Toxin

by Robin Cook

  The shock caused Kim to let go of the heavy hatch, and it slammed shut with a deafening crash in the confined space. The booming sound echoed repeatedly off distant, unseen concrete walls.

  “What happened?” Tracy demanded frantically.

  Before Kim could respond, a horrid screeching noise tortured both Kim’s and Tracy’s ears. The crashing hatch had activated some automatic machinery.

  Kim snatched up the light and shone it in the direction of the dreadful noise. He saw a rusted steel overhead door rising.

  Kim could hear Tracy repeatedly demand to be told what was going on, but he couldn’t answer her, he truly didn’t know. Behind the rising door was a filthy, forklift vehicle that suddenly came to life like a horrible, futuristic mechanical creature. Red lights on its front began to flash, washing the room with the color of blood.

  As soon as the overhead door reached its apogee, the driverless vehicle began to give off high-pitched, intermittent beeps as it rolled forward in a thunderous, jerky fashion. Terrified of the imminent collision, Kim leapt from the platform and pressed himself against the wall.

  The forklift crashed into the Dumpster, causing a boom even louder than the sound of the slamming hatch. The Dumpster shuddered and then raised. As the forklift backed up, the chute connecting the container with the head-boning room above became detached. When the Dumpster was completely free from the space, a second, empty Dumpster waiting next to the first slid into place with another thunderous crash. The chute automatically snapped into place.

  The forklift stopped, pivoted, then rumbled off into the inky blackness.

  “Kim, I don’t know if you can hear me or not,” Tracy shouted, “but I’m coming in!”

  “No!” Kim cried into his microphone. “I’m okay. I inadvertently activated some automatic removal equipment. I’m coming out, so don’t come in.”

  “You mean you’re coming out here to the car?” Tracy asked hopefully.

  “Yes,” Kim said. “I need a breather.”

  It wasn’t that Derek Leutmann didn’t trust Shanahan O’Brian, but he knew there was more to this aggravating story than he’d been told. Besides, Derek had a set methodology in his work. Killing people was a business in which one could not be too careful. Rather than going directly to Kim’s former wife’s house as Shanahan had initially suggested, Derek went to Kim’s. He wanted to test the reliability of Shanahan’s information as well as learn more about his supposed quarry.

  Derek drove into Balmoral Estates and directly to Kim’s property without hesitation. He knew from experience that such behavior was far less suspicious than cruising the neighborhood.

  Derek parked in the driveway in front of the garage. He opened his metal Zero Halliburton valise that was resting on the passenger seat next to him. Reaching in, he pulled out a nine-millimeter automatic from its custom-cut pocket in Styrofoam. With trained ease, he attached a silencer and then slipped the gun into the right pocket of his camel-hair coat. The pocket had been altered to accommodate the long weapon.

  Derek got out of the car, holding his ostrich briefcase. He took a quick peek into the garage. It was empty. Then he strode up the front walk, appearing for all the world like a successful businessman or an elegant insurance adjuster. He rang the bell. Only then did he glance around at the neighborhood. From Kim’s porch he could see only two other houses. Both appeared unoccupied at that moment.

  He rang the bell again. When no one answered, he tried the door. He was surprised but pleased to find it unlocked. Had it not been, it wouldn’t have made much difference. Derek had the tools and the expertise to handle most locks.

  Without a moment’s hesitation, Derek entered the house and closed the door behind himself. He stood for a moment, listening. There wasn’t a sound.

  Still carrying his briefcase, Derek made a rapid, silent tour of the first floor. He noticed some dirty dishes in the sink. They looked as though they’d been sitting awhile.

  Climbing up to the second floor, Derek saw the splintered door leading into the master bath. He took in the broken console table. Stepping into the bath, he felt the towels. It was clear that none had been recently used. So at least that much of Shanahan’s information seemed accurate.

  In the walk-in closet in the master bedroom he glanced down at all the clothes littering the floor. He couldn’t help but wonder exactly what had gone on during the botched hit that Shanahan had mentioned.

