by Robin Cook
Lunch was a white fish that Kevin didn’t recognize. When he inquired about it, Esmeralda gave him only the name in Fang, which meant nothing to Kevin. He surprised himself by eating more than he’d expected. The conversation with Raymond had had a positive effect on his appetite. The idea of having his own lab still held inordinate appeal.
After eating, Kevin changed his damp shirt for a clean, freshly ironed one. He was eager to get back to work. As he was about to descend the stairs, Esmeralda inquired when he wanted dinner. He told her seven, the usual time.
While Kevin had been lunching a leaden group of gray lavender clouds had rolled in from the ocean. By the time he emerged from his front door, it was pouring, and the street in front of his house was a cascade as the runoff raced down to the waterfront. Looking south over the Estuario del Muni, Kevin could see a line of bright sunshine as well as the arch of a complete rainbow. The weather in Gabon was still clear. Kevin was not surprised. There had been times when it had rained on one side of the street and not the other.
Guessing the rain would continue for at least the next hour, Kevin skirted his house beneath the protection of the arcade and climbed into his black Toyota utility vehicle. Although it was a ridiculously short drive back to the hospital, Kevin felt it was better to ride than be wet for the rest of the afternoon.
CHAPTER 3
March 4, 1997
8:45 A.M. New York City
“Well, what do you want to do?” Franco Ponti asked while looking at his boss, Vinnie Dominick, in the rearview mirror. They were in Vinnie’s Lincoln Towncar. Vinnie was in the backseat, leaning forward with his right hand holding onto the overhead strap. He was looking out at 126 East Sixty-fourth Street. It was a brownstone built in a French rococo style with high-arched, multipaned windows. The first-floor windows were heavily barred for protection.
“Looks like pretty posh digs,” Vinnie said. “The good doctor is doing okay for himself.”
“Should I park?” Franco asked. The car was in the middle of the street, and the taxi behind them was honking insistently.
“Park!” Vinnie said.
Franco drove ahead until he came to a fire hydrant. He pulled to the curb. The taxi went past, the driver frantically giving them the finger. Angelo Facciolo shook his head and made a disparaging comment about expatriate Russian taxi drivers. Angelo was sitting in the front passenger seat.
Vinnie climbed out of the car. Franco and Angelo quickly followed suit. All three men were impeccably dressed in long, Salvatore Ferragamo overcoats in varying shades of gray.
“You think the car will be okay?” Franco asked.
“I anticipate this will be a short meeting,” Vinnie said. “But put the Police Benevolent Association Commendation on the dash. Might as well save fifty bucks.”
Vinnie walked back to number 126. Franco and Angelo trailed in their perpetually vigilant style. Vinnie looked at the door intercom. “It’s a duplex,” Vinnie said. “I guess the doctor isn’t doing quite as well as I thought.” Vinnie pressed the button for Dr. Raymond Lyons and waited.
“Hello?” a feminine voice inquired.
“I’m here to see the doctor,” Vinnie said. “My name is Vinnie Dominick.”
There was a pause. Vinnie played with a bottle cap with the tip of his Gucci loafer. Franco and Angelo looked up and down the street.
The intercom crackled back to life. “Hello, this is Dr. Lyons. Can I help you?”
“I believe so,” Vinnie said. “I need about fifteen minutes of your time.”
“I’m not sure I know you, Mr. Dominick,” Raymond said. “Could you tell me what this is in reference to?”
“It’s in reference to a favor I did for you last night,” Vinnie said. “The request had come through a mutual acquaintance, Dr. Daniel Levitz.”
There was a pause.
“I trust you are still there, Doctor,” Vinnie said.
“Yes, of course,” Raymond said. A raucous buzzing sounded. Vinnie pushed open the heavy door and entered. His minions followed.
“I don’t think the good doctor is terribly excited to see us,” Vinnie quipped as they rode up in the small elevator. The three men were pressed together like cigars in a triple pack.
