Robin Cook (5 page)

Larry's footsteps came closer and closer, and Laura struggled to breathe quietly. The flashlight beam entered the room and Laura held her breath.
Then Ginger growled and barked. Laura's heart skipped a beat as she heard the pump action of the shotgun. She felt Larry kick the barrel, rolling her upside down. Ginger yelped and fled. Frantically, Laura struggled to right herself.

The Eastern shuttle to Washington provided the first peace Adam had experienced since the previous night. After Jennifer had slammed the bedroom door, Adam tried lying down on the uncomfortable Victorian couch. He'd attempted to read about pancreatitis, but found it impossible to concentrate. There was no way he could stay in medical school if they lost Jennifer's income. At dawn, after only a couple of hours of restless sleep, he'd called the hospital and had a note left for his intern saying he wouldn't be in that day. One way or the other, Adam knew he had to come up with a solution.

Adam stared out the window at the tranquil New Jersey countryside. The captain announced that they were passing over the Delaware River and Adam estimated it was another twenty minutes to Washington. That would put him in the city at eight-thirty; he could be at his father's office at the Food and Drug Administration around nine.

Adam was not looking forward to the meeting,
especially under the present conditions. He hadn't seen his father since the middle of his first year in medical school, and it had been a traumatic encounter. At that time Adam had informed the old man that he was definitely marrying Jennifer.

Adam was still trying to decide how to open the conversation as he walked through the revolving door of his father's building. As a child, Adam had not visited his father's office often, but had gone enough times to leave him with a feeling of distaste. His father had always acted as if the boy were an embarrassment.

Adam had been the middle child, sandwiched between an overachieving older brother, David, and a younger sister, Ellen, the darling of the family. David had been the outgoing child and had decided as a youngster to become a doctor like his father. Adam had never been able to make up his mind what he wanted to be. For a long time he thought he wanted to be a farmer.

Adam got on the elevator and pushed the button for the eighth floor. He could remember going up in the elevator with David when David was in medical school. David was ten years older than Adam and, as far as Adam was concerned, seemed more like an adult than a brother. Adam used to be left in his father's waiting room while David was taken to meet doctor colleagues.

Adam got off at the eighth floor and turned to the right. As the offices became larger and more attractive, the secretaries got plainer. Adam could remember that it was David who had pointed that out to him.

Hesitating before the executive offices, Adam wondered what his relationship with his father would be like if David hadn't died in Vietnam. Not too
many doctors had been killed over there, but David had managed it. He'd always been one to volunteer for anything. It had been the last year of the war and Adam had been fifteen at the time.

The event had crippled the family. Adam's mother had gone into a terrible depression that required shock therapy. She still wasn't her old self. Adam's father hadn't weathered the news much better. After several months of his withdrawn silence, Adam had gone to him and told him that he'd decided to become a doctor. Instead of being pleased, his father had cried and turned away.

Adam paused in front of his father's office, then screwing up his courage, walked up to Mrs. Margaret Weintrob's desk. She was an enormous woman who swamped her swivel chair. Her dress was a tentlike affair made from a flower-print cotton. Her upper arms had enormous rolls of fat, making her sizable forearms appear slender by comparison.

But, aside from her weight, she was exceptionally well groomed. She smiled when she saw Adam and, without getting up, extended a hand in greeting.

Adam shook the slightly damp hand and returned the smile. They had always gotten along fine. She'd been Adam's father's secretary as far back as Adam could remember, and she'd always been sensitive to Adam's shyness.

“Where have you been?” she asked, pretending to be angry. “It's been ages since you've visited.”

“Medical school doesn't allow for too much free time,” said Adam. His father kept few secrets from Margaret, and Adam was sure she knew why he hadn't been around.

“As usual, your father's on the phone. He'll be off in a minute. Can I get you some coffee or tea?”

Adam shook his head no, and hung his coat on a brass coatrack. He sat down on a vinyl bleacher. He remembered that his father did not like to give the impression that the government was wasting the public's money on such frills as comfortable seating. In fact, the whole outer office had a utilitarian look. For Dr. Schonberg Senior it was a matter of principle. For the same reason, he refused the car and driver that came with his office.

Adam sat trying to marshal his arguments, but he wasn't very sanguine. When he had called early that morning to arrange the meeting, his father had been gruff, as if he knew that Adam was going to ask for money.

There was a buzz. Margaret smiled. “Your father's waiting for you.”

As Adam grimly rose to his feet, she reached out and placed a hand on his forearm.

“He's still suffering from David's death,” she said. “Try to understand. He does love you.”

“David died nine years ago,” said Adam.

Margaret nodded and patted Adam's arm. “I just wanted you to know what's going on in his mind.”

Adam opened the door and went into his father's office. It was a large square room with tall windows that looked out onto a pleasant inner garden. The other walls were covered with bookcases and in the middle of the room was a large oak desk. Two good-sized library tables were spaced perpendicularly on either side of it, creating a spacious U-shaped work area. In its center sat Adam's father.

Adam resembled his father closely enough for people to guess their relationship. Dr. Schonberg,
too, had thick curly hair, though his was graying at the temples. The greatest difference between the two men was size, the father being more than five inches shorter than his son.

As Adam came in and shut the door, Dr. Schonberg had a pen in his hand. Carefully he put it in its holder.

“Hello,” said Adam. He noted that his father had aged since he'd last seen him. There were lots of new creases across his forehead.

Dr. Schonberg acknowledged Adam's greeting by nodding his head. He did not stand up.

Adam advanced to the desk, looking down into his father's heavily shadowed eyes. Adam didn't see any softening there.

“And to what do we owe this unexpected visit?” asked Dr. Schonberg.

