Cell

by Robin Cook

  “Thanks for your advice,” George said, but his mind was churning. He had another idea. Suddenly he thought Paula might be able to answer his questions. Amalgamated had to have a master list of iDoc beta-test participants. Then he thought of something else: “I remember the names of Tarkington’s and Wong’s oncologists. I wonder if I call them, if they might be willing to tell me if the two patients were with iDoc. It wouldn’t be divulging their medical histories per se.”

  “I don’t know. I doubt it. Listen! I’m going to say it again. You have to let this drop. You are letting your imagination run away with itself, and you are going to get yourself in deep shit if you’re not careful.” Debbie stood up. Suddenly she wanted to get out of there as quickly as possible. Clayton was not going to like it. She didn’t know exactly why she felt that way, but she did. “I gotta run,” she said as she headed for the door.

  George was snapped out of his reverie. He appreciated Debbie’s unexpected visit, as it had focused his thinking. “Are you sure you have to go? I really appreciate your dropping by. I can get out the Jack Daniel’s again.”

  “No. Thanks. I really have to go. I feel better having spoken with you. Thanks, George.”

  “Sure. Anytime. Should we call a taxi?”

  “No, I drove.”

  “Then I’ll walk you out to your car.”

  “It’s not necessary. I’m a big girl!”

  “I insist,” George said. “I really do appreciate your coming by.”

  He walked her out to her car in front of his apartment building. He gave it one last shot to get her to stay or even go out to a local bar, but she was intent on leaving. He waved as she pulled out into the traffic.

  He headed back into his apartment complex, perplexed by her hot-and-cold behavior. The light was on in Sal’s apartment. Good. It must be the sisters. He debated whether or not to say hello and extend his sympathies, but he wasn’t sure they would even remember him.

  He got to his front door and changed his mind. He decided he should make the effort to say hello and find out if there were any plans for a service. As he approached the apartment he could see into Sal’s living area. There weren’t two older women inside, but two men. Thirtyish, in dark suits and ties! They seemed pretty damn busy, too, whatever they were doing.

  George glanced at the super’s door, thinking about inquiring exactly who was in Sal’s apartment. But imagining that the man was drunk as usual, he decided to just see what he could learn on his own. He went out to the rear of the building to check out Sal’s parking place. In it he saw a large, late-model black SUV with dark tinted windows. He doubted it was another tenant’s. More confused than ever, he returned to Sal’s patio fence.

  George hunched down to avoid being seen from inside Sal’s apartment. At the same time he glanced around the complex hoping no one was watching him. He didn’t want to risk another run-in with the police, which must have been precipitated by someone seeing him climbing over Sal’s fence.

  Through the sliding glass door he could see all of the living area and the kitchen. The men in the suits were seemingly searching the apartment, as he had done. One was actually vacuuming Sal’s faux oriental carpet with a handheld DustBuster. Weird! George wondered what, if anything, he should do.

  For lack of an alternative plan, he decided to check in with the super, drunk or not. With some reservation, he rang the bell. When the super opened the door, George saw that, as expected, the man was plastered. Having come as far as he had, George plowed ahead. “I thought you might want to know that there are two men in DeAngelis’s unit searching the place.”

  “I know. I gave them a key.”

  “Who are they?”

  “Police. Or something or other,” the super replied, scratching his head. He looked as if he hadn’t shaved for a week. He was holding on to the door frame for support and still wobbling.

  “They don’t look like police.”

  “They had badges. And a paper that was some kind of warrant.”

  “What are they looking for?”

  “No idea.”

  George was confused. “You didn’t ask?”

  The super, whose name was Clarence, had to think that one over. “I might have. Can’t remember.”

  George realized this was hopeless and turned to leave. “Okay, thanks.”

  “Sal’s sisters are in town,” Clarence yelled, as if he just remembered it. “There’s a memorial service they got planned for tomorrow. Hang on.” He reached to a table just inside his door and grabbed a piece of paper. He held it as far away from himself as he could while attempting to read it. “Carter’s Funeral Home. Two o’clock. If you want to go. Said they wanted to bury him as quick as can be and skedaddle out of town.”

  “Thanks, Clarence.” George walked off. He was amazed that the service was scheduled to take place on the Fourth of July, not that he imagined too many people would want to show up.

  George headed back to his apartment, still curious as to who exactly was searching Sal’s. If they were government agents of some sort, as Clarence thought, he’d have to guess they were FBI. But why in thunder would the FBI be searching Sal’s apartment?

  28

  DR. CLAYTON HANSON’S HOME

  BEL AIR, LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA

  THURSDAY, JULY 3, 2014, 9:17 P.M.

  With a nervous smile Debbie Waters rang Clayton’s doorbell and surveyed the home and surrounding manicured grounds, noticing an extra car in the driveway. This was the life she wanted. She was in her mid-thirties now and the clock was ticking. She knew she had a smoking-hot body, at least according to some male friends. But how long was that going to last? What she didn’t want to do was end up living an ordinary, middle-class life. Every day in L.A. she saw both extremes: the haves and the have-nots. She deserved to be a have, and Clayton was her ticket.