Raymond met his visitors as they exited the lift. He was obviously nervous as he shook hands with all three after the introductions. He gestured for them to enter his apartment and then showed them into a small, mahogany-paneled study.
“Coffee anyone?” Raymond asked.
Franco and Angelo looked at Vinnie.
“I wouldn’t turn down an espresso if it’s not too much trouble,” Vinnie said. Franco and Angelo said they’d have the same.
Raymond used his desk phone to place the order.
Raymond’s worst fears had materialized the moment he’d caught sight of his uninvited guests. From his perspective they appeared like stereotypes from a grade-B movie. Vinnie was about five-ten, darkly complected and handsome, with full features and slicked-back hair. He was obviously the boss. The other two men were both over six feet and gaunt. Their noses and lips were thin and their eyes were beady and deeply set. They could have been brothers. The main difference in their appearance was the condition of Angelo’s skin. Raymond thought it looked like the far side of the moon.
“Can I take your coats?” Raymond asked.
“We don’t intend on staying too long,” Vinnie said.
“At least sit down,” Raymond said.
Vinnie relaxed into a leather armchair. Franco and Angelo sat stiffly on a velvet-covered settee. Raymond sat behind his desk.
“What can I do for you gentlemen?” Raymond said, trying to assume a confident air.
“The favor we did for you last night was not easy to pull off,” Vinnie said. “We thought you’d like to know how it was arranged.”
Raymond let out a little, mirthless laugh through a weak smile. He held up his hands as if to ward off something coming his way. “That’s not necessary. I’m certain you . . .”
“We insist,” Vinnie interrupted. “It makes good business sense. You see, we wouldn’t like you to think that we didn’t make a significant effort on your behalf.”
“I wouldn’t think that for a moment,” Raymond said.
“Well, just to be sure,” Vinnie said. “You see, getting a body out of the morgue is no easy task, since they are open for business twenty-four hours a day, and they have a uniformed security man on duty at all times.”
“This isn’t necessary,” Raymond said. “I’d rather not be privy to the details, but I’m very appreciative of your efforts.”
“Be quiet, Dr. Lyons, and listen!” Vinnie said. He paused for a moment to organize his thoughts. “We were lucky because Angelo here knows a kid named Vinnie Amendola, who works in the morgue. This kid was beholden to Pauli Cerino, a guy Angelo used to work for but who is currently in jail. Angelo now works for me, and knowing what he knows, he was able to convince the kid to tell us exactly where Mr. Franconi’s remains were stored. The kid was also able to tell us some other information so we’d have some reason to be there in the middle of the night.”
At that moment the espressos arrived. They were brought in by Darlene Polson, whom Raymond introduced as his assistant. As soon as the coffees were distributed, Darlene left.
“Good-looking assistant,” Vinnie said.
“She’s very efficient,” Raymond commented. Unconsciously, he wiped his brow.
“I hope we’re not making you feel uncomfortable,” Vinnie said.
“No, not at all,” Raymond said a bit too quickly.
“So we got the body out okay,” Vinnie said. “And we disposed of it so it is gone. But as you can understand, it was not a walk in the park. In fact it was one big pain in the ass since we had so little time to plan it.”
“Well, if there is ever some favor I can do for you,” Raymond commented after an uncomfortable pause in the conversation.
“Thank you, Doctor,” Vinnie said. He polished
off his espresso like he was drinking a shot. He put the cup and saucer on the corner of the desk. “You’ve said exactly what I was hoping you’d say, which brings me to why I’m here. Now, you probably know I’m a client just like Franconi was. More important, my eleven-year-old son, Vinnie Junior, is also a client. In fact, he’s more apt to need your services than I am. So we’re facing two tuitions, as you people call it. What I’d like to propose is that I don’t pay anything this year. What do you say?”
Raymond’s eyes dropped to his desk surface.
“What we’re talking about is a favor for a favor,” Vinnie said. “It’s only fair.”
Raymond cleared his throat. “I’ll have to talk to the powers that be,” he said.
