Acceptable Risk

by Robin Cook

“What in the devil are you talking about?” Edward asked.

  “All your people are so good-looking,” Kim said.

  “That’s something I hadn’t noticed,” Edward said.

  When the two groups came together Edward did the introductions. Kim met Gloria Hererra and David Hirsh, and she shook hands with each.

  Gloria, like Eleanor, did not fit Kim’s stereotypical image of a female academic researcher. But that was their only similarity. They were complete opposites in coloring and manner. In contrast to Eleanor’s fairness, Gloria was olive complected with hair as dark as Kim’s and dark eyes almost as penetrating as François’s. In contrast to Eleanor’s cool reserve, Gloria was warm and forthright.

  David Hirsh reminded Kim of François. He too was tall and slender, with a panache like an athlete. He was dark but not quite as swarthy as François. His demeanor was equally as urbane but more pleasant since he wasn’t as bold and had a demonstrable sense of humor along with a pleasing smile.

  On the drive to the station Edward described Gloria and David’s accomplishments with similar detail and accolades as he’d done with Curt and François. Both Gloria and David assured Kim that Edward was exaggerating. They then turned the conversation around to talk about Edward. In the end all Kim was certain of was that Gloria was a pharmacologist and David was an immunologist.

  At the compound Kim was dropped off at the cottage. As the car pulled away en route to the lab, Kim could hear more laughter. Kim was happy for Edward. She was confident that Gloria and David would be good additions to the atmosphere of the lab.

  The following day, September 11, Edward and the other five researchers had a brief celebration to which Kim was invited. They uncorked a bottle of champagne, clinked glasses, and toasted Ultra. A few minutes later they fell to work at a furious pace.

  Over the next few days, Kim visited the lab often to lend moral support as well as to make sure there were no problems she could help solve. She thought of her position as somewhere between hostess and landlord. By midweek she slowed the frequency of her visits considerably. By the end of the week she rarely went since every time she did, she’d been made to feel as if she were intruding.

  Edward did not help. On the previous Friday he told her outright that he’d prefer her not to come too often since her visits interrupted their collective concentration. Kim didn’t take the rebuff personally because she was well aware of the pressure they were under to produce results as quickly as possible.

  Besides, Kim was content with her own activities. She’d adjusted nicely to living in the house and found it pleasant. She still felt twinges of Elizabeth’s presence but not nearly so disturbingly intense as that first night. Indulging her interest in interior design, Kim had obtained dozens of books on wall and floor covering, drapery design, and colonial furniture. She’d brought in scores of samples which she had littered about the house in the areas she considered using the materials. As an added treat she’d spent many an hour rummaging through the area’s many antique shops hunting for period colonial furniture.

  Kim also invested significant time back in the castle, either in the attic or the wine cellar. The discovery of Elizabeth’s diary had been a great incentive to her. It had also wiped away the discouragement built up by so many previously fruitless hours.

  In the very beginning of September during Kim’s first trip back to the castle after finding Elizabeth’s diary, she’d found another significant letter. It had been in the same sea trunk as the diary. It was addressed to Ronald and was from Jonathan Corwin, the magistrate who originally occupied the Witch House.

  20th July 1692

  Salem Town

  Dear Ronald:

  I esteemed it prudent to draw your attention that your removal of Elizabeth’s body from its interment on Gallows Hill hath been espied by Roger Simmons who in like manner did see the son of Goodwife Nurse remove his mother’s body to the same end as yourself. I beg of you my friend not to flaunt this act in these unruly turbulent times lest you bring more molestation to yourself and your family for raising the departed is seen by many as witch’s work. Nor would I in the mood of the public call attention to a grave for the likewise reason that it result in you being wrongfully accused. I hath spoke with said Roger Simmons and he hath sworn to me that he will speak of your deed to no man except a magistrate if he be deposed. God be with you.

  Your servant and friend,

  Jonathan Corwin.