  Back down on the first floor Derek entered the study and sat down at Kim’s desk. Without removing his gloves, he began to go through some of the correspondence to see what he could learn about the man he had been brought all the way from Chicago to kill.

  Tracy had backed up so that she could see along the front of Higgins and Hancock. She’d thought about driving back to the entrance but was afraid to do so because she and Kim had not discussed where she’d be when he came out. She was afraid Kim might come out one of the other doors and then be searching for her.

  But she soon saw him emerge from the front door and jog in her direction. He was dressed in a white coat and had a yellow plastic construction helmet on his head. He ran up to the car, and after glancing back over his shoulder, he climbed into the backseat.

  “You’re paler than I’ve ever seen you,” Tracy said. She was turned around in her seat as much as the steering wheel would allow. “But I guess the blond hair emphasizes it.”

  “I’ve just seen one of the worst things in my life.”

  “What?” Tracy asked with alarm.

  “Marsha Baldwin’s head!” Kim said. “It’s probably all that’s left of her, along with a few bones. As disgusting as it sounds, I’m afraid most of her must have gone for hamburger.”

  “Oh, God!” Tracy murmured. Her eyes locked with Kim’s. She saw tears appear, and it made her respond in kind.

  “First Becky and now this,” Kim managed. “I feel so damn responsible. Because of me, one tragedy had to lead to another.”

  “I can understand how you feel,” Tracy offered. “But as I’ve already said, Marsha was doing what she wanted to do, what she thought was right. It doesn’t justify her death, but it’s not your fault.”

  Tracy reached out toward Kim. He took her hand and squeezed it. For a few moments a wordless but powerful communication passed between the two people.

  Tracy sighed, shook her head in despair, then took her hand back. She twisted around in the seat and started the engine. Before Kim had gotten to the car, she’d already hauled in the antenna.

  “One thing is for sure,” Tracy said, while putting the car into gear. “We’re getting out of here.”

  “No!” Kim said. He reached forward and put a restraining hand on her shoulder. “I’ve got to go back. I’m going to see this to the end. Now it’s for both Becky and Marsha.”

  “Kim, this now involves proven murder!” Tracy said evenly. “It’s time for the police.”

  “It’s only one murder,” Kim said. “And one murder pales against the murder of up to five hundred kids a year that this industry is guilty of in the name of increased profit.”

  “Responsibility for the children might be hard to prove in court,” Tracy said. “But finding the head of a person makes a startlingly clear case.”

  “I found the head, but I don’t know where it is now,” Kim said. “It was in with the cow heads, but when I slammed the cover, I activated the system to take them away. It’s on its way to the renderer. So there’d be no corpus delicti even if we wanted to blow the whistle on Marsha’s death. Obviously my word at the moment means nothing to the police.”

  “They can start their own investigation,” Tracy said. “Maybe they’ll find other bones.”

  “Even if they did,” Kim said, “the issue here is not to prosecute one low-level thug like the guy who tried to kill me. It’s the industry I want to do something about.”

  Tracy sighed again and turned off the engine. “But why go back now? You’ve accomplished what you set out to do. You’ve learned t
hat it will be easy to document how the meat gets contaminated.” Tracy tapped the tape recorder. “This tape alone might be almost as good as a video. I can tell you it’s powerful stuff the way you described what’s going on in there. I’m sure Kelly Anderson will jump on it.”

  “I want to go back mainly because I’ll be working the three-to-eleven cleanup as you heard,” Kim said. “I’m hoping that sometime during that shift I can get into the record room. Marsha found what she called a ‘deficiency report’ that involved the head of a sick animal. She said she was putting it back into the file, and I heard her do it. I want to find that paper.”

  Tracy shook her head in frustration. “You’re taking too much of a risk,” she said. “If Kelly Anderson gets on the case, let her find the deficiency report.”

  “I don’t think I’m taking any risk at this point,” Kim said. “The guy with the knife looked me right in the eye in the men’s room. If I were to be recognized, that would have been the moment. In fact, I don’t even want this gun anymore.”

