Toxin

by Robin Cook

  At such close range, both of Tracy’s wild shots had found their mark. One had gone through Carlos’s right eye to exit out the back of his skull. The other had hit him in the right chest, which explained the blood all over Tracy.

  The man was foaming at the mouth and jerking uncoordinatedly. It was clear to Kim he was about to die.

  “Is he hurt?” Tracy managed. Wincing against the pain in her chest, she pushed herself to a sitting position.

  “He’s as good as dead,” Kim said. He stood up and began searching for the gun.

  “Oh, no!” Tracy moaned. “I can’t believe it. I can’t believe I killed someone.”

  “Where’s the gun?” Kim demanded.

  “Oh, God!” Tracy managed. She couldn’t take her eyes off Carlos who was agonally choking.

  “The gun!” Kim snapped. He got down on his hands and knees. He found Carlos’s knife but not the gun. Moving over to the stalls, he bent down again. At last he saw it behind the first toilet. Reaching in, he pulled it out.

  Stepping over to the sink, he grabbed a paper towel and wiped the weapon clean.

  “What are you doing?” Tracy asked through anguished tears.

  “Getting rid of your fingerprints,” Kim said. “I want only my prints on this thing.”

  “Why?” Tracy demanded.

  “Because whatever comes of this mess, I’m taking responsibility,” Kim said. He gripped the weapon, then tossed it aside. “Come on! We’re getting out of here!”

  “No!” Tracy said. She went after the gun. “I’m in this as much as you.”

  Kim grabbed her and pulled her upright. “Don’t be foolish! I’m the accused felon here. Let’s go!”

  “But it was in self-defense,” Tracy complained tearfully. “It’s terrible, but it’s justifiable.”

  “We can’t trust what kind of spin the legal profession might put on this,” Kim said. “You’re trespassing and I’m here under false pretenses. Come on! I don’t want to argue now!”

  “Shouldn’t we stay here until the police come?” Tracy asked.

  “No way,” Kim said. “I’m not going to sit in jail while this all gets sorted out. Come on now, let’s go before anybody gets here.”

  Tracy doubted the wisdom of fleeing the scene but she could also tell that Kim’s mind was made up. She let herself be led from the men’s room. Kim looked up and down the hall, surprised that the shots had not brought any of his cleaning crew colleagues.

  “How did you get in here?” Kim whispered.

  “Through the record-room window,” Tracy said. “The same window you broke.”

  “Good,” Kim said. He took Tracy’s hand. Together they dashed to the record-room door. Just as they were entering, they heard approaching voices.

  Kim motioned for Tracy to be silent as he quietly closed and locked the door. In the darkness they first went to the library table, where Kim snatched up the incriminating papers. Then they made their way to the window. Through the wall, they heard commotion in the men’s room followed by running footsteps down the hall.

  Kim climbed out first. Then he helped Tracy. Together they dashed for Tracy’s car.

  “Let me drive,” Kim said. He jumped behind the wheel while Tracy got into the backseat. He started the car and drove quickly out of the parking lot.

  For a while they drove in silence.

  “Who could have guessed it would have turned out like this,” Tracy said at last. “What do you think we should do?”

  “Maybe you had the right idea back there,” Kim said. “Maybe we should have called the police ourselves and faced the consequences. I suppose it’s not too late to turn ourselves in, although I think we should call Justin Devereau first.”

  “I’ve changed my mind,” Tracy said. “I think your first instinct was correct. You’d certainly go to jail and probably me too, and it would probably be a year before there even was a trial. And then who knows what would happen? After the O.J. Simpson case I have zero confidence in the American court system. We don’t have a million dollars to throw away on Johnny Cochrane or Barry Scheck.”

  “What are you implying?” Kim asked. He cast a quick glance at Tracy in the rearview mirror. She never failed to surprise him.

  “What we talked about last night,” Tracy said. “Let’s go far away and deal with this mess from abroad. Someplace where the food is uncontaminated so we could continue our fight against that issue as well.”

  “Are you serious?” Kim asked.

  “Yes, I’m serious,” Tracy said.

