Vector

by Robin Cook

  Jack glanced to the sidelines to see the heavily muscled Warren Wilson dribbling a ball in and out between his legs. His shaved head gleamed in the glare of the overhead lights.

  He was standing with a pack of other fellows waiting to get into the game.

  “I don’t have time,” Jack called back.

  Warren detached himself from the others and started toward Jack. He was joined by Flash, one of the taller players whose level of ability was about on a par with Jack’s. Warren was a quantum leap above both of them.

  Jack nodded a greeting to Flash, who returned the gesture. Since their B-ball talent was roughly equivalent, they frequently covered each other when they were on opposing teams. Flash had the irritating knack of scoring on Jack when games were close, often winning the game. The situation had spawned a friendly rivalry.

  “What do you mean you ain’t got time?” Warren questioned as he leaned up against the fence. “You weren’t out here much last week. Seems to me you’re getting your priorities screwed up. What are you doing, letting work interfere?” He loved to tease Jack about their differing philosophies as to what was important in life.

  “I have to meet Laurie across town at eight-thirty,” Jack said.

  “We’ve got winners,” Flash said. He had a particularly deep, rich baritone voice. “It’s going to be me, Warren, Spit, and Ron. We got room for one more if you could get your ass down here in record time. It’d be a killer matchup.”

  “You’re tempting me,” Jack admitted.

  “We’re going to sweep this team that’s winning at the moment,” Warren said. “It’s going to be a new dynasty. But, hey, we shouldn’t keep you from your shortie.”

  Jack glanced at his watch and then over at the game in progress. He was tempted, but there was no way he could do it without arriving late at Elio’s, even if he played only one game. Ultimately he had to shake his head. “Sorry, not tonight.”

  “Natalie’s been ragging me about getting together with you and Laurie,” Warren said. “You guys have been making yourselves scarce.”

  “I’ll say something to Laurie,” Jack promised, although he couldn’t be optimistic, not without knowing her current secret, especially if she was moving to someplace like the West Coast. The thought of Laurie leaving made him wince.

  “Hey, man, you okay?” Warren asked. He leaned forward and regarded Jack through the fence.

  “Yeah, sure,” Jack said, yanking himself out of his momentary worry.

  “Are you and Laurie cool?” Warren questioned. “I mean, you people aren’t having words, are you?”

  “No, we’re cool,” Jack fibbed. The truth of the matter was that he and Laurie had not spent much time together over the last month or so.

  “I think you’d better get yourself out here for a run as soon as you can,” Warren said. “You look all wound up to me.”

  “You’re right! I need a run,” Jack agreed. “Tomorrow night for sure.”

  Jack said his goodbyes and then rode diagonally across the street to his building. Knowing he would be going right back out, he locked his bike to the railing on the building’s front steps. Then he went up to his apartment and climbed into the shower.

  After the shower Jack scanned his limited wardrobe for something to wear, only to get mad at himself for such stupid indecision. He couldn’t remember the last time he had trouble deciding about clothes. Ultimately he donned his usual jeans, blue chambray shirt, darker blue knitted tie, and tweed jacket with leather patches on the elbows. After a quick brush of his short hair to encourage it all to go in the direction it preferred, Jack went back down to the street and retrieved his bicycle.

  The ride across the park was uneventful. He went south on Fifth Avenue until Eighty-fourth Street, which he took over to Second. The restaurant was just a few doors up from the corner. With slightly tremulous fingers Jack secured his bike with the requisite number of locks. As he entered the restaurant, he wondered why he was as anxious as he was.

  Elio’s was crowded. To Jack’s left the small bar was five people deep. To his right were a group of tables with the usual complement of TV personalities having their dinners. Pushing his way deeper into the restaurant, Jack scanned the other diners for Laurie’s familiar face and burnished auburn hair. He didn’t see her.

  “Can I help you?” a voice asked over the din. There was the slightest guttural hint of a German accent.

  Jack turned to face the smiling maître d’.

  “We’ve a reservation, I assume,” Jack said.

  “And the name?”

  “Montgomery, I suppose,” Jack said.

