Robin Cook (14 page)

Puzzled, Adam decided to retrieve Lawrence Foley's file. The machine printed out a single word: “Terminated.”

Pretty sick humor on the part of some programmer, thought Adam.

• • •

Over the next three weeks Adam's proficiency as a salesman improved significantly. As long as he loaded the doctors on his list with samples, most of them were pleased to hear him extol the virtues of Arolen Pharmaceuticals. They rarely questioned his claims or inquired about possible side effects. Adam cheerfully pushed Arolen's full line of drugs with one exception: pregdolen. The journal article and Vandermer's warning had impressed him, and he did not want to be responsible for encouraging the use of such a potentially dangerous drug.

In the evenings he would look up on the computer the doctors he planned to see next, but just for information to help sales. He decided not to worry about any possible omissions or inaccuracies like the one involving GYN Associates.

Then, just when he was relaxing into his new routine, something happened that aroused his
misgivings. He had an appointment to see a group of busy internists, but when he reached the office, the receptionist told him they all had to cancel. One of the partners had just returned from an Arolen cruise and announced he was quitting the practice and going to work at the Julian Clinic. The other doctors were furious and at their wits' end trying to accommodate his patients.

Adam walked away remembering how Percy Harmon had described a similar incident. And that reminded him that he had never learned why Percy had failed to call him. When he'd asked in New Jersey, no one had seemed sure where Harmon was, though he apparently had not gone as planned to Puerto Rico. Knowing how excited Percy had been about the management program, Adam found this extremely disturbing.

One afternoon when he finished his rounds early, he decided to run out to headquarters and see if Bill Shelly could answer some of his questions. He'd become increasingly curious about the mysterious Arolen cruises. While he wasn't ready to move to Puerto Rico, he thought a five-day medical seminar at sea might be fascinating. It would make him feel as if he were back in medical school. And maybe a little vacation would put his marriage back in perspective. Jennifer's nausea had worsened, and she was spending more and more time at her parents'. When Adam tried to interest her in his new job or to persuade her to call some of her friends, she just put him off.

It was nearly three-thirty when Adam pulled into the Arolen parking lot. Shelly had said on the phone that he'd be available until four. A uniformed guard checked with Shelly's office before buzzing Adam through. When Adam reached the executive
floor, Bill's secretary Joyce was waiting by the receptionist.

“Good to see you, Mr. Schonberg,” she said. “Bill is upstairs. Would you follow me?”

At the end of the hall, Joyce unlocked the door to a small elevator. She stepped inside and, using the same key, selected the twenty-first floor. Adam was startled to find himself riding up the outside of the building in a glass cage. It was not a pleasant sensation, and he closed his eyes to the Jersey countryside until the elevator came to a stop.

He was greeted by a heavily muscled man in a tee shirt and khaki trousers.

“Adam Schonberg?” he asked before leading Adam down a sun-drenched corridor. The entire exterior wall was glass, and Adam edged as far away from it as possible. He wasn't exactly afraid of heights, but he didn't enjoy them. He felt better when they entered an empty lounge. A television screen was turned to the news. Beyond the lounge was a Nautilus room and beyond that, a locker room lined with massage cubicles. A wide door at the opposite end led to the pool.

The man in the tee shirt held the door but did not follow Adam through it. For a moment the light was so strong, Adam could barely see. One entire wall was glass, rising for two stories and curving back to form a portion of the roof. The floor was made of glistening white marble, and the pool itself was constructed of white tile with blue markings.

A lone swimmer was vigorously doing laps. As he turned, he caught sight of Adam and swam over to the edge. He was wearing tiny goggles that just covered his eyes and a black rubber racing cap.

“How about a swim?” said Bill Shelly.

Adam shook his head. “Sorry, but I forgot my bathing suit.”

“No need for a suit right now. It's the men's hour. Come on, give it a try. I'm sure Paul can rustle up a towel.”

Adam wavered. There really was no reason to refuse, and the chance to swim twenty-some stories off the ground did not come along every day.

“OK,” said Adam. “How do I find Paul?”

“Go back into the locker room. You'll see a buzzer on the wall. Push it and Paul will appear like a genie.”

