Robin Cook (18 page)

“Has anything like this ever happened before?” asked Adam when the doctor had gone.

“Never,” said Cora.

Dr. Vandermer reappeared with a large man in tow. Like Dr. Vandermer, he was wearing a long white coat. Dr. Vandermer introduced him to Adam
as Dr. Ridley Stanford. Adam recognized the name. He was the author of the textbook on pathology that Adam had used during his second year of medical school, and had been chief of pathology at University Hospital.

“This is a disaster,” said Dr. Vandermer after Dr. Stanford had taken a look.

“I agree,” said Dr. Stanford, his voice as emotionless as Vandermer's. “I can't imagine how this could have happened. Let me make some calls.”

Within a few minutes there were ten other people crowded around the microscope.

“How many amniocenteses were done yesterday?” asked Dr. Vandermer.

Cora glanced at the book. “Twenty-one,” she said.

“They all have to be repeated,” said Dr. Vandermer.

“Absolutely,” said Dr. Stanford.

Turning to Adam, Dr. Vandermer said, “We owe you a vote of thanks.” The others echoed his sentiments.

Adam felt as if a huge black cloud had been lifted from over his head. His child was not some kind of genetic monster. The first thing he wanted to do was call Jennifer.

“We would be honored if you would stay for lunch,” said Dr. Stanford. “There's a fabulous pathology lecture on retroperitoneal tumors which you might find interesting.”

Adam excused himself and hurriedly descended to the main lobby. He couldn't believe that in the face of the current disaster they wanted him to stay for lunch and a lecture! There was no question but the place was weird. Passing the front
door en route to the telephone, Adam was pleased to see that his car was still where he'd left it.

Adam first called the apartment, but there was no answer. Thinking that Jennifer might have gone home with her mother, he dialed the Englewood number, but there was no answer there, either.

After a moment's hesitation, Adam decided to go back to the apartment. He ran out of the Julian Clinic, got in his car, and started for home.

His excitement at the good news was beginning to give way to a heightened sense of uneasiness about the Julian Clinic and Dr. Vandermer. It had been only a lucky break that he'd noticed the discrepancy. What if he hadn't and Jennifer had had an abortion!

Adam felt all his anxieties return in a rush. He'd narrowly averted one catastrophe, but unless he could get Jennifer to switch from both Vandermer and the clinic, there might be more. For a while he'd abandoned the thought of the Arolen cruise. Now it looked again as if it might be the only way to get the evidence to prove Vandermer was dangerous. Adam looked at his watch. It was twelve-twenty. Still time to make the
Fjord
by six o'clock.

Reaching his apartment door, Adam was disappointed to find the police lock engaged. He found Jennifer's impersonal note and decided to call Englewood once again. He was pleased when Jennifer answered instead of her mother.

“I've got good news and bad.”

“I'm in no mood to play games,” said Jennifer.

“The good news is that they got your specimen mixed up at the clinic. Someone else's baby has the bad chromosomes. They mixed up the slides.”

For a moment Jennifer was afraid to ask if Adam were telling the truth or if this were just some sort
of plot to make her lose faith in Vandermer. The news seemed too good to be true.

“Jennifer, did you hear me?”

“Is it true?” asked Jennifer tentatively.

“Yes,” said Adam, and he described how he'd noticed the discrepancy in relation to the sex of the cell.

“What did Dr. Vandermer say?” asked Jennifer.

“He said that all the amniocenteses done that day have to be repeated.”

“Is that the bad news you were referring to?” asked Jennifer.

“No,” said Adam. “The bad news is that I'm still going out of town, unless you promise me something.”

“What do I have to promise?” asked Jennifer skeptically.

“Promise to see Dr. Wickelman for the remainder of your pregnancy and stop taking pregdolen.”

“Adam . . .” said Jennifer, drawing out his name impatiently.

“I'm more convinced than ever that there is something strange about the Julian Clinic,” said Adam. “If you agree to see Dr. Wickelman, I'll promise not to interfere with anything he suggests.”

“Mistakes happen every day in hospitals,” said Jennifer. “Just because one happened at the Julian Clinic doesn't mean I shouldn't go there. It seems like the ideal place to have my baby now that I've gotten over that episode with Cheryl Tedesco. I like the people there and the atmosphere.”

“Well,” said Adam. “I'll see you in a few days.”

“Where are you going?” asked Jennifer.

“I'd rather not say,” said Adam.

“Under the circumstances,” said Jennifer, “don't
you think that you should stay here? Adam, I need you.”

