, unless it is a reportable illness. But influenza is not.”

“I’m terribly sorry,” Clyde said. He stood up. “It had been my impression we’d received a legitimate request and all was in order. I don’t mean to interfere.”

“No problem,” Dr. Halprin said. “Just a minor misunderstanding. The fact of the matter is we don’t need the services of the CDC. But come to my office, and we can straighten it all out.” He put his arm around Clyde’s shoulders and urged him toward the door.

Sheila rolled her eyes in frustration. Cassy, already distraught and sensing they were about to lose a significant opportunity, stepped in front of the door, barring egress. “Please, Dr. Horn,” she said. “You must listen to us. There is something happening in this city. People are changing with this illness. It’s spreading.”

“Cassy!” Sheila called out sharply.

“It’s true,” Cassy persisted. “Don’t listen to Dr. Halprin. He’s had this flu himself. He’s one of them!”

“Cassy, that’s enough!” Sheila said. She grabbed Cassy and dragged her aside.

“I’m sorry about this, Clyde,” Dr. Halprin said soothingly. “May I call you Clyde?”

“Certainly,” Clyde said, nervously looking over his shoulder as if he expected to be attacked.

“As you can see this minor problem has caused significant emotional upset,” Dr. Halprin continued as he motioned for Clyde to precede him into the hall. “Unfortunately it has clouded objectivity. But we’ll discuss it in my office, and we can make arrangements to get you back to the airport. I’ve even got something I want you to take back to Atlanta for me. Something I think will interest the CDC.”

Sheila closed the door behind the departing figures and leaned against it. “Cassy, I don’t think that was wise.”

“I’m sorry,” Cassy said. “I couldn’t help myself.”

“It’s because of Beau,” Pitt explained to Sheila. “He and Cassy are engaged.”

“You don’t have to apologize,” Sheila said. “I felt equally frustrated. The problem is: now we are back to square one.”

The estate was magnificent. Although it had been whittled down to less than five acres over the years, the central house was still standing and in fine condition. It was built in the early nineteen-hundreds in a French châeau style. The stone was a local granite.

“I like it,” Beau said. He spun in the middle of the expansive ballroom with his arms outstretched. King sat near the door as if he feared he was going to be left in the mansion by himself. Randy and a realtor by the name of Helen Bryer were standing off to the side.

“It is four point six acres,” Ms. Bryer told Randy. “It is not a lot of land for the size of this house, but it is immediately adjacent to your own holdings at Cipher, so the effective land would be much more.”

Beau strolled over to the massive windows and let the sunlight cascade over him. The view was stupendous. With a reflecting pool in the foreground it reminded him of the view from the knoll on the Cipher property.

“I heard your announcement this morning,” Ms. Bryer said. “I must tell you, Mr. Nite, I think your Institute for a New Beginning sounds wonderful. Humankind will be grateful.”

“New humankind,” Randy said.

“Yes, right,” Ms. Bryer said. “A new humankind awakened to the needs of the environment. I think something like this has been a long, long time in coming.”

“You have no idea how long,” Beau called out from where he was standing at the window. Then he strolled over to Randy and Ms. Bryer. “This house is perfect for the institute. We’ll take it!”

“Excuse me?” Ms. Bryer said, even though she’d clearly heard Beau. She cleared her throat. She glanced at Randy for confirmation. Randy nodded. Beau smiled and wandered out of the room. King followed.

“Well, this’s wonderful!” Ms. Bryer said excitedly when she’d found her voice. “It’s a gorgeous property. But don’t you want to know how much the seller is asking?”

“Call my lawyers,” Randy said. He handed Ms. Bryer a card. “Let them draw up the papers.” Randy then left the room looking for Beau.

“Of course, Mr. Nite,” Ms. Bryer said. She blinked. Her voice echoed in the now empty ballroom. She smiled to herself. It had been the strangest sale she’d ever made, but what a commission!

The rain sounded like grains of sand as it pummeled the window off to the right of Jesse’s desk. Peals of thunder added to the atmosphere. Jesse liked lightning storms. It reminded him of summertime during his childhood back in Detroit.