“Now, that’s the first unfriendly thing you’ve said,” Vinnie added. “My information is that you are the so-called ‘powers that be.’ So I find this foot-dragging insulting. I’ll change my offer. I won’t pay any tuition this year or next year. I hope you comprehend the direction this conversation is taking.”
“I understand,” Raymond said. He swallowed with obvious effort. “I’ll take care of it.”
Vinnie stood up. Franco and Angelo did likewise. “That’s the spirit,” Vinnie said. “So I’ll count on your talking with Dr. Daniel Levitz and let him know about our understanding.”
“Of course,” Raymond said. He got to his feet.
“Thank you for the coffee,” Vinnie said. “It hit the spot. My compliments to your assistant.”
Raymond closed the apartment door after the hoodlums had left and leaned against it. His pulse was racing. Darlene appeared in the doorway leading to the kitchen.
“Was it as bad as you feared?” she asked.
“Worse!” Raymond said. “They behaved perfectly in character. Now I’ve got to deal with petty mobsters demanding a free ride. I tell you, what else can go wrong?”
Raymond pushed off the door and started toward his study. After only two steps he wobbled. Darlene reached out and supported his arm.
“Are you okay?” she demanded.
Raymond waited for a moment before nodding. “Yeah, I’m all right,” he said. “Just a bit dizzy. Thanks to this Franconi flap, I didn’t sleep a wink last night.”
“Maybe you should put off the meeting you’ve planned with the new prospective doctor,” Darlene suggested.
“I think you’re right,” Raymond said. “In this state, I probably couldn’t convince anyone to join our group even if they were on their way to bankruptcy court.”
CHAPTER 4
March 4, 1997
7:00 P.M. New York City
Laurie finished preparing the salad greens, put a paper towel over the bowl, and slipped it into the refrigerator. Then she mixed the dressing, a simple combination of olive oil, fresh garlic, and white vinegar, with just a touch of balsamic. She put that in the refrigerator as well. Turning her attention to the lamb loin, she trimmed off the small amount of fat the butcher had left, put the meat into a marinade she’d made earlier, and then stuck it into the refrigerator with the other makings. The last chore was preparing the artichokes. It took only a moment to cut off the excess base and a few of the large, stringy leaves.
Wiping her hands on the dish towel, Laurie glanced up at the wall clock. Familiar with Jack’s schedule, she thought it was exactly the time to call. She used the wall phone next to the sink.
As the connection went through, she could imagine Jack coming up the cluttered stairwell in his dilapidated building. Although she thought she understood why he’d originally rented his apartment, she had trouble comprehending why he stayed. The building was so depressing. On the other hand, as she glanced around at her own flat, she had to admit, there wasn’t a lot of difference once Jack got inside his unit except he had almost double the space.
The phone rang at the other end. Laurie counted the rings. When she got to ten she began to doubt her familiarity with his schedule. She was about to hang up when Jack answered.
“Yeah?” he said unceremoniously. He was out of breath.
“Tonight’s your lucky night,” Laurie said.
“Who is this?” Jack asked. “Is that you, Laurie?”
“You sound out of breath,” Laurie said. “Does that mean you lost at basketball?”
“No, it means I ran up four flights of stairs to get the phone,” Jack said. “What’s happening? Don’t tell me you’re still at work?”
“Heavens, no,” Laurie said. “I’ve been home for an hour.”
“So why is this my lucky night?” Jack asked.
“I stopped by Gristede’s on the way home and picked up the makings of your favorite dinner,” Laurie said. “It’s all ready to go into the broiler. All you have to do is shower and get yourself down here.”
“And I thought I owed you an apology for laughing at the vanishing mafioso,” Jack said. “If amends are needed it’s surely from my side.”
“There’s no atonement involved,” Laurie said. “I would just enjoy your company. But there’s one condition.”
“Uh-oh,” Jack said. “What?”
“No bike tonight,” Laurie said. “You have to come by cab or the deal’s off.”
“Taxis are more dangerous than my bike,” Jack complained.
