Mortal Fear

by Robin Cook

  Leonia turned out to be a surprisingly sleepy little town that belied its proximity to New York. Within ten minutes of the George Washington Bridge, he found himself on a wide street lined with one-story commercial establishments fronted by angled parking. It could have been Main Street, USA. Instead, it was called Broad Avenue. There was a drugstore, a hardware store, a bakery, and even a luncheonette. It looked like a movie set from the fifties. Jason went into the luncheonette; ordered a vanilla malted, and used the phone directory. There was a Louise Hayes on Park Avenue. While he drank his malted, Jason debated the wisdom of calling or just dropping by. He opted for the latter.

  Park Avenue bisected Broad and rose up the hill-side that bordered Leonia on the east. After Pauline Boulevard, it arched to the north. That was where Jason found Louise Hayes’s house. It was a modest, dark-brown, shingled structure, much in need of repair. The grass in the front yard had gone to seed.

  Jason rang the bell. The door was opened by a smiling, middle-aged woman in a faded red house-dress. She had stringy brown hair, and a little girl of five or six, a thumb buried to the second knuckle in her mouth, clung to her thigh.

  “Mrs. Hayes?” Jason asked. The woman was a far cry from Hayes’s two other girlfriends.

  “Yes.”

  “I’m Dr. Jason Howard, a colleague of your late husband.” He’d not rehearsed what he was going to say.

  “Yes?” Mrs. Hayes repeated, reflexly pushing the young girl behind her.

  “I’d like to talk to you if you have a moment.” Jason took out his wallet and handed over his driver’s license with its photo and his GHP staff identity card. “I went to medical school with your husband,” he added for good measure.

  Louise looked at the cards and handed them back. “Would you like to come in?”

  “Thank you.”

  The interior of the house also looked in need of work. The furniture was worn and the carpet was threadbare. Children’s toys littered the floor. Louise hastily cleared a spot on the couch and motioned for Jason to sit down.

  “Can I offer you something? Coffee, tea?”

  “Coffee would be nice,” he said. The woman seemed anxious, and he thought the activity would calm her. She went into the kitchen, where Jason could hear the sound of running water. The little girl had hung behind, regarding Jason with large brown eyes. When Jason smiled at her, she fled into the kitchen.

  Jason gazed around the room. It was dark and cheerless, with a few mail-order prints on the walls. Louise returned with her daughter in tow. She gave Jason a mug of coffee and placed sugar and cream on the small coffee table. Jason helped himself to both.

  Louise sat down across from Jason. “I’m sorry if I didn’t seem hospitable at first,” she said. “I don’t have many visitors asking about Alvin.”

  “I understand,” Jason said. He looked at her more carefully. Underneath the frowsy exterior, Jason could see the shadow of an attractive woman. Hayes had good taste, that was for sure. “I’m sorry to barge in like this, but Alvin had spoken of you. Since I was in the area I thought I’d drop by.” He thought a few untruths might help.

  “Did he?” Louise said indifferently.

  Jason decided to be careful. He wasn’t there to dredge up painful emotions.

  “The reason I wanted to talk to you,” he said, “is that your husband told me he’d made an important scientific discovery.” Jason went on to explain the circumstances of Alvin Hayes’s death, and how he, Jason, had made it a personal crusade to try to find out if her husband had indeed made a scientific breakthrough. He explained that it would be a tragedy if Alvin had come across something that could help mankind, only to have it lost. Louise nodded, but when Jason asked if she had any idea of what the discovery could have been, she said she didn’t.

  “You and Alvin didn’t speak much?”

  “No. Only about the children and financial matters.”

  “How are your children?” Jason asked, remembering Hayes’s concern about his son.

  “They are both fine, thank you.”

  “Two?”

  “Yes,” Louise said. “Lucy here’—she patted her daughter’s head—”and John is in school.”

  “I thought you had three children.”

  Jason saw the woman’s eyes film over. After an uncomfortable silence she said, “Well… there is another. Alvin Junior. He’s severely retarded. He lives at a school in Boston.”

