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I cannot contain myself. “That’s insanity,” I shout. “Who’s saying that?”

“Everyone. Absolutely everyone,” Jessica says. “Up until last night, when they were still sending out news flashes, everyone—politicians, preachers, doctors, everyone! They’re all saying—”

Then she gives up trying to explain, thrusting her handheld video device toward my face.

Jessica pushes a button and we see a checkerboard screen of six speakers. Three men, three women. They all seem to be speaking foreign languages. The translation scrolls across the bottom of the screen.

THE LEADING BIOCHEMISTS AT UCLA, OXFORD UNIVERSITY, AND PIROGOV RUSSIAN NATIONAL RESEARCH MEDICAL UNIVERSITY AGREE THAT THE PLAGUE KNOWN AS AUSTRAVID SPREADING AROUND THE WORLD ISDUE TO THE CROSS-INFECTION CARRIED BY REVERED HERO LAMONT CRANSTON AND HIS COLLEAGUES. BEGINNING IN A TINY BACKWOODS HAMLET IN SOUTHERN AUSTRALIA…

The newscast rattles on and on. When the checkerboard layout cuts quickly to a single screen, President of the Americas John F. Townsend, his brow sweaty, his sleeves rolled up over his elbows, is speaking.

“The inhumane villains fostering this plague will be found and brought to an end. An end as horrible as the disease they are spreading. A disease created to destroy the world.”

I toss the electronic screen to the ground. I yell. I sputter. I spit. I cry.

“We are trying to save the world, not destroy it! This is madness! This is unbelievable!”

Margo says, “But clearly peoplearebelieving it.”

“Yes,” I say. “Scum like Townsend, sure. But there must be someone who—”

“Only a few people disagree, Lamont,” says Jessica. “A scientist in Morocco, that doctor friend of yours—”

“Dr. Anna DaSilva,” I say.

“They interviewed her, I remember. She said it was impossible that you’re involved.”

“At least one friend is left, I guess,” I say.

Then Jessica, perhaps the strongest, toughest woman I’ve ever known, begins to cry.

Margo asks what Jessica is too tearful to put into words.

“What can we possibly do, Lamont?”

“Everything in our power. Anything we need to do to overcome evil.”

But for the first time, I wonder if we will.

CHAPTER 69

THE HARSH REPRIMAND from Dache has the intended effect. Maddy decides that from now on she will move forward with intense caution and care. Yes, she has extraordinary powers, and, yes, she certainly has self-assurance, but,no,she cannot be a one-woman army in her quest to locate Travis and Chloe and any other kidnap victims from under the 59th Street Bridge.

Logically, Lamont or Margo would be her best adviser. But she’s seen the news—they’ve got their hands full. Besides, Maddy wants to prove to Dache—and to herself—that she can handle the job alone.

Belinda is locked up and has no idea about what’s going on in the outside world now that she’s in Harriman. Mama-Girl does what she can as the guardian angel of the young gang and has promised to let Maddy know if she spots the green Escalade again.

But for now, Maddy is on her own.

Or maybe not.

The slimy, tough face of Detective Robert McCarthy pops into her head. Yes, he’s worked against her. Yes, he’s the scum of the earth. But he might have some inside information. After all, he’s been walking the same streets the girls have. McCarthy could be a big help if Maddy plays her cards right. The only problem is this: Maddy knows that she is playing with a very lousy hand.

CHAPTER 70

MADDY IS FAIRLY surprised that McCarthy allows her to walk right into his office at the 17th Precinct police station in Midtown East. He’s the same smug, self-satisfied asshole she remembers, but she’s even more repulsed when she notices the framed family photographs on the credenza behind him. Pictures of a pretty red-haired woman on a beach somewhere with twin boys, also redheads. She hardly recognizes McCarthy as the grinning, wholesome-looking dad standing with them.

Worse than the photo is the fancy framed document hanging next to it, with a large inscription at the top that reads:17THPRECINCTNYPDDETECTIVEOFTHEYEAR.ROBERTMCCARTHY.It’s signed by the mayor.