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Authors: Robin Cook

Tags: #Mystery, #Horror, #Crime, #Suspense, #Thriller, #Contemporary

Acceptable Risk (46 page)

BOOK: Acceptable Risk
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Edward finally broke the silence. “All our studies show that Ultra is metabolized at a reasonable rate, certainly a lot faster than Prozac,” he said. “Gloria’s experience only indicates that the concentration in her lower brain is still higher than the threshold for this unfortunate complication. Maybe we should cut our doses even more, like even a factor of a hundred.”

François again held out his hands for everyone to see. “These cuts are telling me something,” he said. “I don’t want to take this risk anymore. Obviously I’m out wandering around with no comprehension of what I’m doing. I don’t want to get shot or run over because I’m acting like an animal. I’m stopping the drug.”

“I feel the same,” David said.

“It’s only reasonable,” Curt said.

“All right,” Edward said reluctantly. “You all have a point. It’s unconscionable for us to take any chances with our safety or the safety of anyone else. We all liked to think of ourselves as animals while we were in college, but I guess we’ve outgrown the urge.”

Everyone smiled at Edward’s humor.

“Let’s stop the drug and reevaluate in a few days,” Edward said agreeably. “As soon as the drug is out of our systems, we can contemplate starting again at much lower dosages.”

“I’m not going to take the drug until we find an animal system that mimics this somnambulistic effect,” Gloria said. “I think it should be studied completely before any more human use is considered.”

“We respect your opinion,” Edward said. “As I’ve always indicated, self-medication is totally voluntary. I should remind you that it was my intention for me to take the drug alone in the first place.”

“What are we going to do in the interim for safety?” François asked.

“Perhaps we should run EEGs while we’re sleeping,” Gloria suggested. “We could rig them with a computer to wake us if the normal sleep patterns change.”

“Brilliant idea,” Edward said. “I’ll see that the equipment is ordered on Monday.”

“What about tonight?” François asked.

Everyone thought for a few moments.

“Hopefully there won’t be a problem,” Edward said. “After all, Gloria was on the second-highest dose and probably had significantly high blood levels in relation to her body weight. I think we should all check our blood levels with hers. If they’re lower, maybe we’ll be okay. Probably the only person who poses a significant risk is Curt.”

“Thanks a lot,” he said with a laugh. “Why don’t you just put me in one of the monkey cages?”

“Not a bad idea,” David said.

Curt took a playful swipe at David’s head.

“Perhaps we should sleep in shifts,” François said. “We can watch over each other.”

“Sleeping in shifts is a good idea,” Edward said. “Plus, if we do blood levels today we’ll be able to correlate them with any episodes of somnambulism tonight.”

“You know, this might all turn out for the best,” Gloria said. “By stopping Ultra we’ll have a great opportunity to follow blood and urine levels and relate them to residual psychological effects. Everybody should be sensitive to any ‘depressive’ symptoms in case there’s a rebound phenomenon. The monkey studies have suggested there are no withdrawal symptoms, but that must be confirmed.”

“We might as well make the best of it,” Edward agreed. “Meanwhile we’ve got an enormous amount of work to do. And it goes without saying that everything we’ve been discussing must remain a highly guarded secret until we’ve had a chance to isolate the problem and eliminate it.”

Kim looked at the clock and blinked. She couldn’t believe her eyes. It was almost ten o’clock. She’d slept later than she had since she’d been in college.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, she suddenly recalled the scary episode in the shed. It had truly terrified her. After the event she’d found herself so wound up that she’d not been able to fall back asleep. She’d tried for almost two hours before she gave up and took another half Xanax. Finally she’d been able to calm down, but when she did, she found herself thinking about Thomas Goodman’s letter that had described Elizabeth’s flight to the shed, no doubt under the influence of poisonous mold. Kim felt it was another coincidence that in her panic she’d run to the very same shed.

Kim showered, dressed, and had breakfast in hopes of reviving enough to enjoy the day. Her attempt was only partially successful. She felt sluggish from the double dose of medication. She also felt anxious. The sheer unpleasantness of what had happened during the night, combined with her general agitation, was too much for the medication. She needed something more, and sorting old documents in the castle wasn’t going to be adequate. Kim needed some human contact, and she missed the convenience and resources of the city.