Adam did as he was told. Paul showed him to a locker and supplied him with an enormous towel and a white terry-cloth robe.

Adam stripped off his clothes and put on the robe. Walking back outside, he was acutely aware of his winter white body, and he wondered again how Shelly maintained his tan. Feeling extremely self-conscious, Adam dropped the protective robe and dove in. The water was ice cold.

“We keep the pool cool so that it is stimulating,” explained Bill when he caught the pained expression on Adam's face.

After he began swimming, Adam felt better, but when he tried to emulate Bill's tumbling turns, he only succeeded in getting a nose full of water. He came up coughing and sputtering.

Bill took pity on him and led him back to the locker room, suggesting they both have a short massage.

“What is it you wanted to see me about?” Bill asked when they were settled on adjoining tables.

Adam hesitated. Even though Bill had always been nice to Adam, he never dropped his cool executive manner.

“I wanted to learn more about the Conference Cruises,” said Adam as Paul indicated he should roll on his back. “My customers always ask about them.”

“What do they want to know?”

“Who can go. How you schedule the various specialties. Whether there's someone at Arolen they can call for information.”

“They can call the toll-free MTIC number,” said Bill stiffly. “I was hoping you were going to tell me you'd decided to take the managerial training course.”

“Not just yet,” said Adam as Paul continued to knead his shoulders. “But I was wondering if you would consider sending me on one of the cruises. Do any of the sales reps go?”

“I'm afraid not,” said Bill, getting up and starting to dress. “There are a lot of people here who would like to go. Unfortunately, the
Fjord
is not that big a ship. Anyway, you'd find it boring. Since the purpose of the program is to supply continuing education to the practicing physician, most of the entertainment areas of the ship have been converted into lecture halls.”

“I'd still like to go.”

“I'm sorry,” said Bill, who was obviously losing interest in the subject. He went to a mirror to put on his tie. “I think it would be smart for you to concentrate on the work that you are supposed to be doing.”

Adam decided this was not the moment to ask about the doctors who had given up their practices after going on a cruise. It was obvious that Bill Shelly was becoming irritated by Adam's questions. As he dressed and followed Bill to the elevator Adam was careful to answer questions, not ask
them. But later, driving back to New York, Adam continued to ponder some of the strange occurrences he now associated with the Arolen cruise. Percy Harmon's disappearance in particular was disturbing. When Adam had learned Percy had not gone to Puerto Rico, he'd tried calling him but no one ever answered. As he drove into the city through the Lincoln Tunnel, Adam decided to stop by Percy's apartment. Maybe one of his neighbors knew where he was.

Percy lived in a rundown brownstone four doors in from Second Avenue. Adam found Percy Harmon's name next to the button for 3C. He pushed it and waited.

Diagonally across the street, a man in a rumpled blue suit threw down a cigarette and ground it under the heel of his shoe. Looking in both directions, he started across to the brownstone, his hand moving toward his breast pocket.

Adam shifted his weight and pushed the button for the superintendent. Almost immediately the small foyer filled with a raucous buzz and Adam opened the door. The interior was dilapidated but much cleaner than in Adam's building. On the floor below, Adam heard a door open. He walked to the head of the stairs and looked down. An unshaven man in a sleeveless undershirt was on his way up.

“Whaddaya want?” said the super.

“I'm looking for Percy Harmon,” said Adam.

“You and everybody else,” said the super, obviously unimpressed. “He ain't here, and I haven't seen him for more than a month.”

“Sorry to bother you,” said Adam as the super went back down. Turning to leave, Adam hesitated by the stairs. He heard the super's door close and
on a sudden impulse quietly climbed to the third floor. He knocked on 3C, but there was no answer. He tried the door, but it was locked. He was debating leaving a note when he noticed a window at the end of the corridor leading to the fire escape.

Although he had never done anything like this in his life, Adam opened the window and climbed out. He had an intuitive feeling something had happened to Percy. He wanted to look into Harmon's apartment to see if there was any sign of how long he'd been away.

The fire escape was old and rusted, and Adam tried not to look down through the metal grate at the concrete courtyard below. After inching along with his hands pressed against the building, Adam finally reached Percy's window. It was ajar about two inches. Hoping no one would see him and call the cops, Adam raised the window. Having come this far, he figured he had nothing to lose and climbed inside Percy's musty bedroom.

