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implant and found the message from his partner from earlier that morning.
                  “ Attached is the update from your group’s cases ,” read Williams’s message. “ How was your evening ?”
                  Frank sat at his dining room table as he drank coffee and read through the report. He composed a reply, which included some directives that he forwarded to his subordinate detectives and indicated to Marcus that the previous evening had been restful.
                  Not wishing to take in any HV programming or that of the satellite-fed variety intended for implants, Campanelli quickly grew restless. He could not rid the Whethers family from his mind, especially the vision of Sam Whethers falling to the tarmac.
                  Frank showered and dressed as he thought of Sarah. He wondered just how isolated she could possibly be, not from other detainees, but from the influenza and other diseases which were present. In his communication with Vanek the night before, Frank had seen her health records and found that the girl had not received the bi-annual booster shot of Perpetuamivir since she was five, a little over two years ago. The modern version of the dynamic and indefatigable flu shot was weaker than the original formula because of the lack of facilities and qualified personnel that could produce it, but it was still a vital protection against whatever the diminishing human race faced.
                  Campanelli dressed in a blue pullover collared shirt and light tan slacks and left the condo with an urgency that rivaled a typical day at work. Once in his car, he sent out a message over the CPD server to H. Lincoln Rothgery, the leading forensic investigator in the entire department. Frank sat in his car with the door open, smoking a cigarette as he waited. In a few minutes he received a reply, shut the door and directed the car to drive a block and park on the north side of the Division One building, where Rothgery was currently working. The man was based there, but would often be requested by other divisions in need of his vast array of knowledge.
                  Frank hopped out of his car once it had parked and strode to a side door, tossing the spent cigarette onto the concrete before stepping inside. The walk to Rothgery’s forensic lab was short, but around several corners. Having the day officially off, he did not wish to be seen by anyone that was privy to that fact. It was not that he did not have the right to come to work, but he wished not to rile Chief Vanek by going against the man’s order.
                  The Captain of Detectives kept his head on a swivel as he reached the lab door and quickly entered Rothgery’s realm. Immediately, his ears were assaulted by the nerve racking report of a firearm being discharged. Frank’s audio receptors reacted at once, canceling much of the more than one hundred and twenty decibel assault. Instinctively, he put his hands to his ears, though that tended to hinder the devices’ abilities. Before he could announce himself, the gun fired again, then once again. The muzzle flash of whatever the man was test firing lit up the dim room in a fleeting orange light.
                  “Hey! Lincoln!” Campanelli shouted between firings. He would have sent a message via implant, but the older man had never wished to be equipped with one, even though his vision could have been improved. Rothgery preferred to wear his homemade, thick framed eyeglasses with bifocal lenses. Optometry was one of his many hobbies.
                  “Ah,” Lincoln muttered once he discovered the detective’s presence. “Good morning, Frank,” he said as he turned to him and removed his earplugs.
                  Frank returned the salutation and took a gander at the technician’s project. A pile of tagged handguns, magazines and a computer lie on a table to his