Vector js&lm-4

by Robin Cook

  "What amazed me was to learn that this kind of problem, maybe not quite as dramatic as with the rats, occurs all the time. We just don't hear about it. These veterinary epidemiologists are busy guys."

  "Do they have any idea where the anthrax came from? " Jack asked.

  "Nope, " Chet said. "But it has them thinking that maybe some of the rats are hosts, which is not what the textbooks say. I tell you, it's fascinating stuff."

  "Let me tell you about my Brighton Beach case, " Jack said. "Do you have a minute? "

  "Provided it doesn't take too long, " Chet said while peeking at his watch. "I don't want to miss this particular aerobics class. There's this one girl with a figure to die for who only comes on Tuesday nights."

  Jack gave a quick synopsis of Connie Davydov, focusing on the diagnostic mystery. Jack listed all the agents he'd been considering. Then he asked Chet if he had any ideas.

  Chet screwed up his face and pondered for a few moments. He shook his head. "I think you've pretty well covered the landscape."

  "It is kinda curious that Connie Davydov suddenly dies from what I think was a mysterious poisoning the day there's a major rat die-off in the same town."

  "Whoa! " Chet said with a smile. "That's a giant leap of association, unless, of course, Ms. Davydov spent some quality time during the previous twenty-four hours in the sewer or a portion of the town's rat population hung out in her apartment." Jack ran the fingers of both hands through his hair, while laughing at Chet's absurd suggestions.

  "Of course you're right! But what a strange coincidence, especially when you add the anthrax to the picture, and the case of human anthrax I had yesterday here in Manhattan. What a couple of days! "

  "Well, I'm going to leave you to ponder these mysteries, " Chet said.

  "While I go ponder another more enjoyable one in aerobics class."

  "Excuse me, Dr. Stapleton! " Jack and Chet turned to see Peter Letterman standing in the doorway in his long white coat with its inevitable pattern of colorful stains. He was holding a computer printout.

  "Peter! " Jack said eagerly. He searched the man's face for a hint of his news, but Peter's delicate features were unrevealing.

  "I've run all the assays you suggested, " Peter said.

  "And? " Jack questioned expectantly. It was like waiting for the envelope to be opened at the Academy Awards.

  Peter handed Jack the printout. Jack scanned it. He had no idea what he was looking at.

  "Everything came out negative, " Peter said guiltily. "I haven't found anything."

  "Nothing? " Jack questioned. He looked up. He was dismayed.

  Peter shook his head. "I'm sorry. I know you were counting on a positive so I ran some of the assays several times. Everything came back negative."

  "Oh, crap! " Jack said. He threw up his hands. "So much for my intuition. Maybe even my job."

  "You checked for carbon monoxide? " Chet asked.

  "Absolutely, " Peter said.

  "And cyanide? " Chet asked.

  "EVERYTHING that Dr. Stapleton requested plus a few drugs he didn't mention."

  "Thank you very much, " Jack said. "At the moment I might not sound as appreciative as I should, but I am thankful for you staying late and doing this."

  "If you can think of anything else you want me to test for, give me a call."

  "Right, " Jack said.

  Peter left.

  "Oh, well, " Jack said. He threw his pen onto his desk. Then he started gathering together all the disparate papers from the various cases and jamming them into their folders.

  Chet watched for a few minutes. "If I can think of anything else to test for, I'll give you a call." Jack gave him a weak smile and continued straightening up.

  "Are you heading home? " Chet asked.

  "Yup, " Jack said. "I think I need a little physical activity myself.

  " After saying goodbye, Chet left. As Jack moved his microscope over onto his own desk, he thought about all the strange events over the previous twenty-four hours. It was all a mystery, yet he had to smile.

  Such conundrums were, after all, what he liked about the job.

  After locking his office door, Jack glanced down the hall toward Laurie's. It was closed. Obviously, Laurie had left without saying goodbye.

  Jack shrugged. He really didn't know what to do about her.

  Downstairs, Jack unlocked his bike and rolled it out of the receiving dock. After getting it down to the pavement, he got on and cycled out onto First Avenue.

