I dug in.

“I’ve watched you on TV since I was a kid. You’re bigger in person.”

Dr. Campbell watched me eat. His eyes were as shallow as a bird’s.

“Everyone remarks on that. The mind is a camera. The camera lies.” He said this last bit with special emphasis.

I detoured right to the heart of the issue.

“Some of your old friends aren’t keen on me nosing around your godson’s death. They seem extremely agitated that I’ve flown here to visit you and Dr. Ryoko.”

“Friends? No. Former associates. Yes. Are you surprised at the resistance? You’re stepping on the toes of unscrupulous individuals.”

“I expected a reaction, but not quite so volatile,” I said. “Let’s say it raises a number of questions.”

“Enjoy your breakfast, Isaiah. Recuperate. Later, Toshi will join us and you can ask your questions. The disposition of Sean’s case was settled long ago. Tearing open the wounds can wait a few hours.”

Instead of answering, I shoveled in another forkful and gulped coffee. Beasley could’ve put many a short-order cook on notice. He shut down the range, took a seat with a lumberjack stack of cakes, and went at his breakfast with grim efficiency. I empathized. When you’re on call twenty-four/seven, you don’t stand on ceremony, and you don’t dally once the chow bell rings.

“Where is your partner?” I said to Dr. Campbell.

“He’s in the salon, communing with the celestial lights. Beasley, has he evinced any signs of stress?”

“Nurse said he had the makings of a bloody nose,” Beasley said. “We’re good.”

“Thank you. Leave him for a while longer. He’s projected far beyond the Second Meridian. Watch for a hemorrhage or a seizure.” Dr. Campbell pushed his glasses up and peered as if finally seeing me clearly. “You don’t—you aren’t well.”

“Pardon?” I said.

“Your eye . . . Good lord.”

“Oh, this?” I touched my cheek below the shiner. “I’m not walking around with a black eye, then I haven’t gotten out of bed.”

“Young man, you have a potentially serious medical problem. Beasley?”

Beasley went away and returned with a penlight and a black medical bag.

“Lean in a bit, yes, hold there. Follow the light.” Dr. Campbell shined the light into my eyes from right to left and I tracked the motion. “Well, this can’t reveal any grand truths. Beasley, we should put him in the scope.”

“He wouldn’t like the scope,” Beasley said.

“Who does? I’d wager the farm he’s been irradiated or subjected to—” He clicked off the light and studied me gravely. “I’ll need the box. First the box, then we’ll decide.”

“I’m not getting in the scope, whatever that is,” I said.

Without comment, Beasley handed him a palm-size ovoid device with a yellow lacquered enamel shell. Dr. Campbell shakily passed it over my head and torso like a security tech with a wand. The device ticked and emitted an occasional electronic squeal.

“Is that a Geiger counter?” I said, aware that it wasn’t. General stress eroded my composure. I was getting jumpier and more irritable.