by Robin Cook
“I called Warren this morning right after I found out about it,” Jack explained. “I needed Flash’s work number so I could call him.”
“Whatever,” Laurie said. “So what’s the follow-up?”
“Not a whole heck of a lot,” Jack said. “I’m afraid the case has gotten mired in bureaucratic red tape. By the time I called Sanders with the news about the botulism, the body had been cremated. That means there will be no autopsy, a fact that’s going to be very embarrassing for the Brooklyn office to explain unless the information is not released. Anyway, it’s going to be up to Bingham what to do.”
“So that means the Department of Health has yet to be notified,” Laurie said.
“I imagine that’s true,” Jack said.
“Well, that’s terrible,” Laurie said.
“Why is it so terrible?” Warren questioned. “Connie’s already dead.”
“But no one knows where the botulinum toxin came from,” Laurie explained. “The real reason we medical examiners do what we do is to save lives. This situation with the botulism is a good example. There could be a source out there that’s going to kill other people.”
“Okay,” Warren said. “I see what you mean.”
“There’s another part of this that neither one of you knows,”
Jack said. “In the same neighborhood where Connie lived there’s been a major die-off of sewer rats.”
“No kidding,” Laurie said. “Are you implying they died of botulism, too?”
“Exactly,” Jack said. “The cause was just confirmed a few hours ago.”
“That means the source of the toxin that killed Connie went down the drain,” Laurie said.
“Or somehow the rats infected Connie,” Jack said. “Connie lived in an old, ramshackle cottage in a curious, anachronistic warren of others. You guys should see this little community. I have no idea of the adequacy of the plumbing, but judging from the exteriors and the haphazard way the cottages have been remodeled, I can’t believe that the plumbing could be state-of-the-art.”
Laurie shook her head. “I doubt that the plumbing had anything to do with this. It had to be the other way around. The toxin came from Connie’s house. And it must have been a substantial amount of it to kill all those rats. I wonder if Connie did any home canning.” Laurie looked to Warren.
Warren raised his hands. “Don’t look at me. I never met the woman.”
“Well,” Laurie commented, “all this emphasizes that someone knowledgeable about epidemiology had better look around Connie’s place for a source. At a minimum, her husband should be warned. If the source is still around, he’s certainly at risk.”
“I thought the same thing,” Jack said. “In fact, I went out there today around noon to do just that.”
“You talked to Yuri Davydov?” Warren questioned. “Does Flash know?”
“I didn’t see the man,” Jack said. “He wasn’t home. I met a neighbor who said Yuri was out driving his taxi and wouldn’t be home until nine or ten.”
Laurie glanced at her watch. “That means he’d be home now.”
“That’s true,” Jack said. “What are you suggesting?”
“Do you know the phone number?” Laurie asked.
“Yes, but it’s no use,” Jack said. “Mr. Davydov apparently has his phone off the hook.”
“When was the last time you tried?”
“This morning,” Jack admitted.
“I think it might be worth trying again,” Laurie said. She picked up her purse and got out her cellular phone. “What’s the number?”
“I don’t have it here,” Jack said. “It’s in the office.”
“I’ll try information,” Laurie said. “How do you spell Davydov?”
Laurie had no trouble getting the number. She checked with Jack concerning the address to be absolutely sure it was correct. When she dialed the number, she got a busy signal.
“So now you believe me?” Jack asked.
“I believed you before,” Laurie said. “I just thought it reasonable to give it a try. So we can’t call. That means we should run out there.”
“Now?” Jack questioned.
“If we wait and the man dies, how would you feel then?” Laurie questioned.
“Guilty, I suppose,” Jack said. “Okay, I’ll go, but it’s going to take some time. It’s way out on the other side of Brooklyn.”
“It shouldn’t take that long now,” Laurie said. “We can take the Brooklyn Battery Tunnel and the Shore Parkway. With no traffic, we’ll be there before we know it.”
“I’m not going,” Warren said. “Flash told me the guy’s a turd. I’ll leave this up to you professionals. Spit and I will call it a night.”
