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speculate on the connection between the two deaths.
    We’ll have more news as it comes to hand.

— I —
SAN FRANCISCO
TODAY
    Ted gave up fighting after a while. No matter how much he insisted he was OK, no matter how gently he protested at being led to the back of the ambulance by two paramedics, resistance was most definitely useless. The whole damn street was caught in the red and blue strobe of the vehicle’s lights, bleaching the faces of the Chinatown onlookers in alternating flashes of color.
    Reluctantly, Ted now sat in the back of the ambulance and let the paramedics fuss as much as they wanted. It was their job, after all, and a mighty fine and important one at that. Pissing off the San Francisco Fire Department was rather low on his list of priorities. Figuring out what had caused the explosion at the Jade Emperor was currently at the top.
    One of the paramedics pressed a button and the blood pressure sleeve inflated for a second time; Ted felt fine, really, no problem, no pain except for his upper arm being crushed by the damn cuff wrapped around his biceps.
    “Hey,” Ted said. The paramedic didn’t move his eyes from the digital readout, but his eyebrows went up half an inch.
    Ted sighed and closed his eyes and focused instead on being the model patient. He felt fine, honestly, no problem, and just hoped they wouldn’t decide to take him to the hospital. Now that would be embarrassing.
    “Stop fidgeting.”
    Ted opened his eyes and saw Alison leaning against the open door of the ambulance, arms folded, the crowd behind her still eager for a quick glimpse at whatever tragedy was unfolding. Well, thought Ted, sorry to disappoint, but there is no gore, no blood, no wailing and gnashing. Rubberneckers.
    The cuff hissed and deflated, and Ted felt an almost nauseating relief as the blood surged back into his arm. The paramedic moved farther back in to the ambulance. Taking his cue, Ted rolled his shirtsleeve down.
    “Where’s Benny?” he asked. He had no idea where anybody was. The only thing he did know was that his thirty-seventh birthday had ended with a bang a little bigger than intended, but as he was the only one sitting in the back of an ambulance, he assumed everyone else was OK. Alison seemed to be in one piece, anyway.
    She jerked her head back up the street. “She’s talking to the owners. Material for the blog.”
    Ted nodded. Made sense. A journalist had to be ready, eyes and ears open, forever searching for the story, the scoop. Ted included. That the little explosion had disrupted the dinner arrangements of a table full of San Francisco’s finest online reporters was perhaps a happy coincidence. The story had landed, almost literally, in their lap.
    “What did the police say?” he asked.
    “Why don’t you ask them yourself?” Alison backed away from the door and a uniformed officer appeared from around the side of the vehicle. He took one look at Ted, and, as though he’d forgotten a common courtesy, knocked on the inside of the door with his knuckles. The paramedic reappeared from the recesses of the ambulance with some paperwork, and the two nodded a greeting.
    “He’s all yours,” said the paramedic, his attention now shifted from his patient to his clipboard.
    Ted sighed. Great. First paramedics, now the police. This was not quite his idea of a fun night out.
    “Mr Kane?”
    Ted nodded. “That’s me.”
    “How are you feeling?” asked the officer, in a tone that suggested he lacked any interest in Ted’s wellbeing at all.
    Ted glanced at the paramedic, and nodded at the officer. “Just fine,” he said, but as he stood from the gurney and moved to hop out of the back of the ambulance he rocked on his feet, dizziness threatening to overcome him. He sat back down. Alison gave him a look, and Ted frowned. “Well, little woozy, maybe.”
    The officer took a small notepad from inside his jacket and flipped it to a blank page. Alison crept forward a little and stood on her