Robin Cook - Vector

He turned into his office and sat at his desk, still obsessed by the mystery of the tiny, cerulean blue star. With his head cradled in his hands, he tried to think.

“What kind of blue star are you mumbling about?” a voice questioned.

Jack glanced up. He was surprised to see Lou. The detective’s expression was as hangdog as it had been when they met at the bar the night before, but he was back to his crumpled, perpetually disheveled look. Gone were the pressed suit and the polished shoes.

“Was I talking out loud?” Jack questioned.

“No, I’m a mind reader,” Lou said. “Can I come in?”

“Sure,” Jack said. He reached over and pulled one of the straight-back chairs he and Chet shared closer to his desk. He patted the seat with his hand.

Lou sat down heavily. It didn’t appear as if he’d shaved that morning.

“If you’re looking for Laurie, she’s down in the pit,” Jack said.

“I was looking for you,” Lou said.

Jack raised his eyebrows. “I’m flattered. What’s up?”

“I’ve got a confession to make,” Lou said.

“This sounds interesting,” Jack said.

“I felt so bad about it, I couldn’t sleep. I was up most of the night.”

“Sounds familiar,” Jack offered.

“I don’t want you to think badly about me or anything.”

“I’ll try not to.” Jack drummed his fingers impatiently.

“Because this is not something I usually do. I want you to know that.”

“For crissake, Lou, confess! How else am I going to give you absolution?”

Lou looked down at his clasped hands and sighed.

“Okay, let me guess,” Jack said. “You masturbated and had unclean thoughts.”

“I’m not joking around!” Lou snapped.

“Then tell me so I don’t have to guess.”

“Okay,” Lou said. “I ran Paul Sutherland’s name through the system.”

“Is that it?” Jack questioned with exaggerated disappointment. “I was hoping you’d done something significantly more salacious.”

“But it’s abusing my law enforcement prerogatives.”

“Maybe so, but I would have done the same thing,” Jack admitted.

“Honest?”

“Absolutely,” Jack said. “So, what did you find?”

Lou leaned forward conspiratorially and lowered his voice. “He’s got a sheet.”

“Something serious?” Jack asked.

“Not really all that serious,” Lou said. “I suppose it depends on your point of view. The charge was cocaine possession.”

“Is that all?”

“It was a sizable amount of cocaine,” Lou said. “Not enough to suggest he was dealing, but enough for quite a party. He pleaded no contest and got probation and community service.”

“Are you going to tell Laurie?” Jack asked.

“I don’t know,” Lou admitted. “That’s what I wanted to ask you.”

“Oh, hell,” Jack said. He rubbed his forehead. It was a difficult question.

“I’d be asking myself why I was telling her,” Lou said.

Jack nodded. “I understand what you mean. She might ask the same question and then take out any anger the news generates on the messenger.”

“My thoughts exactly,” Lou said. “Yet as a friend, I kinda think she should know. Of course, he may have already told her.”

“My intuition tells me he hasn’t,” Jack said. “He’s too full of himself.”

“I feel the same,” Lou said.

Out of the corner of his eye, Jack saw a figure fill his entire doorway. It was Ted Lynch from the DNA lab.

“I’m sorry,” Ted said. “I didn’t think you’d be busy.”

“It’s okay,” Jack said. He introduced Ted and Lou, but they said they’d already met.

“I couldn’t get your question out of my mind,” Ted said.

“You mean about the degree of contamination of the blue star?”

“Uh huh! And there is a way to do it!” Ted said excitedly. “It’s called Taqman technology. It’s a new wrinkle on the PCR.”

“What’s PCR again?” Lou asked.

“Polymerase chain reaction,” Jack said. “It’s a way of augmenting a tiny piece of DNA so that it can be analyzed.”

“Right!” Lou said, pretending he understood.

“Anyway this technique is fantastic,” Ted said eagerly. “It involves putting a specific enzyme in the PCR reaction mix. What the enzyme does is gobble up single strands of DNA like that old video game Pac-Man. Remember that?”

Both Jack and Lou nodded.

“The slick thing is that when it hits an attached probe for whatever it is you’re looking for, the enzyme signals. Isn’t that sharp? So you can quantify what was in the sample originally by knowing the number of doublings the reaction has gone through, since that’s time-related.”

Both Jack and Lou looked blankly at the excited DNA expert.

“So you want me to do it?” Ted asked.

“Yeah, sure,” Jack said. “That would be great.”

“I’ll get right on it,” Ted said. He disappeared as quickly as he’d appeared.

“Did you understand that?” Lou asked.

“Not a word,” Jack admitted. “Ted’s in his own world up there. That’s why they put the DNA lab on the top floor. We all think the results are coming from heaven.”

“I’ve got to learn more about that DNA stuff,” Lou admitted. “It’s becoming more and more important in law enforcement.”

“The trouble is the technology is changing so rapidly,” Jack said.

“What’s this about a blue star?” Lou asked. “Is that the same blue star you were mumbling about when I came in?”

“One and the same,” Jack said. He went on to tell Lou the story of the tiny, glittering star, including the fact that it was the only thing in the Corinthian Rug Company office that was contaminated with anthrax spores.

“I’ve seen little stars like you’re describing,” Lou said. “In fact, just this year the invitation I got to the Police Ball had them inside the envelope.”

“You’re right!” Jack said. “I once got an invitation with them in it as well. I’d been wondering where I’d seen them.”

“It’s a curious thing to find in a rug office,” Lou said. “I wonder if they’d had a party.”

“Let’s get back to your question,” Jack said. “How are you going to make this decision whether to tell Laurie or not about her new boyfriend’s criminal record?”

“I don’t know,” Lou said. “I suppose I was hoping you’d offer to tell her.”

“Oh, no, you don’t,” Jack said. “This is your ball game. You got this information, and it’s up to you to decide what to do with it.”

“Well, there is more,” Lou said.

Jack’s ears picked up. “I’m listening.”

“I found out what kind of business he’s in.”

“That’s in his police record?” Jack questioned.

Lou nodded. “He’s an arms dealer.”

Jack’s jaw slowly dropped open. As far as he was concerned, Paul Sutherland’s being an arms dealer was far more important vis-a-vis Laurie than his having been convicted of cocaine possession.

“He used to have a monopoly of sorts importing Bulgarian AK-47s, at least until 1994 when the Omnibus Crime Bill was passed and they were banned along with eighteen other semi-automatic assault weapons.”

“This is serious,” Jack said.

“Of course it’s serious,” Lou said. “These Bulgarian AK-47s are very popular with far-right militia groups and other screwy survivalists.”

“I’m talking about in relation to Laurie,” Jack said. “Do you have any idea of her stand on gun control?”

“Not exactly,” Lou admitted.

“Well, let me tell you,” Jack said. “She’d like to disarm the entire country, including patrolmen. She’s made gunshot wounds her forensic specialty.”

“She never mentioned that to me,” Lou said. He sounded hurt.