sign announcing an all-night diner.
“This is my favorite breakfast place, my friends. . .” The M.E. held the door for the other two men. “Otto is the cook, and the owner. . .and I might add he makes a mean waffle.”
They were the only customers at that hour, perhaps the first for the day, and all three ordered waffles with bacon and nodded “yes” to the question of whether or not they wanted coffee while they waited. Foxhound glanced sideways at his best agent, Isaac Rose, who was slumped over and had grown unexpectedly quiet.
“What’s got your tongue, Rose? I didn’t see any cats around here. . .”
“It’s nothing, sir, nothing. Probably just the aftermath of a lot of tension and the suspense of waiting. . .”
“I’ll buy that. . .” The M.E., on the right-hand stool, nodded solemnly. “I get that disease waiting for every autopsy result. . .you get used to it, after a while. Sort of. Then an important case pops up and everything gets iffy again.”
Otto served their waffles and bacon and all three realized they were ravenous. The tension of the past few hours had awakened their forgotten appetites. Nobody said much after that, other than asking for more coffee, and it wasn ’t long before they were relaxed and chipper, more like their real selves again.
Foxhound glanced at his watch. “I think the lab work on that glass might be just about done by now. . .so let’s get back to it and hope for a solution. . .”
By the time the trio got back to the M.E. ’s office, one of the technicians was awaiting their return, holding a manila folder. He handed it to Dr. Mason then quietly left them to their devices and returned to the lab.
Isaac waited quietly, his hands folded on the desk top, watching the faces of the two older men as they concentrated on the details of the toxicology report. Finally, the M.E. looked up, his expression serious.
“It looks like your hunches and suspicions were right on, Mister Rose. . .This report leaves no doubt that the contents of this glass held enough Ricin to equal the killing power of a pair of cobras. Ricin comes from the castor bean and is colorless, tasteless, odorless, and as lethal as the worst kind of poisons. There is no cure and there is no way to trace it. We did find one smeared thumb print and it looks like it came from a digit larger than that of Emma Soto’s would be. We’re still working on refining that print so we might have something to go on but it’s not going to be easy. I’m very sorry, Isaac. . .we should’ve caught this earlier but there simply were no clues that we knew about. Now we have to notify the CIA and the FBI and get all the sensitive information obliterated ASAP and changed. That, in itself, is going to be a gigantic task. . .”
Foxhound cleared his throat and looked at Isaac over the rims of his glasses, his eyes piercing the space between the two men. “And how would you like to manage the clean-up crews, Mister Rose, or should I say, ‘Chaos’?”
Isaac ’s mouth fell open and he was so startled he couldn’t speak. “Ah. . .sir?”
“You heard me. . .you missed this once, then you kicked over the biggest clue, then you stirred us up instead of pretending you didn’t know we had been buffaloed again…so I think you deserve to run the show and clean it up. . .for a reasonable compensation, of course!”
Isaac tried to swallow and couldn ’t work up enough saliva to make his mouth work.
“Well? What do you think, Isaac? Are you man enough to drive this ship? After all, it would take me at least a week to brief someone new and you already know it all. . .so it’s your baby, if you want it.”
Dr. Mason looked from one to the other, an almost-smile playing around his bristly whiskers. “Yes, sir…I mean, hell yes, sir! I can do this! Thank you, thank you! I’ll get those bastards and faster than you could possibly imagine…” Isaac stood up so abruptly, he knocked his chair over backward and didn’t
“This is my favorite breakfast place, my friends. . .” The M.E. held the door for the other two men. “Otto is the cook, and the owner. . .and I might add he makes a mean waffle.”
They were the only customers at that hour, perhaps the first for the day, and all three ordered waffles with bacon and nodded “yes” to the question of whether or not they wanted coffee while they waited. Foxhound glanced sideways at his best agent, Isaac Rose, who was slumped over and had grown unexpectedly quiet.
“What’s got your tongue, Rose? I didn’t see any cats around here. . .”
“It’s nothing, sir, nothing. Probably just the aftermath of a lot of tension and the suspense of waiting. . .”
“I’ll buy that. . .” The M.E., on the right-hand stool, nodded solemnly. “I get that disease waiting for every autopsy result. . .you get used to it, after a while. Sort of. Then an important case pops up and everything gets iffy again.”
Otto served their waffles and bacon and all three realized they were ravenous. The tension of the past few hours had awakened their forgotten appetites. Nobody said much after that, other than asking for more coffee, and it wasn ’t long before they were relaxed and chipper, more like their real selves again.
Foxhound glanced at his watch. “I think the lab work on that glass might be just about done by now. . .so let’s get back to it and hope for a solution. . .”
By the time the trio got back to the M.E. ’s office, one of the technicians was awaiting their return, holding a manila folder. He handed it to Dr. Mason then quietly left them to their devices and returned to the lab.
Isaac waited quietly, his hands folded on the desk top, watching the faces of the two older men as they concentrated on the details of the toxicology report. Finally, the M.E. looked up, his expression serious.
“It looks like your hunches and suspicions were right on, Mister Rose. . .This report leaves no doubt that the contents of this glass held enough Ricin to equal the killing power of a pair of cobras. Ricin comes from the castor bean and is colorless, tasteless, odorless, and as lethal as the worst kind of poisons. There is no cure and there is no way to trace it. We did find one smeared thumb print and it looks like it came from a digit larger than that of Emma Soto’s would be. We’re still working on refining that print so we might have something to go on but it’s not going to be easy. I’m very sorry, Isaac. . .we should’ve caught this earlier but there simply were no clues that we knew about. Now we have to notify the CIA and the FBI and get all the sensitive information obliterated ASAP and changed. That, in itself, is going to be a gigantic task. . .”
Foxhound cleared his throat and looked at Isaac over the rims of his glasses, his eyes piercing the space between the two men. “And how would you like to manage the clean-up crews, Mister Rose, or should I say, ‘Chaos’?”
Isaac ’s mouth fell open and he was so startled he couldn’t speak. “Ah. . .sir?”
“You heard me. . .you missed this once, then you kicked over the biggest clue, then you stirred us up instead of pretending you didn’t know we had been buffaloed again…so I think you deserve to run the show and clean it up. . .for a reasonable compensation, of course!”
Isaac tried to swallow and couldn ’t work up enough saliva to make his mouth work.
“Well? What do you think, Isaac? Are you man enough to drive this ship? After all, it would take me at least a week to brief someone new and you already know it all. . .so it’s your baby, if you want it.”
Dr. Mason looked from one to the other, an almost-smile playing around his bristly whiskers. “Yes, sir…I mean, hell yes, sir! I can do this! Thank you, thank you! I’ll get those bastards and faster than you could possibly imagine…” Isaac stood up so abruptly, he knocked his chair over backward and didn’t
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