  As usual, the ride home was an opportunity for Jack to break away literally and figuratively. Rush hour traffic had already abated, and he flew. The sun had set an hour or so earlier and the sky was a silvery blue-violet that deepened to indigo with every passing moment.

  In the middle of the darkened park he even got to see stars twinkling in the firmament.

  Entering his own street, Jack headed directly for the chain-link fence separating the basketball court from the sidewalk. As he pulled to a stop, he saw what he wanted to see, a game in progress. As the men sweptdown the court in his direction, he noticed that Warren and Flash were already playing, although on opposing teams.

  With a sense of urgency, Jack carried his bike up to his apartment and tore off his clothes. Redressed in his basketball gear, he thundered down the stairs and out across the street. When he arrived at the game's sidelines, he was slightly out of breath.

  Unfortunately, another game had started in the time Jack had taken to get on his togs, which meant he'd have to wait one or maybe two games to get into the friendly fray. As usual, Warren's team had won so he was still on the court. Flash, on the other hand, was standing in the midst of those waiting to play. Jack walked over to him.

  "Hey, man, how's it going? " Flash said when he caught sight of Jack.

  It was the typical B-ball court, offhand manner of greeting, even though they'd spent a good part of the afternoon together.

  "It's going fine, " Jack said. "You doing okay? "

  "So far, " Flash said. He didn't look at Jack but rather kept his eyes glued to the game in progress. "I'd be better if we'd won the last game."

  "Listen, " Jack said. "I gave the laboratory all the samples I took from your sister today. So they're in the works. I want to make sure you're going to be patient and not do anything rash."

  "I'm cool, " Flash said.

  "Glad to hear it, " Jack said. He was reluctant to tell Flash about the lab results just yet. Despite the negative results on the assays Peter had run, Jack was still inclined to intuit that Connie had been poisoned in some way or another.

  "I'm curious about where she lived, " Jack said. "You mentioned it was in an area with small wooden cottages. Is it an historic area? "

  "I don't think it's historic, " Flash said. "But it's old."

  "How old?"

  "Man, I don't know, " Flash said. "What are you asking me this for?"

  " Jack shrugged. "Like I said, I'm curious. There aren't too many parts of New York City that still have cottages. Could they be a hundred years old? "

  "Something like that, I suppose, " Flash said.

  "I think they must have been summer cottages at some point." Jack nodded as he tried mentally to visualize a group of old woodframed houses built as summer cottages a hundred years ago. What immediately came to mind was that their plumbing might be rudimentary at best. In fact, they might even have septic systems instead of being connected to the city sewer.

  "What was the address again? " Jack asked. "Was it Fifteen Oceanview Lane? "

  "Yeah, that was it, " Flash said. "Why do you ask? Are you going to go out there? "

  "I might, " Jack said. "Sometimes medical examiners have to visit the site of the death in order to reconstruct the series of events preceding it. But, of course, that's usually when the body is still where it was found."

  "But I was told she died at Coney Island Hospital, " Flash said.

  "That's very true, " Jack said. He gave Flash a pat on the back. "But i
t was supposedly in her bathroom where she got into trouble.

  Anyway, I'll keep you informed about whatever I learn."

  "Thanks, Doc, " Flash said.

  Jack picked up one of the loose basketballs and took it over to one of the side baskets. He thought he'd warm up by taking a few jump shots.

  While he did, he mulled over the coincidence of Connie Davydov's dying from some unknown poison, possibly in her bathroom in the same town where there was a die-off of sewer rats, also caused by some unknown agent.

  Jack tossed the ball through the hoop and then watched it bounce in decreasing amplitude until it was stationary. His mind was churning.

  As crazy as the notion sounded, he couldn't help but question if Connie and the rats might have succumbed to the same agent. What if it had been some kind of gas and the drains in Connie's bathroom didn't have functioning traps? The trouble was, sewer gas stank, and the EMTS would have noted it.

  "Ah, it's impossible, " Jack voiced out loud. He went over and picked up the ball. He tried to think of other things, but he couldn't. As he took practice shots his mind kept dredging up Connie and the rats and images of the Brighton Beach summer cottages.

