Nothing.

What the hell?

Box in hand, she turned back toward the examination tables in order to get enough light to read the label. When she did so, the beeping inside the box resumed.

Corrie went still. Then, slowly, she took a step backward, away from the tables.

The beeping stopped again.

Carefully, deliberately, she brought the box up to eye level. It had been sent by a laboratory company in Michigan, and the label read:

FOUR-C SCIENTIFIC

12-PACK/ELECTRONIC RADEX DOSIMETERS

RADIATION DOSE RATES IN μSv/h FOR β-, γ-AND X-RAYS

(Batteries included)

Almost without thinking, she tore the box open, exposing twelve little boxes, each with a dosimeter inside. She ripped open a box and took out the dosimeter—a small plastic device with a tiny LED screen and a clip for fastening it to clothing. Shoving the box aside, she held it out and—with a trembling hand—moved it toward the table that held the hinnie.

The beeping intensified, becoming more rapid.

She took another step, and another, holding it toward the skull. The beeping became so intense it merged into a single loud hum, with the LED screen flashing red.

“Holy shit,” she said, backing away, with the device slowing down and finally ceasing.

Still holding the dosimeter out in front of her, Corrie now walked past the table and approached the open drawer containing Gower’s remains.

Again, the noise went from an irritated beeping to a manic castanet to a continuous buzz.

For a second, maybe two, Corrie stood in frozen horror. She took two steps back, then wheeled around and fled the lab.

23

IN HER LAB, bending over a table covered with potsherds, Nora Kelly heard faint sirens. She paused for a moment to listen. Sometimes, of course, sirens passed on the street. But these were slowing and growing louder and she realized that they must have turned into the Institute’s parking lot.

A minute later a loud knock came at the door. It opened before Nora could reach it. Standing there were Corrie Swanson, Special Agent Morwood, and Dr. Weingrau, her face creased with concern. Behind them stood two people dressed in white radiation suits, with face shields and radiation symbols on the front, one carrying a heavy metal box.

“What in the world—?” Nora began.

“I’m afraid the FBI are here to take the cross,” said Weingrau. As she spoke, Digby appeared behind her, rubbernecking.

“We would have called ahead,” said Corrie, “but there was, um, a national security protocol that prevented it.”

“National security protocol?”

“It appears the gold cross in your safe may be radioactive.”

“Radioactive? … Is this some kind of joke?”

“The level is likely very low,” Corrie added hastily. “But enough that we have to collect it and take it to our radiological evidence room. May we come in?”

Nora stepped aside and Corrie entered, followed by the others, crowding into the room. At least Digby remained outside.

“Where is it?” Corrie asked.

Nora took a deep breath and glanced at Morwood, whose face was unreadable. “Look, if you don’t mind, I need a little more explanation first. How could the cross—”

“We’ll explain back in Albuquerque,” Morwood interrupted. “Right now, we’ve got to get that cross into this box.”

“It’s in the safe over there. I’ll open it.”

“No,” said Morwood. “These men will do it. Everyone else, please stand back.”

The goons in suits went to the small safe set into a far wall. Nora told them the combination, and they punched it in. They opened the door, removed the cross in its leather wrapping, and gently placed it in the box—evidently lead-lined—then closed and locked it.

In the meantime, Corrie laid some papers down on Nora’s desk. “Here’s the receipt and release. Just sign here, please, indicating the item has been collected.”

Nora signed the document. Everything was happening so fast. “Now what?”

“We’ll take it back to the field office. There we can explain more thoroughly what’s going on—if you’d like to come with us.”

Nora glanced at Weingrau, who nodded. “Nora, please do go with them and then report back to me. This is alarming—to say the least.”

“Okay,” said Nora simply.

*

Nora rode to Albuquerque in an FBI car. Corrie traveled on ahead in a van with the cross, so Nora wasn’t able to get any of her questions answered. Within an hour they had arrived at the FBI offices on Luecking Park Avenue, entering via the back, where the monkey-suited men carried the box into the building at a trot. Nora joined Corrie and Morwood as they followed the men.

“So am I going to grow an extra head?” Nora asked, annoyed and only half joking. “That thing’s been in my safe—and out of it—for more than a week now, and suddenly everyone’s going to DEFCON One.”

“You don’t need to worry about the radiation,” Corrie said. “It’s not all that much above background. Sorry about the fuss, but it’s protocol, and I had no say. Believe me, I freaked out, too—when I first discovered it. But I’m told the dose is about the same as flying in an airplane at 35,000 feet for a couple of hours.”