  After finding the Corwin letter Kim entered a two-week period of finding nothing related to Ronald or Elizabeth. But it did not dampen her enthusiasm for spending time in the castle. Belatedly recognizing that almost all of the documents in the attic and the wine cellar had historical significance, Kim decided to organize the papers rather than merely look through them for seventeenth-century material.

  In both the attic and the wine cellar she designated areas for storing papers according to half-century periods. In each area she separated the material into business, government, and personal categories. It was a monumental task but it gave her a sense of accomplishment even if she wasn’t adding to her collection of documents relating to her seventeenth-century ancestors.

  Thus the first half of September passed comfortably, with Kim dividing her time between decorating the cottage and searching and organizing the castle’s disordered archives. By midmonth she avoided the lab altogether and rarely saw any of the researchers. She even began to see less of Edward as he came home progressively later each evening and left earlier in the morning.

  12

  * * *

  Monday,

  September 19, 1994

  IT WAS a gorgeous fall day with bright warm sunshine that quickly brought the temperature to nearly eighty. To Kim’s delight some of the trees in the low-lying marshy areas of the forest already had a hint of their fall splendor, and the fields surrounding the castle were a rich blanket of goldenrod.

  Kim had not seen Edward at all. He’d gotten up before she did at seven and had left for the lab without breakfasting. She could tell because there were no soiled dishes in the sink. Kim wasn’t surprised since Edward had told her several days previously that the group had begun taking their meals together in the lab to save time. He’d said they were making amazing progress.

  Kim spent the morning in the cottage with her decorating project. After a week’s indecision she was able to decide on the fabric for the bedspreads, the bed hangings, and the curtains for both upstairs bedrooms. It had been a difficult choice, but having finally made it, Kim felt relieved. With the fabric number in hand she called a friend at the design center in Boston and had her place the order.

  After a pleasant lunch of salad and iced tea, Kim walked up to the castle for her afternoon of searching and organizing. Once inside the mansion she had her usual debate between spending the afternoon in the wine cellar or the attic. The attic won out because of the sunshine. She reasoned there would be plenty of gloomy, rainy days when the wine cellar would be a relief.

  Moving all the way around to the distant point of the attic over the servants’ wing, Kim set to work on a series of black file cabinets. Using empty cardboard moving boxes that had brought Edward’s books to the cottage, Kim separated the documents as she’d been doing the previous weeks. The papers were mostly business-related from the early nineteenth century.

  Kim had become adept at reading the handwritten pages and could file them in the proper box after a mere glance at the title page, if there was one, or at the first paragraph if there wasn’t. By late afternoon she’d come to the last file cabinet. She was in the next-to-last drawer, going through a collection of shipping contracts, when she found a letter addressed to Ronald Stewart.

  After having gone so long without finding such a document, Kim was momentarily stunned. She looked at the letter as if her eyes were deceiving her. Finally, she reached into the drawer and lifted it out. She held it with just the tips of her fingers the way Mary Custland had handled the Mather letter. Looking at
the signature, her hopes rose. It was another letter from Samuel Sewall.

  8th January 1697

  Boston

  My Dear Friend,

  As you are undoubtedly aware the Honorable Lieutenant-Governor, Council, and Assembly of his Majesty’s Province of the Massachusetts Bay, in General Court did command and appoint Thursday the fourteenth of January next be observed as a day of fasting in repentance for any and all sins done against innocent people as perpetrated by Satan and his Familiars in Salem. In like manner I being sensible of my complicity serving with the late Commission of Oyer and Terminer wish to make public my blame and shame of it and shall do so in The Old South Church. But to you my friend I know not what to say to surcease your burden. That Elizabeth was involved with the Forces of Evil I have no doubt but be she possessed or in covenant I know not nor do I wish to conjecture in view of my past errors of judgement. As to your inquiry in regards to the records of the Court of Oyer and Terminer in general and to Elizabeth’s trial in particular, I can attest that they are in the possession of Reverend Cotton Mather who has sworn to me that they will never fall into the wrong hands to impugn the character of the justices and magistrates who served to the best of their ability albeit in error in many cases. I believe although I dared not ask nor do I wish to know that Reverend Mather intends to burn the aforesaid records. As for my opinion in regards to the offer Magistrate Jonathan Corwin made to give you all records of Elizabeth’s case including initial complaint, arrest warrant, mittimus, and preliminary hearing testimony, I think you should take them and dispose of them in like manner for then future generations of your family will not suffer public exposure of this tragedy in Salem brought on or abetted by Elizabeth’s actions.

