by Robin Cook
“From now on I want all trucks, vans, and the like looked into no matter who is driving. Even me. Understand?”
“Oh, yes, sir,” Sheldon said.
“One other question,” Victor said. “Has anyone seen my son today?”
“I haven’t,” Sheldon said. Then to the man operating the gates he said, “George, did you see VJ today?”
“Only when he arrived with Dr. Frank.”
Sheldon held up a hand for Victor to wait. Turning to a radio set up behind the desk, he put out a call for Hal.
“Hal’s been cruising around this morning,” Sheldon explained. Some crackles heralded Hal’s voice. Sheldon asked if VJ was around.
“I saw him down near the dam earlier this morning,” Hal said through a good deal of static.
Victor thanked the security men and left their office. He felt a minor amount of irritation, remembering how willful VJ was. Victor could remember telling him to stay away from the river at least four or five times.
Pulling his lab coat more closely around him, Victor started for the river. He thought about going back to the main building to get his regular coat, but didn’t. Although the temperature had dropped from the previous day, it still was not that cold.
Although the day had started clear, it was now cloudy. The prevailing breeze, from the northeast, smelled of the ocean. High above, several sea gulls circled, squawking shrilly.
Directly ahead stood the clock tower building with its Big Ben replica stopped at 2:15. Victor reminded himself to bring up the issue of renovating the structure as well as the clock at next Wednesday’s board meeting.
The closer he got to the river, the louder the roar from the waterfall over the spillway of the dam became.
“VJ!” Victor shouted as he approached the river’s edge. But his voice was lost in the crash of the water. He continued past the eastern edge of the clock tower building, crossed over a wooden bridge that spanned the sluice exiting from the basement of the building, and arrived at the granite quay built along the river below the dam. He looked down at the white water as it swirled furiously eastward toward the ocean. Glancing left, he gazed at the expanse of the dam spanning the river and at the broad millpond upstream. Water poured over the center of the dam in an imposing arch of emerald green. The force was enough for Victor to feel through his feet, standing on the granite quay. It was an awesome testimony to the power of nature that had started earlier that year with gentle snowflakes.
Turning around, Victor shouted at the top of his lungs: “VJ!” But he bit off his shout with the shock that VJ was standing directly behind him. Philip was a little farther away.
“There you are,” Victor said. “I’ve been looking all over for you.”
“I guessed as much,” VJ said. “What do you want?”
“I want . . .” Victor paused. He wasn’t sure what he wanted. “What have you been doing?”
“Just having fun.”
“I’m not sure I want you wandering around like this, especially down here by the river,” Victor said sternly. “In fact, I want you home today. I’ll have a driver from the motor pool give you and Philip a lift.”
“But I don’t want to go home,” VJ complained.
“I’ll explain more later,” Victor said firmly. “But I want you home for now. It’s for your own good.”
Marsha opened the door to her office that gave out to the hall and Joyce Hendricks slipped out. She’d told Marsha that she was terrified of running into someone she knew while coming out of a psychiatrist’s office, and for the time being Marsha indulged her. After a time, Marsha was certain that she could convince the woman that seeking psychiatric help was no longer a social stigma.
After updating the Hendricks file, Marsha poked her head into the office waiting room and told Jean that she was going off to lunch. Jean waved in acknowledgment. As usual, she was tied up on the phone.
Marsha was having lunch with Dr. Valerie Maddox, a fellow psychiatrist whom she admired and respected, whose office was in the same building complex as Marsha’s. But more than colleagues, the two women were friends.
“Hungry?” Marsha asked after Valerie herself opened the door.
“Starved.” Valerie was in her late fifties and looked every day of it. She’d smoked for many years and had a ring of deep creases that radiated away from her mouth like the lines a child would draw indicating the rays of the sun.
Together they went down in the elevator and crossed to the hospital, using the crossway. In the hospital shop they managed to get a small table in the corner that allowed them to talk. They both ordered tuna salads.
“I appreciate your willingness to have lunch,” Marsha said. “I need to talk with you about VJ.”
Valerie just smiled encouragement.
“You were such a help back when his intelligence dropped. I’ve been concerned about him lately, but what can I say? I’m his mother. I can’t pretend to have any objectivity whatsoever, where he’s concerned.”
“What’s the problem?” asked Valerie.
“I’m not even sure there is a problem. It certainly isn’t one specific thing. Take a look at these psychological test results.”
Marsha handed Valerie VJ’s folder. Valerie scanned the various test reports with a careful eye. “Nothing appears out of the ordinary,” she said. “Curious about that validity scale on the MMPI, but otherwise, there’s nothing here to be concerned about.”
Marsha had the feeling that Valerie was right. She went on to explain. VJ’s truancy, the forged notes, and the fights he’d been in in school.
“VJ sounds resourceful,” said Valerie with a smile. “How old is he again?”
“Ten,” Marsha said. “I’m also concerned that he only seems to have one friend his own age, a boy named Richie Blakemore, and I’ve never even met him.”
“VJ never brings this boy to your home?” Valerie asked.
“Never.”
