“Send him in.” Jane set down her tea and waited with her hands folded over her lap.

The young man sent by Mayor Buttafuoco entered the office and took off his hat, but spoke through the mask covering the lower half of his face. “Excuse me Miss Goodall, but this is a private matter.” He cast a suspicious look at Jason, and the kid was young enough to have acne.

“You can speak in front of my colleague,” Jane said. “I trust him implicitly.”

The young man looked around him nervously, from Jason back to Jane. “It’s the mayor—he’s sick. He needs your help.”

“My colleague and I will be glad to help,” Jane announced and rose from her seat.

“Just you,” the young man replied. “Those are the mayor’s orders.”

“Either the mayor wants my help, under my conditions, or he doesn’t.” Jane was firm, and beneath the slender woman’s delicate exterior, there lay a steely determination.

The young guy rolled his hat in his hands, and looked back and forth between Jason and Jane. “Okay. Bring your face masks.”

Jason wondered why Jane included him on her visit to the mayor, even going to far as to address him as her colleague. He kept quiet, and followed Jane and the young man down the elevator to the street, where one of the mayor’s fleet vehicles waited at the curb with its engine idling, ignoring the very large and visible ‘NO PARKING” signs posted on the street. The mayor’s assistant sat in the front passenger seat, beside the driver, who was undoubtedly one of the mayor’s RAPE thugs, judging from his massive size and unintelligent stare. Jason opened the door for Jane, and helped seat her when she extended a delicate gloved hand. In that brief moment when her hands rested on his and they touched, Jason felt an electrical current run up his arm. Jason went around the trunk and out into the street to get into the car on the other side.

The car took off, merging with traffic, and the young man in the front turned on the radio. After an ad for Barba-Shave, the newscaster began announcing the news. “In a press conference held this morning, Mayor Buttafuoco extended both the quarantine and the liquor ban in New York City, citing the rise in the number of Mitral virus cases and his concern for public health.”

The radio broadcast cut to a press conference, with the bustle of journalists and the clicking of cameras audible in the background. “It’s ahl ‘bout public safedy. Dousands could die if we let go of the wheel dere. Not on my waatch, ain’t gonna happen. Don’t ferget, wear yeh mask, or else.”

“In a related development, Johnson & Johnson announced they are working around the clock to develop a successful vaccine against the Mitral virus. A spokesman for the company said, ‘The only way we’ll ever put an end to polio and the Mitral virus is through a vaccine, and they’re both just right around the corner.’”

“Nobody’s ever come up with a successful vaccine against a virus,” Jason slipped down his face mask and told Jane, who sat beside him in the back seat. “And if you try to vaccinate against a virus in the middle of an epidemic, the disease adapts, and you just create a deadlier variant, or variants.”

Jane sat with her legs together, and her knees pointed in Jason’s direction. She brushed the stray strand of hair from her face, resting it over her ear. She pulled down her mask to speak, and it was as though she were unveiling a sensuous pair of lips. “That’s the problem now in Tanzania. Chimpanzees are close enough to humans that the same diseases affect them. Infectious diseases from humans are a huge threat to ape populations in Africa, and one of the leading causes of death.”

The car pulled up to the curb, and Jason exited the car to open the door for Jane, or perhaps he should think of her as Dr. Goodall. Once again, their hands touched as he helped Jane step out, and this time their eyes met. Jane looked down with a shy smile, which he couldn’t see through her mask, but could sense, unless he was just flattering himself and imagining things. They entered the lobby through the revolving door, and were immediately frisked by the mayor’s goons, who were thorough enough to probe Jason’s crotch, shoes, and the interior of his hat. A blonde woman in a tight skirt searched Jane behind a screen that had been wheeled and parked to the side of the revolving door. Jane stepped out from behind the screen and adjusted her skirt and blouse.

“They certainly are thorough here,” Jane said with a tense smile.

Jane and Jason followed the young man into the elevator, with a slim female attendant sitting on a stool, also wearing a face mask, who punched the button for the top floor. Jason didn’t like the idea of being unarmed deep in enemy territory, where he was outnumbered, because he was certain that the mayor’s security was armed to the teeth. That was going to be his homework project, to come up with a way to get a weapon or weapons into a restrictive environment, even something as secure as the mayor’s office. If anybody would know, Jason figured it would be the retired cop from the Punch Drunk bar, who taught Jason how to use the sap and the palm sap.

