by Robin Cook
The condition of the bathroom mirrored that of the living room and the bedroom. The contents of the medicine cabinet had been dumped into the bathtub.
Jack walked from the bedroom to the kitchen. Expecting more of the same, he flipped on the light. A slight gasp escaped from his lips.
“We were beginning to wonder about you,” a large African-American male said. He was sitting at Jack’s table, dressed totally in black leather, including gloves and a visorless hat. “We’d run out of your beer and we were getting antsy.”
There were three other men dressed in identical fashion to the first. One was half sitting on the windowsill. The two others were to Jack’s immediate right, leaning against the kitchen cabinet. On the table was an impressive array of weaponry, including machine pistols.
Jack didn’t recognize any of these men. He was shocked that they were still there. He’d been robbed before but nobody had stayed to drink his beer.
“How about coming over and sitting yourself down?” the large black man said.
Jack hesitated. He knew the door to the hall was open. Could he make it before they picked up their guns? Jack doubted it, and he wasn’t about to try.
“Come on, man,” the black man said. “Get your white ass over here!”
Reluctantly Jack did as he was told. Warily he sat down and faced his uninvited visitor.
“We might as well be civilized about this,” the black man said. “My name is Twin. This here’s Reginald.” Twin pointed to the man at the window.
Jack glanced in Reginald’s direction. He was toying with a toothpick and sucking his teeth. He regarded Jack with obvious disdain. Although he wasn’t quite as muscular as Warren, he was in the same category. Jack could see he had the words “Black Kings” tattooed on the volar surface of his right forearm.
“Now Reginald is pissed,” Twin continued, “because you ain’t got shit here in this apartment. I mean, there isn’t even a TV. You see, part of the deal was that we’d have pickings over your stuff.”
“What kind of deal are you talking about?” Jack asked.
“Let’s put it this way,” Twin said. “Me and my brothers are being paid some small change to come way the hell over here to rough you up a bit. Nothing major, despite the artillery you see on the table. It’s supposed to be some kind of warning. Now, I don’t know the details, but apparently you’ve been making a pain of yourself at some hospital and got a bunch of people all riled up. I’m supposed to remind you to do your job and let them do theirs. Does that make any more sense to you than it does to me? I mean, I’ve never done anything like this before.”
“I think I catch your drift,” Jack said.
“I’m glad,” Twin said. “Otherwise we’d have to break a few fingers or something. We weren’t supposed to hurt you bad, but when Reginald starts, it’s hard to stop him, especially when he’s pissed. He needs something. Are you sure you don’t have a TV or something hidden around here?”
“He just came in with a bike,” one of the other men said.
“What about that, Reginald?” Twin asked. “You want a new bike?”
Reginald leaned forward so he could see into the living room. He shrugged his shoulders.
“I think you got yourself a deal,” Twin said. He stood up.
“Who’s paying you to do this?” Jack asked.
Twin raised his eyebrows and laughed. “Now, it wouldn’t be kosher of me to tell you that, now would it? But at least you’ve got the balls to ask.”
Jack was about to ask another question when he was viciously cold-cocked by Twin. The force of the sucker punch knocked Jack over backward, and he sprawled limply on the floor. The room swam before his eyes. Hovering close to unconsciousness, he felt his wallet being pulled from his trousers. There was muffled laughter followed by a final agonizing kick in the stomach. Then there was absolute blackness.
20
FRIDAY, 11:45 P.M., MARCH 22, 1996
The first thing Jack was aware of was a ringing in his head. Slowly he opened his eyes and found himself staring directly up at the ceiling fixture in the kitchen. Wondering what he was doing on the kitchen floor, he tried to get up. When he moved he felt a sharp pain in his jaw that made him lie back down. That was when he realized the ringing was intermittent and it wasn’t in his head: it was the wall phone directly above him.
