Seizure (16 page)

“And what did he say?”

“You know Kurt doesn't say much. But he understands.”

“I hope you are right, because we could truly use a financial windfall. With what we've spent getting this place up and running, the well is just about dry, and besides our stem-cell work, there's very little infertility business on the immediate horizon.”

 

“Dr. Spencer Wingate sounds just like the sleaze I feared,” Stephanie said. She'd come back into Daniel's office after listening in on the conversation. “He talks about bribery as if it were an everyday occurrence.”

“Maybe it is in the Bahamas,” Daniel said.

“I hope he's short, fat, and has a wart on his nose.”

Daniel gave Stephanie a confused look.

“Maybe he's a chain-smoker and has bad breath.”

“What on earth are you talking about?”

“If Spencer Wingate looks as bad as he sounds, maybe I won't lose complete faith in the medical profession. I know it is irrational, but I don't want him to look anything like my mental image of a physician. It scares me to think he's a practicing doctor. And that goes for his partners as well.”

“Oh, come on, Stephanie! Don't be so naïve. The medical profession, like any profession, is far from perfect. There are good ones and bad ones, with the majority somewhere in between.”

“I thought self-regulation was part of the definition of this profession. Anyway, the real issue is that I wish my intuition wasn't telling me that working with these people is a bad idea.”

“For the last time,” Daniel said with frustration, “we're not working with those clowns. God forbid! We're using their facilities and that's it. End of story.”

“Let's hope it's that simple,” Stephanie said.

Daniel returned Stephanie's gaze. They'd been together long enough for him to tell that she was not buying his simple assessment, and it irritated him that she wasn't being more supportive. The problem was, her misgivings called attention to his own, which he was actively trying to ignore. He wanted to believe the whole episode was going to go smoothly and soon be over, but Stephanie's negativity kept undermining his hopes.

The fax sprang to life out in the reception area.

“I'll see what it is,” Stephanie said. She got up and went out of the room.

Daniel watched her go. It was a relief to escape her stare. People had a way of irritating him—even Stephanie, on occasion. He wondered if he'd be better off alone.

“It's the release from Butler already,” Stephanie called out. “Signed and witnessed along with a note saying the hard copy is in the mail.”

“Great!” Daniel yelled back. At least Butler's cooperation was encouraging.

“The cover sheet asks if we have checked our email this
afternoon.” Stephanie appeared at the door with a questioning expression. “I didn't check. Did you?”

Daniel shook his head and tilted forward, connecting to the Internet. At the new, special email account set up for Butler's treatment, there was a message from the senator. Stephanie came around Daniel's desk and looked over his shoulder as he opened it.

My dear doctors,

I hope this note finds you busy with your preparations for my imminent treatment. I too have been productively occupied, and I am happy to report that the custodians of the Shroud of Turin have been most helpful, thanks to the intercession by an influential colleague. You are to travel to Turin at your first opportunity. Upon arrival, you will call the Chancery of the Archdiocese of Turin to speak with Monsignor Mansoni. You will inform the monsignor that you are my representatives. At that point, my understanding is that the monsignor will arrange a meeting at an appropriate location to give you the sacred sample. Please understand that this is to be done with the utmost discretion and secrecy, so as not to jeopardize my esteemed colleague. Meanwhile, I remain your dear friend.

A.B.

Daniel took a moment to delete the message just as he and Stephanie had made a point of deleting the senator's other emails. It had been their collective decision that there was to be as little evidence as possible of the affair. When he was done, he looked up at her. “The senator is certainly doing his part.”

Stephanie nodded. “I'm impressed. I'm also starting to get excited. The affair is definitely acquiring a touch of international intrigue.”

“When can you be ready to leave? Alitalia has daily flights to Rome that depart in the evening with connections to Turin. Remember, you're going to have to pack for a month.”

“Packing is not the problem,” Stephanie said. “My two problems are my mom and Butler's tissue culture. I need to
spend some time with my mom, as I mentioned. I also want to get Butler's tissue culture to a point where Peter can take over.”

“How much time are you talking about with the culture?”

“Not long. As good as it looks this morning, probably by tomorrow morning I'll be satisfied. I just want to be sure a true monolayer is forming. Then Peter can maintain it, passage it, and cryopreserve it. My plan is for him to overnight an aliquot down to Nassau in a liquid-nitrogen container when we're ready for it. We'll keep the rest of the culture here in case we need it in the future.”

“Let's not be pessimistic,” Daniel said. “What about your mother?”

“Tomorrow I can see her for a few hours during the day. She's always in on Sundays, cooking.”

“Then you could conceivably be ready to leave tomorrow night?”

“Sure, if I pack this evening.”

“Then let's get back to the apartment ASAP. I'll make the necessary calls from there.”

Stephanie walked back into the lab to get her laptop and her coat. After making sure Peter was planning to be in the lab the following morning so they could discuss Butler's culture, she returned to the reception area. She found Daniel impatiently holding the hallway door open for her.

“My, you are in a hurry!” Stephanie remarked. It was usual for Stephanie to have to wait for Daniel. Whenever they were going someplace, he always found one more thing to do.

“It's already almost four o'clock, and I don't want you to have an excuse for not being ready to leave tomorrow night. I remember how long it took you to pack to go to Washington for two nights, and this is for a month. I'm sure it is going to take you longer than you think.”

Stephanie smiled. It was true since, among other things, she needed to do some ironing. She also realized she'd want to hit the drugstore for some travel necessities. What she didn't expect was how fast Daniel drove once they were in the car. She hazarded a glance at the speedometer as they tore down Memorial Drive. They were going almost fifty in a thirty-mile-an-hour zone.