It was late afternoon and under normal circumstances Jesse would have been ready to head home. Unfortunately Vince Garbon had called in sick that morning, and Jesse had to do work for two. With another hour of paperwork to, go, Jesse picked up his empty coffee mug and pushed back from his desk. From years of experience he knew that one more cup wouldn’t keep him up that night, and it would help him get through the rest of the day.

On his way to the communal pot, Jesse was struck by how many of his fellow officers were coughing, sneezing, or sniffling. On top of that were all the guys out sick, like Vince. Something was going around, and Jesse considered it a blessing that he’d not been stricken.

On his way back to his desk, Jesse happened to glance through the glass divider into the captain’s office. To his surprise the captain was standing at the window facing into the squad room with his hands behind his back and a contented smile glued to his face. When he caught Jesse’s eye he waved and flashed a toothy grin.

Jesse waved back. But as he sat down, he wondered what was up with the captain. First of all, he rarely stayed this late unless there was some special ops, and second of all he was always in a bad mood by the afternoon. Jesse had never seen him smile after twelve.

After getting himself comfortable once again and with his pen in his hand poised above one of the innumberable forms, Jesse hazarded another glance into the captain’s office. To his surprise the captain was still in the same spot sporting the same smile. Like a voyeur, Jesse stared at the captain for a beat and tried to divine what on earth the captain was smiling about. It wasn’t a humorous smile. It was more a smile of satisfaction.

With a bewildered shake of his head, Jesse refocused his attention to the stack of forms in front of him. He detested paperwork, but it had to be done.

A half hour later, with several of the forms completed, Jesse again got up from his desk. This time it was nature calling. As usual the coffee had gone right through him.

Heading for the men’s room at the end of the hall, he glanced into the captain’s office and was relieved to see it was empty. Inside the lavatory Jesse didn’t dally. He did his thing and got the hell out because there were a half dozen guys in there coughing and sneezing and blowing their noses.

En route back to his desk Jesse passed by the drinking fountain to wet his whistle. That took him by the property booking desk, where he was spotted by Sergeant Alfred Kinsella through the wire mesh of his cage.

“Hey, Jesse!” Alfred called out. “What’s up?”

“Not much,” Jesse answered. “How’s that blood problem of yours?”

“No change,” Alfred said. He cleared his throat. “I still have to go in for a transfusion now and then.”

Jesse nodded. He had given blood just like most of the guys on the force for Alfred’s benefit. Jesse felt sorry for Alfred. He couldn’t comprehend what it would be like to have a serious illness the doctors couldn’t even diagnose.

“Want to see something bizarre?” Alfred asked. He cleared his throat again and then coughed forcibly several times. He put a hand to his chest.

“You okay?” Jesse asked.

“Yeah, I suppose,” Alfred said. “But I’ve been feeling a little punk over the last hour or so.”

“You and everyone else,” Jesse said. “What do you have that’s bizarre?”

“These little guys,” Alfred said.

Jesse moved over to the chest-height counter of the property lockup. He saw that Alfred had a row of black discs in front of him, each about an inch and a half in diameter.

“What are they?” Jesse asked.

“I haven’t the foggiest idea,” Alfred said. “In fact I was hoping you might be able to tell me.”

“Where’d they come from?”

“You know the rash of first-time offenders being brought in the last couple of nights and booked for crazy stuff like lewd behavior or having mass meetings in public spaces without permits.”

Jesse nodded. Everybody had been talking about it, and Jesse himself had seen some strange behavior lately.

“Every last one of those people had been carrying one of these black miniature frisbees.”

Jesse got his face close to the wire mesh so he could get a better look. The black discs appeared like container tops. There were about twenty of them.

“What are they made of?” Jesse asked.

“Damned if I know, but they are heavy for their size,” Alfred said. He sneezed several times and blew his nose.

“Let me see one,” Jesse said. He reached through the opening of the wire mesh cage with the intention of picking one of them up. Alfred grabbed his arm.

“Careful!” he warned. “They look perfectly smooth but they can sting. It’s kinda spooky because I’ve not been able to find a sharp edge. Yet I’ve been stuck several times already. Feels like a bee sting.”