Jack rolled over onto his stomach. From that position he pushed himself up onto his knees. He’d never been knocked out before, and he couldn’t believe how weak he felt. Gingerly he felt along his jawline. Thankfully he didn’t feel any jagged edges of broken bones. Equally carefully he palpated his tender abdomen. That was less painful than the jaw, so he assumed there’d been no internal damage.
The phone continued to ring insistently. Finally Jack reached up and took it off the hook. As he said hello he eased himself into a sitting position on the floor with his back against the kitchen cabinets. His voice sounded strange even to himself.
“Oh, no! I’m sorry,” Terese said when she heard his voice. “You’ve been asleep. I shouldn’t have called so late.”
“What time is it?” Jack asked.
“It’s almost twelve,” Terese said. “We’re still here in the studio, and sometimes we forget that the rest of the world sleeps normal hours. I wanted to ask a question about sterilization, but I’ll call you tomorrow. I’m sorry to have awakened you.”
“Actually I’ve been unconscious on my kitchen floor,” Jack said.
“Is that some kind of joke?” Terese asked.
“I wish,” Jack said. “I came home to a ransacked apartment, and unfortunately the ransackers were still here. To add insult to injury they also kind of beat me up.”
“Are you all right?” Terese asked urgently.
“I think so,” Jack said. “But I think I chipped a tooth.”
“Were you really unconscious?” Terese asked.
“I’m afraid so,” Jack said. “I still feel weak.”
“Listen,” Terese said decisively. “I want you to call the police immediately, and I’m coming over.”
“Wait a sec,” Jack said. “First of all, the police won’t do anything. I mean, what can they do? It was four gang members, and there’s a million of them in the city.”
“I don’t care, I want you to call the police,” Terese said. “I’ll be over there in fifteen minutes.”
“Terese, this isn’t the best neighborhood,” Jack said. He could tell she’d made up her mind, but he persisted. “You don’t have to come. I’m okay. Honest!”
“I don’t want to hear any excuses about not calling the police,” Terese said. “I should be there in fifteen minutes.”
Jack found himself holding a dead telephone. Terese had hung up.
Dutifully Jack dialed 911 and gave the information. When he was asked if he was in any current danger, he said no. The operator said the officers would be there as soon as possible.
Jack pushed himself up onto wobbly legs and walked out into his living room. Briefly he looked for his bike, but then vaguely remembered something about his attackers wanting it. In the bathroom he bared his teeth and examined them. As he’d suspected from touching it with his tongue, his left front tooth had a small chip. Twin must have had something like brass knuckles under his gloves.
To Jack’s surprise the police arrived within ten minutes. There were two officers, an African-American by the name of David Jefferson and a Latino, Juan Sanchez. They listened politely to Jack’s tale of woe, wrote down the particulars, including the make of the missing bike, and asked Jack if he’d care to come to the precinct to look at mug shots of various local gang members.
Jack declined. Through Warren he understood that the gangs did not fear the police. Consequently, Jack knew the police could not protect him from the gangs, so he decided not to tell the police everything. But at least he’d satisfied Terese’s demand and would be able to collect insurance on his bike.
“Excuse me, Doc,” David Jefferson said as
the police were leaving. Jack had informed them he was a medical examiner. “How come you live in this neighborhood? Aren’t you asking for trouble?”
“I ask myself the same question,” Jack said.
After the police had left, Jack closed his splintered door and leaned against it while surveying his apartment. Somehow he would have to find the energy to clean it up. At the moment it seemed like an overwhelming task.
A knock that he could feel more than hear made him reopen the door. It was Terese.
“Ah, thank God it’s you,” Terese said. She came into the apartment. “You weren’t kidding when you said this wasn’t the best neighborhood. Just climbing these stairs was a trauma. If it hadn’t been you opening the door I might have screamed.”
“I tried to warn you,” Jack said.
“Let me look at you,” Terese said. “Where’s the best light?”
Jack shrugged. “You choose,” he said. “Maybe the bathroom.”
