Acceptable Risk

by Robin Cook

  While waiting for the train, Kim almost turned back several times, but each time she reminded herself that this was her only lead. Consequently she felt impelled to follow up on it, no matter what response it might elicit.

  Exiting the underground station, Kim found herself in the usual bustle of Harvard Square. But once she’d crossed Massachusetts Avenue and entered the campus, the noise of the traffic and crowds was muffled with startling rapidity. As she walked along the tranquil, tree-shaded walkways and ivy-covered red brick walls, she wondered what the campus had looked like in the seventeenth century, when Ronald Stewart had attended. None of the buildings she was passing looked quite that old.

  Recalling Edward’s comment about the Widener Library, Kim had decided to try there first. She mounted the broad steps and passed between its impressive columns. She was feeling nervous and had to encourage herself to continue. At the information desk she made a vague request about speaking with someone concerning very old objects. She was sent to Mary Custland’s office.

  Mary Custland was a dynamic woman in her late thirties, stylishly dressed in a dark blue suit, white blouse, and colorful scarf. She hardly fit Kim’s stereotypical image of a librarian. Her title was Curator of Rare Books and Manuscripts. To Kim’s relief she was gracious and warm, immediately asking how she could be of help.

  Kim produced the letter, handed it to Mary, and mentioned that she was a descendant of the addressee. She started to explain what she wanted, but Mary interrupted her.

  “Excuse me,” she said. She was startled. “This letter is from Increase Mather!” As she spoke, she reverentially moved her fingers to the very periphery of the page.

  “That’s what I was explaining,” Kim said.

  “Let me get Katherine Sturburg in here,” Mary said. She carefully laid the letter on her blotter and picked up the phone. While she was waiting for the connection to go through, she told Kim that Katherine specialized in seventeenth-century material and was particularly interested in Increase Mather.

  After making her call, Mary asked Kim where she’d gotten the letter. Kim again started to explain, but then Katherine arrived. She was an older woman with gray hair; a pair of reading glasses resided permanently on the end of her nose. Mary introduced them and then showed the letter to Katherine.

  Katherine used just the tip of her finger to move the letter around so she could read it. Kim was immediately embarrassed by her own cavalier handling of it.

  “What do you think?” Mary asked when Katherine was finished reading.

  “It’s definitely authentic,” Katherine said. “I can tell by both the handwriting and the syntax. It’s fascinating. It references both William Brattle and John Leverett. But what is this evidence he’s discussing?”

  “That’s the question,” Kim said. “That’s why I’m here. I’d started out trying to learn something about my ancestor Elizabeth Stewart, and that goal has evolved to solving this puzzle. I was hoping Harvard could help, since the evidence, whatever it was, was left here.”

  “What is the association with witchcraft?” Mary asked.

  Kim explained that Elizabeth had been caught up in the witchcraft trials in Salem and that the evidence—whatever it was—had been used to convict her.

  “I should have guessed about the Salem connection when I saw the date,” Katherine said.

  “The second time Mather refers to it, he describes it as ‘Elizabeth’s legacy,’” Mary pointed out. “That’s a curious phrase. It suggests to me something Elizabeth either made herself or acquired with some degree of effort or wealth.”

  Kim nodded. She then explained her idea about its being a book or writings although she admitted it could have been anything associated in those days with sorcery or the occult.

  “I suppose it could have been a doll,” Mary said.

  “I’d thought of that,” Kim said.

  The two librarians conferred as how best to access the enormous resources of the library. After a short discussion, Mary sat down at her terminal and entered the name ELIZABETHSTEWART.

  For a minute no one spoke. The only movement in the room was the blinking of the cursor in the blank screen as the computer searched the extensive data banks. When the monitor flashed alive with multiple listings, Kim’s hopes rose. But they were short-lived. All the Elizabeth Stewarts listed were in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries and bore no relation to Kim.

  Mary then tried RONALD STEWART, but got similar results. There were no seventeenth-century references. Next Mary tried to cross-reference with INCREASE MATHER. There was a wealth of material, but no intersections with the Stewart family listed.

  “I’m not surprised,” Kim said. “I wasn’t optimistic coming here. I hope you didn’t find this a bother.”

  “Quite the contrary,” Katherine said. “I’m pleased you showed us this letter. We’d certainly like to make a copy of it for our files, if you wouldn’t mind.”

  “Of course not,” Kim said. “In fact, when I’m finished with my mini-crusade I’ll be happy to donate the letter to the library.”

  “That would be very generous,” Mary said.

  “As the archivist most interested in Increase Mather I’ll be happy to go over my extensive files for the name of Elizabeth Stewart,” Katherine promised. “Whatever the object was, there should be some reference to it, since Mather’s letter confirms it was given to Harvard. The debate about spectral evidence in the Salem witchcraft trials had been ferocious, and we have extensive material on it. I have a feeling that’s what Mather is indirectly referring to in your letter. So there is still a chance I could find something.”

  “I’d appreciate any effort you made,” Kim said. She gave her phone number both at work and at home.

