Alien Taste by Wen Spencer Page B

‘Imuran.” ’
    Agent Zheng and Max both pulled out their PDAs, and uplinked to the web. Max whistled as he found the information first.
    â€œImuran, generic name azathioprine, manufacturer—hmm—Indication: organ rejection after liver transplantation; severe, active, otherwise unresponsive rheumatoid arthritis. It’s an immune-suppression drug.” He did a further search as Agent Zheng nodded in agreement. “Janet Haze hadn’t undergone organ replacement surgery anytime in her life. I wouldn’t think you’d put someone with severe rheumatoid arthritis in the attic bedroom.”
    Ukiah shook his head. “She didn’t have arthritis.”
    Agent Zheng tilted her head slightly. “Was she taking it, or giving it to someone else? Was any gone at all?”
    â€œThe bottle was half full and there were needles beside it. One used, and about three still in sterile wrappers.” He cast his mind back to Janet Hazecrouched in the shadows of the woods. ‘She had needle marks on her arms.”
    Agent Zheng made notes on her PDA, an infinitesimal frown touching her face. It was a slight crease between her black eyebrows and the hardening of her eyes. She glanced up to see Ukiah watching her, and the frown smoothed away.
    â€œAnything else?” Max asked.
    Ukiah shrugged. “All the books and papers have been shifted. It’s as if someone took down each book, one by one, and replaced them. They’re in the same order, but they’re staggered differently.” He held his hand over a piece of paper to indicate it without touching it. “This piece of paper was on top like this, but over here. As far as I can tell, at the moment, they are all here, but it’s harder with the paper.”
    Agent Zheng took out latex gloves and slid them on. “I’ll check through the books. If they needed to move every book, then maybe they didn’t find what they were looking for.”
    â€œMaybe your agent, Wil Trace, moved the books,” Max suggested.
    Agent Zheng nodded slowly. “It is possible but unlikely. I normally wouldn’t on a case involving the Pack. They usually limit their contact to in-person conversations and rare telephone calls. The searcher was probably looking for something written: a letter, prescription, a photograph, or something like that. I don’t think Wil Trace would have put in the effort either.”
    Max produced a pair of latex gloves and pulled them on. “Let’s split this bookcase up while Mr. Oregon finishes his search.”
    So they did, taking one book out at a time to flip through them. A half hour passed in silence.
    Max finished his half first, having flipped quickerthrough the books. He stretched and roamed the room. “Any luck, kid?”
    â€œI only saw the top layer of papers, so I can’t tell if anything from a lower layer is missing. There seems to be only one paper missing; a piece of legal tablet paper with the word ‘substitutions’ written across the top. I can recreate it, but it’s all ASCII to me.”
    â€œIf you write it down, I’ll find someone who will understand it,” Agent Zheng said. “There’s something odd about these books. Janet read science fiction in her spare time; they account for all the worn paperbacks mixed in with the textbooks. But these other books she took out of the library. By the due date stamped inside, I think she borrowed them only a day or two before her first sick day at work. New Advances in Aging. Aging: Facts and Myths. Methuselah’s Children: New Age Treatments for Aging. ”
    â€œImmortality: Myth and Legends,” Max added, slipping a book out from under a pillow. He sat on the edge of the bed to flip through it.
    Ukiah stretched muscles sore from leaning over the desk. “Why would a twenty-something be reading up on aging?”
    â€œYou have to admit that it’s ironic that