  “I’m sorry.

  “It’s all right. You’d think I’d have adjusted by now, but I guess I never will. I guess it was the reason Alvin and I got divorced — I couldn’t deal with it.”

  “Where exactly is Alvin Junior?” Jason asked, knowing he was probing a painful area.

  “At the Hartford School.”

  “How is he doing?” Jason knew of the Hartford School. It was an institution acquired by GHP when the corporation purchased an associated acute-care proprietary hospital. Jason also knew the school was for sale. It was a money-loser for GHP.

  “Fine, I guess,” Louise said. “I’m afraid I don’t visit too often. It breaks my heart.”

  “I understand.” Jason said, wondering if this was the son Hayes had been referring to the night he died. “Would it be possible for us to call and inquire how the boy is doing?”

  “I suppose,” Louise said, not reacting to the extraordinary nature of the question. She got stiffly to her feet and, with her daughter still clinging to her, went to the telephone and called the school. She asked for the pre-teen dormitory and, when they answered, talked for a while about her son’s condition. When she hung up, she said, “They feel he’s doing as well as can be expected. The only new problem is some arthritis, which has interfered with his physical therapy.”

  “Has he been there long?”

  “Just since Alvin went to work for GHP. Being able to place Alvin Junior at Hartford was one of the reasons he accepted the job.”

  “And your other son? You say he’s fine.”

  “Couldn’t be better,” Louise said with obvious pride. “He’s in the third grade and considered one of the brightest in the class.”

  “That’s wonderful,” Jason said, trying to think back to the night Hayes died. Alvin had said that someone wanted him and his son dead. That it was too late for him but maybe not for his son. What on earth had he meant? Jason had assumed one of his sons had been physically sick, but apparently that was not the case.

  “More coffee?” Louise asked.

  “No, thank you,” Jason said. “There’s just one more thing I wanted to ask. At the time of his death, Alvin was involved in setting up a corporation. Your children were to be stockholders. Did you know anything at all about that?”

  “Not a thing.”

  “Oh, well,” Jason said. “Thanks for the coffee. If there’s anything I can do for you in Boston, like look in on Alvin Junior, don’t hesitate to call.” He got up and the little girl buried her head in Louise’s skirt.

  “I hope Alvin didn’t suffer,” she said.

  “No, he didn’t,” Jason lied. He could still remember the look of agony on Alvin’s face.

  They were at the door when Louise suddenly said,

  “Oh, there’s one thing I didn’t tell you. A few days after Alvin died, someone broke in here. Luckily we were out.”

  “Was anything taken?” Jason wondered if it could have been Gene, Inc.

  “No,” Louise said. “They probably saw the usual mess and just moved on.” She smiled. “But they seemed to have searched through everything. Even the children’s bookcases.”

  As Jason drove out of Leonia, New Jersey, and made his way back to the George Washington Bridge, he thought about his meeting with Louise Hayes. He should have been more discouraged than he was. After all, he’d learned nothing of importance to have justified the trip. But he realized there had been more to his wanting to go. He’d been genuinely curious about Hayes’s wife. Having had his own wife rudely taken away from him, Jason couldn’t understand why some
one like Hayes would split up voluntarily. But Jason had never experienced the trauma of a retarded child.

  * * *

  Jason was able to catch the two o’clock afternoon shuttle back to Boston. He tried to read on the plane, but couldn’t concentrate. He began to worry that Carol wouldn’t meet him at the Boston airport, or, worse yet, that she’d show up with Bruno.

  Unfortunately, the two o’clock shuttle that was supposed to land in Boston at two-forty didn’t even leave La Guardia until two-thirty. By the time Jason got off the plane it was three-fifteen. He got his luggage from the locker and ran from the Eastern terminal over to United.

  There was a long line at the ticket window, and Jason couldn’t imagine what the airline agents were doing to make each transaction so lengthy. It was now twenty to four and no sign of Carol Donner.