“Hey, slow down!” Stephanie managed. “You're driving like one of the taxi drivers you complain about.”

“Sorry,” Daniel said. He slowed down slightly.

“I promise I'll be ready, so there's no need to risk our lives.” Stephanie glanced over at Daniel to see if he realized she was trying to be funny, but his determined expression didn't change.

“I'm eager to get this whole unfortunate affair over with now that I feel we're really starting,” he said without taking his eyes from the road.

“I thought of something I should do,” Stephanie said. “I'm going to set it up so that any future Butler emails also go to my cell phone inbox. That way, we'll know when a message comes in, and we'll be able to access it ASAP.”

“Good idea,” Daniel agreed.

They pulled up to the curb in front of Daniel's house. He turned off the engine and hopped out. He was halfway up the front walk by the time Stephanie got her laptop from the backseat. She shrugged. He could be such an absentminded professor when he became focused on a single thought. He could ignore her totally, as he was doing presently. But she wasn't about to take his behavior personally. She knew him too well.

Daniel took the stairs two at a time while deciding he'd first make the call to the airlines to book the flights and then get back in touch with the Wingate people. He thought that scheduling a single overnight stay in Turin would be appropriate. Then he reminded himself to get the money-wiring instructions from Spencer when he made the call to Nassau so he could get the money issue out of the way as well.

Daniel reached the third-floor landing and paused while he fiddled with his keys. It was at that moment that he noticed the apartment door was slightly ajar. For a split second, he tried to remember who had been the last one out that morning: he or Stephanie. Then he remembered it had been he, since he'd had to return for his wallet. He distinctly remembered locking the door, including the dead bolt.

The sound of the building's front door opening and closing drifted up the stairwell, along with Stephanie's footfalls on the creaky, aged stairs. Otherwise, the house was silent. The first-floor tenants were off to the Caribbean on vacation, while the
second-floor tenant was never home during the day. He was a mathematician who haunted the MIT computer center and only came home to sleep.

Gingerly, Daniel pushed open the door to get a progressively larger view of his foyer. Now he could see down the hallway into the living room. With the sun nearing the distant southwestern horizon, the apartment was in deep shadow. All at once, he caught sight of a flashlight beam as it momentarily flickered across the living room wall. At the same time, he heard one of the drawers of his upright file click closed.

“Who the hell is in here?” Daniel shouted at the top of his lungs. He was outraged that an intruder had gotten into his apartment, but he was not foolhardy. Although the intruder had obviously entered through the front door, Daniel was confident he'd cased the apartment and knew of the back exit from the study onto the fire escape. As Daniel pulled out his cell phone to call 911, he fully expected the burglar to flee by taking this route.

To Daniel's shock, the intruder immediately presented himself in Daniel's line of sight and blinded him with his flashlight. Daniel tried to block the beam with his hand. He wasn't entirely successful, but it was enough to see that the man was coming at him with breathtaking speed. Before Daniel could react, he was roughly shoved to the side by a gloved hand hard enough to cause him to literally bounce off the wall. His ears rang from the concussion. Regaining his equilibrium, Daniel caught sight of a large man dressed in a tight-fitting black outfit, including a black ski mask, rapidly descend the stairs on silent feet. After a shriek from Stephanie, the front door to the building burst open and banged shut.

Daniel dashed to the banister and looked down. On the landing below, Stephanie was pressed up against the mathematician's locked door with her laptop clasped against her chest with both hands. Her face was white. “Are you okay?” he asked.

“Who the hell was that?” she demanded.

“A goddamn burglar,” Daniel responded. He turned back to examine the door. Stephanie came up the final flight of stairs to look over his shoulder.

“At least he didn't break the door,” Daniel said. “He must have had a key.”

“Are you sure it was locked?”

“Absolutely! I specifically remember even locking the dead bolt.”

“Who else has a key?”

“No one,” Daniel said. “There's only two. That's all I had made when I bought the place and changed the locks.”

“He must have picked the lock.”

“If he did, then he was a professional. But why would a professional be breaking into my apartment? I don't own anything valuable.”

“Oh, no!” Stephanie suddenly voiced. “I left all my jewelry on top of the bureau, including my grandmother's diamond watch.” She pushed past Daniel and headed for the bedroom.

Daniel followed her down the hall. “That reminds me: I was stupid enough to leave all the cash I got from the ATM last night on the desk.”

Daniel ducked into the study. To his surprise, the ATM money was exactly where he'd placed it in the center of the blotter. He picked it up, and as he did so he noticed that everything else on the desk had been moved. Daniel admitted he wasn't the neatest person in the world, but he was supremely well organized. There might be stacks of correspondence, bills, and scientific journals on his desk, but he knew their exact location, if not the order within each pile.

His eyes wandered over to his upright four-drawer file cabinet. Even the journal article reprints stacked on top and waiting to be filed had been moved. They hadn't been moved a lot, but their position had definitely been changed.

Stephanie appeared in the doorway. She sighed with relief. “We must have come home in the nick of time. Apparently, he hadn't yet had a chance to get into the bedroom. All my stuff was where I'd left it last night.”

Daniel held up the stack of bills. “He didn't even take the money, and he was in here for sure.”

Stephanie laughed hollowly. “What kind of burglar was he?”

“I don't find this at all funny,” Daniel said. He began opening individual drawers of both the desk and the file cabinet to check the appearance of their contents.