  The host consulted his list. “Ah, yes, of course. Miss Montgomery is not here yet, but one of the other members of your party is. He’s at the bar. I’ll have your table in a moment.”

  Jack worked his way among the standing clientele, heading in the general direction of the bar. He saw Lou sitting on one of the tall stools, clutching a beer and intermittently pulling on a cigarette. Jack touched him on the arm. Lou glanced up at him with a hangdog expression.

  “You don’t look happy,” Jack said.

  Lou guiltily stubbed out his cigarette. “I’m not. I’m concerned. You got me worried about Laurie when you talked to me this morning. Since I was with her a good part of the day, I couldn’t help but notice that she was acting weird, like she was all gassed up about something. When I finally got up the courage to ask her what was up, she just laughed and said I’d find out tonight. I’m afraid she might be leaving town. I’m thinking she got a job someplace else. You medical examiners are in demand. I know that for a fact.”

  Jack couldn’t suppress a smile. Looking at Lou was like looking in a mirror, and the image was pathetic. Obviously, Lou had been torturing himself with the same possibility.

  “Go ahead and laugh at me,” Lou said. “I deserve it.”

  “Hey, I’m not laughing at you. I’m laughing at us. I had the exact same thought. In fact I even picked a place: the West Coast.”

  “Seriously?”

  Jack nodded.

  “I don’t know whether that makes me feel better or worse,” Lou said. “It’s nice to have company, but it probably means we’re right.”

  Jack leaned back so he could get a better look at Lou. He was impressed. The detective had shaved to remove his usual five o’clock shadow and had even pomaded his hair so that it still looked wet from the shower along the edges of his knife-sharp part. Gone was the rumpled sport jacket and baggy pants. In their place was a crisply pressed suit, a freshly laundered shirt, and a newly knotted tie. Most astounding of all, he’d polished his shoes.

  “I’ve never seen you in a suit before,” Jack commented. “You look like you belong in a magazine, and I’m not talking about True Detective.”

  “I usually only wear it to funerals,” Lou said.

  “That’s a happy thought,” Jack responded.

  “Excuse me,” the maître d’said at Jack’s elbow. “Your table is ready. Would you men like to sit down or do you want to stay here at the bar?”

  “We’ll sit down,” Jack said without hesitation. He was eager to get away from the second-hand cigarette smoke.

  The table was in the far back corner and to get there required some deft maneuvers, since as many tables as possible were crowded into the room. No sooner had Jack and Lou wedged themselves into their seats than a waiter appeared with an iced bottle of champagne plus two pricey bottles of Brunello. He immediately proceeded to open the champagne.

  “Whoa!” Jack said to the man. “You got the wrong table. We haven’t ordered anything yet.”

  “Isn’t this the Montgomery party?” the waiter asked. He had a Spanish accent and an old-fashioned handlebar mustache. Even though Elio’s was an Italian restaurant, it had a decidedly cosmopolitan staff.

  “Yeah, but...” Jack said.

  “Then it’s been ordered,” the waiter said. He popped the cork and nestled the bottle back into its ice bucket. He then uncorked the tw
o bottles of wine.

  “This looks like a good wine,” Jack commented as he picked up one of the wine bottles and glanced at the label.

  “Oh, very good!” the waiter agreed. “I’ll be back with the glasses.”

  Jack looked over at Lou. “This isn’t the jug wine I usually drink.”

  “I’m getting more nervous,” Lou said. “Laurie’s the thrifty sort.”

  “You got a point,” Jack agreed. Whenever they went out, Laurie always insisted on paying her own way.

  As soon as the waiter came back with the glasses, he proceeded to pour some champagne for Jack and Lou. Jack tried to say that they’d wait for Miss Montgomery, but the waiter insisted he was following the lady’s orders.

  After the waiter departed Jack picked up his flute. Lou did the same. They touched glasses although neither spoke. Jack tried to think of a toast but nothing appropriate or witty came to mind. Silently they tasted the sparkling wine.

  “I suppose it’s good,” Lou said. “But I’ve never been a big fan of champagne. I think of it more as something to squirt around at athletic victories.”

