by Robin Cook
Entering the house, Kim called for Sheba. She quickly climbed the stairs and went into her bedroom. To her relief she saw the cat curled up in a ball of fur in the middle of the bed. Kim rushed over and snuggled with the animal. Sheba gave her one of her disdainful looks for being disturbed.
After petting the cat for several minutes, Kim went to her bureau. With tremulous fingers she picked up the container of Ultra she’d put there the night before. Once again she removed one of the blue capsules and examined it. She yearned for relief. She debated with herself the idea of trying the drug for twenty-four hours, just to see what it could do for her. Edward’s ability to deal so well with Buffer’s death was an impressive testimonial. Kim went so far as to get a glass of water.
But she did not take the capsule. Instead she began to wonder if Edward’s response was too modulated. From her reading as well as her intuition Kim knew that a certain amount of grieving was a necessary human emotion. That made her consider whether blocking the normal process of grieving might exact a price in the future.
With that thought in mind, Kim replaced the capsule in the vial and hazarded another visit to the lab. Fearing being entrapped by more interminable demonstrations by Edward’s team, Kim literally sneaked into the building.
Luckily, only Edward and David were on the upper floor and they were at opposite ends of the huge room. Kim was able to surprise Edward without the others knowing she was there. When Edward saw her and started to respond, Kim shushed him with her finger to her lips. Taking his hand, she led him from the building.
Once the door to the lab had closed behind them, Edward grinned and asked, “What on earth has gotten into you?”
“I just want to talk to you,” Kim explained. “I had a thought that maybe you could include in the clinical protocol of Ultra.”
Kim explained to Edward what she’d thought about grief and expanded the notion to include anxiety and melancholy, saying that moderate amounts of these emotionally painful feelings play a positive role as motivators of human growth, change, and creativity. She concluded by saying, “What I’m worried about is that taking a drug like Ultra that modulates these mental states may have a hidden cost and could cause a serious negative side effect that would not be anticipated.”
Edward smiled and slowly nodded his head. He was impressed. “I appreciate your concern,” he said. “It’s an interesting thought you have, but I don’t share it. You see, it’s based on a false premise, namely that the mind is somehow mystically apart from the material body. That old hypothesis has been debunked by recent experience that shows that the mind and the body are one even in regards to mood and emotion. Emotion has been proved to be biologically determined by the fact that it is affected by drugs like Prozac, which alter levels of neurotransmitters. It has revolutionized ideas about brain function.”
“That kind of thinking is dehumanizing,” Kim complained.
“Let me put it another way,” Edward said. “What about pain? Do you think drugs should be taken for pain?”
“Pain is different,” Kim said, but she could see the philosophical trap Edward was laying for her.
“I don’t think so,” Edward said. “Pain, too, is biological. Since physical pain and psychic pain are both biological, they should both be treated the same, namely with well-designed drugs that target only those parts of the brain responsible.”
Kim felt frustrated. She wanted to ask Edward where the world would be if Mozart and Beethoven had been on drugs for anxiety or depression. But she did not say anything. She knew it was no use. The scientist in Edward blinded him.
Edward gave Kim an exuberant hug and reiterated how much he appreciated her interest in his work. He then patted the top of her head.
“We’ll talk more about this issue if you’d like,” he said. “But now I better get back to work.”
Kim apologized for bothering him and started back for the cottage.
15
* * *
Thursday,
September 29, 1994
OVER the next several days Kim was again tempted on several occasions to give Ultra a try. Her gradually mounting anxiety had begun to affect her sleep. But each time she was on the brink of taking the drug, she pulled back.
Instead Kim tried to use her anxiety as a motivator. Each day she spent more than ten hours working in the castle and quit only when it became difficult for her to see well enough to read the handwritten pages. Unfortunately, her increased efforts were to no avail. She began to wish that she would find some seventeenth-century material, even if it had no association with Elizabeth, just to encourage her.
The presence of the plumbers turned out to be a pleasant diversion rather than an imposition. Whenever Kim took a break she at least had someone to talk with. She even watched them work for a time, intrigued with the use of the blowtorch for soldering copper tubing.
The only indication that Kim noticed that the researchers were sleeping in the castle was dirt tracked in from both entrances to the wings. Although some soiling was to be expected, she thought the amount involved suggested surprising inconsiderateness.
Edward’s assertive, happy, and caring mood continued. With a gesture reminiscent of their initial dating days, Edward even had a large bouquet sent to the house on Tuesday with a note that said, In Loving Gratitude.
The only alteration in his behavior occurred on Thursday morning when Kim was just about to leave the cottage for the castle. Edward came through the front door in a huff. Obviously irritated, he slammed his address book down on the table next to the telephone, putting Kim immediately on edge. “Is something wrong?” she asked.
“Damn right something is wrong,” he said. “I have to come all the way up here to use the phone. When I use one at the lab every one of those twits listens to my conversation. It drives me nuts.”
“Why didn’t you use the phone in the empty reception area?” Kim asked.
“They listen when I go there too,” he said.
