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Two hours later, after scanning his bookshelves for articles about cjd in the back issues of the New England Journal of Medicine and the Morbidity and Mortality Weekly Report, Zol sat at his computer searching public-health databases on the Internet. Bit by bit, a blend of lime and cedar insinuated itself into the office, like an unexpected guest. Hamish had splashed on that unmistakable scent last evening before arriving for dinner. And now he was standing in the office doorway, wearing the expectant face of someone hoping to be noticed.

That means, you know . “There’s still some healthy enough flesh in that arm, but we can’t waste any time. ” Ned raised his good fist like a club. “I don’t care what you do. ” 37 ROSS PENNIE “We’ve got a terrific plastic surgeon here. Dr. Blayne. ” Hamish paused. Should he make a promise he wasn’t certain would be kept? They’d agreed to debrief here in their usual spot after she’d met with Mrs. Patel. She flipped through her notepad and jotted in the margins, thrilled that her visit with the widow had mined a vein rich in helpful details.

Yes, Dr. Zol. ” “Thanks, Natasha. I can always count on you. “The man is going to be brusque. ” Shortly after three o’clock, Natasha settled into a seat in the sumptuous reception room on the top floor of Kelso International’s shiny glass building. She’d given herself plenty of time to drive from the health unit to Bernard Vanderven’s head office in the industrial park on Nebo Road. Her appointment was for three thirty. She passed the time by checking and rechecking the list of questions she’d prepared and rehearsed after meeting with Zol at lunchtime.