"Good afternoon," Ava greeted the receptionist, flashing a small leather badge with a striking hawk embossed upon it in steel. "I'm Miss Ava McLaren of the Nighthawks. I'm here to ask some questions about a crime I'm investigating with my partner, Mr. Kincaid."
The receptionist blanched, her arms half-slung through her cardigan. "A crime? I'm not quite certain how we can help but-"
"Is the clinic doctor on duty?"
"Aye, ma'am. We were both just finishing up for the day. I can see if he's-"
"Tell him we'd like to talk to him," Kincaid interrupted, leaning on the counter and staring at the older woman. "It's official business."
Ava rapped her fingers on the counter as the woman scurried off, and then picked up one of the pamphlets on the vaccine. "Side effects," she read, "include a fever, a rash, sensitivity to light, and a headache. Please see a doctor if symptoms persist beyond a few days."
"No black veins?" It would be too easy.
"No internal bleeding." Ava put the pamphlet back.
The door opened. "This way, sir. Miss. Dr. Harricks has a few minutes to see you." The receptionist ushered them through into the clinic, then raised her voice. "Cheerio, Dr. Harricks. I'll see you tomorrow."
She closed the door behind herself.
The examining room was private and painted a relaxing blue. A gentleman dressed in a tweed suit cleaned his glasses in the corner, his hair neatly combed. "Good afternoon," he said politely, his gaze sweeping over them, then doubling back to Ava with a hint of male appreciation. "I'm Dr. Harricks, the clinic specialist. How may I help you?"
A service automaton swept patiently in the corner, steam hissing from its vents as it worked its way around the room. Needed servicing by the look of it.
"A Mr. David Thomas was a patient of this clinic six weeks ago," Ava started, as Kincaid strolled around the room, glancing at the clean counters and meticulous files. She flipped through her folder. "He was found two days ago, dead in his parlor from internal bleeding and ruptured internal organs. The preliminary autopsy showed he was several weeks into the metamorphosis stage of the craving virus, with CV levels of 12 percent. I wanted to confirm whether Mr. Thomas received a vaccination here."
Dr. Harricks looked surprised, and then he turned to one of his cabinets. "Thomas... Thomas.... It sounds familiar, though I cannot recall a face. I receive dozens of patients through here each day."
"The vaccine is popular?" Kincaid asked, as Harricks flicked through his files and withdrew a slim folder.
"Increasingly," the doctor replied absently. "I'm booked out two months in advance these days. With more and more blue bloods swimming through the general population, people fear for their children."
"The craving virus is becoming more prevalent in the general population?" Ava asked.
"I'm not quite certain whether it's spreading now the legislation against unapproved infections has been lifted," the doctor admitted, "or whether blue bloods have always been there. They were put on a register when the prince consort was in power, and some were hunted and executed, depending upon how they became infected-it was supposed to be restricted to the Echelon, yes? But some slipped beneath notice, and I suspect in the last few years, now the law against casual infection has been changed, they're not hiding as much as they used to. Or at least, they weren't."
"You think that's going to change?" Kincaid frowned.
Harricks seemed to have found the file he wanted. "I expect it will. There's been a push for more vaccinations in the last two or so months, ever since the blood taxes were lowered to two pints per year for each human adult, and the humanists started stirring up trouble again." He hesitated. "It's... well, some of my clients seem angry these days. They're tired of being forced to give their blood so the Echelon can survive. Anti-blue blood sentiment is becoming rife. I thought we'd done away with all that since the revolution, but there's definitely a ripple of dissatisfaction brewing. One only has to look at the recent riots to see that."
"You found it?" Ava gestured toward the file.
"Ah, yes. Mr. David Thomas was vaccinated on the twenty-first. I tested his CV levels beforehand, and his results were conclusive: no factor of the craving virus present in his blood at all. He was 100 percent human when he received his vaccination." The doctor looked at his file again. "That doesn't make sense, unless the brass spectrometer I'm using is uncalibrated. It means the vaccine didn't work, and we've never had anything like that happen before."