  Laurie put down the dessert menu and shook her head. "I'm stuffed, " she said. "I can't possibly eat dessert."

  "Do you mind if I order something that we could both nibble on? " Paul asked. "I know how much you like chocolate."

  "Of course, " Laurie said. "As long as you understand that you're going to have to eat nine-tenths of it.

  But I'll have a decaf cappuccino."

  "Coming up! " Paul said. He raised his hand to get the waiter's attention.

  The evening had gone well, and Laurie was feeling considerably better than she had earlier after talking with Lou and Jack. When Laurie had first gotten home she'd considered canceling the week-old plans she had made with Paul to go to the ballet at Lincoln Center followed by dinner.

  But after some time by herself she decided that the information she'd gotten from Lou and Jack didn't necessitate an angry confrontation.

  She wasn't entirely confident what they'd said was true, and even if it was, she was more than willing to hear an explanation. It was more the surprise of it all that had upset her.

  "How about some dessert wine? " Paul asked.

  Laurie smiled and shook her head. They'd had a wonderful red wine with dinner, and Laurie was luxuriating in its afterglow. She knew she'd had quite enough alcohol.

  Paul had arrived for the evening with more flowers and an apology for his insensitivity that morning. He'd assured her that he understood her commitment to her work, and he even went so far as to say that he truly admired and valued that she had such a commitment.

  As they'd talked, Laurie had been tempted to bring up the issue of the nature of his work in the context of the discussion of hers, but decided against it. In the face of his sincere apology, she didn't want to seem unappreciative or insensitive. She'd decided to wait for a more opportune time.

  And then there'd been the other surprise. Paul had told her that he'd managed to change the Budapest trip until the following weekend in hopes that her schedule would permit her to go. He'd even said she had all week to decide.

  The dessert arrived, and it was a piece of vertical chocolate art. At its core was a moist, dark, flourless chocolate cake that Laurie could not resist. After a taste she smacked her lips with delight.

  Paul had ordered a brandy. When it arrived, he swirled it, smelled it, and then took a taste. Satisfied, he leaned back and smiled. He was the picture of contentment.

  "There's something I want to ask you, Paul, " Laurie said, sensing there could not be a better time to bring up the work issue. "I know when I asked you this question this morning, it seemed confrontational.

  I didn't mean it to be, and I certainly don't mean it to be now, but I'd like to know what kind of business you are in." Paul stopped swirling his brandy and regarded Laurie with his coalblack eyes.

  "Why do you want to know? " he asked with a calm, even voice.

  "As your future wife, I'd think you'd want me to know, " Laurie said with some surprise. She didn't expect his response to be a question.

  "If you didn't know what I did, I'd certainly want to tell you."

  "My response this morning was to ask if it mattered, " Paul said.

  "Does it? "

  "It could, " Laurie said. "Take my job. My own mother has this distorted idea that it's ghoulish. You could have felt the same way."

  "Well, I certainly don't."

  "I'm glad, " Laurie said. "But you get my point. I don't think my mother would have married my father if he'd been a medical examiner, at least I don't think so."

  "Are you trying to tell me that if my business is something you don't approve of, you won't marry me? "

  "Paul, this is not an argument, " Laurie said. "Now you are scaring me by making this discussion into something it needn't be. Please tell me what your business is."

  "I'm in the defense business, " Paul said with an edge to his voice.

  "Okay, that's a start, " Laurie said. She looked down into the swirled surface of her cappuccino. "Can you be a little more specific? "

  "What is this, an inquisition? " Paul demanded.

  "No, Paul, as I said, this is a discussion."

  "And such an entertaining discussion! " Paul said sarcastically.

  "Why are you being so defensive? This doesn't sound like you."

  "I'm being defensive because too many people have the same prosaic response about the arms business."

  "And you think I'm going to have the same response? "

  "It's possible."

  "What is it you sell? "

  "I sell arms.

  Isn't that enough? Can't we talk about something else?"

  "You mean like cannons, bombs, or guns."