When they reached the top floor, the elevator dinged, and the young man led the way out. Jason realized that they were not in a hallway, but were actually in the parlor of the mayor’s suite, which occupied the entire floor. The glass windows running from floor to ceiling gave Jane and Jason a breathtaking view of New York City as they walked through the parlor to an interior living room. Looking past the room, Jason could see a profusion of plants on the rooftop garden, which resembled a jungle.

The first sight, though, to strike Jane and Jason was the gorilla mayor, who must have weighed at least 300 pounds, and was covered with thick black fur. He wore only a pair of shorts. His eyes, set deep beneath protruding brows, seemed to bore right through his two guests. Seeing the mayor in pictures in the newspapers failed to convey just how enormous the mayor was, and Jason sensed that he was incredibly strong as well. The mayor lay sprawled over the couch with the bare, hairless soles of his feet extending over the armrest, and a bucket sat on the carpet beside him. Jason figured that all the ape needed to do was roll over to vomit into the bucket.

A chimpanzee sat at the bar behind the couch. He wore a shirt and tie, which was loosened at the collar, and slacks. He might have been mistaken for a human if it were not for his sloping forehead and comically oversized lips. But like the mayor, neither of the two was in a humorous mood. Both primates had a smoldering resentment, and a hidden ferocity behind their eyes.

Neither the mayor, the chimpanzee, nor the two hoodlums standing like bodyguards at the end of the room wore face masks.

“Mr. Mayor, Dr. Goodall, as you requested,” the young man nervously said and whirled about. He strode out into the parlor and took a seat there.

“Who’s he?” the mayor asked with a wave of his hairless hand, pointing with his unnaturally long fingers at Jason. “Get him the fuuuuuuuh…”

Unable to finish his order, the gorilla leaned his massive hulk over the couch and dry heaved into the bucket, which echoed with the rumble of his fur-lined chest.

Jane crossed her arms and spoke firmly. “This is my colleague, Mr. Mayor, and if he goes, we both go.”

“No fuuuuuh…”” the mayor began, but was forced to roll over again and dry heave into the bucket, leaving nothing other than a thin strand of saliva.

Jane walked over to the mayor, which prompted one of the muscular thugs at the end of the room to reach into his jacket. Ignoring the man, Jane felt the mayor’s bare, sloping forehead with the back of her hand. “No fever. I assume you’ve got stomach problems?”

The gorilla on the couch moaned and shook his head yes, then rolled over the couch and flopped his arms about in his discomfort. Strands of long black hair whipped back and forth under his arms as he thrashed.

“What are you eating?” Jane asked.

“Salami sandwiches with cheese,” the chimpanzee at the bar spoke up, answering for the mayor. He dropped a shotglass of bourbon into a beer mug, and took a long drink. “The mayor’s favorite.”

“The majority of your diet should be fruit, with vegetables second,” Jane told him. “With meat just the smallest fraction of what you eat, less than ten percent.”

“WHAT! And have people think I’m some kinda fuckin’ monkey!” the mayor rolled over and slammed his fist into the coffee table, smashing the frame and shattering the glass top.

The chimpanzee shot a stern look at the hoodlums standing at the other end of the room, one of whom still had his hand inside his suit jacket. “I told you we can’t have glass tables, lamps, glass in picture frames, or whatever in here, not with the mayor’s temper.” The chimpanzee picked up a baseball bat with his bare foot, holding it in a surprisingly firm grip with the help of his prehensile toes.

The two men immediately went to the broken table to start collecting shards of glass, which they hurriedly carried over to a wastebasket in the kitchen.

Jane reached for the mayor’s long hand, which the gorilla reluctantly let her examine. “Luckily, you’re not cut. You’re not a monkey: you’re an ape. You’re not designed to digest meat in large quantities, and your system can’t handle fat.”

The mayor started to light up again, and Jason could see the fury ignite in his eyes, yet Jane remained calm.

