Seizure (26 page)

“Maybe I was a little premature.” Daniel admitted. “Yet things turned out okay. We're certainly going to lose a day or maybe two, but otherwise it should all be smooth sailing from here.”

“I can only hope,” Stephanie said. She hoisted her bag onto
her shoulder. “Let's get inside and see about connections to London. That's going to be the first test.”

They walked into the terminal and looked up at the flight schedules displayed on a monster electronic board. Almost simultaneously, their eyes spotted a British Airways nonstop flight to London at three-fifty
P
.
M
.

“See what I mean,” Daniel said happily. “Now that could hardly be more convenient.”

3:55
P
.
M
., Thursday, February 28, 2002

 

“Holy crap!” Daniel
shouted. “What the hell are you doing? You're going to have us killed!”

Daniel was straining against his seat belt with his hand on the back of the bench front seat of the taxi, which happened to be a vintage black Cadillac. Daniel and Stephanie had just arrived on New Providence Island in the Bahamas. Passport control and customs had been a mere formality since they had no luggage. What little clothing and toiletries Stephanie and Daniel had bought on their forced thirty-six-hour stay in London had been conveniently packed in a third carry-on bag. They had been the first of the people on their flight out of the terminal and had taken the first cab in the taxi line.

“My God!” Daniel moaned as the oncoming car swept past them on the right. His head swiveled around to watch the car recede into the distance.

Alarmed by the outburst, the taxi driver was eyeing his fares in his rearview mirror. “Hey, man! What's the matter?” he asked urgently.

Daniel swung back around to face forward, fearing more oncoming traffic. The color had drained from his face. The car
that they passed had been the first they had encountered on the narrow two-lane road leading from the airport. As usual, Daniel had been nervously watching out the front window and had seen the car approach. Daniel had progressively stiffened as the driver, who had been carrying on a welcoming monologue as if he were a member of the island's chamber of commerce, began drifting to the left. Daniel had assumed the driver would notice his error and move over to the right. But he didn't. At the moment Daniel estimated it was too late for them to get over to the right to avoid an accident, he'd yelled in desperation.

“Daniel, calm down!” Stephanie soothed. She put a restraining hand on his tensed thigh. “Everything is okay. Obviously, they drive on the left here in Nassau.”

“Why the hell didn't you tell me?” Daniel demanded.

“I didn't know, at least not until we passed the oncoming car. But it makes sense. It was a British colony for centuries.”

“Then how come the steering wheel is on the left, like normal cars?”

Stephanie could tell Daniel was in no mood to be placated. Instead, she changed the subject. “I can't get over the color of the ocean from the plane when we flew over the Bahamas. It must be because it's shallow. I've never seen such bright aquamarine or such deep sapphire.”

Daniel merely grunted. He was preoccupied with another car approaching. Stephanie switched her attention outside and rolled down the window, despite the car's air-conditioning. Coming from the dead of winter, the silky, tropical air and the lushness of the flora was startling, particularly the brilliant scarlet and luminous purple bougainvillea that seemed to be creeping over every wall. The tiny towns and buildings they were passing seemed reminiscent of New England, except for their vibrant tropical hues set off to full effect by the relentless Bahamian sun. The people they passed, whose skin color ranged from pale white to deep mahogany brown, appeared relaxed. Even from a distance, their smiles and laughter were apparent. Stephanie sensed it was a happy place, and she hoped it was an auspicious sign of what she and Daniel were there to accomplish.

As far as their accommodations were concerned, Stephanie
had no idea of what to expect, since it had not been discussed. Daniel had made all the arrangements prior to leaving for Italy, while she had seen to Butler's fibroblast culture and had visited her family. On the twenty-second of March, exactly three weeks away, she knew where they would be staying. At that time, Ashley Butler would arrive, and she and Daniel would move with Butler to the enormous Atlantis hotel to take advantage of the reservations Butler had made. Stephanie imperceptibly shook her head at the thought of all they had to accomplish before the senator got there. She hoped his tissue culture was doing well back in Cambridge. If it wasn't, there was no way they would make the three-week deadline to do the implant.

