“Really? Do you know if she worked with Charlotte Duffy?”
“I would say they were inseparable. She is Charlotte Duffy.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“You’ve obviously heard of her.”
“Are you kidding? I’m a perinatologist. Of course I’ve heard of her.”
“Does that mean you wouldn’t mind stopping by?”
“I’d love to meet her.”
Jack removed his cell phone and tapped in a text message. A minute later his phone chimed twice. He looked down at the message.
“Okay, she’s expecting us.”
67
Madison’s Mini kicked up a spray of gravel as it pulled into the driveway of Charlotte Duffy’s oceanfront home. A few yards away, standing on the freshly cut lawn, Jack saw his mother waving at him. She was wearing orange-tinted sunglasses and a straw sun hat. He pushed open the door, stepped out and gave her a hug. She was only a few inches shorter than he was and had a lean face with long curving eyelashes.
“This is Madison Shaw. She’s working with me on the GNS cases.”
“It’s wonderful to meet you,” Charlotte said, taking both of her hands in hers and kissing her once on each cheek.
“Madison’s a perinatologist at Southeastern State.”
“I know, dear. You told me that last night on the phone, and the night before.” Jack pretended to look toward the house. He prayed his face wasn’t as red as he suspected it was. He watched Madison press her lips together, struggling to hold back a grin. His mother turned back to Madison. “I’m so pleased to have this opportunity to chat with you. I knew Jack would figure out some way of getting you up here.”
“It’s certainly a great pleasure for me to meet you. I’m very familiar with all of your groundbreaking cardiac research.”
“Thank you, my dear, but I’m afraid all of that has become of historical interest only now.” She took Madison by her arm and started down the driveway. “I’d much rather hear about you.”
Jack absently tugged at his ear a couple of times while the two of them walked off leaving him standing there. For as long as he could remember, his mother had a unique penchant for embarrassing him, mostly by being painfully blunt. He looked past the house at the deserted beach, wondering if either of them remembered he was there.
Finally, after an exasperated sigh, he followed them to the side entrance that led into the kitchen, which Charlotte had decorated to be a mirror image of the rustic one in her Vermont summer home. She was an accomplished chef, and all forms of cookware dangled from an oval-shaped iron rack that hung over a rose-colored granite center island. It had been Jack’s impression for many years that his mother’s unpretentious choice of décor seemed to match her personality.
“May I get either of you something to drink?” she asked.
“Do you have any beer?” Jack asked.
“Don’t be ridiculous. But I do have a lovely Chablis.”
“My absolute second choice.”
“Madison?” she asked.
“Just water for me, thank you.”
With a glower, Charlotte said, “Jack, you’re starting to remind me more and more of your father. God rest his soul.”
“I’m sorry,” Madison said. “Jack didn’t mention that his father had passed away.”
“That’s because he’s still alive,” he said emphatically.
“Jack’s right, I’m afraid. He’s been living in London for the past twenty years.” She sighed and then continued, “I keep checking the obituaries, but so far there hasn’t been any good news.”
“It’s been a long time, Mom. You really need to let this go. Dad’s really not that bad.”
“Whatever you say, dear.”
“I think this would be a good time to move on,” he answered, arching his back and then stretching his neck muscles.
Charlotte led them into the great room with its ornate crown moldings and a rich hardwood floor. A bay window offered a sweeping view of the Atlantic. Next to it stood an eight-foot tree decorated with poinsettias, which was the only type of Christmas tree Jack could remember his mother displaying.
Charlotte ushered them over to the sofa and then left them to get the drinks.
Madison leaned back, smiled and silently applauded. In just above a whisper, she said, “She’s great, Jack. Talk about meeting somebody with no airs or graces.”
“A true national treasure. No question about it.”
Charlotte returned with their drinks on a silver tray, and for the next hour and a half there was no shortage of conversation. She asked Madison a litany of questions about her life. She answered openly and honestly and the conversation between them rolled on. Barely allowing Jack to wedge a word in from time to time.
It was almost three o’clock when Jack caught Madison’s attention and tapped the crystal of his watch.
“We should get going, Mom.”
“I was hoping you would stay for dinner.”
“We’re up against a pretty tight schedule. We really should be getting back.”
“I’ll agree to this abbreviated visit on one condition,” she said sternly. “You have to promise to bring this lovely young lady back again very soon.”
“I’ll look forward to that,” Madison said, shaking Charlotte’s hand. She then excused herself for a few minutes.
“She’s a very impressive young woman, Jack.”
He held up his hands. “I know what you’re trying to do and you can forget it. We’re just working together. Our relationship is purely professional.”
She touched his cheek. “I’ll tell you what, dear. You can pretend you’re not infatuated with Madison, and I’ll pretend you’re not trying to fool me about it.”
He looked down the hall. “I really don’t think now is the best time to—”
“If you don’t mind me saying so, you looked stressed and completely exhausted.”