Taking Alfred’s advice, Jesse took a ballpoint pen from his pocket and used it to push around one of the discs. To his surprise it was not easy. They were indeed heavy. It was particularly hard to get one of them to flip over. Jesse gave up.

“Well, you’re on your own,” Jesse said. “I don’t have any idea what they are.”

“Thanks for looking at them,” Alfred said in between coughs.

“You sound like you’ve gotten worse just while I’ve been standing here,” Jesse said. “Maybe you’d better go home.”

“I’ll stick it out,” Alfred said. “I just came on duty at five.”

Jesse headed for his desk planning on staying another half hour tops, but he didn’t get far. Behind him he heard a fit of coughing and then a crash.

Turning around Jesse saw that Alfred had disappeared from view. Running back to the counter he could hear thumps like someone kicking the cabinets. Pulling himself over the counter Jesse looked down. There on the floor was Alfred with his back arched and his body quivering. He was having a convulsion.

“Hey everybody!” Jesse shouted. “We got a man down in property booking.”

Jesse went over the top of the booking desk head first, knocking most of the clutter on its surface to the floor, including the twenty or so black discs. Intent on the convulsing figure of Alfred, Jesse didn’t notice that all of the discs landed lightly and right side up.

The first thing Jesse did was get Alfred’s keys and plop them on the counter so others could unlock the cage door. Although Jesse had a key, most people didn’t. Next he forced a pad of paper between Alfred’s tightly clenched jaws. He was about to unbutton the top button of his shirt when he saw something that startled him. A foam was oozing out of Alfred’s eyes!

Shocked by this spectacle, Jesse straightened up. He’d never seen anything like it. It was like bubble bath.

Within seconds Jesse was joined by other officers. All were equally amazed at the burgeoning froth.

“What the hell is that foam?” one of the officers asked.

“Who the hell cares,” Jesse said, breaking the trance. “Let’s get an ambulance. Now!”

There was a loud clap of thunder simultaneous with the gurney as it slammed through the main ER doors of the University Medical Center. It was being pushed by two burly EMTs. A few steps behind was Jesse Kemper. On the gurney Alfred Kinsella was still convulsing. His face was blue, and foam was still bubbling from his eyes like two bottles of disturbed champagne.

Sheila, Pitt, and Cassy emerged from Sheila’s office where they’d been most of the day collating all the flu cases, including all the cases seen that day. Sheila had heard the commotion and had responded immediately. She’d been forewarned by the head nurse that a strange case was on its way. The EMTs had called ahead as they’d left the police headquarters.

Intercepting the gurney, Sheila glanced at Alfred. Seeing the foam, she directed the EMTs to take the patient into the bay reserved for contaminated cases. She’d never seen anything like it and wasn’t about to take any chances. As the gurney was quickly pushed away, Sheila got the head nurse’s attention and told her to page a neurologist stat.

Jesse grabbed Sheila’s arm. “Remember me? I’m Detective Lieutenant Jesse Kemper. What’s wrong with Officer Kinsella?”

Sheila pulled away. “That’s what we would like to find out. Pitt, come on with me; this will be a trial by fire. Cassy, take Lieutenant Kemper into my office. The waiting room is too crowded.”

Cassy and Jesse watched Sheila and Pitt run down the hall after the gurney.

“I’m glad I’m not a doctor,” Jesse said.

“You and me both,” Cassy said. Then she pointed toward Sheila’s office. “Come on! I’ll show you where you can wait.”

The wait was not long. Within a half hour Sheila and Pitt appeared at the door. Their expressions were funereal. It wasn’t hard to guess the outcome.

“No luck?” Cassy asked.

Pitt shook his head.

“He never regained consciousness,” Sheila said.

“Was it the same flu?” Cassy asked.

“Probably; his lymphokines were very high,” Pitt said.

“What the hell are lymphokines?” Jesse asked. “Is that what killed him?”

“Lymphokines are part of the body’s defense against invasion,” Sheila said. “They are a response, not a cause of disease. But tell me, did Mr. Kinsella have any chronic disease like diabetes?”