“That's a little hard to believe with you at your parents' and me alone in the apartment. I'm sorry, but I have to run. I love you, Jennifer.”

Adam hung up and called Eastern Airlines before he had time to have second thoughts. He booked a seat on a flight leaving for Miami from LaGuardia in forty-eight minutes.

Adam got his small Samsonite suitcase from the closet and began packing. Just as he was cramming in his toilet articles, the phone rang. Adam reached out his hand, but then, for once in his life, ignored the sound. Even a minute's delay would make him miss his flight.

• • •

Jennifer waited, letting the phone ring on and on. Finally, she hung up. Right after speaking with Adam, she'd decided that she'd be willing to see this Dr. Wickelman if it meant so much to Adam. She could at least give the man a chance, and if she didn't feel comfortable with him, she could always go back to Dr. Vandermer. But Adam had apparently left. Jennifer felt abandoned. Before she took her hand off the receiver, the phone rang again. Hoping it was Adam, she picked it up before the first ring was complete. It was Dr. Vandermer.

“I assume you have heard the good news.”

“Yes, Adam just told me,” said Jennifer.

“We are very grateful to your husband,” said Dr. Vandermer. “It is unusual for someone to notice a secondary abnormality in the face of an overwhelmingly positive finding.”

“So it is true that I am not carrying a defective child,” said Jennifer.

“I'm afraid I can't go so far as to say that,” said Dr. Vandermer. “Unfortunately, we have no idea of the result of your amniocentesis. We'll have to repeat the procedure. I'm terribly sorry this happened. There were twenty people besides yourself who had amniocentesis that day, and all of them have to be repeated. Obviously it will be done at the clinic's expense.”

“When do you want to repeat the test?” asked Jennifer. She appreciated Dr. Vandermer's willingness to accept responsibility even though the error was undoubtedly made by someone in the lab.

“As soon as possible,” said Dr. Vandermer. “Remember, we are up against a time constraint if there really is a problem.”

“How about if I get back to you in the morning?” said Jennifer.

“That will be fine. There's no rush, but the sooner we do it, the better.”

The flight to Miami was uneventful. As soon as Adam was airborne, he removed his own driver's license from his billfold and replaced it with Smyth's. Then he studied the addresses in the passport. If someone asked him where he lived, he wanted to be able to rattle it off by heart.

The plane landed at five minutes after four, and since Adam had carried his luggage aboard, he was at the taxi stand by four-fifteen. The taxi was an old broken-down Dodge station wagon and the driver spoke only Spanish, but he recognized the name of the
Fjord
and understood that Adam was going on a cruise.

Adam stared at the tropical scenery. Miami was much more beautiful than he'd imagined. Soon they passed over a long causeway and Adam saw the harbor. The cruise ships were tied up in a line, with the
Fjord
the last in the row. Compared to the others, the
Fjord
seemed neither especially large nor particularly small. Like the others, it was painted white. It had one huge smokestack with
an image of two intertwining arrows on the side. Adam wondered if that were MTIC's logo.

Adam's driver could not get close to the curb, so Adam paid him and got out in the middle of the street. Suitcase in hand, he made his way toward the entrance of the building. The din of car horns, voices, and idling motors was terrific, the air heavy with fumes. It was a relief to get inside.

Adam made his way to an information booth where the receptionists' uniforms reminded him of the staff's dress at the Julian Clinic. They, too, were dressed in white blouses and blue jumpers.

Adam had to shout to be heard. He asked how he should check in and was told to go up the escalator to the second level. Adam thanked the girl who'd directed him by mouthing the words.

Getting on the escalator was a trick, especially with the suitcase. While he rode up, he looked over the crowd. Although there were a few women, the majority of the people were men and they certainly looked like doctors—prosperous and self-satisfied. Most were dressed in business suits, though a few had on sport shirts and slacks.

On the second floor of the terminal was a long registration table, divided into alphabetical segments. Adam joined the line marked “N—Z.”

Glancing around the room, he suddenly got cold feet. Maybe he should leave. No one would notice. He could just catch a cab to the airport and fly home. He began counting the number of people between him and the registration desk. At that moment, Adam's eye caught those of a man standing a few feet away in the neighboring line. Quickly looking away, Adam nervously tapped his foot. There was no reason for someone to be staring at him. Gradually, Adam allowed his eyes to return
to the next line. Unfortunately, the man was still looking directly at him. When he saw Adam look up, he smiled. Self-consciously, Adam smiled back. Then, to his horror, the man came over.