“If it helps, we’re all apes,” Jane told him with a soothing voice. “Remember, fruit first, vegetables second, then other foods like honey, seeds, nuts, and eggs. Very little meat, and almost no fat. And no flour.”

“No pasta?” the gorilla exclaimed in a baritone shout, and slapped the couch in his frustration, causing the frame to creak.

“Give your system a chance to recover,” Dr. Goodall urged him, “and then you can try adding those other foods in small amounts and see what happens.”

The gorilla moaned and tossed on the couch, clutching his pot belly, which was covered in long black hair. His deep voice took on a tone of mockery. “Nah, I don’t want none a dat gnocchi, I’ll just eat dis heah fuckin’ banana, like a goddamn ape.”

“I hope that helps, Mr. Mayor.” Jane straightened herself out, and Jason found himself admiring her slim figure.

The chimpanzee shot a look at one of the hoodlums, then jerked his head in the direction of Dr. Goodall. The thug marched over to Jane, reaching inside his jacket. He withdrew an envelope and handed it to the doctor. “With the mayor’s thanks.”

Jane handled the envelope reluctantly, feeling the stack of bills inside. “This isn’t really necessary,” Jane protested.

“The mayor insists,” the chimpanzee at the bar said, and took another long slug of his drink.

“Well, thank you,” Jane said, and put the money into her purse. “This will go to protect the chimpanzee population in Gombe.”

“Don’t know what a bunch a chimps in Africa has got to do with me or the mayor,” the chimpanzee said, “but go ahead and make yourself happy.”

“We’ll catch a cab back.” Jane waved and Jason nodded, acknowledging the gorilla mayor who tossed about on the couch. The two of them returned to the foyer, where the young man with the acned face sat on a couch. The assistant got up and they entered the elevator, silently riding down to the ground floor lobby. Once they were on the sidewalk, Jason hailed a cab, and once again helped seat Jane in the back. When he entered the cab on the other side, they both took off their masks.

“The Jane Goodall Institute on 42nd,” Jason instructed the cab driver, then turned to Jane. “So why did you let me accompany you? I mean, you even identified me as your colleague.”

“I think it was something you needed to see.” Jane brushed the strand of hair from her face again.

“You look so much nicer without the face mask.” Jason told her.

“Thanks. We all do.” Jane smiled shyly. “Facial expressions are essential part of communication, so what happens when we all cover our faces?”

Dr. Goodall looked out the cab window, and Jason saw her oval face in profile.

“Something’s on your mind,” Jason told her.

“Yes,” Jane replied and turned to face him. “I know humans, and I know apes probably better than anyone else on the planet, but I don’t know what those two are. Chimpanzee attacks in Cameroon are often triggered by the apes getting hold of liquor. If you’ve got a chimpanzee who drinks alcohol, that’s a frightful danger.”

“Did you see how he ordered those goons around?” Jason asked.

“Yes. My take is that the mayor is hot-headed and egotistical, but the chimpanzee is pure evil.”

Jason was taken aback. “Well, I don’t know if that’s very scientific.”

Jane laughed. “I started on the ‘unscientific’ path years ago, when I gave chimpanzees I was studying names instead of numbers. But if chimpanzees are like humans, and humans can be evil, then chimps can be evil. I’ve seen it. And chimpanzees can use tools, including weapons—you saw him with that baseball bat. The typical chimpanzee is one-and-a-half times stronger than a human, due to fast-twitch muscles. Give him a weapon on top of that, and he’s extremely dangerous.”

“Whew.” Jason let out a long breath.

“You know a lot about epidemiology,” Jane told him, and rested her hand on his. “We’ll have to get together and discuss it over dinner.”

Jason was incredulous, and tried not to look dumbfounded. Was a woman asking him out? He felt a warm glow radiating from the brief touch of her hand on his. “Yes, I would love that.”

Jane smiled, and looked ahead in the direction the cab was headed. Her bare knees were together, pointed in Jason’s direction, and her tight skirt revealed the outline of her slender legs. Her breasts were small, but pointed like cones, hinting at incredible firmness.

Jason liked where this was going. The only catch was, he realized he was going to need something much more powerful than just a .45 automatic if he was going up against apes, and it seemed like it was just a matter of time before Jason and the primates battled to the death.