“It’s a strange sort of math,” Alicia said. “As one of my grafting books put it: One plus one equals one. And the nice thing is, there’s no loser. The understock’s roots are getting fed by the scion’s leaves.”

“I bet you wish you could do that with people.”

When Alicia didn’t answer, Jack turned and found her standing rigid in the center of the room, staring at him. Her face was pale, and her voice sounded strained when she finally spoke.

“What did you say?”

“I said it would be great if it were that easy with people. You know, cut them loose from their crummy roots and let them grow free and uncontaminated by their past.”

She seemed even paler.

“Is something wrong?”

“No,” she said, but Jack couldn’t believe it. “I just want to know why you said that.”

“Well, I was thinking of your AIDS kids. I mean, they inherited their sickness from their roots… too bad you can’t find a way to graft them onto healthy stock that’ll allow them to grow up disease free.”

“Oh.” She visibly relaxed. “You know, I never thought of that. But it’s a wonderful thought, isn’t it.”

She still seemed troubled, though, as if she’d taken a step back into another dimension, and only appeared to be in the room. Jack wondered what nerve he’d touched, what region of her psyche it sprang from, and where it led.

“If only it were possible,” she said softly from that other place.

“Speaking of those kids,” Jack said, “how’s my man, Hector?”

And then abruptly, she was back. “Coming along,” she said. “The antibiotic seems to be doing the trick.” She clapped her hands once. “Now… I guess we have business to discuss.”

“Uh, yes… and no,” Jack said.

“Oh, I don’t think I like the sound of that.”

Might as well get it out on the table: “I checked out your father’s house yesterday, and I think if you really want to get rid of it, you’ve got to find some way other than fire.”

“No,” she said stonily. “It’s got to be fire.”

“But the rest of the block could go with it.”

“That’s what the New York City Fire Department’s for, isn’t it—to prevent that from happening.”

“Yeah, but fire’s funny. You never know what it’s going to do. The wind changes and—” He saw her expression and realized he was getting nowhere. “Maybe one of those demolition experts”—he was inventing this, right off the top of his head—”you know, the guys who can set charges just right so a building collapses in on itself? I can look around for you, see if one of them might—”

Alicia stood there, her face an alabaster mask, slowly, deliberately shaking her head.