  At last it was Jason’s turn. He tossed over his American Express card, asking for two round-trip tickets to Seattle for the flight leaving at four, with open returns.

  At least with Jason the agent was efficient. Within three minutes Jason had the tickets and boarding cards and was running for Gate 19. It was now five minutes to four. The flight was in the final stages of boarding. Arriving at Gate 19, Jason breathlessly asked if anyone had asked for him. When the girl at the desk said no, he quickly described Carol and asked if the agent had seen her.

  “She’s very attractive,” he added.

  “I’m sure she is,” smiled the agent. “Unfortunately, I haven’t noticed her. But if you are planning to go to Seattle you’d better board.”

  Jason watched the second hand sweep around the face of the wall clock behind the check-in counter. The agent was busy counting the tickets. Another agent made the final announcement for-the departure to Seattle. It was two minutes before four.

  With his carry-on bag draped over his shoulder, Jason looked up the concourse toward the terminal proper. At the point he was about to give up all hope, he saw her. She was running in his direction. Jason should have been elated. The only problem was that a few steps behind her was the impressive hulk of Bruno. Farther down the hall was a policeman, lounging at the point where bags were picked up from the X-ray machine. Jason made a mental note: that would be his direction of flight if the need arose.

  With her own carry-on shoulder bag, Carol was having some difficulty running. Bruno made no attempt to assist her. Carol came directly up to Jason. Jason saw the expression on Bruno’s broad face go from vexation to confusion to anger.

  “Did I make it?” she panted.

  The agent was now at the door to the jetway, kicking out the doorstop.

  “What the hell are you doing here, creep?” Bruno shouted, looking up at the destination sign. He turned accusingly on Carol. “You said you were going home, Carol.”

  “Come on,” Carol urged, grasping Jason’s arm and pulling him toward the jetway.

  Jason stumbled backward, his eyes on Bruno’s pudgy face, which had turned an unattractive shade of red. The veins in his temple swelled to the size of cigars.

  “Just a moment!” Carol called to the agent. The agent nodded and shouted something down the jetway. Jason watched Bruno until the very last second. He saw him lumber over to a bank of telephones.

  “You people like to cut it close,” the agent said, ripping off a part of each boarding card. Jason finally turned to face ahead, at last convinced that Bruno had decided not to cause a scene. Carol was still pulling Jason’s arm as they descended the jetway. They had to wait while the jetway operator pounded on the side of the plane to get the cabin attendant inside to reopen the already sealed aircraft. “This is about as close as you can make it,” he said, frowning.

  Once they were seated, Carol apologized for being late. “I’m furious,” she said, jamming her carry-on under the seat ahead of her. “I appreciate Arthur’s concern for my well-being, but this is ridiculous.”

  “Who’s Arthur?”

  “He’s my boss,” Carol said disgustedly. “He told me if I left now he might actually fire me. I think I’ll quit when we get back.”

  “Would you be able to do that?” Jason asked, wondering just what Carol’s work involved besides dancing. It was his understanding that women like Carol lost control of their lives.

  “I was planning on stopping soon anyway,” said Carol.

  The plane lurched as it was towed backward out of the gate.

  “You do know what kind of work I do?” Carol asked.

  “Well, sort of,” Jason said vaguely.

  “You’ve never mentioned it,” Carol said. “Most people bring it up.”

  “I figured it was your business,” Jason said. Who was he to judge?

  “You’re a little strange,” Carol said, “likable but strange.”

  “I thought I was pretty normal,” Jason said.

  “Ha!” Carol said playfully.

  There was a good bit of air traffic and they waited for over twenty minutes before they lifted off the ground and headed west.

  “I didn’t think we were going to make it,” Jason said, finally beginning to relax.

  “I’m sorry,” Carol said again. “I tried to lose Bruno, but he stuck like glue. I didn’t want him to know I wasn’t heading back to Indiana. But what could I do?”

  “It doesn’t matter,” Jason said, although in the back of his mind it disturbed him that anyone but Shirley knew where he was going. He’d meant it to be a secret. At the same time he couldn’t figure out how it would make any difference.