“No argument,” Laurie said. “Take it or leave it. If and when you slide under a bus and end up on a slab in the pit, I don’t want to feel responsible.” Laurie felt her face flush. It was an issue she didn’t even like to joke about.
“Okay,” Jack said agreeably. “I should be there in thirty-five to forty minutes. Shall I bring some wine?”
“That would be great,” Laurie said.
Laurie was pleased. She’d been unsure if Jack would accept the invitation. Over the previous year they had been seeing each other socially, and several months ago, Laurie had admitted to herself that she’d fallen in love with him. But Jack seemed reluctant to allow the relationship to progress to the next level of commitment. When Laurie tried to force the issue, Jack had responded by distancing himself. Feeling rejected, Laurie had responded with anger. For weeks, they only spoke on a professional basis.
Over the last month their relationship had slowly improved. They were seeing each other again casually. This time Laurie realized that she had to bide her time. The problem was that at age thirty-seven it was not easy. Laurie had always wanted to become a mother someday. With forty fast approaching, she felt she was running out of time.
With the dinner essentially prepared, Laurie went around her small one-bedroom apartment straightening up. That meant putting odd books back into their spots on the shelves, stacking medical journals neatly, and emptying Tom’s litter box. Tom was her six-and-a-half-year-old tawny tabby who was still as wild as he’d been as a kitten. Laurie straightened the Klimt print that the cat always knocked askew on his daily route from the bookcase to the top of the valance over the window.
Next Laurie took a quick shower, changed into a turtleneck and jeans, and put on a touch of makeup. As she did so she glared at the crow’s feet that had been developing at the corners of her eyes. She didn’t feel any older than when she’d gotten out of medical school, yet there was no denying the advance of years.
Jack arrived on schedule. When Laurie looked through the peephole, all she could see was a bloated image of his broadly grinning face, which he had positioned a mere inch from the lens. She smiled at his antics as she undid the host of locks that secured her door.
“Get in here, you clown!” Laurie said.
“I wanted to be sure you recognized me,” Jack said as he stepped past her. “My chipped, upper-left incisor has become my trademark.”
Just as Laurie was closing her door she caught a glimpse of her neighbor, Mrs. Engler, who’d cracked her door to see who was visiting Laurie. Laurie glared at her. She was such a busybody.
The dinner was a success. The food was perfect and the wine was okay. Jack’s excuse was that the liquor store closest to his apartment specialized in jug wi
ne, not the better stuff.
During the course of the evening, Laurie had to continually bite her tongue to keep the conversation away from sensitive areas. She would have loved to talk about their relationship, but she didn’t dare. She sensed that some of Jack’s hesitance stemmed from his extraordinary personal tragedy. Six years previously, his wife and two daughters had been tragically killed in a commuter-plane crash. Jack had told Laurie about it after they had been dating for several months, but then refused to talk about it again. Laurie sensed that this loss was the biggest stumbling block to their relationship. In a way, this belief helped her to take Jack’s reluctance to commit himself less personally.
Jack had no trouble keeping the conversation light. He’d had a good evening playing pickup basketball at his neighborhood playground and was happy to talk about it. By chance he’d been teamed up with Warren, an all-around impressive African-American, who was the leader of the local gang and by far the best player. Jack and Warren’s team didn’t lose all evening.
“How is Warren?” Laurie asked. Jack and Laurie had frequently double-dated with Warren and his girlfriend, Natalie Adams. Laurie hadn’t seen either of them since before she and Jack had their falling-out.
“Warren’s Warren,” Jack said. He shrugged. “He’s got so much potential. I’ve tried my best to get him to take some college courses, but he resists. He says my value system isn’t his, so I’ve given up.”
“And Natalie?”
“Fine, I guess,” Jack said. “I haven’t seen her since we all went out.”
“We should do it again,” Laurie said. “I miss seeing them.”
“That’s an idea,” Jack said evasively.
There was a pause. Laurie could hear Tom’s purring. After eating and cleaning up, Jack moved to the couch. Laurie sat across from him in her art-deco club chair she’d purchased in the Village.