  Your Friend in Christ’s name,

  Samuel Sewall.

  “For Godsake!” Edward snapped. “Sometimes you can be so blasted hard to find.”

  Kim looked up from the Sewall letter to see Edward standing over her. She was partially hidden behind one of the black filing cabinets.

  “Is something wrong?” Kim asked nervously.

  “Yes, there is,” Edward said. “I’ve been looking for you for a half hour. I’d guessed you were up here in the castle, and I’d even come all the way up here to the attic and yelled. When you didn’t answer I went down and searched the wine cellar. When you weren’t there, I came back here. This is ridiculous. If you’re going to spend this much time up here at least put in a phone.”

  Kim scrambled to her feet. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I never heard you.”

  “That’s obvious,” Edward said. “Listen, there’s a problem. Stanton is up in arms again about money, and he’s on his way driving out here to Salem. We all hate to take the time out to meet with him, especially in the lab, where he’ll want explanations about what everybody is doing. And to make matters worse everyone is on edge from overwork. There’s a lot of bickering for stupid reasons like who has the most space and who’s closer to the goddamn water cooler. It’s gotten to the point I feel like a den mother for a bunch of bratty Cub Scouts and Brownies. Anyway, to make a long story short, I want to have the meeting in the cottage; it’ll be good to get everybody out of the hostile environment. To save time I thought we could eat as well. So could you throw something together for dinner?”

  At first Kim thought Edward was joking, but when she realized he wasn’t, she glanced at her watch. “It’s after five,” she reminded him.

  “It would have been four-thirty if you hadn’t effectively hidden yourself away,” Edward said.

  “I can’t make dinner for eight people at this time in the afternoon,” Kim said.

  “Why not?” Edward questioned. “It doesn’t have to be a feast, for chrissake. It can be take-out pizza for all I care. That’s what we’ve been living on anyway. Just something to fill their bellies. Please, Kim. I need your help. I’m going nuts.”

  “All right,” Kim said against her better judgment. She could tell Edward was stressed. “I can do better than take-out pizza but it surely won’t be gourmet.” Kim gathered her things including the Sewall letter and followed Edward out of the attic.

  As they were descending the stairs she handed the letter to him, explaining what it was. He handed it back.

  “I don’t have time for Samuel Sewall at the moment.”

  “It’s important,” Kim said. “It explains how Ronald was able to eliminate Elizabeth’s name from the historical record. He didn’t do it alone. He had help from Jonathan Corwin and Cotton Mather.”

  “I’ll read the letter later,” Edward said.

  “There’s a part that you might find interesting,” Kim said. They had reached the landing of the grand staircase. Edward paused beneath the stained glass rose window. The yellow light made him appear particularly pale. Kim thought he looked almost ill.

  “All right,” Edward said impatiently. “Show me what you think I might find interesting.”

  Kim gave him the letter and pointed to the very last sentence, where Sewall mentioned that the Salem tragedy was either brought on or abetted by Elizabeth’s actions.

  Edward looked up at Kim after reading it. “So?” he questioned. “We already know that.”

  “We do,” Kim agreed, “but did they? I mean, did they know about the mold?”

  Edward looked back at the letter and read the sentence a second time. “They couldn’t have,” he said when he’d finished. “Scientifically it was impossible. They didn’t have the tools or the understanding.”

  “Then how do you explain the sentence?” Kim said. “In the earlier part of the letter Sewall was admitting he made mistakes with the other convicted witches, but not with Elizabeth. They all knew something we don’t.”