With a furrowed brow, he said, “That’s probably because my best friend’s wife is on the verge of dying and I can’t seem to help her. Mike’s terrified and every time I look at his face I feel like I’ve failed him.
“Did he tell you that?”
“He doesn’t have to.”
“What have you done about it?”
“Other than beating my brains out twenty hours a day trying to figure out what’s causing GNS and how to treat it—nothing.”
“I understand you haven’t made the kind of progress you had hoped to, but tell me what you have learned about the disease.”
“Our sum total of knowledge is that the affected women have all recently received the flu vaccine and the vast majority have already been pregnant at least once. We’re in the process of testing them, but we suspect they’re all chimeras, but I have no idea of the significance of that . . . if any.”
“You said chimeras.”
“It’s a genetic situation where—”
With a knowing smile, she whispered, “I’m quite aware of what chimerism is.”
“Sorry,” he said, realizing his mistake of underestimating his mother’s vast knowledge. “I keep looking at these women over and over again, and I feel like I have five miles of medical data, but the whole thing is one inch thick.”
“Maybe you’re studying the wrong group of women.”
“I beg your pardon.”
“You’re a gifted physician, Jack, but your entire life you’ve suffered from tunnel vision. You’re too pragmatic and structured in everything you do. Sometimes medical research is about letting your mind go. You can’t always be a slave to conventional thinking.”
“What are you trying to tell me, Mother?”
She gently patted his cheek. “Sometimes, to understand a disease you have to look at the people who don’t have it instead of the ones that do.”
&nbs
p; “Thanks,” he responded in an unconvinced tone, “but I’m not sure you fully understand the . . .”
“The full breadth of the problem?” she asked with a quirked eyebrow.
“I didn’t mean to imply . . .”
Before Jack could finish his thought, Madison strolled back into the room. Charlotte took her by the arm. With Jack trailing behind, she escorted her back to the car.
“It was an absolute pleasure meeting you, Madison. I look forward to your next visit.”
“I’ll look forward to that as well. Your home is beautiful. It was wonderful spending time with you.”
Charlotte walked over to Jack, gave him a hug and then a quick peck on the cheek.
“Call me later, dear.”
Jack again waved to his mother as Madison backed down the driveway. Nobody knew better than he how insightful she was. She was never one to shoot from the hip, make idle comments or offer gratuitous advice.
“What are you thinking about?” Madison asked. “Your lips are moving. My father does the same thing when he’s lost in thought.”
“Just something my mother said. It’s probably not important.”
During the drive back, they covered ground they’d already been over countless times. It came as no shock to either of them that they came up with no startling revelations or new directions to move in. In the morass and chaos that GNS had become, Jack was losing hope he’d figure out how to help these women before it was too late.
68
Maxime Barbier’s first order of business upon returning to the Royal Canadian Mounted Police headquarters in Toronto was to meet with his supervisor, Clive Minify, to discuss the status of the Alik Vosky investigation.
When he walked into the small conference room, Clive was seated at the table waiting for him. Over the years the two of them had met on countless occasions, but to the best of Maxime’s recollection, he couldn’t think of a single time that Clive had arrived first. He was a stocky man who had a flare for the unconventional. He never allowed his expectations to exceed his reach. It was a source of amazement to many in the Mounted Police how he had ascended to a level of such authority.
Maxime wasted no time hanging up his coat and sitting down. Before Clive spoke, he removed the meerschaum pipe from his mouth. Maxime rarely saw him without it, although he’d never seen him raise a match to the bowl.
“We’ve expanded our staff to have a look at all the material you sent in from Vosky’s house. In addition to our usual people, we brought in a couple of pharmacological and biochemical experts.” Maxime was already well aware of what Clive was telling him. He had more than one friend in the forensic lab who was providing him with regular updates on their progress. “They’ve come across a lot of complex pharmaceutical and obstetric information. Vosky seems to have created dozens of sophisticated laboratory procedures. The files are not only in Russian, but they’re also in some complex encrypted code Vosky invented. I have some of the brightest minds in Canada working on this thing. The only thing they can agree upon so far is that Vosky’s a scientific genius. What they’re wrestling with is trying to figure out if he’s a cold, calculating mastermind who’s responsible for the GNS crisis in the U.S. or some raving madman who needs to be permanently confined to a locked ward. I realize they haven’t had the material that long, but you’d think with the brain trust we’ve got working on this thing, they’d at least be able to tell us something.” Clive moved his pipe from one side of his mouth to the other. “What are your plans for the next few days?”
“Well, it seems like a certainty that Vosky won’t be returning to Anticosti Island for a while. I’ve got some ideas where he might be.”
“Any you feel like sharing?”
“Let me work on them a little first.”
“Fine. Are you still planning on flying out today?”
“Yeah.”
Clive stood up and started toward the door. Maxime escorted him the rest of the way. “I know you work alone and that you tend to be a little quirky when it comes to following the rules, but try to make an exception just this once and keep me informed. I’m getting a lot of pressure from the top on this one.”