  Kim struggled to get the pistol out of his pants pocket. He handed it to Tracy.

  “At least keep the gun,” Tracy said.

  Kim shook his head. “No, I don’t want it.”

  “Please,” Tracy said.

  “Tracy, I’m carrying enough stuff with these battery packs,” Kim said. “And I think having it is more of a risk than a comfort.”

  Reluctantly Tracy took the gun and put it down on the car floor. “I can’t talk you out of going back in there?”

  “I want to follow this through,” Kim said. “It’s the least I can do.”

  “I hope you understand that sitting here while you are taking all this risk is driving me crazy.”

  “I can understand,” Kim said. “Why don’t you go home and just come back for me at eleven?”

  “Oh, no!” Tracy said. “That would be worse. At least this way I can hear what’s going on.”

  “Okay,” Kim said. “It’s your call. But I’d better get back. The lunch break is almost over.”

  Kim got his legs out of the car before leaning back inside. “Can I ask you to do something sometime this afternoon?” he said.

  “Of course,” Tracy said. “As long as I don’t have to leave the car.”

  “Would you call Sherring Labs with your cell phone?” Kim asked. “Ask about the results on the meat I dropped off. They should be ready about now.”

  “Fine,” Tracy said.

  Kim gave her shoulder a squeeze. “Thanks,” he said before climbing out. He closed the door, waved, and walked away.

  Derek Leutmann slowed down as he neared Tracy’s house. The numbers on some of the neighboring houses were not very apparent, and he did not want to drive by. As the house came into view he saw the Mercedes parked at the head of the drive. Not wishing to block it, Derek did a U-turn and parked across the street.

  Taking out the information sheet given to him by Shanahan, Derek checked the license number of the Mercedes. His suspicions were substantiated. It was the doctor’s car.

  After going through the same preparations as he’d done outside of Kim’s house, Derek emerged into the light rain that had begun to fall. He snapped open a small, collapsible umbrella before taking out his briefcase. With the briefcase in one hand and the umbrella in the other, he crossed the street and glanced into the car. He was surprised to see it there, thinking that it should have been with Kim at his office. Of course that suggested Kim was not at his office.

  Derek knew a lot more about Kim now than he did earlier. He knew that he was a cardiac surgeon who was extremely well regarded. He knew that he was divorced and was paying considerable alimony and child support. What he didn’t know was why O’Brian and his boss in the cattle business wanted the man dead.

  Derek had asked Shanahan that very question and had gotten a vague answer. Derek never wanted to know the details of any of his client’s dealings with a potential mark, but he wanted to know the generalities. It was another way of reducing risk not only during the hit but after. He’d tried to press Shanahan but to no avail. All he was told was that it involved business. The curious thing was that Derek had found no connection between the doctor and cattle or beef, and Derek had found a lot of information in the doctor’s desk.

  Most of Derek’s work stemmed from problems involving money in some form or fashion with competition, gambling, divorce, and unpaid loans leading the list. Most of the people were scum whether they were clients or marks, and Derek liked it that way. This case seemed significantly different, and a sense of curiosity was added to Derek’s other strong emotions. What Derek disliked the most was to be underestimated and taken advantage of. He’d not gotten into the business in the usual way via mob association. He’d been a mercenary in Africa back in the days when there had been good guys and bad guys, before any of the national armies had had any training.

  Derek climbed the steps to the porch and rang the bell. With Kim’s car in the drive he expected an answer, but there wasn’t any. Derek rang again. He turned and surveyed the neighborhood. It was quite different from Kim’s. From where Derek was standing he had a good view of five houses and a reasonable view of four more. But there was not a lot of activity. The only person he saw was a woman pushing a stroller, and she was heading away from him.