“Through the walls?” she questioned.
“I’ve got to call the goddamn head of the Harvard Licensing Office,” Edward complained, ignoring Kim’s comment. “That jerk has launched a personal vendetta against me.” Edward opened his address book to find the number.
“Could it be that he’s just doing his job?” Kim asked, knowing this was an ongoing controversy.
“You think he’s doing his job by getting me suspended?” Edward yelled. “It’s incredible! I never would have guessed the little dick-headed bureaucrat had the nerve to pull off such a stunt.”
Kim felt her heart pounding. Edward’s tone reminded her of the glass-throwing episode in his apartment. She was afraid to say anything else.
“Ah, well,” Edward said in a completely calm tone of voice. He smiled. “Such is life. There’s always these little ups and downs.” He sat down and dialed his number.
Kim allowed herself to relax a degree, but she didn’t take her eyes off Edward. She listened while he had a civilized conversation with the man he’d just railed against. When he got off the phone he said that the man was quite reasonable after all.
“As long as I’m here,” Edward said, “I’ll dash upstairs and get the dry cleaning together that you asked me to take care of yesterday.”
Edward started for the stairs.
“But you already got the dry cleaning together,” Kim said. “You must have done it this morning, because I found it when I got up.”
Edward stopped and blinked as if he were confused. “I did?” he asked. Then he added: “Well, good for me! I should be getting right back to the lab anyway.”
“Edward?” Kim called to him before he went out the front door. “Are you all right? You’ve been forgetting little things lately.”
Edward laughed. “It’s true,” he said. “I’ve been a bit forgetful. But I’ve never felt better. I’m just preoccupied. But there’s light at the end of the tunnel, and we’re all about to be extremely rich. And that includes you. I spoke
to Stanton about giving you some stock, and he agreed. So you’ll be part of the big payoff.”
“I’m flattered,” Kim said.
Kim went to the window and watched Edward walk back to the lab. She watched him the whole way, pondering his behavior. He was now more congenial toward her on the whole, but he was also unpredictable.
Impulsively Kim got her car keys and headed into town. She needed to talk to someone professional whose opinion she valued. Conveniently, Kinnard was still in the area. Using the phone at the information desk in the Salem Hospital, she had him paged.
A half hour later he met her in the coffee shop. He was dressed in surgical scrub clothes, having come directly from surgery. She had been nursing a cup of tea.
“I hope I’m not bothering you terribly,” Kim said the moment he sat down across from her.
“It’s good to see you,” Kinnard said.
“I needed to ask a question,” she said. “Could forgetfulness be a side effect of a psychotropic drug?”
“Absolutely,” he said. “But I have to qualify that by saying that a lot of things can affect short-term memory. It’s a very nonspecific symptom. Should I assume that Edward is having such a problem?”
“Can I count on your discretion?” she asked.
“I’ve already told you as much,” Kinnard said. “Are Edward and his team still taking the drug?”
Kim nodded.
“They’re crazy,” Kinnard said. “They’re just asking for trouble. Have you noticed any other effects?”
Kim gave a short laugh. “You wouldn’t believe it,” she said. “They’re all having a dramatic response. Before they started the drug they were bickering with each other and sullen. Now they are all in great moods. They couldn’t be any happier or more content. They act as if they’re having a ball even though they continue to work at the same feverish pace.”
“That sounds like a good effect,” Kinnard said.
“In some respects,” Kim admitted. “But after you’ve been with them for a while you sense something weird, like they are all too similar and tedious despite their hilarity and their industriousness.”
“Now it sounds a little like Brave New World,” Kinnard said with a chuckle.
“Don’t laugh,” Kim said. “I thought of the same thing. But that’s more of a philosophical issue, and it’s not my immediate concern. What has me worried is the forgetfulness Edward has been exhibiting with silly everyday things. And it seems to be getting worse. I don’t know if the other people are experiencing it or not.”
“What are you going to do?” Kinnard asked.
“I don’t know,” Kim said. “I was hoping you could either definitively confirm my fears or dispel them. I guess you can’t do either.”
“Not with any degree of certainty,” Kinnard admitted. “But I can say something you can think about. Perceptions are extraordinarily influenced by expectations. That’s why double-blind studies have been instituted in medical research. There is a possibility that your expectation to see negative effects from Edward’s drug is affecting what you see. I know Edward is extraordinarily smart, and it doesn’t make much sense to me that he would take any unreasonable risk.”
“You have a point,” Kim said. “It’s true that at the moment I don’t know what I’m seeing. It could all be in my head, but I don’t think so.”
Kinnard glanced at the wall clock and had to excuse himself to do a case. “I’m sorry to cut this short,” he said, “but I’m here for the next few days if you want to talk more. Otherwise I’ll see you in the SICU in Boston.”
The moment they parted, Kinnard gave her hand a squeeze. She squeezed back and thanked him for listening to her.
Arriving back at the compound, Kim went directly to the castle. She had a few words with the plumbers, who insisted they were making good progress but that they’d need another three days or so to finish. They also suggested they should check the guest wing for the same problem. Kim told them to do whatever was needed.