“That’s fine,” Laurie said. “We can take a cab.”
“No need,” Warren said. “You two take my wheels. I’ll go home with Spit. Doc, you know where to park it.”
“Are you sure?” Laurie asked.
“Of course I’m sure,” Warren said. “You guys enjoy yourselves. And when you come back to the neighborhood, don’t be concerned. There’s going to be someone out there all night keeping an eye on things.”
____________
TWENTY-ONE
Wednesday, October 20
10:30 P.M.
Yuri straightened up and stretched his back. He’d been busy reattaching the hopper to the Power Row Crop Duster out in the garage after having meticulously filled it with the anthrax powder. The whole procedure had taken almost two hours, including the time he’d had to spend in the lab inside the class A hazmat suit. But now it was done and the pest control truck was ready for its rendezvous with fate in the morning.
Yuri glanced at his watch and allowed himself to relax for the first time all evening. Ever since he’d managed to escape from crazy Curt and the others involved in the hair-raising pursuit of Jack Stapleton, Yuri had been in a minor panic. He’d been worried that he would not be able to complete everything he had to do by the eleven o’clock deadline he’d promised. But the worrying had been for naught. He was ready by ten-thirty, a half hour ahead of time. On the kitchen table were five one-pound plastic sausages stuffed with the light tan powder, waiting to be handed over to Curt and Steve. On top of them was the sealed envelope that Curt had requested. A heavy bath towel to pack them in was on the countertop.
After giving the side of the truck an appreciative pat for the role it was soon to play, Yuri glanced into the cab to make sure the keys were where he’d left them, hanging from the driver’s side visor. He wanted no stupid mistakes in the morning like forgetting where the keys were. He planned to leave for Manhattan at eight o’clock sharp with his suitcase, fake passport, and airline ticket.
Yuri walked over to the side door. After one more admiring look at the truck, he flipped off the light. Before he opened the door, he stuck his right hand in his jacket pocket to grip the Glock pistol. He was still afraid Flash Thomas might show up, although at that time of night he considered the chances slim. At least he didn’t have Jack Stapleton to worry about anymore.
As Yuri opened the door, he marveled that he’d not realized how truly crazy Curt was. Steve was weird, too, but not the way Curt was. Yuri knew he was no psychologist, but he imagined something terribly abnormal must have happened to Curt during his childhood to explain his personality. Yuri understood that Americans were covetous and violent and had little self-awareness, but Curt carried the traits to ridiculous extremes: his and only his view of the world was correct. But what really irritated Yuri was Curt’s anti-Slavic bias, which had become progressively more apparent as time had gone on.
Holding his key at the kitchen door, Yuri hesitated. Musing about Curt’s personality raised a worry that Yuri had not contemplated before. Considering Curt’s selfishness, what was going to keep him from making arrangements so that his People’s Aryan Army would get the credit for the whole bio-weapon event even if Curt and the others had nothing to do with the Central Park laydown?
“Chert,
” Yuri murmured when he realized the validity of this new worry. Up until that moment the idea had not entered his mind.
“Mr. Davydov?” a feminine voice called out.
Shocked to hear his name, Yuri looked toward the alleyway. Despite the proximity of the houses in the area, Yuri had always made it a point to avoid socializing with his neighbors. His hand tightened around the automatic.
“Excuse me! Are you Mr. Davydov?”
Yuri had to squint in the darkness. With his carriage light off and no streetlights, all he could make out were two figures in the alley beyond his chain-link fence. He relaxed when he could tell they were both white. At least it wasn’t Flash Thomas.
“Who wants to know?” Yuri asked.
“My name is Dr. Laurie Montgomery. If you are Mr. Davydov it is urgent I speak with you for just a few moments.”
Yuri shrugged. Holding onto the pistol and being sure it was free if he wanted to pull it out, he advanced toward his fence. He could see that the second individual was male.
“Sorry to bother you so late,” Laurie said. “I’m a medical examiner from Manhattan. Do you know what a medical examiner is?”
