Authors: Robin Cook
Tags: #Fiction, #General, #Mystery & Detective, #Suspense, #Thrillers, #Suspense Fiction, #Fiction - Espionage, #Thriller, #Detective and mystery stories, #Espionage, #Onbekend, #Medical, #Medical novels, #New York (N.Y.), #Forensic pathologists, #Equatorial Guinea, #Forensic pathologists - Fiction, #Robin - Prose & Criticism, #Equatorial Guinea - Fiction, #Cook, #New York (N.Y.) - Fiction
Chromosome 6 (4 page)
"Will you be eating lunch?" Esmeralda asked.
"Yes," Kevin said. He still wasn't hungry but he didn't want to hurt Esmeralda's feelings. Kevin sat down at his desk. With his hand on the phone he quickly calculated it was about eight o'clock in the morning in New York. He pondered what Dr. Lyons had called about but guessed it had something to do with his brief conversation with Taylor Cabot. Kevin did not like the idea of an autopsy on Carlo Franconi, and he didn't imagine that Raymond Lyons would either. Kevin had first met Raymond six years previously. It was during a meeting in New York of the American Association for the Advancement of Science where Kevin presented a paper. Kevin hated giving papers and rarely did, but on this occasion he'd been forced to do so by the chief of his department at Harvard. Dating back to his Ph.D. thesis his interest was the transposition of chromosomes: a process by which chromosomes exchanged bits and pieces to enhance species adaption and hence evolution. This phenomenon happened particularly frequently during the generation of sex cells: a process known as meiosis.
By coincidence, during the same meeting and at the same time Kevin was scheduled to present, James Watson and Francis Crick gave an immensely popular talk on the anniversary of their discovery of the structure of DNA. Consequently, very few people came to hear Kevin. One of the attendees had been Raymond. It was after this talk that Raymond first approached Kevin. The conversation resulted in Kevin's leaving Harvard and coming to work for GenSys. With a slightly shaky hand Kevin picked up the receiver and dialed. Raymond answered on the first ring, suggesting he'd been hovering over the phone. The connection was crystal clear as if he were in the next room.
"I've got good news," Raymond said as soon as he knew it was Kevin. "There's to be no autopsy." Kevin didn't respond. His mind was a jumble. "Aren't you relieved?" Raymond asked. "I know Cabot called you last night." "I'm relieved to an extent," Kevin said. "But autopsy or no autopsy, I'm having second thoughts about this whole operation."
Now it was Raymond's turn to be silent. No sooner had he solved one potential problem than another was rearing its unwelcome head.
"Maybe we've made a mistake," Kevin said. "What I mean is, maybe I've made a mistake. My conscience is starting to bother me, and I'm getting a little scared. I'm really a basic science person. This applied science is not my thing."
"Oh, please!" Raymond said irritably. "Don't complicate things! Not now. I mean, you've got that lab you've always wanted. I've beat my brains out getting you every damn piece of equipment that you've asked for. And on top of that, things are going so well, especially with my recruiting. Hell, with all the stock options you're amassing, you'll be a rich man." "I've never intended on being rich," Kevin said.
"Yes," Kevin said. He still wasn't hungry but he didn't want to hurt Esmeralda's feelings. Kevin sat down at his desk. With his hand on the phone he quickly calculated it was about eight o'clock in the morning in New York. He pondered what Dr. Lyons had called about but guessed it had something to do with his brief conversation with Taylor Cabot. Kevin did not like the idea of an autopsy on Carlo Franconi, and he didn't imagine that Raymond Lyons would either. Kevin had first met Raymond six years previously. It was during a meeting in New York of the American Association for the Advancement of Science where Kevin presented a paper. Kevin hated giving papers and rarely did, but on this occasion he'd been forced to do so by the chief of his department at Harvard. Dating back to his Ph.D. thesis his interest was the transposition of chromosomes: a process by which chromosomes exchanged bits and pieces to enhance species adaption and hence evolution. This phenomenon happened particularly frequently during the generation of sex cells: a process known as meiosis.
By coincidence, during the same meeting and at the same time Kevin was scheduled to present, James Watson and Francis Crick gave an immensely popular talk on the anniversary of their discovery of the structure of DNA. Consequently, very few people came to hear Kevin. One of the attendees had been Raymond. It was after this talk that Raymond first approached Kevin. The conversation resulted in Kevin's leaving Harvard and coming to work for GenSys. With a slightly shaky hand Kevin picked up the receiver and dialed. Raymond answered on the first ring, suggesting he'd been hovering over the phone. The connection was crystal clear as if he were in the next room.
"I've got good news," Raymond said as soon as he knew it was Kevin. "There's to be no autopsy." Kevin didn't respond. His mind was a jumble. "Aren't you relieved?" Raymond asked. "I know Cabot called you last night." "I'm relieved to an extent," Kevin said. "But autopsy or no autopsy, I'm having second thoughts about this whole operation."