Sitting down at the phone, Kim tried a number of friends in Boston. But she did not have much luck. All she got was answering machines. She left her number on some of them but did not expect a call back until evening. Her friends were active people, and there was a lot to do on a fall Sunday in Boston.

Feeling a strong urge to get away from the compound, Kim called Kinnard’s number. As the call went through, she almost hoped he wouldn’t answer; she wasn’t sure what she would say to him. As luck would have it, he picked up on the second ring.

They exchanged pleasantries. Kim was nervous. She tried to hide it, but not very successfully.

“Are you okay?” Kinnard asked after a pause. “You sound a little strange.”

Kim struggled to think of something to say, but she couldn’t. She felt confused, embarrassed, and suddenly emotional.

“Just not answering is telling me something,” Kinnard said. “Can I help somehow? Is something wrong?”

Kim took a deep breath to get herself under control. “You can help,” she said finally. “I need to get away from Salem. I’ve called several girlfriends, but no one is home. I had it in mind to come into town and spend the night since I have to be at work in the morning.”

“Why don’t you stay here?” Kinnard asked. “I’ll just move my exercise bike and eighty thousand copies of the New England Journal of Medicine out of my guest room, and it’s all yours. Besides, I’ve got the day off. I’m sure we could have some fun.”

“Do you honestly think it’s a good idea?”

“I’ll behave myself if that’s your worry,” Kinnard said with a laugh.

Kim wondered if she was more worried about behaving herself.

“Come on,” Kinnard encouraged. “It sounds like it will do you good to get out of suburbia for a day and an evening.”

“All right,” Kim said with sudden determination.

“Great!” Kinnard said. “What time will you be here?”

“What about in an hour?” Kim said.

“See you then,” Kinnard said.

Kim replaced the receiver. She wasn’t sure what she was doing, but it felt right. Getting up, she climbed the stairs and got her things together, remembering her uniform for work. In the kitchen she put extra food out for Sheba and changed the Kitty Litter box by the back door.

After putting her things in the car, Kim drove over to the lab. Just before she entered the building she paused to think about whether she should specifically mention that she was staying with Kinnard. She decided she wouldn’t bring it up, but she’d tell Edward if he asked.

The atmosphere in the lab was even more intense than on her previous visit. Everyone was absorbed in their work, and although they acknowledged her, they did it perfunctorily.

Kim didn’t mind. In fact she preferred it. The last thing she needed at the moment was a long lecture on some arcane experiment.

She found Edward at his printer. His computer was busy spilling out data. He smiled at her, but the smile was fleeting. In the next second his mind was back on what was coming out of the printer.

“I’m going into Boston for the day,” Kim said brightly.

“Good,” Edward said.

“I’ll be spending the night,” Kim said. “I could leave a number if you’d like.”

“It won’t be necessary,” Edward said. “If there’s any problem, call me. I’ll be here as usual.”

Kim said goodbye and started for the door. Edward called to her. She stopped.

“I’m really sorry I’m so preoccupied,” Edward said. “I wish we weren’t so busy. We’ve got an emergency of sorts.”

“I understand,” Kim said. She looked at Edward’s face. There was a hint of awkwardness she’d not seen for some time.

Kim hurried from the lab and got in her car. She drove out of the compound with Edward’s demeanor on her mind. It was as if the old persona of Edward were reemerging: the persona she’d been attracted to when they’d first met.

It didn’t take long for Kim to begin to relax, and the farther south she drove, the better she felt. The weather helped. It was a hot, Indian summer day with bright sunshine and fall clarity. Here and there were trees tinted with a hint of their dazzling fall foliage. The sky was so blue, it looked like one vast celestial ocean.

Sunday was not a difficult day for parking, and Kim found a spot within easy walking distance of Kinnard’s apartment on Revere Street. She was nervous when she rang his bell, but he immediately made her feel comfortable. He helped carry her things into his guest room, which he’d obviously taken the time to clean.

Kinnard took Kim on an invigorating walk around the city, and for a number of blissful hours she forgot about Omni, Ultra, and Elizabeth. They started in the North End with lunch at an Italian restaurant followed by espressos in an Italian cafe.

For an entertaining interlude they ducked into Filene’s Basement for a quick scouting of the merchandise. Both were experienced Filene’s Basement shoppers. Kim surprised herself by finding a great skirt originally from Saks Fifth Avenue.