“Maybe it might be worth chatting with Mrs. Blakemore,” Valerie said. “Get an idea from her how close the boys are.”
“I suppose.”
“I’d be happy to see VJ if you think he would be willing,” Valerie offered.
“I’d certainly appreciate it,” Marsha said. “I really think I’m too close to the situation to evaluate him. At the same time, I’m terrified at the thought he’s developing a serious personality disorder right under my nose.”
Marsha left Valerie in the elevator, thanking her profusely for taking the time to hear her out, and for offering to see VJ. She promised to call Valerie’s secretary to set up an appointment.
“Your husband called,” Jean said as Marsha came back in the door. “He wants you to be sure to call back.”
“A problem?” Marsha asked.
“I don’t think so,” Jean said. “He didn’t say one way or the other, but he didn’t sound upset.”
Marsha picked up her mail and went into the inner office, closing the door behind her. Flipping through her mail, she phoned Victor. Colleen patched the call through to the lab, and Victor came on the line.
“What’s up?” asked Marsha. Victor didn’t often call during the day.
“The usual,” Victor said.
“You sound tired,” Marsha said. She wanted to say he sounded strange. His voice was toneless, as if he’d just had an emotional outburst and was forcing himself to remain calm.
“There are always surprises these days,” Victor said without explanation. “The reason I called was to say that VJ and Philip are at home.”
“Something wrong?” asked Marsha.
“No,” Victor said. “Nothing is wrong. But I’m going to be working late so you and the others go ahead and eat. Oh, by the way, there will be security watching the house from 6 P.M. until 6 A.M.”
“Does the reason you’re staying late have anything to do with the harassment?” Marsha asked.
“Maybe,” Victor said. “I’ll explain when I get home.”
Marsha hung up the ph
one but her hand remained on the receiver. Once again she had that uncomfortable feeling that Victor was keeping something from her, something that she should know. Why couldn’t he confide in her? More and more, she was feeling alone.
A particular stillness hung over the lab when Victor was there by himself. Various electronic instruments kicked on at times, but otherwise it was quiet. By eight-thirty Victor was the only person in the lab. Closed behind several doors, he couldn’t even hear the sounds of the animals as they paced in their cages or used their exercise wheels.
Victor was bent over strips of film that bore darkened horizontal stripes. Each stripe represented a portion of DNA that had been cleaved at a specific point. Victor was comparing his son David’s DNA fingerprint—one taken when David was still healthy—and one of his cancerous liver tumor. What amazed him was that the two did not entirely match. Victor’s first hunch was that Dr. Shryack had given him the wrong sample—a piece of tumor from some other patient. But that did not explain the vast homology of the two strips; for whatever differences there were between the two fingerprints, much was the same.
After running the two in a computer that could numerically establish areas of homology versus the areas of heterogeneity, Victor realized that the two samples of DNA differed in only one area.
To make matters more confusing, the sample that Victor had given Robert contained some small areas of normal liver tissue in addition to the tumor. In his habitually compulsive fashion, Robert had carefully fingerprinted both areas of the sample. When Victor compared the normal liver DNA fingerprint with David’s previous fingerprint, the match was perfect.
Discovering a cancer with a documented alteration in the DNA was not a usual finding. Victor did not know whether he should be excited about the possibility of an important scientific discovery or fearful that he was about to find something that he either couldn’t explain or didn’t want to know.
Victor then started the process of isolating the part of the DNA that was unique in the tumor. By initiating the protocol, it would be that much easier for Robert to complete the work in the morning.
Leaving the main lab room, Victor went through the dissecting room and entered the animal room. As he turned on the light there was a lot of sudden activity in each of the occupied cages.
Victor walked over to the cage which housed the two smart rats whose water contained the single capsule of cephaloclor. He was amazed to find one rat already dead and the other semicomatose.
Removing the dead rat, Victor took it back into the dissecting room and did an autopsy of sorts. When he opened the skull, the brain puffed out as if it was being inflated.
Carefully removing a piece of the brain, he prepared it to be sectioned in the morning. Just then, the telephone rang.
“Dr. Frank, this is Phil Moscone. Louis Kaspwicz asked me to call you to let you know that the hacker has logged onto the computer.”
“I’ll be right there,” said Victor. He put away his rat brain sample, turned out the lights, and dashed out of the lab.
It was only a short jog to the computer center; Victor was there within a few minutes.
Louis came directly to him. “It’s looking good for the trace. The guy has been logged on now for seven minutes. I just hope to hell he’s not causing any mischief.”
“Can you tell where he is in the system?” Victor asked.
“He’s in Personnel right now,” Louis said. “First he did some sizable number crunching, then he went into Purchasing. It’s weird.”
“Personnel?” Victor questioned. He’d been thinking the hacker was indeed no kid, but some competitor’s hired gun. Biotechnology was an extremely competitive field, and most everybody wanted to compete against the big boys like Chimera. But an industrial agent would want to get into the research files, not Personnel.
“We got a positive trace!” the man with the two-way radio announced with a big smile.
There was a general cheer among all those present.