Now it was Raymond's turn to be silent. No sooner had he solved one potential problem than another was rearing its unwelcome head.
"Maybe we've made a mistake," Kevin said. "What I mean is, maybe I've made a mistake. My conscience is starting to bother me, and I'm getting a little scared. I'm really a basic science person. This applied science is not my thing."
"Oh, please!" Raymond said irritably. "Don't complicate things! Not now. I mean, you've got that lab you've always wanted. I've beat my brains out getting you every damn piece of equipment that you've asked for. And on top of that, things are going so well, especially with my recruiting. Hell, with all the stock options you're amassing, you'll be a rich man." "I've never intended on being rich," Kevin said.
"Worse things could happen," Raymond said. "Come on, Kevin! Don't do this to me."
"And what good is being rich when I have to be out here in the heart of darkness?" Kevin said. Unwittingly his mind conjured up the image of the manager, Siegfried Spallek. Kevin shuddered. He was terrified of the man.
"It's not forever," Raymond said. "You told me yourself, you're almost there, that the system is nearly perfect. When it is and you've trained someone to take your place, you can come back here. With your money you'll be able to build the lab of your dreams." "I've seen more smoke coming from the island," Kevin said. "Just like last week." "Forget the smoke!" Raymond said. "You're letting your imagination run wild. Instead of working yourself up into a frenzy over nothing, concentrate on your work so you can finish. If you've got some free time, start fantasizing about the lab you'll be building back here state-side." Kevin nodded. Raymond had a point. Part of Kevin's concern was that if what he'd been involved with in Africa became common knowledge, he might never be able to go back to academia. No one would hire him much less give him tenure. But if he had his own lab and an independent income, he wouldn't have to worry.
"Listen," Raymond said. "I'll be coming to pick up the last patient when he's ready, which should be soon. We'll talk again then. Meanwhile just remember that we're almost there and money is pouring into our offshore coffers."
"All right," Kevin said reluctantly.
"Just don't do anything rash," Raymond said. "Promise me!" "All right," Kevin repeated with slightly more enthusiasm. Kevin hung up the phone. Raymond was a persuasive person, and whenever Kevin spoke to him, Kevin inevitably felt better.
Kevin pushed back from the desk and walked back to the dining room. Following Raymond's advice he tried to think of where he'd build his lab. There were some strong arguments for Cambridge, Massachusetts, because of the associations Kevin had with both Harvard and MIT. But then again maybe it would be better to be out in the countryside like up in New Hampshire. 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
"And what good is being rich when I have to be out here in the heart of darkness?" Kevin said. Unwittingly his mind conjured up the image of the manager, Siegfried Spallek. Kevin shuddered. He was terrified of the man.
"It's not forever," Raymond said. "You told me yourself, you're almost there, that the system is nearly perfect. When it is and you've trained someone to take your place, you can come back here. With your money you'll be able to build the lab of your dreams." "I've seen more smoke coming from the island," Kevin said. "Just like last week." "Forget the smoke!" Raymond said. "You're letting your imagination run wild. Instead of working yourself up into a frenzy over nothing, concentrate on your work so you can finish. If you've got some free time, start fantasizing about the lab you'll be building back here state-side." Kevin nodded. Raymond had a point. Part of Kevin's concern was that if what he'd been involved with in Africa became common knowledge, he might never be able to go back to academia. No one would hire him much less give him tenure. But if he had his own lab and an independent income, he wouldn't have to worry.
"Listen," Raymond said. "I'll be coming to pick up the last patient when he's ready, which should be soon. We'll talk again then. Meanwhile just remember that we're almost there and money is pouring into our offshore coffers."
"All right," Kevin said reluctantly.
"Just don't do anything rash," Raymond said. "Promise me!" "All right," Kevin repeated with slightly more enthusiasm. Kevin hung up the phone. Raymond was a persuasive person, and whenever Kevin spoke to him, Kevin inevitably felt better.
Kevin pushed back from the desk and walked back to the dining room. Following Raymond's advice he tried to think of where he'd build his lab. There were some strong arguments for Cambridge, Massachusetts, because of the associations Kevin had with both Harvard and MIT. But then again maybe it would be better to be out in the countryside like up in New Hampshire. 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 Town-car. Vinnie was in the backseat, leaning forward with his right hand holding onto the overhead strap. He was looking out at 126 East 64th 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."
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 Town-car. Vinnie was in the backseat, leaning forward with his right hand holding onto the overhead strap. He was looking out at 126 East 64th 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 expresso 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."
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 expresso 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 expresses arrived. They were brought in by Darlene Poison, 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 expresso 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."
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 expresses arrived. They were brought in by Darlene Poison, 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 expresso 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.
"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.
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