After a half hour of driving, they began to see some of the hotels off to their left on what the driver said was Cable Beach. Most of the structures were large high-rises and, as such, not particularly inviting to Stephanie. Next came the town of Nassau itself, which was far more bustling than Stephanie had envisioned, with a profusion of cars, trucks, buses, scooters, mopeds, and pedestrians. Yet with all its hustle and bustle, imposingly elegant banks, and colorful but official-appearing colonial buildings, there was the same sense of general happiness that Stephanie had noted earlier. Even being stuck in traffic was not only tolerated by the people she saw but seemingly enjoyed.

The taxi took them over a high, arched bridge to Paradise Island, which the driver said had been called Hog Island in colonial times. He said the original developer, Huntington Hartford, had felt the name was not an attraction. Both Stephanie and Daniel agreed. On the island side of the bridge, the driver pointed out a modern shopping plaza to the right and the gigantic Atlantis resort to the left.

“Are there clothing stores in the shopping area?” Stephanie questioned. She turned to look back. The shops appeared to be unexpectedly upscale.

“Yes, ma'am. But they're expensive. If you're looking for islandwear, I recommend Bay Street in town.”

After a short drive east, the taxi turned north onto what turned out to be a long, serpentine driveway lined with particularly lush, dense vegetation. At the entrance stood a sign
proclaiming: PRIVATE, THE OCEAN CLUB, FOR GUESTS ONLY. What particularly impressed Stephanie was that the hotel itself could not be seen until the taxi made the final turn.

“This looks heavenly,” she commented as the taxi pulled in under the porte cochere to be met by doormen in crisp white shirts and Bermuda shorts.

“It's supposed to be one of the best hotels,” Daniel announced.

“You got that right, man,” the driver commented.

The resort turned out to be even better than Stephanie could have hoped. It comprised low, two-story buildings scattered along a gorgeous concave stretch of beach and mostly hidden by flowering trees. Daniel had managed to reserve a ground-floor suite, from which the white-sand beach was a mere step away, across an expanse of manicured lawn. After they had put away their few clothes and arranged their toiletries in the marbled bath, Daniel turned to Stephanie. “It's five-thirty. What do you think we should do?”

“Not much,” Stephanie responded. “It's almost midnight for us European time, and I'm bushed.”

“Should we call the Wingate Clinic and let them know we're here?”

“I suppose it wouldn't hurt, although I'm not sure what it will accomplish, since we'll undoubtedly go over there in the morning. It would probably be more helpful if you went back to the lobby and arranged for a rent-a-car. What's more important is for me to call Peter and see if he's ready to overnight some of Butler's fibroblasts. There's really little we can do before we have them. Then after I call Peter, I need to call my mother. I promised her I'd get in touch with her to give her an address as soon as we got situated here in Nassau.”

“We're going to need some more clothes,” Daniel said. “How about this? I'll go get a rent-a-car, you make your calls, and then we'll head back to that shopping plaza near the bridge and see if there are any decent clothing shops.”

“Why not just do the rent-a-car. I'm ready to take a shower, get something to eat, and hop into bed. There will be time for clothes shopping tomorrow.”

“I suppose you're right,” Daniel admitted. “My eagerness
at having finally gotten here to Nassau has me fired up, whereas in actuality I'm bushed too.”

As soon as Daniel left the room, Stephanie sat herself down at the desk. She was surprised and pleased to see she had a reasonable signal on her cell phone. As she'd suggested to Daniel, she made her first call to Peter, and as she suspected, he was still at the lab.

“John Smith's culture is doing fine,” Peter said, in response to Stephanie's question. “I've been prepared to overnight a cryopreserved aliquot for several days. I expected to hear from you on Tuesday.”

“A minor problem held us up unexpectedly,” Stephanie said vaguely. She smiled wryly at how much of an understatement that was, considering they had to flee out of Italy by car to avoid arrest and leave their luggage behind.

“Are you ready for me to ship it?”

