It was after ten that night when he paid for the printed abstracts, preferring hardcopy to a disk, and walked out into the night, lighting a cigarette as he went. Maybe I should look Julia up again, he thought. Maybe there’s some other madman involved. What if Luther had already shipped some of that damned virus to another bloodsucker who also happened to be around? Hell, he didn’t have the time to check on everyone, or everything, to which Luther might have had connections. I’ve got to talk to Julia, Serrin thought. See if we can’t get through to that chummer of hers one last time; she might breathe easier about talking now that Luther is dead.