  “Then it comes back to the mysterious evidence,” Edward said. He handed her back the letter. “It’s interesting but not for my purposes, and truly I don’t have time for this stuff now.”

  They continued down the stairs.

  “I’m sorry I’m so preoccupied,” Edward said. “On top of all the other pressures I’m under, Stanton is turning out to be a royal pain in the ass, almost as bad as Harvard. Between the two of them I’m ready to be committed.”

  “Is all this effort worth it?” Kim questioned.

  Edward eyed Kim with disbelief. “Of course it is,” he said irritably. “Science requires sacrifice. We all know that.”

  “This is sounding less like science than economics,” Kim said. Edward didn’t respond.

  Outside, Edward went directly to his car. “We’ll be at the house at seven-thirty sharp,” he called over his shoulder just before climbing in behind the wheel. He started the engine and sprayed sand and dirt from beneath the wheels as he sped off toward the lab.

  Kim got into her own car and drummed her fingers on the steering wheel while she mulled the problem of what to do for dinner. Now that Edward had left and she had a moment to think, she was irritated and disappointed in herself for having accepted this unexpected and unreasonable burden.

  Kim recognized her behavior, and she didn’t like it. By being so compliant she was reverting to more childlike conduct of appeasement, just as she had years before, whenever her father was concerned. But recognizing what she was doing and doing something about it were two very different things. As with her father, she wanted to please Edward since she desired and needed his esteem. Besides, Kim reasoned, Edward was under a lot of pressure and needed her.

  Kim started the car and headed toward town for food shopping. As she drove she thought more about her situation. She certainly didn’t want to lose Edward, yet over the last several weeks it had seemed as if the harder she tried to please him and the more understanding she tried to be, the more demanding he’d become.

  With such short notice Kim decided on a simple dinner of barbecue-grilled steaks accompanied by salad and hot rolls. The beverage was to be either jug wine or beer. For dessert she got fresh fruit and ice cream. By six forty-five she had the steaks trimmed, the salad prepared, and
the rolls ready for the oven. She even had the fire going in the outside grill.

  Dashing into the bathroom, Kim took a quick shower. Then she went upstairs to put on fresh casual clothes before returning back to the kitchen to get out napkins and flatware. She was setting the table in the dining room when Stanton’s Mercedes pulled up to the front of the house.

  “Greetings, cousin,” Stanton said as he came through the door. He gave Kim a peck on her cheek.

  Kim welcomed him and asked if he’d like a glass of wine. Stanton accepted and followed her into the kitchen.

  “Is that the only wine you have?” Stanton questioned with disdain as Kim unscrewed the cap.

  “I’m afraid so,” Kim said.

  “I think I’ll have beer.”

  While Kim continued with the dinner preparations Stanton perched himself on a stool and watched her work. He didn’t offer to help, but Kim didn’t mind. She had everything under control.

  “I see you and Buffer get along okay,” Stanton commented. Edward’s dog was under Kim’s feet as she moved about the kitchen. “I’m impressed. He’s a nasty son-of-a-bitch.”

  “Me get along with Buffer?” Kim questioned cynically. “That’s a joke. He’s certainly not here because of me; it’s because of all this steak. He’s usually with Edward at the lab.”

  Kim checked the warming temperature on the oven and slipped in the rolls.

  “How are you enjoying living in this cottage?” Stanton asked.

  “I like it,” Kim said. Then she sighed. “Well, mostly. The lab situation is unfortunately dominating things. With all the pressure, Edward has been on edge.”

  “Don’t I know,” Stanton commented.

  “Harvard is giving him a hard time,” Kim said. She purposely didn’t add that so was Stanton.

  “I warned him about Harvard from the beginning of this venture,” Stanton said. “I knew from past experience that Harvard wouldn’t be apt to roll over and play dead, not when they got wind of the potential earnings involved. Universities have become very sensitive to this kind of situation, especially Harvard.”