Yuri tried to speak but no words came out. Despite the darkness he recognized the other figure. It was Jack Stapleton!
Laurie took the silence for a negative response and went ahead and explained what medical examiners did.
Yuri swallowed with difficulty. He couldn’t believe he was looking at Jack Stapleton. What possibly could have happened? Why hadn’t he been informed? But then he remembered his phone was off the hook.
“And the reason we are here,” Laurie continued, “is because your late wife, Connie, apparently died of botulinum poisoning. Do you know what that is?”
Yuri nodded. He could hear his heart beating and was afraid the two people he was confronting could hear it as well. He was at a loss as to what to do. Should he try to get rid of them? Should he try to get them inside and wait for Curt? He had no idea.
“We’re very concerned that the source might still be in your home,” Laurie said. “Did your wife do any home canning?”
“I don’t know,” Yuri stammered.
“Well, that would be key to review,” Laurie persisted. “There are other possible culprits, like fresh garlic in oil. Frozen pot pies have been a source. By the way, are you Russian?”
“Yes,” Yuri managed.
“I thought perhaps you were from your accent,” Laurie said.
“Where in Russia are you from?” Jack asked, speaking for the first time.
“Ummm,” Yuri voiced with hesitation. Then he said, “Saint Petersburg.”
“I hear that’s a beautiful city,” Laurie said. “Anyway, there’s a kind of whitefish favored by Russian immigrants that have been known to have carried the toxin. Is that something you eat often?”
“Not too often,” Yuri said. He had no idea what Laurie was talking about.
“We’d very much like to come inside and take a look in your kitchen,” Laurie said. “I cannot emphasize enough how potentially serious this could be.”
“Well, I...” Yuri began.
“It will not take long,” Laurie said. “We promise. You see, we’ve come all the way out here from Manhattan. Of course, we could call the Department of Health. Now, they would insist about coming in and would have legal authority to do so.”
“I suppose it would be all right if it didn’t take too long,” Yuri said. He was beginning to recover from his initial shock. He certainly didn’t want any public health authorities coming out during the night armed with a warrant. Besides, he was beginning to think of a way of turning this surprise visit to his favor.
“Thank you,” Laurie said. She and Jack came through the gate.
Yuri preceded them back to the kitchen door. He opened it and stepped inside. Laurie and Jack followed.
Laurie’s eyes swept the cramped L-shaped room. “This is...” she began. She hesitated trying to think of a word until finally saying: “Cute.”
Jack nodded, but he was more interested in looking at Yuri. “That’s quite a rash you have there.”
Yuri touched his face with evident embarrassment. His other hand was still in his pocket, holding onto the Glock. “It’s some kind of allergic reaction.”
Jack tilted his head to the side and looked at Yuri with narrowed eyes. “Have I met you someplace?”
“Surely not,” Yuri said. He pointed to the kitchen. “All the food is right here.”
Laurie immediately went to the refrigerator and pulled the door open. She bent over and looked at the contents. There was very little.
Jack followed but was curious about the objects on the table. “What are these?” he questioned while poking one of the clear plastic sausages with his finger.
Yuri leaped forward. “Careful!” he cried. He then calmed when Jack pulled his hand away. “I don’t want those to break.”
“Sorry,” Jack said. “I didn’t touch it very hard. Is this some kind of Russian delicacy?”
“In a way,” Yuri said vaguely.
“Wait a second,” Jack said suddenly. “I remember you. But aren’t you from Sverdlovsk?”
“No, I’m from Saint Petersburg,” Yuri said.
“Didn’t I meet you in the Corinthian Rug Company office?” Jack asked. “I mean your neighbor, Yegor, told me you drove a taxi. Didn’t you come to the rug company to pick up Mr. Papparis?”
“It must have been someone else,” Yuri said uneasily.
“You’re the spitting image of this guy,” Jack said.
Laurie opened the freezer compartment of the refrigerator. All that was in it was a bottle of vodka and a tray of ice cubes.
