Patricia Cornwell - Cause Of Death

"In the meantime"-Marino jabbed a thick finger at his face-"I'd better never see you even within a mile of me again. And I wouldn't recommend you getting anywhere close to the doc, either. You've never seen her when she gets irritated."

Marino lifted his radio and got back on the air to check the status of getting an officer to the scene, and even as his request was broadcast again, a cruiser appeared on 64. It pulled in behind us on the shoulder, and a uniformed female sergeant from Richmond P.D. got out. She walked our way with purpose, her hand discreetly near her gun.

"Captain, good afternoon." She adjusted the volume on the radio on her belt. "What seems to be the problem?"

"Well, Sergeant Schroeder, it seems this person's been tailgating me for the better part of the day," Marino said.

"And unfortunately, when I was forced to apply my brakes due to a white dog running in front of my vehicle, he struck me from the rear.

"Was this the same white dog?" the sergeant asked without a trace of a smile.

"Looked like the same one we've had problems with."

They went on with what must have been the oldest police joke, for when it came to single-car accidents, it seemed a ubiquitous white canine was always to blame. It darted in front of vehicles and then was gone until it darted in front of the next bad driver and again got blamed.

"He has at least one firearm inside his vehicle," Marino added in his most serious police tone. "I want him thoroughly searched before we get him inside."

"All right, sir, you need to spread your arms and legs."

"I'm a cop," Roche snapped.

"Yes, sir, so you should know exactly what I'm doing," Sergeant Schroeder matter-of-factly stated.

She patted him down, and discovered an ankle holster on his inner left leg.

"Now ain't that sweet," Marino said.

"Sir," the sergeant said a little more loudly as another unmarked unit pulled up, "I'm going to have to ask you to remove the pistol from your ankle holster and place it inside your vehicle."

A deputy chief got out, resplendent in patent leather, navy and brass, and not exactly thrilled to be on the scene.

But it was procedure to call him whenever a captain was involved in any police matter, no matter how small. He silently looked on as Roche removed a Colt.380 from the black nylon holster. He locked it inside the Lexus and was red with rage as he was placed in the back of the patrol car, where he was interviewed while I waited inside the damaged Ford.

"Now what happens?" I asked Marino when he returned.

"He'll be charged with following too close and be released on a Virginia Uniform Summons." He buckled up and seemed pleased.

"That's it" -Yup. Except court. The good news is, I ruined his day.

The better news is now we got something to investigate that may eventually send his ass to Mecklenburg where, as sweet-looking as he is, he'll have lots of friends."

"Did you know it was him before he hit us?" I asked.

"Nope. I had no idea." We pulled back out into traffic.

"And what did he say when he was questioned?"

"What you'd expect. I stopped suddenly."

"Well, you did."

"And by law it's all right to do that."

"What about following us? Did he have an explanation?"

"He's been out all day running errands and sightseeing.

He doesn't know what we're talking about."

"I see. If you're going to run errands, you need to bring along at least two guns."

"You want to tell me how the hell he can afford a car like that?" Marino glanced over at me. "He probably doesn't make half what I do, and that Lexus he's got probably cost close to fifty grand."

"The Colt he was carrying isn't cheap, either," I said.

"He's getting money from somewhere."

"Snitches always do."

"That's all you think he is?"

"Yeah, for the most part. I think he's been doing shit work, probably for Green."

The radio suddenly interrupted us with the loud blare of an alert tone, and then we were given answers that were even worse than any we might have feared.

"All units be advised that we have just received a teletype from state police that gives the following information, a dispatcher repeated. "The nuclear power plant at Old Point has been taken over by terrorists. Shots have been fired and there are fatalities."

I was shocked speechless as the message went on and on.

"The chief of police has ordered that the department move to emergency plan A. Until further notice all day shift units will remain on their posts. Updates will follow. All division commanders will report to the command post at the police academy immediately."

"Hell no," Marino said as he slammed the accelerator to the floor. "We're going to your office."

HE INVASION OF THE OLD POINT NUCLEAR POWER Tplant had happened swiftly and horrifically, and in disbelief we listened to the news while Marino sped through town. We did not utter a sound as an almost hysterical reporter at the scene rambled in a voice several octaves above what it usually was.

"Old Point nuclear power plant has been seized by terrorists," he repeated. "This happened about forty-five minutes ago when a bus carrying at least twenty men posing as CP amp;L employees stormed the main administration building. It is believed that at least three civilians are dead." His voice was shaking, and we could hear helicopters overhead. "I can see police vehicles and fire trucks everywhere, but they can't get close. Oh my God, this is awful…"

Marino parked on the side of the street by my building.

For a while we could not move as we listened to the same information again and again. It did not seem real, for less than a hundred miles from Old Point, here in Richmond, the afternoon was bright. Traffic was normal and people walked along sidewalks as if nothing had happened. My eyes stared without focusing, my thoughts flying through lists of what I must do.

"Come on, Doc." Marino cut the engine off. "Let's go inside. I got to use the phone and get hold of one of my lieutenants. I've got to get things mobilized in case the lights go out in Richmond, or worse."

I had my own mobilizing to do and started with assembling everyone in the conference room, where I declared a statewide emergency.

"Each district must be on standby and ready to implement its part of the disaster plan," I announced to everyone in the room. "A nuclear disaster could affect all districts.

Obviously, Tidewater is the most imperiled and the least covered. Dr. Fielding," I said to my deputy chief, "I'd like to put you in charge of Tidewater and make you acting chief when I can't be there."

"I'll do the best I can," he said bravely, although no one of sound mind would want the assignment I just gave him.

"Now, I won't always know where I'm going to be throughout this," I said to other anxious faces. "Business goes on as usual here, but I want any bodies brought here.

Any bodies from Old Point, I'm saying, starting with the shooting fatalities."

"What about other Tidewater cases?" Fielding wanted to know.

. "Routine cases are done as usual. I understand we do have another autopsy technician to fill in until we can find a permanent replacement."

"Any chance these bodies you want here might be contaminated?" my administrator asked, and he had always been a worrier.

"So far we're talking about shooting victims," I said.

"And they couldn't be."

"No."

"But what about later?" he went on.

"Mild contamination isn't a problem," I said. "We just scrub the bodies and get rid of the soapy water and clothes.

Acute exposure to radiation is another matter, especially if the bodies are badly burned, if debris is burned into them, as it was in Chernobyl. Those bodies will need to be shielded in a special refrigerated truck, and all exposed personnel will wear lead-lined suits."