“Halcyon is dead,” Alexis said.

“See, you didn’t forget,” the voice answered. “But you never wanted to forget, did you?”

She couldn’t really place the age of the caller. She flipped through a mental file as she might go through a series of brain scans, trying to summon a face, but she was pretty sure she’d never heard the voice before.

Of course, she could have heard it and had her mind wiped clean. One of the lasting effects of the Monkey House trials was that stretches of the past were garbled or blank, like a cassette tape with Coke spilled on it.

“If you were just going to kill me, I’d be dead,” she said. “So I must have something you want.”

“Maybe lots of somethings.”

“And maybe you can save us both some time by telling me what it is.”

“What fun would that be?”

“You can tell your boss that Halcyon is buried, and so is the past.”

And a lot of people along with it.

After a pause, the caller continued. “We know you’ve been playing around in your lab. Here’s what you need to-”

Alexis killed the signal. That was the only thing she needed to do: make him shut up.

Her main research lab was three floors below. For some reason, even in its modern science buildings, UNC still confined much of its research to the basement. It was a tradition dating back to Memorial Hospital’s founding, when the dead were wheeled away in the middle of the night and kept out of view of the living patients. Mortality was bad for business.

Unless you were in the business of murder.

Alexis thought about calling Mark, but he always turned off his cell when he was at the shooting range, and he’d be wearing ear protection, anyway. Besides, she didn’t want to scare him until she knew what the caller wanted. Mark was scared enough already, considering what was happening inside his skull.