  “My feeling exactly,” Jack said. He took another sip and as he did, he caught sight of Laurie over the rim of his long-stemmed glass. She was dressed in a snug black velvet pants suit that outlined her undeniably shapely female form. A triple-stranded pearl necklace was clasped around her neck. To Jack she looked absolutely radiant. So much so that he momentarily choked on his champagne.

  Both Jack and Lou struggled to their feet. The quarters were so tight that Lou nudged the table enough to spill his glass of champagne. Luckily Jack was still holding his.

  “Oh, what a klutz!” Lou complained.

  Laurie laughed, grabbed a napkin, and wiped up the spilled wine. The waiter appeared instantly to lend a hand.

  “Thank you both for coming,” Laurie said. She gave each a peck on the cheek.

  It was at that point that Jack realized Laurie was not alone. Coming up behind her was a darkly tanned, olive-complected man with thick, wavy hair and a mouth full of startlingly white teeth. He wasn’t too much taller than Laurie’s five feet five inches, but he projected a confident and powerful air. Jack guessed he was close to his own age. He was dressed in a dark silk suit that made Lou’s look as if it had come off a rack in a bargain basement. A bright foulard pocket square ballooned from his breast pocket.

  “I want you to meet Paul Sutherland,” Laurie said. Her voice quavered as if she was nervous.

  Jack shook hands with the man after Lou. As their eyes met, Jack had trouble telling where the man’s irises stopped and his pupils began. It was like looking into the depths of black marbles. His handshake was firm and resolute.

  “Why are we standing?” Laurie asked.

  Paul responded by instantly pulling Laurie’s chair out from the table. Once Laurie was sitting the others followed suit. The waiter quickly filled the champagne glasses.

  “I’d like to propose a toast,” Laurie said. “To friends.”

  “Hear, hear! “ Paul echoed.

  They all touched glasses and drank.

  There was a brief uncomfortable silence. Jack and Lou had no idea why Laurie had brought a stranger to their dinner party and were afraid to ask.

  “Well,” Laurie said finally. “What a day this has been, wouldn’t you say, Lou?”

  “Absolutely,” Lou agreed.

  “I hope you don’t mind a little shop talk, Paul,” Laurie said. “That skinhead case I mentioned to you earlier had Lou and me tied up for most of the day.”

  “Not at all,” Paul said. “I’m sure I’ll be fascinated. That old TV show about a medical examiner was one of my favorites.”

  “Paul is a businessman,” Laurie explained.

  Both Jack and Lou nodded in unison. Jack expected more of an explanation of what type of businessman, but Laurie changed the subject: “I learned more today about the violent far right than I wanted to know,” she said. “Particularly about right-wing militias and skinheads.”

  “I didn’t know anything about the role of music in the skinhead movement,” Lou said.

  “What amazes me and scares me is that this militia movement is nationwide,” Laurie said. “Special Agent Gordon Tyrrell estimates there are some forty thousand armed survivalists spread across the country waiting for God knows what.”

  “I think they’re waiting for the government to implode from the weight of its huge bureaucracy,” Paul said. “Sort of like a neutron star. Then the survivalists will be in a position not only to survive but also to take over.”

  “They’re not above helping it along,” Laurie said. “Agent Tyrrell said that undermining the government has become the rationale for violence now that the Soviet Union is no longer the archetypal enemy.”

  “Revenge is also a rationale,” Lou said. “Consider Timothy McVeigh. He was apparently trying to get back at the government for the raid on the Branch Davidians in Waco, Texas.”

  “Back then I was under the delusion that Timothy McVeigh was an anomaly,” Laurie said. “But it’s not true, and that’s the terrifying part. There are forty thousand potential Timothy McVeighs out there. No one knows where one will strike next and on what pretense.”

  “Or with what,” Jack said. “Remember the lecture we got from Stan Thornton and the Office of Emergency Management? It’s not inconceivable for one of those nuts to get his hands on a weapon of mass destruction.”

  “God help us if that were ever to happen,” Laurie said.

