They followed the signs up the stairs to the office called “Major Crimes Unit—Homicide.” Cohen gave his name to the wrinkled redhead at reception. She pointed indifferently down the hallway. “Down the corridor,” she muttered. “Door at the end.”

They had made it only halfway when the door opened and a hulking figure burst out. Lieutenant Ed Franklin had short graying hair, a wide nose, and huge eyes. At least six-three and 250 pounds, the African American had a booming voice and laugh that matched his huge frame. “Yo, Kosher Cop! Well, I’ll be damned.”

Franklin walked up and gripped Cohen in a bear hug.

Cohen grinned. “How are you doing, Ed?” he said warmly.

“Great. Great.” Franklin said. “Except, I’m a grandpa now, man. Can you believe it, Seth? I’m the same age as that no-good partner of yours and I got a grandson not much younger than his daughter!”

“Congratulations, Ed.” Cohen patted the lieutenant on the shoulder. “Speaking of, Rome sends his best.”

“Yeah?” Franklin chuckled. “Give him a message for me. Tell him the best part of being in Philly is no Roman Leetch.”

Cohen laughed. “Ed, let me introduce my friends, Dr. Lina Lopez and Dr. Graham Kilburn. Lina’s with the CDC in Seattle. Graham’s an infectious-diseases specialist from Vancouver, Canada.”

“A pleasure,” Franklin said, pumping first Lopez’s hand and then Kilburn’s. He turned to Cohen with a toothy grin. “Why would doctors hang around with you?”

“We’re working together on a case.”

“A case?” Franklin grimaced. “Come on, we better go to my office.”

They walked into his modest but warmly decorated office, the walls of which were covered by family photos and shots of the lieutenant with various civic leaders. Franklin pulled up three metal chairs to his desk and then sat down in the worn leather chair across from them.

Franklin held out his large pale palms. “Seth, how did you wind up working on a case with Doctors Without Borders here?”

“It’s a little complicated, Ed,” Cohen sighed.

“It’s always complicated with you, KC,” he whistled. “But I just love a good story.” He folded his hands behind his head and leaned back in his seat.

Cohen summarized how his double-homicide investigation led him to the MRGAS outbreaks in Vancouver and Seattle, and Lopez and Kilburn contributed the occasional clinical clarification. Cohen told Franklin about Tyler/Forbes and how he had been sighted in Philadelphia.

“Jesus H. Christ! Thirty years in Homicide and I thought I’d seen everything.” Franklin paused. “SeptoMed, huh? They’ve been all over the news the last twenty-four hours. Even before that scientist’s suicide.”

Kilburn felt another stab. “It was suicide, then?” he asked.

“Off the record, Doctor, I spoke to the CSI boys out of Thirteenth Division not half an hour ago.” Franklin looked to Cohen. “If this was a homicide, it would have been ours. That’s our turf.”