"So anyone employed here during the last year-say, Maeve, for instance-would know the code," said Beamis.

Esterhaus shook his head. "She wouldn't do it! She was difficult, yes, and maybe a little out of control. Butshe wasn't a thief. For heaven's sake, it's her father's company!"

"It was only an example," said Beamis calmly.

Again, Esterhaus glanced at Adam. Suddenly M. J. understood the looks that had flown between the two. They were both trying to cover for Maeve.

"Come on," said Adam, smoothly redirecting their attention. "We'll show you where the drug's stored."

Esterhaus led them into a side room. One wall was taken up by a refrigeration unit. "It's not really necessary to store it in here," he said, opening the refrigerator door. "The crystals are stable at room temperature. But we keep it in here as a precaution." He pulled out a tray; glass vials tinkled together like crystal. Gingerly he removed a vial and handed it to M. J. "That's it," he said. "Zestron-L."

She raised the vial and studied it in wonder. Rose pink crystals sparkled like tiny gemstones in the light. She turned the vial on its side and watched the contents tumble about, glittering. "It's beautiful," she murmured.

"That's just the crystalline form, of course, for storage," said Esterhaus. "What you're looking at is almost pure. It's injected in solution form. Dissolve it in an alcohol and water solvent, plus some heat. A little goes a long way."

"How far does it go?"

"One of those crystals, just one, is enough to make, say, fifty therapeutic doses."

"Fifty?" said Beamis.

"That's right. One crystal diluted in fifty cc's of solvent will make fifty doses."

Shradick was busy studying the catch on the refrigerator door. "This thing isn't locked," he said.

"No. Nothing here's locked. I told you, we trust our employees."

"What about inventory control?" said Beamis. "You keep track of all those vials?"

"They're numbered, see? So we'd know if any vials were missing."

"But is there some way the drug could still get out? Without you knowing?"

Esterhaus paused. "I suppose, if someone were smart about it…"

"Yeah?" prompted Beamis.

"One could take a crystal or two. From each vial. And we might not notice the difference."

There was a pause as they all considered the implications. In that silence, the sudden beep of a pocket pager seemed all the more startling. Both cops automatically glanced down at their belts.

"It's mine." Beamis sighed, reaching down to silence the tone. He glanced at the readout. "Headquarters. Excuse me." He headed to a nearby phone.

"Well," said Shradick. "I'm not sure there's much more we can do here. I mean, if two different labs can come up with the same stuff."

"The odds are against simultaneous development," said Adam. "Zestron-L isn't something you just cook up in your basement. It took us years to get this far, and it's still not ready for the market."

"But Dr. Esterhaus says another lab could do it."

"Cygnus is the only lab around here with the facilities."

"You'd be surprised," said Shradick, "what the mobcan finance." He closed his notebook. "Lemme be honest. We're not gonna have much luck here."

"You could polygraph the staff," said M. J. "That would be a start."

"It would also be an insult," said Esterhaus. "To every single one of them."

"I don't see that you have a choice," said M. J.

Adam shook his head. "I hate to do it."

"It'd probably be inconclusive, anyway," said Shradick. "They'll all be nervous, upset. Chances are, you won't be able to pinpoint a leak, not this late in the game."

"What about South Lexington?" said M. J. "Check out the receiving end, Vince. Find out who's distributing it on the outside. Question the victims' families and friends. They might know the source."

"Yeah. We could do that." He turned as Beamis came back.

"Let's go, Vince," said Beamis. "We're done here."

"Aren't you going to question anyone?" asked M. J.

"Later." Beamis shook hands with Adam and Esterhaus, then he and Shradick headed for the exit.

"Something's going on," muttered M. J., watching them leave. "Excuse me."

She followed the two cops outside, into the parking lot. "Hey! Lou!" she called.

Beamis turned to her with a look of weariness. "What, Novak?"

"Why the abrupt exit?"

"Because I've got my ass to protect, okay? I also got a chief who's raising a stink about my wasting departmental time on this case."

"That was a call from your chief?"

"Yeah. He wanted to know why I'm out saving the world's junkies when we got murderers cruising the suburbs. And you know what? I couldn't think of a single good answer." Beamis yanked open his car door. "Let's go, Vince."

"Wait. Who told the chief about it?"

"I didn't ask," he snapped.

"But someone must have told him."

Beamis got into the car and slammed the door. "All I know is, I got orders from above. And we're out of here." He looked at Shradick and barked, "Drive."

The car took off, leaving M. J. standing alone in the parking lot.

I got orders . Whose orders? she wondered. Who had called the chief and told him to pull Beamis and Shradick away? The mayor's office? Ed?

Suddenly she turned and gazed up at the letters CYGNUS mounted on the building. It was a possibility she didn't want to consider, but it was staring her in the face.

If anyone had a reason to halt the investigation, it was him. The man whose company would suffer. The man whose name would be dragged through the mud. The man she'd seen dining and shmoozing at the mayor's benefit.

Where on earth did you park your brains, Novak?

She turned from the building and headed to her car. She'd almost failed to see the suspect for the man. But what a man. Blame the hormones. Blame eleven months of self-imposed celibacy. Whatever the reason, she'd gone temporarily wacko over Adam Quantrell.

She wouldn't repeat the mistake.

It was hard for M. J. to give up the Mercedes, but she had her principles to uphold. She didn't want to owe Adam Quantrell a thing, not a single damn thing. Every time she got into that Mercedes, she was reminded of him, of how he'd smiled at her from the passenger seat, of how his scent had mingled so harmoniously with the scent of leather seats. The car had to go, and with it, the memories.

She turned in the Mercedes at Regis Rentals and paid the bill herself. Then she walked around the corner to Lester's Used Cars.

She drove out in a Ford-five years old, with a few rust spots on the fender. It smelled a little stale, and there was a rip in the back seat, but the engine ran fine and the price was right.

And she didn't feel guilty driving it.

From there, she headed straight to City Hall.

She tried getting in to see Mayor Sampson, but there was no chance they'd let her in-not after that scene in his office a day earlier. So she went instead to the DA's office. She found her ex-husband at his desk. He kept his workspace neat, every paper in its place, every pen and paper clip relegated to the proper slot. Ed himself looked immaculate as always, not a crease in his hundred-percent-cotton shirt. She wondered how she'd stood being married to the man for two years.

He looked up in surprise as she came in. "M. J.! Is this a social visit?"

"Who whispered in the police chiefs ear?" she asked.

"Ah. Not a social visit."

"Was it Sampson?"

"What are you referring to?"

"You know what." She leaned across his desk. "Lieutenant Beamis was told to lay off Cygnus. Who gave the order? Sampson? You?"

He sat back and smiled innocently. "Wasn't me. Cross my heart."