“He didn’t have diabetes,” Jesse said. “But he had a serious problem with his blood. He had to have transfusions every so often.”

“I have a question,” Cassy said suddenly. “Do you know if Sergeant Kinsella had ever mentioned anything about a black disc about this big?” Cassy made a circle about an inch and a half in diameter with her thumbs and forefingers.

“Cassy!” Pitt moaned.

“Quiet!” Cassy said to Pitt. “At this point we don’t have much to lose and a lot to gain.”

“What’s this about a black disc?” Sheila asked.

Pitt rolled his eyes. “Here we go,” he said to no one in particular.

“You mean a black disc that’s flat on the bottom but has a dome on the top and little nubbin-like bumps around the edge.”

“Exactly,” Cassy said.

“Yeah, he showed me a bunch of them just before he had his convulsion.”

Cassy cast a triumphant look at Pitt whose expression had gone from exasperation to intense interest in a matter of seconds.

“Did he say anything about being stung by one of these discs?” Pitt asked.

“Yeah, a number of times,” Jesse said. “He said it was kinda spooky since he couldn’t find a sharp edge. And you know something, now that I think about it, I remember the police chief, Captain Hernandez, getting stung by one.”

“Somebody better fill me in on these black discs,” Sheila said.

“We found one four days ago,” Cassy said. “Well, actually it was Beau who found it. He picked it up from the gravel in a parking lot.”

“I was there when he found it,” Pitt said. “We had no idea what it was. I thought it might have fallen out from beneath Beau’s car.”

“After just a few minutes Beau said it stung him,” Cassy said. “Then a number of hours later Beau came down with his flu.”

“We had really forgotten about the disc, to tell the truth,” Pitt said. “But then here in the emergency room I was checking in a little girl with the flu who said that a black rock had bitten her.”

“But it was an episode just last night that really got us thinking,” Cassy said. She went on to describe the incident at the market. She even described the faint blue glow that she and Pitt thought they’d seen.

When Cassy was finished there was a silence.

Sheila finally blew out through pursed lips. “Well, this all sounds crazy, and as I said before, under normal circumstances I’d call in a psychiatry consult for you two. But at this point I’m willing to explore just about anything.”

“Tell me,” Jesse said. “Does Beau recognize that he’s acting differently?”

“He says he doesn’t,” Cassy said. “But I find it hard to believe. He’s doing things he’s never done before.”

“I agree,” Pitt said. “A week ago he was adamantly against large dogs in the city. Suddenly he gets one.”

“Yeah, and without discussing it with me,” Cassy said. “And we live together. But why do you ask?”

“It would be an important point if the people who are affected are purposefully dissembling,” Sheila said. “We’ll have to be discreet. But let’s get us one of these black discs.”

“We can go back to the market,” Pitt said.

“I might be able to get one out of property booking,” Jesse said.

“Well, try both,” Sheila said. She took out a couple of business cards and wrote her home number on the backs. She gave one to Jesse and one to Pitt and Cassy. “Whoever gets one of these discs first, give me a call. But, as I said, let’s be discreet about this. It sounds to me that this is the type of thing that could cause a panic if there’s any truth to it.”

Just before they broke up, Pitt gave both Sheila and Jesse the number of his cousin’s apartment. He said that he and Cassy would be staying there. Cassy gave him a questioning look but didn’t contradict him.

“Which way do you think the stall was that had the discs?” Pitt asked. They had entered the outdoor market about the same time as the evening before. It was a large area, about the size of two city blocks, and with all the tiny stalls it was like a maze.

“I remember where we got the produce,” Cassy said. “Why don’t we go there first and follow our trail?”

“Good idea,” Pitt said.

They found the stand, where they’d bought tomatoes, with comparative ease.

“What did we do after the tomatoes?” Pitt asked.

“We got the fruit,” Cassy said. “It was in that direction.” She pointed over Pitt’s shoulder.

After they found the fruit stall they both remembered the route into the flea market section. A few minutes later they were standing in front of the booth they sought. Unfortunately it was empty.