Heart pounding, Adam walked around the unmade bed and opened the closet door. It was filled with clothes. Turning, he looked inside the bathroom. The water level in the toilet was low, suggesting that it had not been used for some time.

Adam walked back through the bedroom and into the living room. There was a newspaper on the coffee table with a seven-week-old date. Moving into the kitchen, Adam saw that the dishes in the sink were covered with a fuzzy black mold. Obviously, Percy Harmon had planned to return. And that was exactly what Adam had feared. Something unexpected must have happened to the man.

Adam decided to get out and call the police. Before he could leave the kitchen, a soft noise
made him freeze. It was the distinctive sound of a door closing.

Adam waited. There was only silence. He peered out into the living room. The security chain on the front door was slowly swinging back and forth.

Adam almost passed out. If it had been Percy who'd come in, why was he hiding? Adam stayed glued to his spot in the kitchen, straining to hear additional noise. When the refrigerator kicked on next to him, he moaned with fright. Finally, deciding that at least ten minutes had passed, that maybe it was all his imagination, he walked into the living room and glanced into the bedroom. He could see the open window to the fire escape. The curtains were slowly billowing in the draft. Adam estimated that it would only take a second to cross the room and climb out.

He never made it. As he ran for the window, a figure appeared from the closet. Before Adam could respond, a fist slammed into his abdomen, sending him sprawling to the floor.

When Jennifer arrived at GYN Associates for her monthly checkup, she noticed there were fewer people waiting than on any of her previous visits. Sitting on one of the couches, which she had all to herself, she took out a magazine to read but couldn't concentrate. Instead, she marveled that nothing untoward had happened to her or her unborn child while Dr. Vandermer had been out of town attending his convention. She'd been sure that she'd start bleeding while he was away, and even though she still was not reconciled to his gruff manner, she didn't want to have to see a new doctor.

In less than fifteen minutes, Jennifer was taken to an examination room. As she took off her street clothes and put on the paper robe, she asked the nurse if Dr. Vandermer had enjoyed his vacation.

“I guess so,” said Nancy without enthusiasm. She handed Jennifer the urine container and motioned toward the lavatory door.

Something in her tone bothered Jennifer, but when she came out of the bathroom, Dr. Vandermer was waiting.

“I haven't finished with Mrs. Schonberg,” said Nancy. “Please, give me another few minutes. I still have to draw her hematocrit and weigh her.”

“I just wanted to say hello.” His voice was unusually soft, without his normally brusque overtone. “How are you, Jennifer? You look well.”

“I'm fine,” said Jennifer, surprised.

“Well, I'll be back as soon as Nancy's done.” He closed the door, and Nancy stood for a moment staring after him. “God!” she said. “If I didn't know him better, I'd swear he was on something. Ever since he came back, he's been weird. He's much nicer to his patients, but he's made my job ten times more difficult. Oh well . . .” Nancy turned back to Jennifer. “Let's get your blood and weight.”

She had just finished when Dr. Vandermer returned. “I'll take over,” he said in the same flat voice. “Your weight is fine. How have you been feeling in general?”

“I haven't examined her yet,” interrupted Nancy.

“That's all right,” said Dr. Vandermer. “Why don't you run the hematocrit while I talk to Jennifer.”

With an audible sigh, Nancy took the hematocrit tubes and left the room.

“So how have you been feeling?” asked Dr. Vandermer again.

Jennifer stared at the man facing her. He had the same polished good looks, but his face was slack, as if he were exhausted. His hair was also a little different. It seemed bushier, and instead of his usual hurried manner, he gave Jennifer the impression that he actually wanted to know what was on her mind.

“I guess I've been feeling pretty good,” she said.

“You don't sound very enthusiastic.”

“Well . . .,” said Jennifer, “I'm less tired, but the morning sickness has gotten worse, no matter what I do about diet.”

“How do you feel about this pregnancy?” asked Dr. Vandermer. “Sometimes emotions play a role in our well-being.”

Jennifer looked at Dr. Vandermer's face. He seemed genuinely concerned. “To tell the truth,” she said, “I feel very ambivalent about being pregnant.” Up until that moment she'd been unwilling to admit it, even to her mother. But Dr. Vandermer did not seem disapproving.