“Okay,” said Louis. “We’ve got the telephone number. Now we just need the name.”
The man with the radio held up his hand, listened, then said, “It’s an unpublished number.”
Several of the other men who were already busy breaking down their equipment booed at this news.
“Does that mean they can’t get the name?” asked Victor.
“Nah,” Louis said. “It means it just takes them a little longer.”
Victor leaned against one of the covered print-out devices and folded his arms.
“Who’s got a piece of paper?” the man with the radio said suddenly, holding the radio up against his left ear. One of the other men handed him a legal-sized pad. He jotted down the name given him over the radio. “Thanks a lot, over and out.” He switched off his radio unit, pushed in the antenna, then handed Louis the paper.
Louis read the name and address and turned pale. Without saying anything he handed it to Victor. Victor looked down and read it. Disbelieving, he read it again. What he saw on the paper was his name and address!
“Is this some kind of joke?” Victor said, raising his head and looking at Louis. Victor then glanced at the others. No one said a word.
“Did you program your PC to access the mainframe on a regular basis?” Louis asked, breaking the spell.
Victor looked back at his systems administrator and realized the man was trying to give him an out. After an awkward minute, Victor agreed. “Yeah, that must be it.” Victor tried to remain composed. He thanked everyone for their effort and left.
Victor walked out of the computer center, got his coat from the administration building, and walked to his car in a kind of daze. The idea of someone using his computer to break into the Chimera mainframe was simply preposterous. It didn’t make any sense. He knew that he had always left the computer telephone number and his password taped to the bottom of his keyboard, but who could have been using it? Marsha? VJ? The cleaning lady? There had to have been some mistake. Could the hacker have been so clever as to divert a trace? Victor hadn’t thought of that, and he made a mental note to ask Louis if it were possible. That seemed to make the most sense.
Marsha heard Victor’s car before she saw the lights swing into the driveway. She was in her study vainly trying to tackle the stack of professional periodicals that piled up on a regular basis on her desk. Getting to her feet, she saw the headlights silhouetting the leafless trees that lined the driveway. Victor’s car came into view, then disappeared behind the house. The automatic garage door rumbled in the distance.
Marsha sat back down on her flower-print chintz couch and let her eyes roam around her study. She’d decorated it with pale pastel striped wallpaper, dusty rose carpet, and mostly white furniture. In the past it had always provided a comforting haven, but not lately. Nothing seemed to be able to relieve her ever-increasing anxiety about the future. The visit with Valerie had helped, but unfortunately even that mild relief had not lasted.
Marsha could hear the TV in the family room where VJ and Philip were watching a horror movie they’d rented. The intermittent screams that punctuated the soundtrack didn’t help Marsha’s mood either. She’d even closed her door but the screams still penetrated.
She heard the dull thud of the back door slam, then muffled voices from the family room, and finally a knock on her door.
Victor came in and gave her a perfunctory kiss. He looked as tired as his voice had sounded on the phone that afternoon. A constant crease was beginning to develop on his forehead between his eyebrows.
“Did you notice the security man outside?” Victor asked.
Marsha nodded. “Makes me feel much better. Did you eat?” she asked.
“No,” Victor said. “But I’m not hungry.”
“I’ll scramble you some eggs. Maybe some toast,” Marsha offered.
Victor restrained her. “Thanks, but I think I’ll take a swim and then shower. Maybe that will revive me.”
“Something wrong?” Marsha asked.
Thirty minutes later, Victor reappeared. He looked considerably better, dressed in more casual clothes.
“Maybe I’ll take you up on those eggs,” he said. In the kitchen Marsha went to work while Victor set the table. A series of bloodcurdling gurgles emanated from the family room. Marsha asked Victor to close the connecting door.
“What in heaven’s name are they watching in there?” he asked.
“Sheer Terror,” Marsha said.
Victor shook his head. “Kids and their horror movies,” he said.
Marsha made herself a cup of tea and when Victor sat down to eat his omelet, she sat opposite him.
“There is something I wanted to discuss with you,” Marsha said, waiting for her tea to cool.
“Oh?”
Marsha told Victor about her lunch with Valerie Maddox; she also told him about Valerie’s offer to see VJ on a professional basis. “How do you feel about that?”
Wiping his mouth with his napkin, Victor said, “That kind of question involves your area of expertise. Anything that you think is appropriate is fine with me.”
“Good,” Marsha said. “I do think it is appropriate. Now I just have to convince VJ.”
“Good luck,” Victor said.
There was a short period of silence as Victor mopped up the last of the egg with a wedge of toast. Then he asked, “Did you use the computer upstairs tonight?”
“No, why do you ask?”
“The printer was hot when I went upstairs to swim and shower,” Victor said. “How about VJ? Did he use it?”
“I couldn’t say.”
Victor rocked back in his chair in a way that made Marsha grit her teeth. She was always afraid he was about to go over backward and hit his head on the tile floor.
“I had an interesting evening at the Chimera computer center,” Victor said, teetering on his chair. He went on to tell her everything that had happened, including the fact that the trace of the hacker ended up right there in their home.