  The librarians exchanged knowing glances. Mary then spoke up. “I don’t want to be a pessimist,” she said, “but we should warn you that the chances of finding the evidence itself are minuscule, no matter what it was. There was a great tragedy here at Harvard on January 24, 1764. At that time Old Harvard Hall was being used by the General Court because of a smallpox epidemic in Boston. Unfortunately a fire left in the library on that cold, snowy night sparked a conflagration that destroyed the building and all its priceless contents. That included all the portraits of the college’s presidents and benefactors as well as most of its five-thousand-volume library. I know a lot about the episode because it was the worst disaster in the library’s history. And not only did the library lose books: there was also a collection of stuffed animals and birds and, most curious of all, a collection that was referred to as ‘a repository of curiosities.’”

  “That sounds like it could have included objects associated with the occult,” Kim said.

  “Most definitely,” Mary said. “There’s a very good chance what you are seeking was part of that mysterious collection. But we might never know. The catalogue of the collection was lost as well.”

  “But that still doesn’t mean I can’t find some reference to it,” Katherine said. “I’ll give it my best shot.”

  As Kim descended the library’s front steps, she reminded herself that she’d not expected to be successful so that she shouldn’t be discouraged. At least no one had laughed at her, and the librarians had been genuinely interested in the letter. Kim was confident they would continue looking for references to her forebear.

  Kim took the subway back to Charles Street and got her car from the hospital garage. She’d intended to go to her apartment to change clothes, but the trip to Harvard had taken more time than she expected. Instead she headed to the airport to pick up Edward, who was due back from the West Coast.

  Edward arrived on schedule, and since he had not checked a bag, they bypassed the baggage area and headed directly to the parking lot.

  “Things couldn’t be going any better,” Edward said. He was in a buoyant mood. “There’s only been one person who I wanted for Omni who declined to come on board. Otherwise everybody I talk to is wildly enthusiastic. They all thi
nk Ultra is going to break the bank.”

  “How much do you tell them?” Kim asked.

  “Almost nothing until they commit,” Edward said. “I’m not taking any chances. But even with generalities they’re all so eager that I haven’t had to give up much equity. So far I’ve committed only forty thousand unvested shares.”

  Kim didn’t know what that meant, and she didn’t ask. They got to the car. Edward put his carry-on bags in the trunk. They climbed in and drove out of the garage.

  “How are things going up at the compound?” Edward asked.

  “Well,” Kim said without inflection.

  “Do I detect that you are a little down?” Edward asked.

  “I suppose,” Kim said. “I got up the courage to go to Harvard this afternoon about Elizabeth’s evidence.”

  “Don’t tell me they gave you a hard time,” Edward said.

  “No, they were very helpful,” Kim said. “The problem was they didn’t have good news. There was a big fire at Harvard in 1764 that destroyed the library and consumed a collection they called ‘the repository of curiosities.’ To make matters worse, they lost the index as well, so at this point no one knows what the collection contained. I’m afraid that Elizabeth’s evidence literally went up in smoke.”

  “I guess that throws you back to the repository at the castle,” Edward said.

  “I suppose,” Kim said. “The trouble is I’ve lost some of my enthusiasm.”

  “How come?” Edward asked. “Finding those letters from the Mathers and Sewall should have been a great incentive.”

  “They were,” Kim said. “But the effect has started to wear off. I’ve spent almost thirty hours since then and haven’t even found one paper from the sixteen hundreds.”

  “I told you it wasn’t going to be easy,” Edward reminded her.

  Kim didn’t say anything. The last thing she needed at that point was Edward saying “I told you so.”

  When they arrived at Edward’s apartment, he was on the phone with Stanton before he’d taken his suit jacket off. Kim listened vaguely to Edward’s end of the conversation as he related his successful efforts at recruitment.

  “Good news on both ends,” Edward said after hanging up. “Stanton already has most of the four and a half million in the Omni coffers and has started the patent proceedings. We’re cooking with gas.”

  “I’m happy for you,” Kim said. She smiled and sighed at the same time.

  10

  * * *

  Friday,

  August 26, 1994

  THE latter days of August flew by. Work continued at the compound at a furious rate, particularly at the lab, where Edward already spent most of his time. Pieces of scientific equipment were arriving on a daily basis, causing a flurry of effort to get them properly housed, installed, and shielded, if necessary.

  Edward was a whirlwind of activity, wearing many hats. One minute he was an architect, the next an electronics engineer, and finally a general contractor as he single-handedly directed the emergence of the lab. The drain on his time was enormous, and as a consequence he devoted even less time to his duties at Harvard.

  The conflicting demands as a researcher and a teacher came to a head due to actions of one of Edward’s postdocs. He’d had the temerity to complain to the Harvard administration about Edward’s lack of availability. When Edward heard, he’d become furious and dismissed the student summarily.

  The problem did not end there. The student was equally incensed and again sought redress from the administration. The administration contacted Edward, but he refused to apologize or accept the student back into his lab. As a result, relations between Edward and the administration became increasingly acrimonious.

  To add to Edward’s headaches, the Harvard Licensing Office got wind of his involvement in Omni. It also had heard a disturbing rumor of a patent application on a new class of molecules. In response, the licensing office had sent a slew of inquiry letters, which Edward chose to ignore.