“Second thoughts are very common,” he said gently. “Why don't you tell me how you really feel.”

Encouraged by his attitude, Jennifer found herself telling him all of her fears about her career and her relationship with Adam. She admitted that Vandermer had been right; it wasn't the proper time for them to have a child. She talked for nearly ten minutes, saved from tears only by an odd lack of affect in Vandermer's expression. He was concerned but in some way remote.

When she finished, he said softly, “I appreciate your confiding in me. It's not healthy to bottle up your feelings. In fact, they may be related to your continued morning sickness, which should have abated by now. I think that we will have to try you on some medication.” Turning to Nancy, who had just returned to the room, he said, “Would you go down to the supply room and bring back a handful of pregdolen samples?”

Nancy left without a word.

“Now then,” said Dr. Vandermer, “let's get a good look at you.”

The examination included ultrasonography,
which Dr. Vandermer described as a method by which images were produced as ultrasonic waves echoed off the baby's tissues. Jennifer wasn't sure she understood, but Dr. Vandermer assured her it was both painless and harmless to mother and fetus alike, and indeed it was. Although a technician came in to run the unit, Dr. Vandermer insisted on doing the test himself. On a screen much like a television's Jennifer saw the outline of her baby.

“Do you care to know the sex of the child?” asked Dr. Vandermer, straightening up.

“I guess,” said Jennifer, not having given the matter much thought.

“I can't be sure,” said Dr. Vandermer, “but if I had to guess it looks like a boy.”

Jennifer nodded. For the moment it didn't make any difference if it were a boy or a girl, but she wondered how Adam felt.

Back in the examination room, Dr. Vandermer sat down at the small desk and began to write up his findings. He dismissed Nancy, who left without a word, obviously displeased to have had her job curtailed.

Jennifer sat on the table, wondering whether she should dress. Finally, Dr. Vandermer turned to face her. “Aside from the morning sickness, you're doing fine, and maybe this will stop the nausea.” He stacked the samples next to her and wrote out a prescription as well. “Take one pill three times a day.”

Jennifer nodded. She was willing to try anything.

“Now,” said Dr. Vandermer in his new monotone voice, “there are two things I want to discuss with you. First, the next time I see you it will be at the Julian Clinic.”

Jennifer felt her heart skip a beat. The image of Cheryl slumping to the floor flashed before her. She could see the blood and feel the icy panic.

“Jennifer, are you all right?” asked Dr. Vandermer.

“Maybe I should lie down,” said Jennifer, feeling suddenly dizzy.

Dr. Vandermer helped her to lie back.

“I'm terribly sorry,” said Jennifer. “I'm all right now. Why will I be seeing you at the Julian Clinic?”

“Because I've decided to join their staff,” said Dr. Vandermer, checking her pulse. “I'm no longer interested in private practice. And I can assure you that as a patient you will get better care at the Julian Clinic. Now, do you feel all right?”

Jennifer nodded.

“Is this the first time in your pregnancy you've felt faint like this?”

“Yes,” said Jennifer and went on to describe Cheryl's unexpected death.

“What an awful experience for you,” Dr. Vandermer said. “Especially being pregnant. Fortunately, such a clotting disorder is extremely rare, and I hope you don't blame the Julian Clinic. I heard about that case and I happen to know that Miss Tedesco had withheld certain aspects of her medical history. Her extensive drug usage had caused hematologic problems that did not show up in routine lab work. Had Miss Tedesco been more forthright, she'd undoubtedly be alive today. I'm only telling you this so you won't have any doubts about the clinic.”

“I'd heard good things about it before I went with Cheryl. And I must admit I was impressed with the staff's caring attitude.”

“That's one of the reasons I'm going there. The doctors aren't involved with any of the competitive nonsense associate with private practice.”

Jennifer sat up, relieved to find that the dizziness had completely passed.

“Are you going to be all right now?” asked Dr. Vandermer.

“I think so,” said Jennifer.

“The second thing I wanted to discuss with you is the possibility of doing amniocentesis.”

Jennifer felt another rush of light-headedness, but this time it passed quickly. “You've changed your mind,” she said. It was a statement, not a question.