  Kim shook his head. They’d mentioned the idea and even had their passports, but he’d truly not taken it seriously. In his mind it had been more of a desperate scheme of last resort, something to consider in a worst-case scenario. Of course, thanks to the killing, he had to admit things couldn’t have turned out much worse than they had.

  “Of course we should call Justin,” Tracy added. “He’ll have some good suggestions. He always does. Maybe he’ll know where we should go. There are probably some legal issues relating to extradition and all that.”

  “You know what I like best about the idea of us going to a foreign country?” Kim said after a few minutes of silence. He looked up to make eye contact with Tracy in the rearview mirror.

  “What’s that?” Tracy asked.

  “That you’re suggesting we do it together,” Kim said.

  “Well, of course,” Tracy said.

  “You know,” Kim said. “Maybe we shouldn’t have gotten divorced.”

  “I have to admit the idea has crossed my mind,” Tracy said.

  “Maybe something good will come from all this tragedy,” Kim said.

  “If we did get remarried, I know we couldn’t have another Becky, but it would be nice to have another child.”

  “You’d really want to?” Kim asked.

  “I’d like to try.”

  Silence again reigned for a time as the former lovers struggled with their emotions.

  “How long do you think we will have before the authorities catch up with us?” Tracy asked.

  “It’s hard to say,” Kim said. “If you’re asking to know how long we have before we have to make up our minds about what we’re going to do, I’d say we don’t have much time. I think we have to decide in twenty-four to forty-eight hours.”

  “At least that allows us time for Becky’s services tomorrow,” Tracy said, choking up all over again.

  Kim felt tears arise in his own eyes with the mention of Becky’s imminent funeral. Despite his best efforts to avoid facing it, Kim could no longer deny the horrible fact that his beloved daughter was gone.

  “Oh, God!” Tracy whimpered. “When I close my eyes I can see the face of the man I shot. It’s something I’ll never be able to forget. It’ll haunt me the rest of my life.”

  Kim wiped the tears off his cheek and took an uneven breath to pull himself together. “You have to concentrate on what you said back in the men’s room. It was justified. If you hadn’t pulled the trigger and shot him, he would surely have killed you. And then he would have killed me. You saved my life.”

  Tracy closed her eyes.

  It was after eleven o’clock when they pulled into Tracy’s driveway and parked behind Kim’s car. They were both completely drained: physically, mentally, and emotionally.

  “I hope you’re planning on staying here tonight,” Tracy said.

  “I was hoping I was still invited,” Kim said.

  They got out of the car. Arm-in-arm they walked up the path toward the house.

  “Do you think we should call Justin tonight?” Tracy asked.

  “Let’s wait until morning,” Kim said. “As wired as I am, I don’t know whether I’ll be able to sleep, but I need to try. At this point I really can’t think much beyond taking a long, hot shower.”

  “I know what you mean,” Tracy said.

  They climbed onto the porch. Tracy got out her key and opened the door. She stepped inside and made way for Kim. She closed the door
and locked it. Only then did her hand grope for the light switch.

  “Wow, that seems bright,” Kim said, squinting at the overhead light.

  Tracy used the dimmer to cut the glare.

  “I’m a basket case,” Kim admitted. He slipped out of his Higgins and Hancock white coat and held it out at arm’s length. “This thing should be burned. It’s probably got E. coli plastered all over it.”

  “Just throw it away,” Tracy said. “But it’s probably best to throw it in the trash barrel outside in the back. I can only imagine what it’s going to smell like in the morning.” She took off her own coat and winced at the pain in her chest. Something hard had struck her just to the left of her sternum when Carlos had collided with her. At the time the pain had been so acute she’d thought she’d been stabbed.

  “Are you all right?” Kim asked seeing her reaction.

  Gingerly Tracy felt along the edge of her breastbone. “Is there anything that can break in here?” she asked.

  “Of course,” Kim said. “You could have fractured either a rib or the sternum itself.”

  “Oh, great!” Tracy said. “What should I do, Doctor?”

