No Immunity

door.”
    “I hope they...” Tchernak shrugged. “What’ll happen to the boys?”
    Kiernan smiled. “The fact that they’re still alive is a good sign. 1 was afraid I’d find them dead in that hole. To have survived all they’ve been through... those guys are tough. Between Connie and Jeff they’ll make sure the kids have the best shot, whether that’s here or back in Panama. They’ll start with a top-notch physical and see where that leads. Might be some oil money for tutors that could make their lives easier either place.” She sighed. “You know, if Jeff had just been up-front—
    “Didn’t I warn you about him? Who was it who said, ‘Don’t take that case,’ huh?”
    “You know, Tchernak, a more gracious person wouldn’t have brought that up.”
    “Graciousness? Is this a new requirement in O’Shaughnessy’s Gracious Investigations?” He laughed, then took a deep swallow of his Coke. “You were saying about the taciturn doctor...?”
    “He could have leveled with me about his suspicions of Fox and B-CADS. But I guess after all his years of noting strange things he knew were connected with B-CADS and not being able to pin any of it down, it’d make the sanest person paranoid. And with his record with the navy, who’d believe him?”
    She leaned back against the leather seat and looked out at the expanse of desert. The sun was crimson and shot stripes of gold above the western hills. In a few minutes it would disappear entirely. But for the moment it threw the land into high relief. In her two days here she had felt the vastness of the land, its emptiness, its inherent threat. Now’ its subtle changes filled her with awe. She could see why people like Connie Tremaine loved it.
    She had been wrong about the danger. It didn’t come from the land. “You know, Tchernak, we were lucky, this time. Whatever this virus was, its transmission wasn’t airborne. It didn’t survive in the air. You and I weren’t infected. Jeff wasn’t. Only Grady and Connie picked it up from live carriers, and the boys must have been barely contagious anymore by the time Connie touched them. Still, there could have been an epidemic. And Louisa was right about the danger of cutting a road through the Colombia-Panama rain forest. You do that and you set loose microbes never known outside a rain forest. You infect people like Grady Hummacher and then fly them all over the world and give those viruses new hosts who have no immunities. There are laws of nature; we keep breaking them. It’s only a matter of time.”
    Tchernak finished his Coke and tossed the can in a bag. “But the boys didn’t pick up the virus in Panama.”
    “No, they didn’t. They got it right here in Nevada. And if they had been in closer contact with their neighbors in the barrio, they could have spread it to people who are afraid to go to clinics.”
    “No!” Tchernak put a hand on her arm. “Don’t start on the dangers of denying people health care. I don’t want to hear again about inviting epidemic. I’m not arguing. I am,” he said, “just trying to figure how soon I can buy myself a fine Laredo.”
    “Ah, the hard life of the private eye, eh? Right down to the leather seats?” She plunked a hand on Tchernak’s arm and laughed, taking the time to observe his craggy face and now fanglike mustache and those fine wide football shoulders. “So, Tchernak, speaking of fees...”
    “Did Adcock pay me, is that what you’re asking? You want to know how the competition is making out? Well, you learn lots of lessons in pro football, but none as important as: Get your money up front.”
    “You got the whole thing?”
    “Well, no, not the per diem.”
    “The whole rest?”
    “Well, no, not the payment on delivery.”
    “Well, then,” she said, mocking his delivery, “what?”
    “Thou.”
    “A thousand dollars? I wouldn’t have hoisted out of my chair for that.”
    “You would if you weren’t licensed.”
    “I wouldn’t, but that’s another issue.”
    Tchernak stretched a long arm around her shoulder. He didn’t pull her closer; the Cherokee’s seats didn’t indulge togetherness. He stared straight ahead, and when he spoke, his voice was so impersonal he could have been reading the want ads. “I could become licensed. All I need is the hours.”
    She didn’t respond, nor did she pull away.
    “How many hours have I already worked for you, free of charge, I might add?”
    “Instead of cooking as I paid you to