“My name is Alan Jackson,” he said, forcing Adam to put down his suitcase and shake hands. Nervously, Adam introduced himself as Stuart Smyth. Alan just nodded and smiled again.

He was at least ten years older than Adam and had broad shoulders and a narrow waist. His sandy hair was combed forward, probably to hide a bald spot.

“You look awfully familiar,” said Alan. “Are you from New York?”

Adam felt the blood drain from his face. He hadn't even checked in yet and already he was in trouble.

At that moment the loudspeaker came to life: “Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen. For those of you with boarding cards, the
Fjord
will be ready to receive you in just a few minutes. If you haven't received a boarding card, we recommend that you proceed to the registration desk immediately.”

“Aren't you in orthopedics?” asked Alan as soon as the loudspeaker fell silent.

“No,” said Adam, relieved. Obviously the man didn't know the real Smyth. “I'm OB-GYN. How about you?”

“Orthopedics. I'm with the University of California, San Diego. This your first Arolen cruise?”

“No,” said Adam quickly. “How about you?”

“It's my second,” said Alan, turning suddenly. “My God, there's Ned Janson. Hey, Ned, you old bastard. Over here!”

Adam saw a stocky, dark-haired man who was with one of the few women in the crowd look up.
Seeing Alan, his face lit up with a smile. He took the woman by the arm and made his way over.

While Alan and Ned had a back-slapping reunion, Adam introduced himself to the woman. Her name was Clair Osborn. She was a handsome lady, about thirty, with a round, healthy face, and long, muscular legs. She was dressed in a short black-and-white skirt. Adam was enjoying himself until she told him she was a gynecologist.

“What's your specialty?” asked Clair. “Orthopedics or OB-GYN?”

“Why limit the choices to those two?” joked Adam, trying to change the subject.

“It's my brilliant intuition,” said Clair. “Plus the fact that this cruise is for orthopods and obstetricians only.”

Adam laughed nervously. “Well, I'm OB.”

“Really?” said Clair with delight. “Then we'll be going to the same functions.”

“That will be nice,” said Adam. “Is this your first cruise?” Adam wanted to talk about anything other than OB-GYN. He didn't fool himself into thinking he could hold up his end of a professional conversation.

“Sure is,” said Clair. “It's Ned's first time, too. Right, Ned?” Clair yanked on Ned's arm to get his attention. Hearing bits and pieces of their conversation, Adam understood that Alan and Ned had trained at the same hospital.

“Hey! This is great,” said Ned after meeting Adam. “Why don't we all have dinner tonight?”

Alan shook his head. “The Arolen people do the seating. They consider meals an extension of the scientific sessions.”

“Oh, bullshit,” said Ned. “What is this supposed to be, summer camp?”

The man in front of Adam moved away with his boarding card in hand. Adam stepped up to the counter and faced a young man nattily dressed in a white blazer. On the breast pocket was the same logo Adam had seen painted on the side of the
Fjord'
s smokestack. On his lapel was a name tag that said “Juan.” Below the name and in small letters was printed “MTIC.”

“Your name, please?” asked Juan. His voice sounded as if he'd asked the question so often that he was speaking by rote.

“Stuart Smyth,” said Adam and fumbled with his billfold to get out the driver's license. In the process his Arolen card dropped on the counter. Luckily, Juan was already busy entering Stuart Smyth into the computer so he didn't see it. Adam turned around to see if any of his new friends had noticed, but they were busy talking. Adam turned back to face Juan, thinking that by the time this cruise was over, he was going to be a nervous wreck. Furtively, he slipped the Arolen card into his jacket pocket.

“Passport?” asked Juan.

After a moment of panic Adam found the passport in his inside jacket pocket and handed it over. Juan opened it. Adam felt a stab of terror, but Juan just looked at it for two seconds and handed it back, saying, “Here's your boarding card. Please present it to the purser and he will assign you your stateroom. If you leave the ship during the cruise, be sure to have the card on your person. Next, please.”

Adam stepped aside so the man behind him could approach the counter. So far so good.

After Alan had obtained his boarding card, he, Ned, and Clair accompanied Adam to the Arolen
desk. There they were given a package of “goodies” as Ned called them. The process starts, thought Adam as he took the gift, a leather shoulder bag with the MTIC logo on the side. Inside the bag were a Cross pen and pencil set, a legal-sized, leatherbound note pad, and a lecture schedule for the cruise. There was also an array of Arolen products which comprised a small pharmacy. Adam glanced at the loot with interest, but knew that he'd have to wait to examine it in detail.