Before going down to the wine cellar, Kim inspected the two entrances to the wings. She was appalled when she saw the one to the servants’ quarters. Not only was there dirt on the stairs, but there were also some sticks and leaves. Even an empty container for Chinese take-out food was in the corner near the door.
Swearing under her breath, Kim went to the cleaning closet, got out a mop and a bucket, and cleaned the stairway. The dirt had been tracked up to the first landing.
After she’d cleaned everything up, Kim walked to the front door, picked up the outdoor mat, and carried it around to the entrance to the servants’ wing. She thought about putting up a note, but then thought the mat should be message enough.
Finally Kim descended into the depths of the wine cellar and got to work. Although she did not find any documents even close to the seventeenth century, her concentration served to free her mind from her concerns, and she slowly began to relax.
At one o’clock Kim took a break. She went back to the cottage and let Sheba out while she had some lunch. Before she returned to the castle she made sure the cat was back in the house. At the castle she chatted with the plumbers for a few minutes and watched Albert deftly make some seals on water-supply pipes with his blowtorch. Finally she got back to work, this time in the attic.
Kim was again becoming discouraged when she found a whole folder of material from the era she was interested in. With excitement she carried it over to one of the dormered windows.
She was not surprised when the papers turned out to be business-related. A few of them were in Ronald’s easily recognizable script. Then Kim caught her breath. Out of the customs documents and bills of lading she pulled a piece of personal correspondence. It was a letter to Ronald from Thomas Goodman.
17th August 1692
Salem Town
Sir:
Many are the villainies that have plagued our God fearing town. It has been a matter of great affliction for me whereby I have been unwillingly involved. I am sore of heart that you have thought ill of me and my duty as a convenanted member of our congregation and hath refused to converse with me in matters of joint interest. It is true that I in good faith and in God’s name did testify against your departed wife at her hearing and at her trial. At your request I did visit your home on occasion to offer aid if it be needed. On that fateful day I found your door ajar yet a frigid chill be on the land and the table laden with food and sustenance as if a meal interrupted yet other objects upside down or sharply broken with blood droplets on the floor. I did fear for an Indian raid and the safety of your kin. But the children both natural and the refugee girls I espied cowering in fear upstairs with word that your Goodwife fell into a fit while eating and not be of her normal self and having run to the shelter of your livestock. With trepidation I took myself there and called her name in the darkness. She came at me like a wild woman and affrighted me greatly. Blood was on her hands and her frock and I saw her handiwork. With troubled spirit I did quiet her at risk to my own well being. To a like purpose I did likewise with your livestock which were all affrighted yet all were safe. To these things I spoke the truth in God’s name.
I remain your friend and neighbor,
Thomas Goodman.
“These poor people,” Kim murmured. This letter came the closest to anything she’d read so far in communicating to her the personal horror of the Salem witch ordeal, and Kim felt empathy for all involved. She could tell that Thomas was confused and dismayed at being caught between friendship and what he thought was the truth. And Kim’s heart went out to poor Elizabeth, who’d been rendered out of her mind with the mold to the point of terrorizing her own children. It was easy for Kim to understand how the seventeenth-century mind would have ascribed such horrifying and inexplicable behavior to witchcraft.
In the middle of Kim’s empathy she realized that the letter presented something new and disturbing. It was the mention of blood with its implication of violence. Kim didn’t even want to imagine what Elizabet
h could have been doing in the shed with the livestock, yet she had to admit it might be significant.
Kim looked back at the letter. She reread the sentence where Thomas described that all the livestock was safe despite the presence of blood. That seemed confusing unless Elizabeth had done something to herself. The thought of self-mutilation made Kim shudder. Its possibility was enhanced by Thomas’s mention of droplets of blood on the floor in the house. But the blood in the house was mentioned in the same sentence with broken objects, suggesting the blood could have come from an inadvertent wound.
Kim sighed. Her mind was a jumble, but one thing was clear. The effect of the fungus was now associated with violence, and Kim thought that was something Edward and the others should know immediately.
Clutching the letter, Kim hastened from the castle and half-ran to the lab. She was out of breath when she entered. She was also immediately surprised: she’d walked into the middle of a celebration.
Everyone greeted Kim with great merriment, pulling her over to one of the lab benches where they had uncorked a bottle of champagne. Kim tried to refuse a beakerful but they wouldn’t hear of it. Once again she felt as if she were with a bunch of frolicsome collegians.
As soon as Kim was able, she worked her way over to Edward’s side to ask him what was going on.
“Eleanor, Gloria, and François have just pulled off an amazing feat of analytic chemistry,” Edward explained. “They’ve already determined the structure of one of Ultra’s binding proteins. It’s a huge leap forward. It will allow us to modify Ultra if need be or to design other possible drugs that will bind at the same site.”
“I’m happy for you,” Kim said. “But I want to show you something that I think you ought to see.” She handed him the letter.
