Laurie laughed. “You are the last person to advise me about risk.” She reached out and touched Jack on the end of his nose with her index finger. “Everyone who knows you, me included, pleaded with you not to get that new bike. You’re risking your life, not a headache.”

The elevator arrived, and Laurie and Lou boarded. Jack hesitated but then squeezed through the doors just before they closed.

“You are not going to talk me out of this,” Laurie said. “So save your breath.”

“Okay,” Jack said, raising his hands in mock surrender. “I promise: no more advice. Now, I’m just interested in watching this story unfold. It’s a paper day for me today, so if you don’t mind, I’ll watch.”

“You can do more than that if you want,” Laurie said. “You can help.”

“I’m sensitive about horning in on Lou.” His double entendre was intended.

Lou laughed, Laurie blushed, but the comment went unacknowledged.

“You implied there were other reasons for your interest in this case,” Jack said. “If you don’t mind my asking, what are they?”

Laurie cast a quick glance at Lou that Jack saw but couldn’t interpret.

“Hmmm,” Jack said. “I’m getting the feeling there’s something going on here that isn’t any of my business.”

“Nothing like that,” Lou volunteered. “It’s just an unusual connection. The victim, Carlo Franconi, had taken the place of a midlevel crime hoodlum named Pauli Cerino. Cerino’s position had become vacant after Cerino was thrown in the slammer, mostly due to Laurie’s persistence and hard work.”

“And yours, too,” Laurie added as the elevator jerked to a stop and the doors opened.

“Yeah, but mostly yours,” Lou said.

The three got off on the basement level and headed in the direction of the mortuary office.

“Did the Cerino case involve that series of overdoses you’ve made reference to?” Jack asked Laurie.

“I’m afraid so,” Laurie said. “It was awful. The experience terrified me, and the problem is some of the characters are still around, including Cerino although he’s in jail.”

“And not likely to be released for a long time,” Lou added.

“Or so I’d like to believe,” Laurie said. “Anyway, I’m hoping that doing the post on Franconi might provide me with some closure. I still have nightmares occasionally.”

“They sealed her in a pine coffin to abduct her from here,” Lou said. “She was taken away in one of the mortuary vans.”

“My god!” Jack said to Laurie. “You never told me about that.”

“I try not to think about it,” Laurie said. Then without missing a beat she added: “You guys wait out here.”

Laurie ducked into the mortuary office to get a copy of the list of refrigerator compartments assigned to the cases that had come in the previous night.

“I can’t imagine getting closed in a coffin,” Jack said. He shuddered. Heights were his main phobia but tight, confining spaces came a close second.

“Nor can I,” Lou agreed. “But she was able to recover remarkably. An hour or so after being released she had the presence of mind to figure out how to save us both. That was particularly humbling since I’d gone there to save her.”

“Jeez!” Jack said with a shake of his head. “Up until this minute I thought my getting handcuffed to a sink by a couple of killers who were arguing over who was going to do me in was the worst-case scenario.”

Laurie came out of the office waving a sheet of paper. “Compartment one eleven,” she said. “And I was right. The body wasn’t X-rayed.”

Laurie took off like a power walker. Jack and Lou had to hustle to catch up with her. She made a beeline for the proper compartment. Once there she slipped the autopsy folder under her left arm and used her right hand to release the latch. In one, smooth, practiced motion, she swung open the door and slid out the tray on its ball bearings.

Laurie’s brow furrowed.

“That’s odd!” she remarked. The tray was empty save for a few blood stains and hardened secretions.

Laurie slid the tray back in and closed the door. She rechecked the number. There’d been no mistake. It was compartment one eleven.

After looking at the list once again to make certain she’d not misread the number, she reopened the compartment door, shielded her eyes from the glare of the overhead lights, and peered into the depths of the dark interior. There was no doubt: the compartment did not contain Carlo Franconi’s remains.

“What the hell!” Laurie complained. She slammed the insulated door. And just to be sure there wasn’t some stupid logistic error, she opened up all the neighboring compartments one after the other. In those which contained bodies, she checked the names and accession numbers. But it soon became obvious: Carlo Franconi was not among them.

“I don’t believe this,” Laurie said with angry frustration. “The damn body is gone!”

A smile had appeared on Jack’s face from the moment compartment one eleven had proved to be empty. Now, facing Laurie’s exasperated frown, he couldn’t help himself. He laughed heartily. Unfortunately his laughter further piqued Laurie.

“I’m sorry,” Jack managed. “My intuition told me this case was going to give you a bureaucratic headache. I was wrong. It’s going to give the bureaucracy a headache.”

MARCH 4, 1997

1:30 P.M.

COGO, EQUATORIAL GUINEA

KEVIN Marshall put down his pencil and looked out the window above his desk. In contrast to his inner turmoil, the weather outside was rather pleasant with the first patches of blue sky that Kevin had seen for months. The dry season had finally begun. Of course it wasn’t dry; it just didn’t rain nearly as much as during the wet season. The downside was that the more consistent sun made the temperature soar to ovenlike levels. At the moment it hovered at one hundred and fifteen degrees in the shade.

Kevin had not worked well that morning nor had he slept during the night. The anxiety he’d felt the previous day at the commencement of the surgery had not abated. In fact, it had gotten worse, especially after the unexpected call from the GenSys CEO, Taylor Cabot. Kevin had only spoken with the man on one previous occasion. Most people in the company equated the experience with talking with God.

Adding to Kevin’s unease was seeing another wisp of smoke snaking its way up into the sky from Isla Francesca. He’d noticed it when he’d first arrived at the lab that morning. As near as he could tell it was coming from the same location as the day before: the sheer side of the limestone escarpment. The fact that the smoke was no longer apparent failed to comfort him.

Giving up on any attempt at further work, Kevin peeled off his white lab coat and draped it over his chair. He wasn’t particularly hungry, but he knew his housekeeper, Esmeralda, would have made lunch, so he felt obliged to make an appearance.

Kevin descended the three flights of stairs in a preoccupied daze. Several co-workers passed him and said hello, but it was as if Kevin did not see them. He was too preoccupied. In the last twenty-four hours he’d come to realize that he would have to take action. The problem wasn’t going to pass as he’d hoped it would a week previously when he’d first glimpsed the smoke.

Unfortunately, he had no idea what to do. He knew he was no hero; in fact, over the years he’d come to think of himself as a coward of sorts. He hated confrontation and avoided it. As a boy, he had even shunned competition except for chess. He’d grown up pretty much a loner.

Kevin paused at the glass door to the exterior. Across the square he could see the usual coterie of Equatoguinean soldiers beneath the arches of the old town hall. They were up to their usual sedentary pursuits, aimlessly passing the time of the day. Some were sitting in old rattan furniture playing cards, others were leaning up against the building arguing with each other in strident voices. Almost all of them were smoking. Cigarettes were part of their wages. They were dressed in soiled, jungle-camouflage fatigues with scuffed combat boots and red berets. All of them had automatic assault rifles either slung over their shoulders or within arm’s reach.