“Excuse me,” Cassy called to the proprietor of the next stand. “Could you tell me where the man is that runs this empty stall?”

“He’s sick,” the man said. “I talked with him this morning. He’s got the flu like most of us have.”

“Thanks,” Cassy said. Then to Pitt she whispered: “What do we do now?”

“Hope that Lieutenant Kemper has better luck,” Pitt said.

Jesse had driven back to police headquarters directly from the hospital, but he’d hesitated before going in. The news of Kinsella’s death had undoubtedly reached the station, and people were going to be upset. It hardly seemed to be the time to be nosing around in Kinsella’s cage, especially if the captain was still hanging around. After listening to Cassy and Pitt he’d been reminded of how weird the captain had been acting of late.

So Jesse had driven home. He lived a mile away from headquarters in a small house that was big enough for one person. He’d been living by himself since his wife died of breast cancer eight years previously. They’d had two children but both of them preferred the excitement of Detroit.

Jesse made himself a simple dinner. After a few hours passed he began to entertain the idea of going back to the station, but he knew it would raise a few eyebrows since it was not usual for him to be there unless something out of the ordinary was going on. While he was trying to think up some sort of an explanation, he wondered if Cassy and Pitt had already gotten one of the discs. If they had, there was no need for him to make the effort.

Looking through the scraps of paper in his pocket, he located the kid’s telephone number. He placed the call. Pitt answered.

“We bombed,” Pitt said. “The guy who had the discs is sick. We asked at other stalls and were told the market had become so flooded, they couldn’t sell them. So no one is carrying them anymore.”

“Damn,” Jesse said.

“You weren’t able to get one either?” Pitt asked.

“I haven’t tried yet,” Jesse admitted. Suddenly an idea occurred to him. “Hey, would there be any chance of you two coming with me to the station? Maybe it sounds funny but if I walk in there by myself, everybody’s going to be wondering what I’m doing. If I come in acting like I’m in the process of investigating something, there won’t be a problem.”

“It’s okay by me,” Pitt said. “Hang on, let me ask Cassy.”

Jesse toyed with the phone cord. Pitt came right back on the line. “She’s ready to do anything that might help,” Pitt said. “Where should we meet?”

“I’ll come and pick you up,” Jesse said. “But it will be after midnight. I want the evening gang to have gone home. It will be easier during the graveyard shift. There’s a lot less personnel involved.” The more Jesse thought about the idea the better it sounded.

It was quarter past one when Jesse pulled into the police headquarters’ parking lot and came to a stop in his reserved spot. He killed the engine.

“Okay, guys,” Jesse said. “Here’s how this is going to play. We’re going to walk in the front door. You’ll have to go through the metal detector. Then we’ll head directly for my desk. If anybody asks you what you’re doing, just say you are with me. Okay?”

“Should I be scared about going in there?” Cassy asked. She never thought she’d be concerned about going to police headquarters.

“Nah, not in the slightest,” Jesse assured her.

They climbed from the car and entered the station. While Pitt and Cassy were going through the metal detector they overheard the uniformed policeman at the front desk: “Yes, ma’am. We’ll be there as soon as we can. We understand that raccoons can be unsettling. Unfortunately we’re understaffed with the flu that’s going around... ”

A few minutes later they were sitting around Jesse’s desk. The squad room was deserted. “This is better than I thought,” Jesse said. “There’s hardly anybody here.”

“This would be the time to rob the bank,” Pitt said.

“That’s not funny,” Cassy chastised.

“Okay, let’s get up and go back to property booking,” Jesse said. “Here’s my Cross pen. If need be we’ll pretend we’re booking it in as if it belonged to you.”

Pitt took the pen. All three got to their feet.

The property booking cage was locked up tight. Only the light from the hall shone through the wire mesh to illuminate the interior.

“All right, you guys wait here,” Jesse said. He used his key to open the door. A quick glance around the floor told him that someone had picked up the discs and the other objects that he’d knocked off the counter when he’d vaulted over to help Alfred. “Damn,” he voiced.

“Is there a problem?” Pitt asked.