  Harvard found itself in a difficult situation. The university did not want to lose Edward, one of the brightest rising stars of postmodern biochemistry. At the same time, the university could not let a bad situation get worse since principles as well as precedents were involved.

  The tension was taking its toll on Edward, especially when combined with the stresses of the excitement of Omni, the promise of Ultra, and the daily problems at the construction site.

  Kim was aware of the escalating pressures and attempted to compensate by trying to make Edward’s life a little bit easier. She’d begun staying at his apartment most evenings, where she’d assumed more domestic responsibility without being asked: fixing dinner, feeding Edward’s dog, and even doing some cleaning and laundry.

  Unfortunately, Edward was slow to recognize Kim’s efforts. The flowers had stopped as soon as she began staying at Edward’s on a regular basis, a cessation she thought was reasonable. But she missed the attentiveness they represented.

  As Kim left work on Friday, August 26, she pondered the situation. Adding to the stress was the fact that she and Edward had not yet made moving plans even though both of them had to be out of their respective apartments in five days. Kim had been afraid to raise the issue with Edward until he’d had a less-stressful day. The problem was, he didn’t have any.

  Kim stopped at the Bread and Circus grocery store and bought food for dinner. She picked something she was confident Edward would particularly like. She even got a bottle of wine as a treat.

  When Kim got to Edward’s apartment she picked up magazines and newspapers and generally straightened up. She fed the dog. Then she made the dinner and had it ready for seven, which was when Edward had told her he’d be home.

  Seven came and went. Kim turned off the heat from the rice. At seven-thirty she covered the salad with plastic wrap and put it into the refrigerator. Finally at eight Edward walked in.

  “Damn it all to hell!” he said as he kicked the door closed. “I take back all the nice things I’ve ever said about your contractor. The guy is an ass. I could have hit him this afternoon. He promised me there’d be electricians there today and there weren’t.”

  Kim told him what they were having for dinner. He grunted and went into the bathroom to wash his hands. Kim heated up the rice in the microwave.

  “The goddamn lab could be functional in no time if these lunkheads would get their act together,” Edward yelled from inside the bathroom.

  Kim poured two glasses of wine. She carried them into the bedroom and handed one to Edward as he emerged from the bathroom. He took it and sipped it.

  “All I want to do is to get started on a controlled investigation of Ultra,” he said. “It seems that everybody wants to thwart me by putting obstacles in my way.”

  “This might not be the best time to bring this up,” Kim said hesitantly, “but there’s never a good time. We still don’t have any formal moving plans, and the first of the month is almost here. I’ve been meaning to talk to you for a couple of weeks.”

  Edward exploded. In a moment of uncontrolled fury he hurled his full wineglass into the fireplace, where it shattered, and yelled: “The last thing I need is pressure from you!”

  Edward hovered over Kim. His eyes had dilated and his veins stood out on his temples. His jaw muscles were quivering and he was clasping and unclasping his hands.

  “I’m sorry,” Kim blurted. For a moment she didn’t move. She was terrified. She’d not seen this side of Edward. As big as he was, she knew his strength and guessed what he could do to her if he were inclined.

  As soon as she could, Kim ran from the room. She went into the kitchen and busied herself. As soon as the immediate shock lessened, she decided to leave. Turning from the stove, she started toward the living room and the front door, but she immediately stopped. Edward was in the doorway. To Kim’s relief, his face was totally transformed; instead of rage it reflected confusion, even sadness.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. His stutter made g
etting the words out an ordeal. “I don’t know what came over me. I guess it’s been the pressure, although that’s not an adequate excuse. I’m embarrassed. Forgive me.”

  Kim was immediately taken by his sincerity. She stepped over to him and they hugged. Then they went into the living room and sat on the couch.

  “I’m finding this period terribly frustrating,” he said. “Harvard is driving me crazy, and I desperately want to get back to work on Ultra. Eleanor has been continuing work on the drug as best she can and is getting continually good results. It’s aggravating not to be able to help her, but the last thing I want to do is take my frustrations out on you.”

  “I’ve been on edge as well,” Kim admitted. “Moving has always made me nervous. On top of that I’m afraid this Elizabeth thing has become something of an obsession.”

  “I certainly haven’t been giving you any support,” Edward said. “I’m sorry about that too. Let’s make a pact to be more sensitive to each other.”

  “That’s a wonderful idea,” Kim said.

  “I should have said something about moving myself,” Edward said. “It’s not solely your responsibility. When do you want to move?”

  “We have to be out of our apartments by the first of September,” Kim said.

  “So how about the thirty-first?” Edward said.

  Wednesday, August 31, 1994

  Moving day was hectic from the first hours of daylight when Kim got up. The van arrived at Kim’s apartment at seven-thirty and loaded her things first. Then it went to Cambridge to get Edward’s belongings. By the time the last chair was put in, the truck was full.

  Kim and Edward drove to the compound in their own cars, with their own pets. When they arrived, Sheba and Buffer met for the first time. Since they were approximately the same size, the confrontation ended in a standoff. From then on they ignored each other.

  As the movers began bringing things into the cottage, Edward surprised Kim by suggesting they take separate bedrooms.