“How is mother?” asked Adam, sensing that his fears had been correct. The meeting was already going poorly.

“Nice of you to ask. Actually, she's not too good. She had to have shock treatment again. But I don't want to trouble you with that news. Especially considering the fact that your marrying that girl had a lot to do with her condition.”

“That girl's name is Jennifer. I would hope after a year and a half you could remember her name. Mother's condition started with David's death, not my marrying Jennifer.”

“She was just recovering when you shocked her by marrying that girl.”

“Jennifer!” corrected Adam. “And that was seven years after David's death.”

“Seven years, ten years, what does it matter? You knew what marrying out of your religion would do to your mother. But did you care? And what
about me? I told you not to marry so early in your medical career. But you've never had consideration for the family. It's always been what you wanted. Well, you got what you wanted.”

Adam stared at his father. He didn't have the energy to argue in the face of such irrationality. He'd tried that on their last meeting one and a half years ago with no result whatsoever.

“Don't you care what is happening to me, how medical school is going?” asked Adam, almost pleading.

“Under the circumstances, no,” said Dr. Schonberg.

“Well, then I made a mistake coming,” said Adam. “We're in a financial bind and I thought that enough time had passed to make it possible for me to talk to you about it.”

“So now he wants to talk finances!” said Dr. Schonberg, throwing up his hands. He glared at his son, his heavy-lidded eyes narrowed. “I warned you that if you willfully went ahead with the marriage to that girl I was going to cut you off. Did you think I was joking? Did you think I meant for a couple of years only?”

“Are there no circumstances that might make you reconsider your position?” asked Adam quietly. He knew the answer before he asked and decided not even to bother telling his father that Jennifer was pregnant.

“Adam, you're going to have to learn to take responsibility for your decisions. If you decide something, you have to stick to it. There is no latitude for shortcuts or compromises in medicine. Do you hear me?”

Adam started for the door. “Thanks for the lecture, Dad. It will come in handy.”

Dr. Schonberg came around from behind his desk. “You've always been a smart aleck, Adam. But taking responsibility for your decisions is one lesson you have to learn. It's the way I run this department for the FDA.”

Adam nodded and opened the door. Margaret backed up clumsily, not even bothering to pretend that she hadn't been listening. Adam went for his coat.

Dr. Schonberg followed his son into the waiting room. “And I run my personal life the same way. So did my father before me. And so should you.”

“I'll keep it in mind, Dad. Say hello to Mom. Thanks for everything.”

Adam turned down the corridor and walked to the elevator. After pushing the button, he looked back. In the distance Margaret was waving. Adam waved back. He never should have come. There was no way he was going to get money out of his father.

• • •

It wasn't raining when Jennifer stepped from their apartment building, but the skies looked threatening. In many ways she thought that March was the worst month in New York. Even though spring was officially about to begin, winter still held the city firmly in its grip.

Pulling her coat tighter around her body, she set off toward Seventh Avenue. Under the coat she was dressed for rehearsal in an old leotard, tights, leg-warmers, and an ancient gray sweater with the sleeves cut off. In truth, Jennifer didn't know if she would be dancing, since she was planning on telling Jason that she was pregnant. She hoped he
would allow her to continue with the troupe for a couple of months. She and Adam needed the money so badly, and the thought of Adam dropping out of medical school terrified her. If only he weren't so stubborn about accepting help from her parents.

At Seventh Avenue Jennifer turned south, fighting the rush-hour crowds. Stopping at a light, she wondered what kind of reception Adam was getting from his father. When she'd gotten up that morning she'd found the note saying he was off to Washington. If only the old bastard would help, thought Jennifer, it would solve everything. In fact, if Dr. Schonberg offered support, Adam would probably be willing to accept help from her parents.

She crossed Seventh Avenue and headed into Greenwich Village proper. A few minutes later she turned into the entrance of the Cézanne Café, descended the three steps in a single bound, and pushed through the etched-glass door. Inside, the air was heavy with Gauloise cigarette smoke and the smell of coffee. As usual, the place was jammed.

On her toes, Jennifer tried to scan the crowd for a familiar face. Halfway down the narrow room she saw a figure waving at her. It was Candy Harley, who used to be one of the Jason Conrad dancers but who now did administrative work. Next to her was Cheryl Tedesco, the company secretary, looking paler than usual in a white jumpsuit. It was customary for the three of them to have coffee together before rehearsal.

Jennifer worked her way out of her coat, rolling it up in a large ball and depositing it on the floor next to the wall. On top she plopped her limp cloth bag. By the time she sat down, Peter, the Austrian waiter, was at the table, asking if she
wanted the usual. She did. Cappuccino and croissant with butter and honey.

After she'd sat down, Candy leaned forward and said, “We have good news and bad news. What do you want to hear first?”

Jennifer looked back and forth between the two women. She wasn't in the mood for joking, but Cheryl was staring into her espresso cup as if she'd lost her best friend. Jennifer knew her as a rather melancholy twenty-year-old with a weight problem which seemed of late to be getting worse. She had pixieish features with a small upturned nose and large eyes. Her disheveled hair was a dirty blond. In contrast, Candy was strikingly immaculate in her appearance, her blond hair twisted neatly into a French braid.

“Maybe you'd better tell me the good news first,” said Jennifer uneasily.

“We've been offered a CBS special,” said Candy. “The Jason Conrad Dancers are going big time.”

Jennifer tried to act excited, although she realized she'd probably be too far along in her pregnancy for television. “That's terrific!” she forced herself to say with enthusiasm. “When is it scheduled for?”

“We're not sure of the exact date, but we're supposed to tape the show in a few months.”

“So, what's the bad news?” asked Jennifer, eager to change the subject.