Terese dragged Jack into the bathroom and examined his face. “You have a tiny cut over your jawbone,” she said.
“I’m not surprised,” Jack said. He then showed her the chipped tooth.
“Why did they beat you up?” Terese said. “I hope you weren’t playing hero.”
“Quite the contrary,” Jack said. “I was terrified into total immobility. I was sucker-punched. This was evidently some kind of warning for me to stay out of the Manhattan General.”
“What on earth are you talking about?” Terese demanded.
Jack told her all the things he hadn’t told the police. He even told her why he hadn’t told the police.
“This is getting more and more unbelievable,” Terese said. “What are you going to do?”
“To tell the truth, I haven’t had a lot of time to think about it,” Jack said.
“Well, I know one thing you are going to do,” Terese said. “You are going to the emergency room.”
“Come on!” Jack complained. “I’m fine. My jaw is sore, but big deal.”
“You were knocked out,” Terese reminded him. “You should be seen. I’m not even a doctor and I know that much.”
Jack opened his mouth to protest further, but he didn’t; he knew she was right. He should be seen. After a head injury serious enough to render him unconscious, there was the worry of intracranial hemorrhage. He should have a basic neurological exam.
Jack rescued his jacket from the floor. Then he followed Terese down the stairs to the street. To catch a cab they walked to Columbus Avenue.
“Where do you want to go?” Terese asked once they were in the taxi.
“I think I’ll stay away from the General for the time being,” Jack said with a smile. “Let’s go uptown to Columbia-Presbyterian.”
“Fine,” Terese said. She gave directions to the cabdriver and settled back in her seat.
“Terese, I really appreciate your coming over,” Jack said. “You didn’t have to, and I certainly didn’t expect it. I’m touched.”
“You would have done it for me,” Terese said.
Would he have? Jack wondered. He didn’t know. The whole day had been confusing.
The visit to the emergency room went smoothly. They had to wait as auto accidents, knife wounds, and heart attacks were given priority. But eventually Jack was seen. Terese insisted on staying the whole time and even accompanied him into the examining room.
When the ER resident learned Jack was a medical examiner, he insisted Jack be seen by the neurology consult. The neurology resident went over Jack with utmost care. He declared him fit and said he didn’t even think an X ray was indicated unless Jack felt strongly otherwise. Jack didn’t.
“The one thing I do recommend is that you be observed overnight,” the neurology resident said. He then turned to Terese and said: “Mrs. Stapleton, just wake him up occasionally and make sure he behaves normally. Also check that his pupils remain the same size. Okay?”
“Okay,” Terese said.
Later as they were walking out of the hospital Jack commented that he was impressed with her equanimity when she’d been addressed as Mrs. Stapleton.
“I thought it would have embarrassed the man to have corrected him,” Terese said. “But I’m going to take his recommendations quite seriously. You are coming home with me.”
“Terese…” Jack complained.
“No arguments!” Terese commanded. “You heard the doctor. There’s no way I’d allow you to go back to that hellhole of yours tonight.”
With his head mildly throbbing and his jaw aching and his stomach sore, Jack surrendered. “Okay,” he said. “But this is all far beyond the call of duty.”
Jack felt truly grateful as they rode up in the elevator in Terese’s posh high-rise. No one had been as gracious to him as Terese in years. Between her concern and generosity he felt that he’d misjudged her.
“I’ve a guest room that I’m confident you’ll find comfortable,” she said as they walked down a carpeted hallway. “Whenever my folks come to town it is hard to get them to leave.”
Terese’s apartment was picture perfect. Jack was amazed how neat it was. Even the magazines were arranged carefully on the coffee table, as if she expected Architectural Digest to do a photo shoot.
The guest room was quaint with flower-print drapes, carpet, and bedspread that all matched. Jack joked that he hoped he didn’t get disoriented since he might have trouble finding the bed.
