“Why’s that?” Laurie asked.

“It’s a long story,” Jack said with an impish smile. “One of these days we should have a drink and you can tell me about your overdoses and I’ll tell you about me and AmeriCare.”

Laurie didn’t know if Jack’s invitation was sincere or not. She didn’t know much about Jack Stapleton beyond his work at the medical examiner’s office; her understanding was that no one else did either. Jack was a superb forensic pathologist, despite the fact that he’d only recently finished his training. But he didn’t socialize much, and he was never very personally revealing in his small talk. All Laurie knew was that he was forty-one, unmarried, entertainingly flippant, and came from the Midwest.

“I’ll let you know what I find,” Jack said as he headed toward the communications room.

“Jack, excuse me,” Laurie called out.

Jack stopped and turned around.

“Would you mind if I gave you a bit of advice,” she said hesitantly. She was speaking impulsively. It wasn’t like her, but she appreciated Jack and hoped that he would be working there for some time.

Jack’s impish smile returned. He stepped back to the desk. “By all means,” he said.

“I’m probably speaking out of turn,” Laurie said.

“Quite the contrary,” Jack said. “I honor your opinion. What’s on your mind?”

“Just that you and Calvin Washington have been at odds,” Laurie said. “I know it’s just a clash of personalities, but Calvin has had a long-standing relationship with the Manhattan General, as AmeriCare does with the mayor’s office. I think you should be careful.”

“Being careful hasn’t been one of my strong points for five years,” Jack said. “I have utmost respect for the deputy chief. Our only disagreement is that he believes rules to be carved in stone while I see them as guidelines. As for AmeriCare, I don’t care for their goals or methods.”

“Well, it’s not my business,” Laurie said. “But Calvin keeps saying he doesn’t see you as a team player.”

“He’s got a point there,” Jack said. “The problem is that I’ve developed an aversion to mediocrity. I’m honored to work with most people around here, especially you. However, there are a few whom I can’t deal with, and I don’t hide it. It’s as simple as that.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Laurie said.

“It was meant as one,” Jack said.

“Well, let me know what you find on Nodelman,” Laurie said. “Then I’ll have at least one more case for you to do.”

“My pleasure,” Jack said. He turned and headed for the communications room. As he walked past Vinnie, he snatched away his paper.

“Come on, Vinnie,” Jack said. “We’re going to get a jump on the day.”

Vinnie complained but followed. While trying to retrieve his paper he collided with Jack, who had abruptly stopped outside of Janice Jaeger’s office. Janice was one of the forensic investigators, frequently referred to as PAs or physician’s assistants. Her tour of duty was the graveyard shift, from eleven to seven. Jack was surprised to find her still in her office. A petite woman with dark hair and dark eyes, she was obviously tired.

“What are you still doing here?” Jack asked.

“I’ve got one more report to finish.”

Jack held up the folder in his hand. “Did you or Curt handle Nodelman?”

“I did,” Janice said. “Is there a problem?”

“Not that I know about yet,” Jack said with a chuckle. He knew Janice to be extremely conscientious, which made her ideal for teasing. “Was it your impression the cause of death was a nosocomial infection?”

“What the hell is a ‘nosocomial infection’?” Vinnie asked.

“It’s an infection acquired in a hospital,” Jack explained.

“It certainly seems so,” Janice said. “The man had been in the hospital five days for his diabetes before developing symptoms of an infectious disease. Once he got them, he died within thirty-six hours.”

Jack whistled in respect. “Whatever the bug was, it certainly was virulent.”

“That’s what worried the doctors I spoke with,” Janice said.

“Any laboratory results from microbiology?” Jack questioned.

“Nothing has grown out,” Janice said. “Blood cultures were negative as of four o’clock this morning. The terminal event was acute respiratory distress syndrome, or ARDS, but sputum cultures have been negative as well. The only positive thing was the gram stain of the sputum. That showed gram-negative bacilli. That made people think of pseudomonas, but it hasn’t been confirmed.”

“Any question of the patient being immunologically compromised?” Jack asked. “Did he have AIDS or had he been treated with antimetabolites?”

“Not that I could ascertain,” Janice said. “The only problem he had listed was diabetes and some of the usual sequelae. Anyway, it’s all in the investigative report if you’d care to read it.”

“Hey, why read when I can get it from the horse’s mouth?” Jack said with a laugh. He thanked Janice and headed for the elevator.

“I hope you are planning to wear your moon suit,” Vinnie said. The moon suit, the completely enclosed, impervious outfit complete with a clear plastic face mask, was designed for maximum protection. Air was forced into the suit by a fan worn at the small of the back, pulling air through a filter before circulating it within the headpiece. That provided enough ventilation to breathe but guaranteed sauna-like temperatures inside. Jack detested the setup.

As far as Jack was concerned the moon suit was bulky, restrictive, uncomfortable, hot, and unnecessary. He’d not worn one throughout his training. The problem was that the New York chief, Dr. Harold Bingham, had decreed that the suits be used. Calvin, the deputy chief, was intent on enforcing it. Jack had endured several confrontations as a result.

“This might be the first time the suit is indicated,” Jack said, to Vinnie’s relief. “Until we know what we are dealing with we have to take all precautions. After all, it could be something like Ebola virus.”

Vinnie stopped in his tracks. “You really think it’s possible?” he asked, his eyes opened wide.

“Not a chance,” Jack said. He slapped him on the back. “Just kidding.”

“Thank God,” Vinnie said. They started walking again.

“But maybe plague,” Jack added.

Vinnie stopped again. “That would be just as bad,” he said.

Jack shrugged his shoulders. “All in a day’s work,” he said. “Come on, let’s get it over with.”

They changed into scrubs, and then while Vinnie put on his moon suit and went into the autopsy room, Jack went through the contents of Nodelman’s folder. It had a case work sheet, a partially completed death certificate, an inventory of medical-legal case records, two sheets for autopsy notes, a telephone notice of death as received that night by communications, a completed identification sheet, Janice’s investigative report, a sheet for the autopsy report, and a lab slip for HIV antibody analysis.

Despite having spoken with Janice, Jack read her report carefully as he always did. When he was finished he went into the room next to the pine coffins and put on his moon suit. He took his ventilation unit from where it had been charging and hooked himself up. Then he set out for the autopsy room on the other side of the morgue.

Jack cursed the suit as he walked past most of the 126 refrigerated compartments for bodies. Being encased in the contraption put him in a bad mood, and he eyed his surroundings with a jaundiced eye. The morgue had been state of the art at one time, but it was now in need of repair and upgrading. With its aged, blue tile walls and stained cement floor it looked like a set for an old horror movie.

There was an entrance to the autopsy room directly from the hallway, but that wasn’t used any longer except to bring bodies in and out. Instead Jack entered through a small anteroom with a washbasin.

By the time Jack entered the autopsy room Vinnie had Nodelman’s body on one of the eight tables and had assembled all the necessary equipment and paraphernalia necessary to do the case. Jack positioned himself on the patient’s right, Vinnie on the left.