“Of course, sir.”
Clive opened the door, but before walking out of the office, he put his hand on Maxime’s shoulder. “I’ll give you as many people as you need, but you have to bring this son of a bitch in, and I mean soon.”
“I understand, sir.”
Maxime released a lungful of air and then made his way down the corridor to his office. Instead of sitting down at his desk, he walked over to the window and stared out at the bottlenecked traffic below. He assumed within the next few minutes Clive Minify would soon be on the phone giving the prime minister the bad news that the RCMP still hadn’t located Alik Vosky. Making matters worse, they couldn’t give him the go-ahead to assure the president of the United States that GNS was not the act of an insane bioterrorist.
69
Instead of returning to his hotel after the drive home from his mother’s house, Jack went to the hospital to check on Tess. He had just entered the lobby when he heard his name being paged overhead. With the melodious sound of a holiday instrumental playing in the background, he walked over to the information desk, reached for the physician phone and dialed the operator. While he waited, he noticed a stack of morning newspapers. He shuddered when he read the headline about the death of another woman suffering from GNS. He shook his head and closed his eyes. A few moments later, the operator connected the call.
“This is Dr. Wyatt.”
“I’m sorry, Dr. Wyatt. I know we’ve been asked not to page any of the doctors with outside calls during the crisis, but this gentleman was so persistent. He claims he’s a physician with information on GNS and that it’s imperative he speaks with you, and only you.”
“That’s fine. Put him through, please.”
“Thank you, Doctor.”
After two rings, Jack heard the call connected. “Hello, this is Jack Wyatt.”
“Dr. Wyatt, my name is Konrad Bilka. I’m a neurologist on the faculty of the Charles University School of Medicine in the Czech Republic. I’ve been in Florida for the past four weeks lecturing at Florida Atlantic University as part of a faculty exchange program.”
“How can I help you, Dr. Bilka?”
“I’ve been following with great interest the GNS outbreak. I think I may have some information that would be of particular interest to you. Do you think we might be able to meet?”
Jack noted that although his Eastern European accent was unmistakable, his command of English was good.
“I’d be pleased to hear your ideas. Would you like to meet me here at the medical school?”
“I have many notes, scientific articles and other information. If you can find the time, it might be easier to meet at my hotel.”
“Of course. Where are you staying?” Jack asked.
“At the Sealodge in Boca Raton. I’m in room 704.”
“When would be a good time for you?” Jack inquired, making a mental note of the hotel and room number.
“Would you be able to make it tomorrow morning at ten?”
“Ten tomorrow will be fine.”
“Thank you, Dr. Wyatt. I am sure you won’t regret taking the time to have a look at my work.”
“I look forward to talking with you tomorrow.”
Four miles away in room 704 at the Sealodge Inn, Alik Vosky tossed his phone on the bed. He had entered the United States and checked into his hotel using a forged passport. With a self-satisfied grin, he crossed the room and sat down at the desk. In less than a day, he would have Dr. Jack Wyatt, the man who was far too close to undermining everything he had worked for, exactly where he wanted him—alone in his hotel room. He opened the center drawer of the desk and removed the serrated hunting knife he had purchased immediately after
he’d arrived.
Vosky tested the knife’s edge against his index finger, and then licked away the trickle of blood. He was calm, devoid of any anxiety or uncertainty. The risk involved was small and didn’t concern him in the slightest. By the time Jack Wyatt’s body was found, he’d be a thousand miles away using yet another name, and the police would be looking for a man who didn’t exist.
70
It was six P.M. when Jack and Madison sat down across from each other in the crisis center. They had called a meeting of the entire group but none of the team had arrived as yet. When Jack heard the door open, he looked up expecting to see Marc. To his surprise it was Helen Morales. With hunched shoulders, she made her way over to the conference table and took the chair next to Madison.
“The hospital board met a couple of hours ago.” Madison slowly lowered the lid of her laptop while Jack absently rubbed his hands together. “Hollis Sinclair did an excellent job convincing the members they should endorse the Vitracide program. They listened to his plea and voted seven to one in favor.”
“I thought the board doesn’t make medical recommendations,” Madison said.
“As a rule, they don’t. Let’s just say they see a difference between their seal of approval and an outright medical recommendation. In practical terms, I’m not sure there is one.”
“How does this ‘seal of approval,’” Madison asked, making air quotes with both hands, “affect the timetable?”
“We’ve just received our first shipment of Vitracide and Sinclair has submitted a completed protocol for its use. So, I’m guessing we should be ready in a day or two.”
“We are pursuing some promising leads,” Jack offered. “Is there anything we can do to buy a little more time?”
“I’m afraid not. The board expects the medical staff to be unified in the decision to endorse Vitracide. I’m sure you both realize what this means in terms of the work you and your team have been doing.” She stood up and started toward the door. “I’ll keep you both advised.”
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