“You don’t have much food in here,” Laurie commented.
“My wife ate fast food,” Yuri said. “I ate on the road.”
Laurie nodded. She opened the kitchen cabinets. Not finding anything suspicious, she stepped back and surveyed the tiny kitchen. “I don’t see any home-canning implements.”
“That’s all downstairs,” Yuri said.
Laurie turned to stare at the Russian. “So your wife did do some home food processing after all?”
“She used to,” Yuri said. “Now that I think about it.”
“Is there any of the food left?”
“I don’t know,” Yuri said. “I haven’t looked for a long time. She used to go down there often.”
“Could we see?” Laurie asked. She glanced at Jack, who made an expression of puzzled surprise.
“Why not?” Yuri said. He opened the door and descended.
Laurie and Jack exchanged confused glances and followed. By the time they got to the basement level, Yuri had the padlocked combination steel and heavy plywood door to the entry chamber open. He was inside unlocking the similarly stout door to the supply room.
Laurie and Jack stepped into the entry chamber. Their eyes took in the hazmat suit, the showerhead, and the plastic bottles of bleach. They smelled the distinct odor of chlorine in the air as well as the more subtle odor of fermentation. They heard the sound of the exhaust fan. They looked at each other in bewilderment.
Yuri was standing next to the door to the supply room. He pointed inside. “I think this is what you are looking for.”
Laurie and Jack stepped over to peer gingerly into the supply room. As they did so Yuri slipped behind them. They saw the petri dishes, the agar, the jars of nutrients, and the spare HEPA filters.
“How about stepping inside,” Yuri said.
Laurie and Jack turned to look at the Russian and gasped. Yuri had trained a gun on them.
“Please,” Yuri said in an even voice. “Step inside!”
“We’ve seen as much as we’d like to see,” Jack said airily, trying to sound unconcerned about the sudden appearance of the gun. He took a step forward, ahead of Laurie. “It’s time for us to be on our way.”
Yuri raised the gun and fired without hesitation. Upstairs, he’d been afraid to discharge the pisto
l for fear of disturbing the neighbors. But in the basement with the circulating fan going, he had no concern. Still, the noise had been deafening in the enclosed space. The bullet thudded into one of the floor joists. Dust rained down from the ancient floorboards above. Laurie screamed.
“The next time I aim,” Yuri said.
“No need to shoot again,” Jack said with a voice that had lost all pretense of buoyancy. Raising his hands to chest height, he backed up, forcing Laurie, who was between him and Yuri, into the storeroom. Jack stepped in as well.
“Move back from the door,” Yuri commanded.
Jack and Laurie did as they were told and pressed against the concrete wall. The blood had drained from both their faces, and they appeared as pale as the whitewash covering the cement.
Yuri came forward and closed the door. He fastened the hasp and locked the padlock, then stepped back and looked at the door. He’d designed it to keep people out, but he guessed it would work just as well to keep people in.
“Shouldn’t we discuss this?” Jack called through the door.
“Absolutely,” Yuri said. “Otherwise you couldn’t help me.”
“You’ll have to explain,” Jack said. “But we’re much better listeners and far more helpful when we don’t have to yell through a door.”
“You’re not coming out, probably for several days,” Yuri said. “So make yourself comfortable. There’s distilled water on the shelf, and I apologize for the lack of a toilet.”
“We appreciate your concern,” Jack said. “But I can assure you, we’d be far happier upstairs. We promise to behave ourselves.”
“Be quiet and listen!” Yuri said. He looked at his watch. It was going to eleven. “The first thing I want to say is that in a few minutes the People’s Aryan Army is going to be here. Does that name mean anything to you?”
“Indeed,” Jack said.
“Then I assume you know they want you dead,” Yuri said. “In fact, I’m surprised you are not dead, since I know they set out to kill you this afternoon. If they find out you are here, they will come down and shoot you for certain. I would prefer you stay alive.”
“Well, at least we agree on something,” Jack said.