“Badge number?"
“Malone. Sergeant Jack. I'm not here for a tour."
The university security guard raised an eyebrow. “You were suspended this morning, Detective."
Jack held up the pink slip. “Haven't read it yet. Let me through."
“You're not authorized—"
“I'm not asking permission."
The guard stepped forward. “This is a Level-Four Bio-Containment facility."
“Then you'd better contain me."
Jack pushed past, leaving the stunned guard fumbling for his radio.
He marched through the clinical halls, past rows of frosted glass and biometric scanners. The walls smelled like antiseptic and secrets.
He clutched a box of apology donuts in one hand. Ridiculous, but it was a cover. Something to distract. Something to throw.
“Sir, you need clearance—"
Jack flashed his badge. “Expired, not dead