  “Gordon Tyrrell doesn’t think it’s a question of if,” Lou said. “His anti-terrorism department thinks the question is when. Just think of all the nuclear weapons that are not entirely accounted for in what used to be the Soviet Union.”

  “Let’s order our dinners,” Laurie said with a dejected shake of her head. “If we talk about this much longer, I’m going to lose my appetite.”

  The waiter came over to the table the moment he was summoned. He rattled off an impressive list of specials while divvying up the rest of the champagne. Once everyone had ordered, he disappeared into the kitchen.

  “I’ve one last question about your skinhead case,” Jack said to Laurie. “Did you find anything at autopsy that was helpful for the FBI?”

  Laurie sighed and glanced at Lou. “Not really. What do you say, Lou?”

  “Your impression that the stab wounds were made with a knife with a serrated upper edge might help,” Lou said. “Provided the knife turns up. Also the bullet you took out of the brain might be useful, but it’s hard to say at this point until ballistics looks at it. The fact that the crucifying nails were of Polish manufacture is not going to be any help because I’ve already found out they’re widely distributed.”

  “So this PAA or People’s Aryan Army is still a metropolitan unknown?” Jack asked.

  “I’m afraid so,” Lou said. “The only reassuring part is that Internet traffic concerning them has suddenly dropped off. We’re hoping that means whatever they’d been planning has been canceled.”

  “Let’s hope so,” Jack said.

  The appetizers began to arrive and the red wine was poured. The four concentrated on their food and for a time, conversation was minimal. Jack surreptitiously eyed Laurie but was unable to make any eye contact.

  “Tell us about your case today,” Laurie said to Jack. “I heard it was another interesting one.”

  Jack had to clear his throat. “Surprising yes, interesting ... somewhat. It was a case of inhalation anthrax.”

  “Anthrax?” Lou questioned with obvious interest. “That’s a potential bioweapon.”

  “It is indeed,” Jack agreed. “But fortunately or unfortunately, depending on your point of view, this case has a more prosaic origin. The victim had just imported a bunch of rugs from Turkey, where the disease is endemic. He’s apparently the only victim and the rugs are safely locked up in a warehouse in Queens. End of story. I couldn’t even get a rise out of the city epidemiologist.”

  “
Thank the Lord for small favors,” Laurie said.

  “Amen,” Lou added.

  The entrees arrived, and while the foursome ate their dinners the conversation stayed on neutral ground. The delay in addressing the real issue, whatever it was, only made Jack’s curiosity and anxiety mount. Adding to his anxiety was the subtle and, he couldn’t help but feel, inappropriate familiarity between Laurie and Paul. He noticed it in the way she touched his arm or the way he dabbed at the corner of her mouth with his napkin. In Jack’s mind these small intimacies were inappropriate because he knew she couldn’t have known the man long.

  Finally, over coffee, Laurie cleared her throat and tapped her waterglass gently with her fork. Paul assumed a self-satisfied smile and leaned back. It was obvious that from his point of view this was Laurie’s party.

  “I guess you guys must wonder why I invited you here tonight,” Laurie began.

  No, the thought has never entered my mind, Jack said to himself while his pulse quickened.

  “I don’t quite know how to tell you this but...” Laurie looked at Paul, who shrugged his shoulders as if to say he didn’t know either.

  Out with it before I barf, Jack said silently.

  “First of all, I owe you both an apology,” Laurie said. She looked alternately at Jack and Lou. “I’m sorry I had to call you so early in the morning. At least early for your time.”

  Jack blinked. Laurie had lost him. Why was their time different from her time?

  “The explanation is that I was calling from Paris, France,” Laurie said. “Paul and I had gone there for the weekend, and we were waiting to board the Concorde to come back to New York.”

  Paul nodded, confirming this startling story.

  “Paul had business in Paris,” Laurie continued. “He was nice enough to invite me to go along. It was quite a weekend.” She looked over at Paul and extended her right hand. He took it lovingly.

  Jack smiled over gritted teeth. He suddenly saw Paul as a snake in the grass who’d managed to win Laurie with this grand, gallant gesture: a weekend in Paris.