“Somebody’s picked up in here,” Jesse said. “The discs must have been placed in envelopes, and there’s a whole dad-blasted stack of them in here.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Open them up,” Jesse said. “There’s no shortcut.”

Jesse started. It took longer than he expected. He had to twist the clasps, open the envelope, and look inside.

“Can we help?” Pitt offered.

“Yeah, why not,” Jesse said. “We’ll be here all night.”

The kids entered the cage and, following Jesse’s lead, began opening envelopes.

“They got to be here someplace,” Jesse said irritably.

They worked in silence. After about five minutes Jesse reached out and whispered, “Hold up!”

Slowly Jesse raised himself so he could see over the top of the counter. He’d heard what he thought were footsteps. What he saw made his heart skip a beat. He had to blink to make sure it wasn’t an apparition. It wasn’t. It was the captain and he was coming in their direction.

Jesse ducked back down. “Jesus,” he whispered. “The captain is coming. Move back under the counter and don’t move.”

As soon as the kids were in position, Jesse stood up. Since there was still time he exited the property booking cage. Walking quickly, he intercepted the captain in the hall.

“The duty officer said you were here, Kemper,” the captain said. “What the hell are you doing? It’s almost two o’clock in the morning.”

Jesse was tempted to turn the question around since it was a lot stranger for the captain to be there than it was for him. But Jesse held his tongue. Instead he said: “Just dealing with a problem involving a couple of kids.”

“In the property booking cage?” the captain asked, looking over Jesse’s shoulder.

“Yeah, I’m looking for a bit of evidence,” Jesse said. But then to change the subject he added: “Terrible tragedy about Kinsella.”

“Hardly,” the captain said. “He had that chronic illness with his blood. Listen, Kemper, how are you feeling?”

“Me?” Jesse questioned. He was nonplussed by the captain’s response concerning Kinsella.

“Of course you,” the captain said. “Who else am I talking to.”

“I’m fine,” Jesse said. “Thank the Lord.”

“Well, that’s strange,” the captain said. “Listen, stop by my office before you leave. I’ve got something for you.”

“Sure thing, Captain,” Jesse said.

The captain took another look over Jesse’s shoulder before heading back to his office. Jesse watched him leave, perplexed at what was going through his mind.

When the captain had disappeared from view, Jesse hustled back inside the property booking cage. “Let’s find one of those discs and get the hell out of here,” he said.

Cassy and Pitt emerged from their hiding place in the knee space below the counter. All three went back to opening envelopes.

“Ah ha!” Jesse said as he peered into a particularly heavy one. “Finally!” He reached in to pull it out.

“Don’t touch it,” Cassy cried out.

“I was going to be careful,” Jesse said.

“It happens quickly,” Pitt said.

“All right, so I won’t touch it,” Jesse said. “I’ll leave it in the envelope. Let me sign this custody chit and then let’s get out of here.”

A few minutes later they were back at Jesse’s desk in the nearly empty squad room. Jesse glanced into the captain’s office. The light was on, but the captain was nowhere to be seen.

“Let’s take a look at this thing,” Jesse said. He opened the clasp on the envelope and let the disc slide out onto his blotter.

“Looks innocent enough,” Jesse commented. As he’d done earlier, he used a pen to push it around. “There’s also no opening. How could it possibly sting someone?”

“Both times that I witnessed, the person had wrapped either their fingers or palm around the periphery,” Pitt said.

“But if there’s no opening it can’t happen,” Jesse said. “Maybe they’re all not the same. Maybe some sting, some don’t.” He got out his reading glasses, which he detested for vanity reasons, put them on, and then leaned over to get a closer, magnified view. “It looks like polished onyx, only not as shiny.” With the tip of his finger he touched the top of the dome.

“I wouldn’t do that,” Pitt warned.

“It feels cold,” Jesse said, ignoring Pitt. “It’s also very smooth.” Gingerly he moved the very tip of his finger down from the apex of the dome toward the periphery with the intention of feeling the little bumps that lined the edge. The sound of a cabinet banging shut over at the duty officer’s desk made him snatch his hand away.