After providing Jack with a bottle of aspirin, Terese left him to shower. After he’d finished, he donned a terry-cloth bathrobe, which she’d laid out. Thus attired, he poked his head out into the living room and saw her sitting on the couch reading. He walked out and sat across from her.
“Aren’t you going to bed?” he asked.
“I wanted to be sure you were okay,” she said. She leaned forward to stare directly into his face. “Your pupils look equal to me.”
“To me too,” Jack said. He laughed. “You are taking those doctor’s orders seriously.”
“You’d better believe it,” she said. “I’ll be coming in to wake you up, so be prepared.”
“I know better than to argue,” Jack said.
“How do you feel in general?” Terese asked.
“Physically or mentally?”
“Mentally,” Terese said. “Physically I have a pretty good idea.”
“To be truthful, the experience has scared me,” Jack admitted. “I know enough about these gangs to be afraid of them.”
“That’s why I wanted you to call the police,” Terese said.
“You don’t understand,” Jack said. “The police can’t really help me. I mean, I didn’t even bother to tell them the possible name of the gang or the first names of the intruders. Even if the police picked them up, all they’d do is slap their wrists. Then they’ll be back on the street.”
“So what are you going to do?” Terese asked.
“I suppose I’m going to stay the hell away from the General,” Jack said. “Seems like that’s going to make everybody happy. Even my own boss told me not to go. I suppose I can do my job without going over there.”
“I’m relieved,” Terese said. “I was worried you’d try to be a hero and take the warning as a challenge.”
“You said that before,” Jack said. “But don’t worry. I’m no hero.”
“What about this bike-riding around this city?” Terese asked. “And riding through the park at night? And what about living where you do? The fact is, I do worry. I worry that you’re either oblivious to danger or courting it. Which is it?”
Jack looked into Terese’s pale blue eyes. She was asking questions that he strictly avoided. The answers were too personal. But after the concern that she’d demonstrated that evening and the effort she’d expended on his behalf, he felt she deserved some explanation. “I suppose I have been courting danger,” he said.
“Can I ask why?”
“I guess I haven’t been worried about dying,” Jack said. “In fact, there was a time
when I felt dying would be a relief. A few years back I had trouble with depression, and I suppose it’s always going to be there in the background.”
“I can relate to that,” Terese said. “I had a bout with depression as well. Was yours associated with a particular event, if I may ask?”
Jack bit the inside of his lip. He felt uncomfortable talking about such issues, but now that he’d started it was hard to turn back.
“My wife died,” Jack managed. He couldn’t get himself to mention the children.
“I’m sorry,” Terese said empathetically. She paused a moment and then said: “Mine was due to the death of my only child.”
Jack turned his head away. Terese’s admission brought instant tears to his eyes. He took a deep breath and then looked back at this complicated woman. She was a hard-driving executive; of that he was sure from the moment he’d met her. But now he knew there was more.
“I guess we have more in common than just disliking discos,” he said in an attempt to lighten the atmosphere.
“I think we’ve both been emotionally scarred,” Terese said. “And we’ve both overly invested ourselves in our careers.”
“I’m not so sure we share that,” Jack said. “I’m not as committed to my career as I once was, nor as I think you are. The changes that have come to medicine have robbed me of some of that.”
Terese stood up. Jack did the same. They were standing close enough to appreciate each other physically.
“I guess I meant more that we both are afraid of emotional commitment,” Terese said. “We’ve both been wounded.”
“That I can agree to,” Jack said.
Terese kissed the tips of her fingers and then touched them gently to Jack’s lips.
“I’ll be in to wake you in a few hours,” she said. “So be prepared.”
“I hate to be putting you through all this,” Jack said.
“I’m enjoying this little bit of mothering,” Terese said. “Sleep well.”
They parted. Jack walked back toward the guest room, but before he got to the door, Terese called out: “One more question: Why do you live in that awful slum?”