“That is true,” said Dr. Vandermer. “Initially, I was convinced that your brother's problem had been congenital, meaning a chromosomal change after conception. But I got the slides from the hospital where your brother died, and the lab thinks the problem may be hereditary. Given that possibility, it would be a mistake not to take advantage of all the technology at our disposal.”

“Would the test show if my child had the same problem?” asked Jennifer.

“Absolutely,” said Dr. Vandermer. “But we should do it soon, since it takes several weeks to get the results. If we wait too long, it will be difficult to do anything if the result is positive.”

“By ‘doing anything' you mean an abortion?” said Jennifer.

“Yes,” said Dr. Vandermer. “The chances of a problem are very small, but with the ambivalence you've voiced, I think that you would be able to handle such an eventuality.”

“I'll have to talk with my husband and my parents,” said Jennifer.

She left the office nervous about the prospect of amniocentesis but glad she had a doctor as caring as Vandermer. She'd have to tell Adam that she'd totally reversed her original impression of the man.

• • •

Adam never quite lost consciousness. He was vaguely aware of being dragged into Percy's living room and unceremoniously dumped onto the couch. He felt his wallet being removed, and then replaced. That little sequence didn't jibe with his expectations, and puzzling it over, he shook off his stupor.

The first thing he did was search for his glasses, which were suddenly thrust into his hand. He put them on and the room came into focus. Sitting in front of him was a heavyset man in a blue suit and a white shirt open at the collar.

“Good morning,” said the man. “Welcome back.”

Adam moved. Nothing hurt, which was surprising.

“Unless you want to ride down to the police station, Mr. Schonberg, you'd better tell me what you were doing in this apartment.”

“Nothing,” croaked Adam. He cleared his throat.

“You're going to have to do better than that,” said the man, lighting a cigarette and blowing smoke toward the ceiling.

“I could say the same for you,” said Adam.

The stranger reached over and grabbed Adam's shirt front, almost lifting him off the couch. “I'm not in the mood for wisecracks,” he snarled.

Adam nodded.

As suddenly as he'd grabbed him, the man let
him go. “OK,” said the stranger. “Let's start again. What were you doing in this apartment?”

“I am a friend of Percy Harmon,” said Adam quickly. “Well, sort of a friend. I was starting work for Arolen Pharmaceuticals and he took me around to teach me the routine.”

The man nodded slightly, as if he accepted the story so far.

“Percy was supposed to call me,” Adam said. “He never did and he never answered his phone. So I came over to see if he was here.”

“That doesn't explain why you broke into the apartment,” said the stranger.

“It was an impulse,” said Adam meekly. “I wanted to see if he was all right.”

The man didn't say anything. The silence and the tension quickly began to wear on Adam. “I liked Percy,” he said. “I was worried about him. He was supposed to go to Puerto Rico for a training course, but he never got there.”

The man remained silent.

“That's all I know,” said Adam. “I never saw him again.”

“I believe you,” said the man, after a pause.

“Thank you,” said Adam, relieved to the point he could have cried.

The man stubbed out his cigarette. Reaching into his breast pocket, he pulled out a card and extended it to Adam. It said “Robert Marlow, Private Investigator.” In the lower right-hand corner was a telephone number.

“About six weeks ago Percy Harmon left a Japanese restaurant in Fort Lee, New Jersey. He never got home. I've been hired by the family to see what I can find out. I've been watching the
apartment. Aside from a couple of young ladies, you're the only one to show up.”

“Do you have any idea of what could have happened to him?” asked Adam.

“Not the foggiest,” said Mr. Marlow. “But if you happen to hear anything, I'd appreciate a call.”

• • •

Adam still felt shell-shocked when he got back to his empty apartment. Jennifer's absence irritated him. He was upset and he wanted to talk to her, but he guessed she was off with her mother again. He flung himself down on the bed and turned on the news. Slowly he began to unwind.

The next thing Adam knew, he heard the front door close and for a moment thought he was back in Harmon's apartment.

“Well, well,” teased Jennifer. “Lying down on the job.”

Adam didn't answer.

“What's the matter?” she asked.

“I suppose you've been to Englewood,” Adam snapped unreasonably.