“I guess I’m a little tense,” Jesse explained.

“For good reason,” Pitt said.

Ready to withdraw his hand at the slightest provocation, Jesse touched one of the little bumps. Nothing happened. Equally carefully he began to run the tip of his finger around the disc’s periphery. He got about a quarter of the way around when an extraordinary thing happened. A millimeter-wide slit formed in the seamless surface of the disc’s edge.

Jesse yanked his hand away in time to see a chrome-colored needle punch out through the slit a distance of several millimeters. From its tip sprang a single drop of yellowish fluid. In the next instant the needle withdrew and the slit vanished. The whole sequence lasted only a second.

Three pairs of startled eyes rose to regard each other.

“Did you see that?” Jesse asked. “Or am I crazy?”

“I saw it,” Cassy said. “And there’s proof. There’s a wet spot on the blotter.”

Nervously Jesse bent his head forward and, with his magnifiers, as he called his glasses, studied the area where the slit had formed. “There’s nothing there, not even a seam.”

“Wait a sec,” Pitt said. “Don’t get too close. That fluid must be infectious.”

As a hypochondriac Jesse didn’t need any more encouragement. He got out of his chair and backed several steps away. “What should we do?”

“We need some scissors and a container, preferably glass,” Pitt said. “Plus some chlorine bleach.”

“How about a coffee creamer jar?” Jesse suggested. “I don’t know about the bleach, but I’ll check the janitor’s closet. The scissors are in the top drawer.”

“A coffee creamer jar is fine,” Pitt said. “How about latex gloves?”

“We got those too,” Jesse said. “I’ll be right back.”

Jesse managed to find everything Pitt needed. With the scissors Pitt carefully cut out a circle of the blotter containing the wet dot and deposited it in the jar. The underside of the blotter didn’t appear wet, but still he disinfected the area of the desk with the bleach. The gloves and the scissors went into a plastic bag.

“I think we should call Dr. Miller,” Pitt said when he was finished.

“Now?” Jesse questioned. “It’s after two in the morning.”

“She’s going to want to know about this right away,” Pitt said. “It’s my guess she’ll want to start immediately trying to grow out whatever is in this sample.”

“Okay, you call,” Jesse said. “I’ve got to go in and see the captain. By the time I get back you can tell me if I’m taking you to the med center or home.”

Jesse’s mind was a jumble of disconnected thoughts as he headed for the captain’s office. So much crazy stuff had happened in so short a time, particularly the crack appearing like magic in the black disc, that he felt numb. He was also exhausted since it was way past his bedtime. Nothing seemed real. Even the fact that he was heading in to see the captain after two in the morning.

The captain’s office door was ajar. Jesse halted on the threshold. The captain was at his desk busily writing as if it were the middle of the day. Jesse had to admit to himself that the captain looked better than he had in a year despite the hour.

“Excuse me, Captain,” Jesse called out. “You wanted to see me?”

“Come in,” the captain said, waving Jesse over to the desk. He smiled. “Thanks for coming by. Tell me, how are you feeling now?”

“Pretty tired, sir,” Jesse said.

“Not sick?”

“No, thank goodness,” Jesse said.

“Get that problem taken care of with the two kids?”

“Still working on it,” Jesse said.

“Well, I wanted to reward you for your hard work,” the captain said. He opened the center drawer of his desk, reached in and pulled out one of the black discs!

Jesse’s eyes widened in shocked surprise.

“I want you to have this symbol of a new beginning,” the captain said. He had the disc in the palm of his hand, and he extended it toward Jesse.

Jesse felt a sense of panic. “Thank you, sir, but I can’t accept that.”

“Of course you can,” the captain said. “It doesn’t look like much, but it will change your life. Trust me.”

“Oh, I believe you, sir,” Jesse said. “I just don’t deserve it.”

“Nonsense,” the captain said. “Take it, my man.”

“No, thank you,” Jesse said. “I’m really tired. I got to get some sleep.”

“I’m ordering you to take it,” the captain said. A distinct edge had appeared in his voice.