  His home was near the top of a winding road in Bel Air. It was too big for the lot it sat on, but wasn’t anywhere near as large as some of his neighbors’. Still, his place was impressive. Especially to an ER charge nurse earning $89,000 a year. A nice salary, yes, but not for this zip code.

  • • •

  Clayton glanced at a security monitor in his kitchen while on the way to his front door. It was Debbie ringing the bell. He wasn’t surprised, as she’d called ahead. He had told her not to come over to the house because he had guests, but she insisted. In actuality, he had only one guest and he was not about to let her meet Debbie. Knowing Debbie as he did, that would be a disaster.

  Clayton had parted with half of his net worth in his divorce and was stretched to the bone trying to pay the mortgage, taxes, and upkeep on his house. The idea that he even had a mortgage at his age was frightening. He needed those Amalgamated stock options to come through for him, so inconveniences like this were . . . well, he had to put up with them.

  He had no qualms about using Debbie as a spy, but having her show up at his house uninvited was not acceptable. He knew he was considered a catch in some circles, and those circles included Debbie Waters. But the feelings were not mutual. She was certainly attractive physically, but among the social coterie he preferred, her mouth and manners of a truck driver didn’t mesh. Yet he needed her to think otherwise, at least long enough to get her to continue to help with George Wilson.

  He opened the front door and for a moment the former lovers regarded each other across the threshold.

  Clayton broke the silence. “This isn’t good,” he hissed.

  “If that’s the way you want to be, you’re on your own,” Debbie said. She turned and headed for her car. “I have some new information about George Wilson I thought you’d want to hear, but fine,” she called over her shoulder.

  “Jesus!” Clayton groaned, recognizing that Debbie was manipulating him. He should just let her leave. The last thing he wanted was for her to be there with the young, would-be actre
ss waiting in his library, but he needed to hear what she had to say. He darted after her. She was already in the car, closing her door, when he caught up with her. He grabbed the handle.

  “Okay, what did you learn?”

  “No. You were just rude to me. If you want to know, you’ll have to come to my place.” She started the car engine and put it in gear. “Let go of my door!”

  “Wait! Damn it!”

  She didn’t, and he had to jog along beside her to keep up as she descended his driveway. He still had a hold of her car door.

  “Okay! Okay! I’ll come over to your place. Just give me some time to get rid of my guest. I’ll tell him I have to run back to the hospital.” Damn, he hated her for doing this to him. “I’ll be over in an hour.”

  “Him? Right,” she scoffed, not buying that it was a man visiting with Clayton. She loved that she had interrupted his evening and was making him come running to her. “Okay, one hour! Or I don’t tell you what I learned.”

  Clayton stood at the base of his driveway and watched her drive off. He promised himself he would make her pay when this was over. Maybe he could get her transferred to their newly acquired affiliated hospital down in Long Beach. That would teach her.

  29

  GEORGE’S APARTMENT

  WESTWOOD, LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA

  THURSDAY, JULY 3, 2014, 9:32 P.M.

  George was feeling a lot better. Debbie’s surprise visit had pulled him out of his depression. After a quick shower and a bit of food in his belly, his mind started to kick back into gear. What he had realized was that, immediately prior to their deaths, all of the patients in what he now referred to as his “coincidental cohort” had had a history of serious medical problems compounded by the discovery of a new, life-threatening medical issue.

  What he was most interested in knowing was whether or not Tarkington and Wong were part of the iDoc beta test. He knew Debbie was right that it was against HIPAA rules to try to access anyone’s health records. But there was Paula Stonebrenner and maybe she could help. With her high-level connections at Amalgamated there was a good chance she could find out if they had been part of the iDoc test or not. One way or the other it would be good for her to know that there was a slight but real chance that something might not be completely copacetic with the iDoc algorithm. Especially when it came to people with serious illnesses. Either that or someone might be intentionally causing trouble. He remembered reading an article in the previous six months or so that Internet hackers could access medical devices that depended on wireless technology. Certainly iDoc fit into that category in a big way. Someone might be interfering with iDoc either merely for the challenge or in a deliberate effort to sabotage Amalgamated for some perceived slight (a lot of people had reasons to hate insurance companies) or for financial gain.

  George wondered about the best way to approach Paula. She could easily take offense, but he wanted to try anyway. He decided to text her.

  Sitting on his couch now with the lights on and the TV off, he sent her a short “Hello.” He didn’t have long to wait. She responded in minutes. Soon they were bantering back and forth about how impressed he had been with iDoc from the presentation and what a good job she had done. George could tell she was pleased with the compliments. Next they switched to the idea of possibly getting together. Once he felt she was relaxed, he returned the conversation back to iDoc.

  Hey, I was just wondering. Were there any glitches with iDoc during the beta test?

  No. Why do you ask?

  I remember an article about hackers hacking into wireless medical devices.

  Absolutely nothing like that with us. Flawless.

  George realized he needed to up the ante.

  Something has come to my attention at the medical center.

