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Chapters (36)
  1. VECTOR
  2. Copyright page
  3. Dedication
  4. AKNOWLEDGEMENTS
  5. Epigraph
  6. PROLOGUE
  7. ONE
  8. TWO
  9. THREE
  10. FOUR
  11. FIVE
  12. SIX
  13. SEVEN
  14. EIGHT
  15. NINE
  16. TEN
  17. ELEVEN
  18. TWELVE
  19. THIRTEEN
  20. FOURTEEN
  21. FIFTEEN
  22. SIXTEEN
  23. SEVENTEEN
  24. EIGHTEEN
  25. NINETEEN
  26. TWENTY
  27. TWENTY-ONE
  28. TWENTY-TWO
  29. TWENTY-THREE
  30. TWENTY-FOUR
  31. TWENTY-FIVE
  32. TWENTY-SIX
  33. EPILOGUE
  34. AUTHOR’S NOTE
  35. SELECTED BIBLIOGRAPHY
  36. GLOSSARY

“Yeah, I’m here,” Jack said. “Are you serious?”

“Of course I’m serious,” Laurie said. “What do you think about botulism as the cause of death?”

“To use your words, it seems far-fetched,” Jack said. “There were no cranial nerve or bulbar symptoms or, for that matter, any symptoms reported suggestive of botulism. Supposedly she walked into the bathroom and collapsed.”

“But botulinum toxin certainly depresses respiration and would cause cyanosis,” Laurie said.

“Yeah, but how many cases are there in a year?”

“More cases than of anthrax,” Laurie said. “And you just had one of those.”

“Okay, I get your point,” Jack said. “I’ll add it to the list along with the nitrates, nitrites, and sulfonamides that I’ll give to Peter in the morning.”

“Thanks for being there for me tonight,” Laurie said. “It meant a lot to me.”

“Hey, anytime!” Jack said.

Laurie hung up the phone and snuggled briefly with Tom-2. The thought went through her mind that Jack would be so wonderful if he ... if he didn’t act like Jack. Laurie laughed at the absurdity of the thought and got up to get ready for bed.

SIXTEEN

________

SIXTEEN

Wednesday, October 20

5:30 A.M.

Jack could not remember a time in his life when he’d been more preoccupied by so many disparate problems. First, there was Laurie, who confused him both in her behavior and his own reaction to it. After she’d left early that morning, he’d had a devil of a time getting to sleep. He kept mulling over everything she’d said and done in the previous forty-eight hours. He’d still been feeling guilty about his jealous reaction to her engagement news and angry at her response to his attempt at apology, when she’d arrived on his doorstep unannounced. He didn’t know what to make of it all.

And second, there were the two mysterious cases. Try as he might, he’d not been able to come up with an explanation for the grossly contaminated tiny star. As far as Connie Davydov was concerned, his strong suspicion that she’d been poisoned with a respiratory-depressant drug had been shot full of holes by the toxicology department, and despite several hours of reading and even more hours of thinking, he’d not been able to come up with a replacement theory. Laurie’s suggestion of methemoglobinemia was the only idea that he thought had even a slight chance of being correct.