After their shopping they strolled around the Boston Gardens and enjoyed the fall foliage and flowers. They sat for a while on one of the park benches and watched the swan boats glide around the lake.

“I probably shouldn’t say this,” Kinnard said, “but you do look a bit tired to me.”

“I’m not surprised,” Kim said. “I haven’t been sleeping well. Living in Salem hasn’t been particularly idyllic.”

“Anything you want to talk about?” Kinnard said.

“Not at the moment,” Kim said. “I suppose I’m confused about a lot of things.”

“I’m glad you came for a visit,” Kinnard said.

“I want to make sure you understand that I’m definitely staying in the guest room,” Kim said quickly.

“Hey, relax,” Kinnard said, lifting up his hands as if to defend himself. “I understand. We’re friends, remember?”

“I’m sorry,” Kim said. “I must seem hyper to you. The fact of the matter is that I’m the most relaxed I’ve been in weeks.” She reached over and gave Kinnard’s hand a squeeze. “Thank you for being my friend.”

After leaving the park, they walked down Newbury Street and window-shopped. Then they indulged in one of Kim’s favorite Boston pastimes. They went into Waterstone’s Booksellers and browsed. Kim bought a paperback Dick Francis novel while Kinnard bought a travel book on Sicily. He said it was a place he always wanted to go.

Late in the afternoon they stopped into an Indian restaurant and had a delicious tandoor-style dinner. The only problem was that the restaurant lacked a liquor license. Both agreed the spicy food would have been far better with cold beer.

From the Indian restaurant they walked back to Beacon Hill. Sitting on Kinnard’s couch, they each had a glass of cold white wine. Kim soon felt herself getting sleepy.

She turned in early in anticipation of having to get up at the crack of dawn for work. She did not need any Xanax when she slipped between Kinnard’s freshly laundered sheets. Almost immediately she fell into a deep, restful sleep.

Monday, October 3, 1994

Kim had almost forgotten how hard a normal day was in the SICU. She was the first to acknowledge that after a month’s vacation she was out of shape for both the physical and emotional stamina that was needed. But as the day drew to a close, she had to admit that she’d truly enjoyed the intensity, the challenge, and the sense of accomplishment of helping people in dire need, not to mention the comradeship of shared endeavor.

Kinnard had appeared several times during the day with patients coming from surgery. Kim made it a point to be available to help. She thanked him again for the best night’s sleep she’d had in weeks. He told her that she was welcome anytime, even that night, despite the fact that he was on call and would be spending the night in the hospital.

Kim would have liked to stay. After her isolation at the compound, she’d enjoyed being in Boston, and she’d become nostalgic for the time she’d lived there. But she knew she had to get back. She wasn’t under any delusion that Edward would be available, but she still felt a strong obligation to be there.

As soon as Kim’s shift was over, she walked to the corner of Charles and Cambridge streets and caught the Red Line to Harvard Square. The trains were frequent at that hour, and after only twenty minutes she was walking northwest on Massachusetts Avenue on her way to the Harvard Law School.

Kim slowed her pace when she realized she was perspiring. It was another hot Indian summer day, without the previous day’s crystalline clarity. There was no breeze whatsoever, and a hazy, muggy canopy was stalled over the city, making it seem more like summer than fall. The weatherman warned of possible violent thunderstorms.

Kim got directions to the Law Library from a student. She found it with no difficulty. The air-conditioned interior was a relief.

Another inquiry directed her to Helen Arnold’s office. Kim gave her name to a secretary and was told she’d have to wait. No sooner had Kim sat down when a tall, slender, and strikingly attractive black woman appeared in a connecting doorway and waved her in.

“I’m Helen Arnold, and I’ve got some good news for you,” the woman said enthusiastically. She led Kim into her office and motioned for her to sit down.

Kim was struck by the woman’s appearance. It wasn’t what she expected at a law school library. Her hair was done in the most exquisite cornrows Kim had ever seen, and her dress was a brilliantly colored silk chemise loosely gathered at the waist with a gold chain belt.

“I spoke this morning, quite early if you must know, with Ms. Sturburg, who is a wonderful woman by the way, and she told me all about your interest in a work by Rachel Bingham.”

BOOK: Acceptable Risk
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