  He got a period of silence after that. Finally:

  What’s that?

  We should talk.

  Okay. Call me.

  I’d rather talk in person. You up for that?

  When?

  How about now?

  Not possible. It’s late. But you can call me if you want.

  George sighed. Okay, he’d call. He would have much preferred talking with her directly to gauge her reactions, but he’d take what he could get. She picked up on the first ring.

  “Okay, what’s up?”

  George cleared his throat. He sensed she was already on the defensive. “I imagine this might be a sensitive subject, but I can’t ignore what I’m seeing.”

  “This is about iDoc?”

  “Yes . . . well, no! It’s more than that. I know of three iDoc users that have died. They all had significant medical issues but they all died abruptly and prematurely, immediately after a diagnosis of yet another serious medical issue or a worsening of their original illness.” He didn’t want to say that all of these deceased had a personal connection. He didn’t want this to appear personal.

  “I have also done MRIs on two other patients who died abruptly. I’m wondering if they were part of the iDoc beta test as well.” George paused, waiting for a response. Paula was silent. “Did you hear—”

  “Yes. I heard you.” Her tone was all business. “You don’t know if the MRI patients were a part of the beta test?”

  “No. I don’t. That’s partly why I’m calling. I was hoping that you could tell me. If you have a pen handy, their names are Greg Tarkington and Claire—”

  Paula interrupted. “I wouldn’t be able to tell you whether they were part of the test or not. Do you remember our conversation regarding the level of security for iDoc? It is taken very seriously. As part of our preliminary approval, we certified that we would respect HIPAA. Even if I were in a position to find out, which I couldn’t, I wouldn’t be able to tell you.”

  Paula’s comments were interrupted by a sudden chorus of “YES! YES! YES!” coming through the wall from Joe’s apartment. His neighbor had apparently come home early. George dashed into his bedroom and closed the door.

  “What was that noise?” Paula asked. Apparently it had been loud enough for her to hear.

  “A neighbor. Probably a TV.”

  “Your walls must be paper-thin.”

  “It’s not the best construction,” George admitted. He winced. Now she had a hint of how decrepit his apartment was. Since sounds could still be heard from Joe’s apartment he went into his bathroom and closed the door. He sat on the lowered toilet seat. At least it was quiet.

  “I didn’t hear your last response,” he said. “Could you repeat?”

  “I said I couldn’t tell you what you asked even if I could find out.”

  “Just so you know, this isn’t about me wanting iDoc to fail.”

  “I hope not, George. At the same I time I could understand if you are a little pissed that I took your suggestion and ran with it without at least letting you know. I was specifically told not to for security reasons. iDoc is a huge investment. But please don’t make a fool of yourself over this. Wild public accusations about iDoc will reflect badly on you. I promise you, if there are any problems with iDoc, I will let you know. So far there have been no problems. None!”

  He knew she was going say that. “My motivation has nothing to do with spite.”

  “I hope not. I am more certain than ever that iDoc is the future of medicine in the digitalized world. Doctors had their chance to continue to lead medicine, but they didn’t take it.”

  “I can see iDoc’s potential, believe me. It truly is amazing. But I can’t ignore what I believe is a very real glitch or something.”

  “And how would iDoc be responsible for these premature deaths?”

  “You tell me.”

  Paula sighed, purposefully wanting George to hear her reaction. “The beta test is huge, George. Twenty thousand client-patients. There are bound to be some inexplicable medical events and deaths. I am sure t
hat all deaths of beta-test participants are being looked at very carefully. And I’ll bet that iDoc has probably prevented many deaths, as it would have saved your mother. People with serious illnesses are the ones whom iDoc will actually help the most.”

  “Why do you believe that?”

  “It’s simple. iDoc is able to titrate lifesaving medication according to real-time physiological values rather than trying to treat symptoms, which is the old ‘sick’ care medical paradigm. iDoc is the perfect primary-care doctor since it is based on an algorithm that is capable of learning and will be continuously upgraded as new medical information is incorporated.”

  “I’m concerned it can’t handle what’s on its plate now.”

  “You know what a Luddite doctor is, George? I run across them all the time. MDs who have been dragging their feet in the acceptance of digitalized medicine, even something as intuitive as electronic records. Come on! This is a no-brainer!”

  “You have a point. A strong one. But that isn’t my issue. I’m concerned about iDoc not operating as you intended. Listen, I appreciate everything you’ve said. I just hope you can allay my concerns.”

  “Okay. I’ll look into it. Promise.”

  “Can we still get together?”

  She laughed. “Of course we can still get together. It was my idea, remember?”

  “I think I can explain better in person. Believe me, I am not motivated in the slightest by spite, or pique for that matter.”

  “Okay,” she laughed.

  “Well, I’m free for the holiday weekend. For the first time in three years!”

  “Unfortunately, since I didn’t hear from you about Saturday I have made other plans. I’m scheduled to go to Hawaii in the morning. I’ll be back Monday night. Let’s talk then.”

  “Okay. Sounds good,” George replied, hiding his disappointment. “Have fun! Bye.”