  “Some ice wouldn’t hurt,” Kim said. “I’ll get some after getting rid of this white coat.”

  Kim started for the back door via the kitchen. Tracy opened the hall closet and hung up her coat and kicked off her shoes. After closing the door, she started for the stairs. Halfway she suddenly froze and let out a screeching gasp.

  Kim had only made it to the threshold of the kitchen when he heard Tracy’s cry. He came running back. He was relieved to discover her unharmed in the center of the front hall. She was calm, but she seemed oddly transfixed at something in the living room. Kim tried to follow her line of sight. At first he saw nothing and was perplexed. But then he too saw what she was looking at. He was equally as startled.

  In the shadows of the half-darkened room was a man. He was sitting motionless in the wing chair next to the fireplace. He was dressed in a dark suit and tie. A camel-hair coat was draped carefully over the back of the chair. His legs were casually crossed.

  The man reached up and turned on a floor lamp.

  Tracy let out another plaintive whine. On the coffee table in plain sight and within the man’s easy reach was a black automatic pistol with an attached silencer.

  The man was the picture of serenity, which only made him that much more terrifying. After turning on the light, his hand returned to the armrest. His expression was stern, almost cruel.

  “You have made me wait much longer than I had intended,” he said suddenly, breaking the silence. His voice was angrily accusatory.

  “Who are you?” Tracy asked hesitantly.

  “Come in here and sit down!” he snapped.

  Kim looked to his left, judging how quickly he might be able to shove Tracy behind the arched wall of the foyer and possibly out of harm’s way. He didn’t see how he could be quick enough especially since she’d then have to get out the front door.

  Derek responded to their hesitation by snapping up the handgun and training it on them.

  “Don’t aggravate me further!” he warned. “This has been a bad day, and I’m in a cross mood. I’ll give you two seconds to come in here and sit on the couch.”

  Kim swallowed hard, but his voice came out in a hoarse whisper. “I think we’d better sit down.”

  Kim urged Tracy forward while he berated himself for not having checked the house when they’d arrived. He’d made the effort that morning to be able to tell if anyone had come in while they were away, but then after the death of Carlos, he’d not even thought of it.

  Tracy sat down first. Kim took a seat next to her. They were on the couch diagonally opposite the wing chair.

  Derek calmly replaced his gun on the coffee table and leaned back. His hands returned to the upholstered arms of the chair with his fingers slightly curled like a gunfighter ready to draw. It was as if he were daring the people in the room to try to flee or take the gun, thereby giving him an excuse to shoot them.

  “Who are you?” Tracy repeated. “What are you doing in my house?”

  “My name is immaterial,” Derek said. “Why I’m here is another matter. I was brought to this city to kill the doctor.”

  Both Kim and Tracy swayed slightly. Derek’s frightening revelation made them momentarily dizzy. They were speechless in their terror. The man was a hired killer.

  “But something went wrong,” Derek said. “They brought me all the way to this godforsaken city and then withdrew the contract without any real explanation other than to say they had someone else who was going to do the job. They even had the gall to ask for the down payment back after I flew all the way out here.”

  Derek leaned forward and his eyes blazed. “So not only am I not going to kill you, Dr. Reggis, I’m going to do you a favor. Now, I cannot figure out why these beef people want you dead.”

  “I can tell you,” Kim offered anxiously. He was more than willing to cooperate.

  Derek raised his hand. “There’s no need for me to know the details at this point,” he said. “I tried to find out, but I gave up. It’s your business. What you should know is that these people want you dead enough to hire me or someone like me. My way of getting back at them for taking advantage of me is to tell you that you are in grave danger. What you do with the information is entirely up to you. Am I making myself clear?”

  “Perfectly,” Kim said. “Thank you.”

  “No reason to thank me,” Derek said. “I’m not doing this for altruistic reasons.”

  Derek stood up. “The only thing I ask in return is that you keep this conversation just between us. Otherwise I might have to come back and visit either one of you again, and I hope that’s just as clear. I should warn you that I am very good at what I do.”

  “Don’t worry,” Kim said. “We won’t discuss this with anyone.”