  Taking notes on a yellow pad, Jason began quizzing Carol as to Hayes’s schedule on each of his two trips to Seattle. The first visit was the more interesting. They’d stayed at the Mayfair Hotel and among other things had visited a club called the Totem, similar to the Cabaret in Boston. He asked her what it was like.

  “It was okay,” Carol said, “nothing special. But it didn’t have the excitement of the Club Cabaret. Seattle seems a bit conservative.”

  Jason nodded, wondering why Hayes would waste his time at a place like that when he was traveling with Carol. “Did Alvin talk to anyone there?” he asked.

  “Yes. Arthur arranged for him to speak to the owner.”

  “Your boss did? Did Alvin know your boss?”

  “They were friends. That was how I met Alvin.”

  Jason recalled the rumors about Alvin’s taste for discos and the like. Apparently they’d been true. But the idea of a world-famous molecular biologist being chummy with a man who managed a topless bar seemed ludicrous.

  “Do you know what Alvin spoke to this man about?”

  “No, I don’t,” Carol said. “They didn’t talk very long. I was busy watching the dancers. They were quite good.”

  “And you visited the University of Washington, correct?”

  “That’s right. We did that the first day.”

  “And you think you can find the man Alvin saw there?” Jason asked, just to be sure.

  “I think so. He was a tall, good-looking fellow.”

  “And then what?”

  “We went up into the mountains.”

  “And that was vacation time?”

  “I suppose.”

  “Did Alvin meet anyone up there?”

  “No one in particular. But he talked to a lot of people.”

  Jason settled back after the cocktail service. He thought about what Carol had told him, believing the most critical event was the visit to the University of Washington. But the visit to the club was also curious and deserved to be checked out.

  “One other thing,” Carol said. “On the second trip we had to spend some time looking for dry ice.”

  “Dry ice? What on earth for?”

  “I didn’t know and Alvin didn’t tell me. Alvin had a cooler and he wanted it full of dry ice.”

  Perhaps to transport the specimen, Jason thought. This sounds promising.

  * * *

  When they touched down in Seattle, they dutifully changed their watches to Pacific Coast time. Jason looked out t
he airplane window. True to expectations, it was raining. He could see the drops in the darkened pools of water on the runway. Soon, even the window was streaked with moisture.

  They rented a car and once they were clear of the airport traffic, Jason said, “In case it helps your memory, I thought we’d stay at the same hotel you did last time. Separate rooms, of course.”

  Carol turned to eye him in the half-light of the car. Jason wanted it very clear this trip was all business.

  * * *

  Two cars behind Jason and Carol was a dark blue Ford Taurus. Behind the wheel was a middle-aged man dressed in a turtleneck sweater, suede jacket, and checked slacks. He’d gotten a call only about five hours earlier to meet the United flight from Boston. He was supposed to spot a forty-five-year-old doctor who’d be arriving with a beautiful young woman. The names were Howard and Donner, and he was to keep them under surveillance. The operation had been easier than he’d expected. He’d confirmed their identity simply by coming up behind them at the Avis counter.

  Now all he had to do was keep them in sight. Supposedly he’d be contacted by somebody who’d be coming from Miami. For this he was being paid his usual fifty dollars an hour plus expenses. He wondered if it were some kind of domestic problem.

  * * *

  The hotel was elegant. Judging from Hayes’s usual disheveled appearance. Jason wouldn’t have expected the man to have such expensive tastes. They got separate rooms, but Carol insisted they open the connecting door. “Let’s not be prudish,” she said. Jason didn’t know how to take that.

  Since they’d barely touched the airplane food, Jason suggested they have dinner before heading out to the Totem Club. Carol changed, and as they entered the dining room, Jason was pleased at how young and lovely she looked. The maître d’ even checked her ID when Jason ordered a bottle of California chardonnay. The episode thrilled Carol, who complained of looking as if she were already over the hill at age twenty-five.