“Absolutely,” Stephanie said. “Pack it up with the usual HTSR reagents, plus the collection of dopaminergic gene probes and growth factors I put together. And I just thought of something else. Include the ecdysone construct with the tyrosine hydroxylase promoter we used with our recent mouse experiments.”

“My gosh!” Peter intoned. “What on earth are you guys up to down there?”

“It's best if I don't explain,” Stephanie said. “What are the chances you could ship the whole consignment out tonight?”

“I don't see why not. Worst case, I have to drive it out to Logan, but that's not a problem. Where do you want it sent?”

Stephanie thought for a moment. Her first thought was to have it come to the hotel, but then she thought it would be wise to limit its travel as well as get it into a liquid-nitrogen freezer, which she assumed the Wingate Clinic would have. Asking Peter to hold on, she used the house phone to contact the concierge's desk to get Wingate's island address. It was 1200 Windsor Field Road. She then passed it on to Peter along with the clinic's phone number.

“I'll get this in FedEx tonight,” Peter promised. “When will you be back?”

“I'd say a month, maybe a little less.”

“Good luck with whatever the hell you are doing!”

“Thanks. We'll need it.”

Stephanie stared out at the pink-and-silver-tinted ocean with its gentle swells. A line of cumulus clouds was aligned along the horizon. Each was tipped with a dab of intense rose-purple from the setting sun off to her left. The sliding glass door was open, and a gentle breeze scented with some exotic flower caressed her face. The vista and ambience was luscious and calming after the frenetic days of travel and intrigue. She could feel herself begin to relax in such a serene environment, aided by the news about how well Butler's fibroblast culture had progressed. The nagging worry that it had gone sour had lurked in the back of her mind ever since she had left on the trip. All in all, she began to entertain the idea that perhaps Daniel's optimism about the Butler project might ultimately be reasonable, despite her intuition to the contrary and despite the trouble she and Daniel had experienced in Turin.

Once the sun set, night fell precipitously. Torches were lit along the edge of the beach to flicker in the breeze. Stephanie picked up her cell phone again and dialed her parents' number. She wanted her mother to have the name of the hotel, the room number, and the phone number, in case her mother took a turn for the worse. As the call went through, Stephanie found herself hoping her father wouldn't answer. It was always so awkward trying to have a conversation with him. She was pleased when she heard her mother's soft voice.

 

Although Tony had no reason to think that his headstrong sister wouldn't carry out her threat to languish in the Bahamas while her company tanked, he'd been entertaining the hope that she'd see the light after what he'd told her, cancel the trip, and do what she could to turn things around. But such was not to be the case, as her phone call to their mother had just proved. The bitch and her freaking boyfriend were in Nassau, staying at some posh oceanfront resort in a suite, no less, with a view of the beach. It was galling.

Tony shook his head at her nerve. Ever since she'd gotten into Harvard, she'd been thumbing her nose at him every time he turned around, which he'd tolerated since she was his kid sister. But now she'd gone too far, especially considering the
academic nerd she was hooked up with. A hundred grand was a lot of money, no matter how you looked at it, and that wasn't even considering the Castiglianos' share. The whole situation wasn't right, that was for damn sure, yet she still was his kid sister, so things weren't as clear as they could have been.

The big Cadillac crunched over the gravel and came to a halt in front of the Castigliano Brothers Plumbing Supply store. Tony turned off his headlights and killed the engine. But he didn't get out of the car immediately. Instead, he sat for a moment to calm himself down. He could have just called and given the information to either Sal or Louie over the phone. But because it was his sister, he had to know what they had in mind. He knew they were just as pissed as he was, but without the restraint from having a family member involved. He didn't care what they did to the boyfriend. Hell, he wouldn't mind pushing him around himself. But his sister was another thing entirely. If she were to be pushed around, Tony wanted to be the perpetrator.

Tony opened the door and was assaulted by the putrid smell of the salt marsh. He couldn't understand how anyone could hang around a place where every time the wind changed direction, it smelled like rotten eggs. It was a moonless night, and Tony walked carefully. He didn't want to trip over a discarded sink or any other debris.