  “Excellent,” Derek said. “Now, if you will excuse me, I am going to try to get home.”

  Kim made a move to get up from the couch.

  “Don’t bother,” Derek said, motioning Kim to stay put. “I saw myself in; I’ll see myself out.”

  Kim and Tracy watched dumbfounded as Derek slipped on his camel-hair coat. He picked up his handgun and slipped it into his pocket. Then he picked up his briefcase.

  “I wouldn’t have been quite so rude if you’d gotten home at a decent hour,” Derek said. “Good night.”

  “Good night,” Kim said.

  Derek walked out of the living room.

  Kim and Tracy heard the door open and then slam closed.

  For several minutes neither spoke.

  “This is all so incredible. It’s as if I’m in a nightmare and just can’t wake up,” Tracy said.

  “It’s a nightmare that keeps on going,” Kim agreed. “But we have to do what we can to end it.”

  “Do you still think we should go to a foreign country?” Tracy asked.

  Kim nodded. “At least I should. It seems I’m a marked man. In fact, let’s not even stay here tonight.”

  “Where will we go?” Tracy asked.

  “Hotel, motel, what does it matter?” Kim asked.

  EIGHTEEN

  Tuesday, January 27th

  As soon as early-morning daylight began to creep around the edges of the cheap curtains, Kim gave up trying to fall back asleep. He eased out of bed to avoid disturbing Tracy, gathered up his clothes, and padded silently into the Sleeprite Motel’s bathroom. He closed the door as quietly as possible, then turned on the light.

  Kim looked at himself in the mirror and cringed. Between his ridiculous blond hair and sutured laceration framing sunken, red eyes, he hardly recognized himself. Despite his exhaustion, he’d slept fitfully and had awakened for the final time just after five. All night he’d reviewed the previous days’ horrific events, agonizing over what to do. The idea of being pursued by hired killers was almost too much to comprehend.

  Kim shaved and showered, th
ankful for simple tasks to divert his mind for a few moments. Brushing his hair down flat, he thought he appeared significantly more presentable.

  After pulling on his clothes, Kim cracked the door. He was glad to see that Tracy had not budged. He knew she’d slept equally poorly and was pleased that she was now getting some real sleep. Kim was thankful for her presence but ambivalent about allowing her to share the current risk.

  Kim went to the desk and used the pad by the phone to scribble a short note to tell Tracy that he’d gone to bring back some breakfast. He put the note on the blanket on his side of the bed. Then he picked up the car keys.

  It was more difficult to get the entrance door open silently than it had been with the bathroom door because the entrance door was metal, and it had a chain-lock and a throw-bolt in addition to its regular lock.

  Once outside, Kim reminded himself that he was being pursued by hired killers. The thought made him acutely paranoid despite being relatively certain he was safe for the moment. He and Tracy had used assumed names when they had checked in at the motel and had paid in cash.

  Kim went to the car and climbed in. He started the engine but didn’t pull out immediately. He watched the man who’d checked them in six hours earlier. He’d seen Kim come out of the room but had gone back to his chores. He was busy sweeping in front of the office. Kim wanted to make sure the man didn’t do anything suspicious before he left Tracy alone, like suddenly run back inside the office to use the phone.

  Recognizing his paranoia, Kim chided himself. He knew he was going to have to pull himself together or risk making the wrong decisions. Putting the car in gear, he backed up before driving out of the parking lot.

  A few miles down the road was a donut shop where Kim ordered two coffees, two orange juices, and an assortment of donuts. The place was nearly full of truckers and construction men. While Kim stood in line at the cash register, many of them eyed him skeptically. From their point of view, no doubt he was quite a sight.

  Kim was happy to leave. As he stepped off the curb on his way to his car his eye saw the headlines of the paper placed behind the window of the dispenser. It said in bold, capital letters: “BERSERK DOCTOR SEEKS REVENGE BY MURDER!” Then along the bottom of the page in smaller print was: “THE ONCE RESPECTED PROFESSIONAL NOW A FUGITIVE FROM JUSTICE.”