  "A little of all of them, " Paul said.

  "Whatever is in demand."

  "What about Bulgarian AK-47 assault rifles?"

  " Laurie asked.

  "Sure, " Paul said, surprised at such a specific question. "It's one of my preferred products. It's a reliable, inexpensive, well-made weapon.

  Much better than the Chinese version." Laurie closed her eyes. She could see a montage of images of Brad Cassidy's body and his grieving parents. She remembered how she'd felt when Shirley Cassidy said that her son was selling Bulgarian AK-47s to other skinheads. To think that Paul could be involved in such things was hard to comprehend, especially recalling the mayhem from guns she'd witnessed over the years in her professional position as a medical examiner.

  Laurie took a deep breath. She was conscious her emotions were getting the best of her, and in such circumstances she knew she had a tendency toward tears. She didn't want to cry. Whenever she did, it irritated her to no end because it invariably precluded further discussion. She opened her eyes and looked at Paul. She read his expression as defensively arrogant.

  "Do you ever think of the consequences of the guns you sell? "

  Laurie asked. She wanted to keep the conversation going.

  "Of course, " Paul said flippantly. "They provide people with the ability to defend themselves in a dangerous world."

  "What about when the guns end up in the hands of violent, rightwing fringe groups? " Laurie asked.

  "Like skinheads? "

  "They have a right to defend themselves just like anyone else."

  "The problem is, with such bigoted hate groups, the guns tend to get used and they kill people."

  "Guns don't kill people, " Paul said cavalierly. "People kill people."

  "Now you're sounding like a National Rifle Association spokesperson, " Laurie said.

  "The NRA has some very good points, " Paul said. "Like the fact that the Constitution itself very specifically gives us the right to bear arms.

  When the government intervenes like it did with the Omnibus Crime Bill, it's acting blatantly unconstitutionally." Laurie stared at her potential fiance-to-be and sho
ok her head. She couldn't believe they could be so far apart on such an important issue when they were so compatible in so many other ways.

  Paul tossed his napkin onto the table. "I'm frankly disappointed that your response to my business has turned out to be exactly the hackneyed one I was worried about. Now you know why I didn't tell you sooner."

  "I'm disappointed myself, " Laurie said. "I don't like to think of you selling guns, particularly those Bulgarian assault rifles, wherever it is you sell them. I mean, you don't sell them in this country anymore, do you? "

  "It's against the law, thanks to the unconstitutional Omnibus Crime Bill, " Paul said.

  "That's not what I asked, " Laurie said. "I know they are banned. I asked you if you sold them." Laurie stared at Paul. For a few moments he didn't respond. His only movement was the rise and fall of his chest with his respiration. Their eyes were locked in a kind of duel.

  "Aren't you going to answer? " Laurie demanded incredulously.

  "It's such a stupid question, " Paul said haughtily, "I don't think it deserves an answer."

  "But I'd like one, " Laurie said defiantly.

  Paul took a drink from his brandy snifter, held the liquor in his mouth for a moment, then swallowed.

  "No, I don't sell Bulgarian AK-47s in the United States. Are you satisfied? " Laurie took a sip from her cappuccino. She didn't answer herself while she mulled over the conversation. She wasn't satisfied at all.

  In fact she was angry about the way Paul had responded to her reasonable questions. The good side was that the anger chased away her tendency toward tears.

  Enflaming her further, Paul was regarding her with an irritating superciliousness.

  "Frankly I'm not pleased about any of this, " Laurie said. "What prompted me to ask about the nature of your work was that I had been told you were in the arms business."

  "By whom? " Paul demanded.

  "I don't think that's relevant, " Laurie said. "But from the same source, I was told that you were convicted of cocaine possession. Is there anything you'd like to say about that? " Paul's eyes blazed in the reflected glow from the candle on the table.

  "This truly is an inquisition, " he snapped.

  "You can call it what you like, " Laurie said. "From my perspective, it's clearing the air. These are issues which I should have heard from you, not someone else." Without warning Paul stood up. His chair tipped over backward and crashed to the floor. Other diners looked up from their quiet meals.