“You guessed it,” Chet said. “He was flabbergasted. I am, too. What really made you even consider the idea in the first place?”

“Purely because it was the same neighborhood,” Jack said.

“Connie Davydov must have eaten one of the rats,” Chet said with a sinister chuckle.

Jack laughed, too, then commented that only two medical examiners could find such a concept laughable.

“I wonder if an infected rat would put out the toxin in its feces?” Chet asked.

“That’s even a more disgusting idea,” Jack said. “I suppose we could ask the veterinary epidemiologists. More realistically, I wonder if Connie Davydov put the rest of whatever it was she ate that was contaminated with the toxin down her disposal.”

“Yeah, but enough to kill that many rats?” Chet questioned suspiciously.

“I know it sounds far-fetched,” Jack admitted. “But you know how potent that stuff is supposed to be.”

“Well, it will be interesting to hear if the vet epidemiologists can figure it out.”

Jack got up and stretched. “I think I’ve had it for the night. I need the relaxation of a good hard game of B-ball.”

“See you tomorrow,” Chet said.

“Take care, sport,” Jack said. He grabbed his bomber jacket from behind the door. He slipped into it as he walked down to the elevator. Remembering the fabulous weather from his afternoon jaunt to Brighton Beach, he was again looking forward to a relaxing bike ride.

“At least we know he’s still in there,” Steve said.

“True,” Curt commented. “The question now is when is he going to come out? I don’t know how long the troops will keep away from each other’s throats.” Just after Curt had hung up from calling Jack, Carl, Clark, Kevin, and Mike had gotten into another heated argument about the guns that had almost ended in fisticuffs. Curt had had to collect the weapons; they were now all on the floor at Yuri’s feet.

“That’s him on the bike!” Yuri shouted. He frantically pointed to Jack’s figure as the medical examiner rounded the corner of Thirtieth Street and powered his way up First Avenue.

“Jesus, he’s moving!” Curt said. He snapped off the emergency brake and accelerated out into the traffic. The driver of a taxi the maneuver had cut off leaned on his horn in frustration.

“Let me out!” Yuri urged.

“Not now!” Curt cried. “I don’t want to lose the bastard.”

Although the traffic was heavy, it was moving in sync and at a fairly rapid pace.

“The guy’s a freaking dynamo,” Curt complained. He drove aggressively, knowing it was the only way to close in on Jack. He was totally unconcerned about grazing other vehicles or having others run into his side or rear.