The loudspeaker crackled to life and it was announced that the ship was ready to board. A cheer rose from the crowd as Adam and his newly made friends slowly walked outside. A uniformed policeman checked their boarding cards at dockside, and they all trooped up the gangway.

Stepping off the ramp, Adam found himself on the main deck. It wasn't a new ship by any stretch of the imagination, but it appeared to be well cared for and certain sections seemed to have been recently renovated. The personnel were all dressed like the man at the registration desk, in white blazers and black slacks. Their uniforms were spotlessly clean and carefully pressed.

Adam was approached by one of the stewards who politely checked his boarding card and directed him to a desk to the right. Apparently, there were different colored boarding cards for those who had been on a previous cruise. Ned and Clair were sent to a different desk.

Adam was assigned stateroom 407 on A deck, which was the floor below the main deck. As he took his key, he noticed that the purser had the same monotonous inflection in his voice as the man at the registration desk.

Alan, who was right behind Adam, was assigned
stateroom 409. As they walked away, Adam commented on the flat speech pattern.

“I suppose they say the same thing over and over again,” said Alan.

A steward approached Adam and relieved him of his small suitcase and his new Arolen shoulder bag.

“Thank you,” said Adam.

The man didn't respond except by indicating that Adam was to follow him.

“See you later, Stuart,” called Alan.

It took Adam a moment to remember that that was his name. “Yes, of course,” he called.

The steward was leading him past a gift shop filled with Gucci bags and Japanese cameras. At the back were wines, liquors, and tobaccos as well as a drug section. For the first time, Adam thought about the possibility of seasickness.

“Excuse me,” he said. “When will the store be opened?”

“About an hour after departure.”

“Do they sell Dramamine or those ear patches for motion sickness?” asked Adam.

The steward looked at him with a blank expression. “I don't know if they sell Dramamine or those ear patches.” The way he echoed Adam's question didn't invite further conversation.

Staterooms 407 and 409 were adjacent on the port side of the ship. Alan was nowhere in sight. Adam's steward opened the door to 407 and led Adam inside.

To Adam, who'd never been on a luxury liner, the room seemed small. There was a single bed on the right with a night table. On the left were a small desk and a chair. The bathroom was a tiny
affair with a shower, toilet, and sink crammed next to a narrow closet.

The steward stuck his head in the bathroom, entered, and reappeared a moment later with a glass of water, which he handed to Adam.

“For me?” asked Adam. He took the glass and sipped the water. It had a rather chemical taste.

The steward reached into his side pocket and pulled out a yellow capsule, which he extended toward Adam. “Welcome back,” he said.

Adam smiled uneasily. “Sure is good to be here,” he said, eyeing the yellow capsule. It became obvious that the steward expected him to take the pill.

Adam put out his hand and the steward dropped the capsule into his palm. It didn't look like Dramamine, but how was he to know?

“Is this for motion sickness?” he asked.

The steward said nothing, but his unblinking stare made Adam acutely uncomfortable.

“I'll bet it is for motion sickness,” said Adam, tossing the pill into his mouth. After a swallow, he gave the water glass to the steward, who returned it to the bathroom. While he was out of the room, Adam took the yellow capsule out of his mouth and dropped it into his pocket.

The steward pulled down the covers on the bed as if he expected Adam to take a nap. Then he set Adam's suitcase on a stand and began to unpack.

Amazed at such service, Adam sat on the bed and watched the man silently go about his business. When the steward was finished, he thanked Adam and left.

For a moment Adam sat puzzling over the steward's behavior. Then he got up and upended his new Arolen shoulder bag. The drugs spilled onto the blanket.

Taking the yellow capsule out of his pocket, he checked to see if it matched any of the samples. It didn't. Adam wondered if he would be able to find a
PDR
on board. There should be a library with basic reference books. He was curious about the yellow capsule. It had to be for motion sickness. Adam glanced at it one last time, then put it into a small bottle of aspirin.

He picked up the lecture schedule and began to read. It was nearly twenty-five pages long. The first half dealt with orthopedics, the second with OB-GYN. Adam noted that most of the lectures were clinically oriented, which he thought accounted for the conferences' popularity.

Adam was convinced that if anything were done in the nature of brainwashing, it had to be done during the lectures. But what could they say to make a doctor like Vandermer change his mind about a drug? Could it be some kind of subliminal hypnosis? Adam tossed the schedule aside. He guessed he'd find out soon enough.