MEANWHILE, BACK IN MY OFFICE, Roxy had once again appropriated my desk. She even had her feet up, her Skechers in the spot normally reserved for my morning coffee.

“That’s my desk.” I tucked away all of my pain in a private, secret place, where it wouldn’t get out until I allowed it, and forced a pleasant smile. “The next time I see you sitting at it, I’m going to roll you up into a ball and shove you back inside Cyndi Lauper.”

Roxy quickly removed her feet and stood up.

“Who’s Cyndi Lauper?” she asked.

“A girl who just wanted to have fun.”

“She sounds cool. Hey, while you were gone, Captain Bains called. There’s some big meeting happening downstairs that we’re supposed to go to. Conference Room A.”

“Are you really a cop, and not someone who just snuck in here?”

Roxy smacked her gum and grinned.

“I like you,” she said. “You’ve got attitude.”

I took the task force folder from my in-box. Roxy picked up her backpack-of course she had a backpack; how else could she carry her skateboard?-and followed me down the hall.

“I thought we were going to the conference room.”

“I need coffee.”

“Here.” She tugged at my arm to stop me, then reached into her pack and produced a twenty-two-ounce can of energy drink.

“I don’t want that. I want coffee.”

“This is sugar-free. And it has twice the recommended daily allowance of taurine.”

“What’s taurine?”

“I dunno. It kind of tastes like pee. But it has a real kick.”

The station coffee also tasted like pee, so I accepted the energy drink. The flavor wasn’t pee so much as carbonated bile, with a hint of salt. But my body instantly reacted to the caffeine, and I perked up a little on the way downstairs.

“Your outfit is so cool,” Roxy told me.

“Thanks.”

“I’m so going to wear stuff like that, when I get older.”

Captain Bains, Superintendent O’Loughlin, Special Agent from the Hazardous Materials Response Team Dr. Rick Reilly, the ubiquitous PR guy Davy Ellis, and several other people I didn’t know were seated around the boardroom table, in a heated discussion. Roxy grabbed the last empty seat. I was about to strangle her with her hemp necklace, but Rick stood up and offered me his chair, leaving the room to find another.

“Jack,” the super said, “this is Dr. Abigail Van Hausen from the Center for Disease Control, Major Phillip Murdoch from the United States Army Medical Research Institute for Infectious Diseases, Dr. Sylvia Ng from the World Health Organization, and Dr. Wayne Astor, also from USAMRIID.”

I shook hands all around. Roxy did the same.

“I’m Roxy, Jack’s partner. Anyone need an energy drink? It’s got taurine.”

Everyone declined. Roxy removed a can and popped the top, taking a loud slurp.

“Has this become a DOD show?” I asked, eyeing the army guys.

The major answered, in a tone that was obviously military. “The Department of Defense is here to ascertain if the situation in Chicago is a threat to national security. Also, one of the victims at the diner yesterday was a dignitary from Japan, and we’ve been asked to assist in the investigation.”

I’d heard about the diner massacre while at the hospital with Latham.

Bains appeared unhappier than usual. “Six dead, four more in critical condition. We’ve confirmed it’s a Chemist attack-note found at the scene.”

He passed over a piece of paper in a large plastic bag and went into details about the time and place. The font was bigger this time, but matched the previous letter.

Two million dollars or I tell CNN what’s going on. The Chemist

“We need to go public with this,” I said.

“Not necessarily.” This from Davy, of course. “If we went public-”

I interrupted. “It would cost the city billions of dollars. Which we all know is more important than the lives of a few innocent people.”

“That’s only part of it. The Chemist is bluffing. He doesn’t want the media to know, because then it would be harder for him to spread his poisons.”

“Explain how that’s a bad thing.”

“You need evidence to catch him. How will you find that evidence if he disappears?”

“Who is the asshole?” Roxy whispered in my ear. I ignored her.

“What will happen to the city’s approval rating when the public finds out there’s a lunatic poisoning their food, and we knew but didn’t tell them?”

Mr. PR opened his mouth, but nothing came out.

“I’m calling a press conference,” said the super. “We’re going public.”

Davy pursed his lips like a fish. “The mayor won’t like this.”

“Our job is to serve and protect, and keeping this from the public is doing neither. Dr. Ng, Dr. Van Hausen, I understand that you had colleagues at Cook County Morgue when they brought in the members of the Special Response Team from Alger’s house. Have you found anything?”

Dr. Ng, a thin, attractive Asian woman, nodded at Dr. Van Hausen, cleared her throat, and read off of a paper in front of her.

“The deaths all appear to be the result of poisoning. We’ve managed to isolate seven different toxins so far. Some of the deceased show symptoms and signatures of several toxins.”

Rick came back into the room, dragging a chair. Roxy whispered in my ear, “Who is the stud?”

I ignored her, and suppressed a smug expression when the stud pulled his chair close to mine and sat down.

“Nerium oleander,” Ng continued, “which is a cardiac stimulant and has an effect similar to digitalis. Ornithogalum umbellatum, Tanghinia venenifera, Strychnos toxifera, Ricinus communis. So far, we haven’t discovered any evidence of disease. And it should be noted that all of the toxins we’ve found have been derived from plants…”

“Have you had similar findings, Special Agent Reilly?”

Rick turned his attention to the super.

“Actually, no. I found traces of hydrogen cyanide, arsenic trihydride, and parathion. These are all inorganic compounds, and can be purchased everywhere or made with a child’s chemistry set. The Chemist apparently has knowledge of diseases, organic poisons, and chemical weapons.”

“Parathion is a relative of sarin nerve gas.” From Dr. Astor, the army guy.

“Yes. It’s sold under various brands as a pesticide.”

“Is everything the Chemist is using available domestically?” Major Murdoch asked.

“The big four haven’t come up yet,” Rick answered.

Roxy, who had been worrying a hangnail, perked up. “Big four?”

Rick turned to her. “VX gas, anthrax, smallpox, and plague. These would indicate a hostile foreign source.”

“Or a domestic one.” I faux-smiled at the major. “Doesn’t the U.S. have smallpox in a freezer somewhere?”

Major Murdoch gave me a look that left no doubt I hated my country, then said, “Has there been any evidence that these compounds have been weaponized, or made more lethal?”

Rick snorted. “How can you make cyanide more lethal?”

“Please answer the question.”

Rick’s leg rubbed against mine under the table. I didn’t know if it was intentional or not. My heart rate bumped up a bit, but I blamed that on Roxy’s energy drink.

“No, Major. All evidence points to a single extortionist, not a sleeper al-Qaeda cell waiting to pop out of a cake and squirt you with Variant U.”

“What is Variant U, Mr. Reilly?”

“It’s Special Agent Reilly. Or Dr. Reilly. Variant U is a weaponized form of Marburg. And no, I haven’t found any evidence of that either.”

O’Loughlin focused on me.

“What have your teams uncovered, Lieutenant?”

I looked at the file before me, which I hadn’t opened yet. Now seemed like a good time.

Herb, ever the professional, had written a condensed version of what he’d discovered so far.

“We’ve deployed eleven teams to each of the known sources of the BT outbreaks. They’ve already collected several hundred prints, hundreds of food products, have interviewed dozens of potential witnesses, and have the names and contact information for over one hundred more. Background checks are in the process of being done on all known botulism victims, and the store owners and employees at each outbreak nexus.”