  Despite a painstaking search of Kim’s correspondence and records, Derek had failed to come up with any evidence suggesting the doctor had a gambling problem, so Derek reasoned that gambling couldn’t have been the stimulus for Shanahan’s offering him the contract. Divorce was out because the former wife had gotten a good settlement. Besides, she and the doctor were apparently getting along fine. Otherwise she certainly wouldn’t have bailed him out of jail as Shanahan reported. A loan seemed equally unlikely since there had been no indication in Kim’s records that he needed money, and even if he had, why would he borrow from a cattleman? That left competition. But that was the most unlikely of all. Kim didn’t even own any stock in the beef industry except for a few shares in a fast-food hamburger chain. It was indeed a mystery.

  Derek turned around and examined the door. It was secured with a standard throw-bolt and lock, a mere inconvenience given his experience. The question was whether there was an alarm.

  Putting down his briefcase, Derek cupped his hands to peer through the sidelight. He saw no keypad. Taking out his locksmith tools from his left pocket, he made quick work of the locks. The door opened and swung inside. He looked along the inside of the jamb. There were no contacts. Stepping within the small foyer, he looked for a keypad on the portion of the walls that he’d not been able to see from the porch. There was none. Then he glanced up around the cornice for motion detectors. He relaxed. There was no alarm.

  Derek retrieved his briefcase before closing the door. He made a rapid tour of the first floor before climbing to the second. In the guestroom he found a small overnight bag with a shaving kit and clothes he guessed belonged to Kim. In the only bathroom he found several sets of damp towels.

  Derek went back downstairs and made himself comfortable in the living room. With Kim’s car in the driveway and his things in the guestroom, Derek knew that the doctor would be back. It was only a matter of waiting.

  Carlos butted the unsuspecting Adolpho out of the way and got his time card into the time clock before his partner. It was an ongoing joke they’d been playing for months.

  “I’ll get you next time,” Adolpho joked. He made a point of speaking in English because Carlos had told him he wanted to learn to speak better.

  “Yeah, over my dead body,” Carlos replied. It was one of his favorite new phrases.

  It had been Adolpho who’d gotten Carlos to come to Higgins and Hancock and then helped him bring his family. Adolpho and Carlos had known each other since they were kids back in Mexico. Adolpho had come to the United States several years before Carlos.

  The two friends emerged into the afternoon rain arm-in-arm. Along with an army of other workers, they headed f
or their vehicles.

  “You want to meet tonight at El Toro?” Adolpho questioned.

  “Sure,” Carlos said.

  “Bring a lot of pesos,” Adolpho advised. “You’re going to lose a lot of money.” He mimed using a cue stick to shoot pool.

  “It will never happen,” Carlos said, slapping his partner on the back. It was at that moment that Carlos saw the black Cherokee with its darkly tinted windows. The vehicle was next to his own and fumes were rising languidly from its exhaust pipe.

  Carlos gave Adolpho a final pat on the back. He watched his partner get into his truck before Carlos headed for his own. Carlos took his time and waved to Adolpho as he drove by. At that point, he detoured toward the Cherokee and approached the driver’s-side window.

  The window went down. Shanahan smiled. “I got some good news,” he said. “Come around and get in.”

  Carlos did as he was told. He shut the door behind him.

  “You’re going to have another chance to do the doctor,” Shanahan said.

  “I’m very happy,” Carlos said. He smiled too. “When?”

  “Tonight,” Shanahan said. “The doctor is working here.”

  “I told you,” Carlos said. “I knew it was him.”

  “There’s been a bit of luck,” Shanahan said with a nod. “And best of all he’s working the cleanup tonight. It will be arranged that he will clean the men’s room next to the record room. Do you know where that is? I don’t. I’ve never been in Higgins and Hancock.”

  “Yeah, I know where it is,” Carlos said. “We’re not supposed to use that room.”

  “Well, tonight you will,” Shanahan said with a wry smile. “It will be late, probably after ten. Make sure you’re there.”

  “I’ll be there,” Carlos promised.

  “It should be easy,” Shanahan said. “You’ll be dealing with an unarmed, unsuspecting person in a small room. Just make sure the body disappears like Marsha Baldwin.”