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excrement.
    “How does Ebola work?” Durant asked.
    The voice never missed a beat at the interruption. “Ebola attacks the circulatory system. First, it infects platelets in the blood and soon the blood won’t clot. Then the endothelial cells fail and blood vessels leak. It’s a double knock-out and once a person is infected, there’s no known cure. According to our reports, this new strain is very fast-acting and kills its victim in less than twelve hours. Because the virus dies with its victim, it is its own worst enemy.
    “Until recently, technicians working with the AIG in the Sudan managed to keep the virus alive in human hosts while they developed a stable host culture that was immune to the virus. Needless to say, the cost in human life was horrific as the victims died so quickly. Two weeks ago, the AIG’s technicians developed the host culture they were looking for. Currently, the AIG is experimenting with aerosol delivery systems at its underground laboratories in western Sudan.” A map and pictures of what looked like an agricultural experimental station in a desert valley scrolled on the screen.
    “What is your assessment?” Durant asked.
    “We believe,” the voice said, “that the Armed Islamic Group will have an operable weapons system of mass destruction using this strain of Ebola virus within six months.”
    Durant asked the question that had baffled intelligence analysts and political leaders the world over since time immemorial. “What are their intentions?”
    The computer never hesitated. “They will use it. But as of now, we don’t know when or where.”
    “Who else knows about this?” Durant asked.
    “The CIA,” the computer replied. “But as of this time, it has not been forwarded to the National Security Council or the President.”
    Durant thought for a moment. “Agnes, can this be brought to the attention of Stephan Serick?” He assumed Agnes knew that Serick was the National Security Advisor to the President.
    “Of course,” Agnes said.
    9:20 A.M. , Wednesday, April 7,
Sacramento, Calif.
     
    The news of Sutherland’s spectacular defeat the day before in court had been thoroughly discussed, analyzed, and embellished by the office pundits. While most laid the defeat of the D.A.’s top gun at Meredith’s feet, a few thicker heads saw the hand of R. Garrison Cooper at work. Now the crabs were waiting for Sutherland when he got off the elevator, eager for a fresh breakfast after the meal from the day before.
    “Sleeping with the enemy, Hank?” Someone had seen him with Shari at Biba’s. For all their supposed sophistication, Sacramento’s deputy district attorneys traded gossip like old biddies out of a bad romance novel.
    “Hope you’re practicing safe sex.” Someone was into socially meaningful literature.
    “Never trust a lawyer,” a woman called, obviously a legal thriller fan.
    “Does she have an overbite?” a reader of pornography asked.
    He shut the door to his office a little too hard. Damn! he raged to himself as he looked around. All his furniture was gone. He knew where to look and marched down to the men’s room. There, carefully arranged exactly as it had been in his office, was all his furniture. He sat down at his desk. The crabs were having a field day, and it was going to be a long morning. Much to his surprise, the phone rang. He picked it up, expecting another prank.
    It was Marcy Bangor. “Hank, I’m doing a follow-up from yesterday. How are you doing?”
    “You might say I’m in the toilet.”
    “Do you have any comment on the jury’s verdict?”
    Sutherland put on his best lawyer hat. “In our system, the jury has the final word, and they have spoken. Anything I have to say at this point is moot.”
    “Any comment on the rumor that Cooper has filed a complaint with the State Bar charging you with unethical conduct during the trial.”
    “I hadn’t heard,” Sutherland admitted. “Coop got his feelings hurt and likes to rub salt in