“Yes, sir,” Jesse said. He reached forward with a quivering hand. In his mind’s eye he saw the glistening chrome needle. At the same time he remembered that to stimulate the mechanism, he’d touched the edge of the disc. He also noticed that the captain was not touching the edge but rather palming the disc in his flattened hand.

“Take it, my friend,” the captain urged.

Jesse flattened his own hand palm up and put it next to the captain’s. The captain looked him in the eye. Jesse returned the stare and noticed the captain’s pupils were widely dilated.

For a few moments it was a Mexican standoff. Finally the captain carefully insinuated his thumb beneath the disc and lifted it with his index finger on top of the dome. He was obviously avoiding the edge. Then he put it in Jesse’s palm.

“Thanks, Chief,” Jesse said. He avoided looking at the cursed thing and beat a hasty retreat.

“You’ll be thanking me,” the captain called out after him.

Jesse dashed out to his desk, terrified by the fear of being stung at any moment. But it didn’t happen, and he was able to slide the disc out of his hand without incident. It clacked up against its colleague with a sound like two ivory billiard balls colliding.

“What on earth... ” Pitt remarked.

“Don’t ask!” Jesse said. “But I’ll tell you one thing. The captain ain’t on our side.”

Holding the coffee creamer jar up to the light, Sheila looked beneath the label at the scrap of blotter contained inside. “This might be the break we needed,” she said. “But tell me again exactly what happened.”

Cassy, Pitt, and Jesse all began speaking at once.

“Whoa!” Sheila said. “One at a time.”

Cassy and Pitt deferred to Jesse. Jesse retold the episode with Cassy and Pitt adding bits of detail. When Jesse got to describing the part about the slit appearing in the disc, he opened his eyes widely and yanked back his hand in imitation of what he’d done at the time.

Sheila placed the jar on her desk and peered through the oculars of a binocular dissecting microscope. One of the black discs was positioned on the tray.

“This situation gets more and more bizarre,” Sheila remarked. “I gotta tell you; the surface appears fault-free. I’d swear it was a solid chunk of whatever it is.”

“It may look that way, but it isn’t,” Cassy said. “It’s definitely mechanical. We all saw the slit.”

“And the needle,” Pitt added.

“Who would make something like this?” Jesse questioned.

“Who could make it?” Cassy asked.

The four people stared at each other. For a few minutes no one spoke. Cassy’s rhetorical question was unsettling.

“Well, we won’t be able to answer any questions until we find out what’s in the fluid that soaked into the blotter,” Sheila said. “The problem is I’ve got to do it myself. Richard, the head tech in the hospital lab, has already blabbed to the CEO about our CDC visitor. I can’t trust the people in the lab.”

“We need to get other people involved,” Cassy said.

“Yeah, like a virologist,” Pitt said.

“Considering what happened with the man from the CDC, that’s not going to be easy,” Sheila said. “It’s hard to know who has had this flu and who hasn’t.”

“Except when it’s people we know well,” Jesse said. “I knew the captain was acting weird. I just didn’t know why.”

“But we can’t use the fear of not knowing who’s been sick as an excuse to sit around and do nothing,” Cassy said. “We have to warn people who haven’t been infected. I know a couple who could be a great help. She’s a virologist and he’s a physicist.”

“Sounds ideal provided they’ve not been stung,” Sheila said.

“I think I can find out,” Cassy said. “Their son is a student in one of the classes I’m student teaching. He has an inkling that something strange is going on because his girlfriend’s parents apparently were infected.”

“That might be a source of worry,” Sheila said. “From what Jesse has told us about the captain, I have a distinct and uncomfortable sense that the infected people feel evangelistic about their condition.”

“Amen,” Jesse said. “He was not to be denied. He was going to give me that black disc no matter what I said. He wanted me sick, no doubt.”

“I’ll be wary,” Cassy said, “and as you said before, discreet.”

“Okay, give it a try,” Sheila said. “Meanwhile I’ll run some preliminary tests on the fluid.”

“What are we going to do with the discs?” Jesse asked.

“The question is more what are they going to do with us,” Pitt said. He was looking at the one positioned under the microscope.