Miracle Cure (1991)

by Harlan Coben

  No response.

  "Harv?"

  Still no response.

  She peeked in the doorway and saw that the room was empty.

  Maybe the receptionist would know where he went. She went back down th e h all to the receptionist's desk. Cassandra smiled, and the receptionis t s miled back, putting up one finger to signal her to wait.

  "I'm sorry," the receptionist said into the phone, "but I can't locat e s ara Lowell. She may have already left, Mrs. Riker, I know you said it's a n emergency, but ... yes, I understand the importance. Would you lik e m e to page Dr. Riker? No? Okay, okay, I won't, calm down."

  Cassandra leaned over.

  "A call for Sara?"

  The receptionist put her hand over the mouthpiece.

  "It's Jennifer Riker, Dr. Riker's ex. She keeps ranting about a n e mergency."

  "I'll talk to her."

  Cassandra took the phone.

  "Hello?"

  Jennifer's voice came fast.

  "Who is this?"

  "Cassandra Lowell, Jennifer. I'm Sara's sister. We met a few years bac k a t a party " "I remember," Jennifer .

  "Where's Sara?"

  "I don't know. I just got here myself."

  "Find her, Cassandra. She's in grave danger."

  Cassandra held the phone close to her ear.

  "What are you talking about?"

  "I'm talking about the letter," Jennifer explained.

  "What letter?"

  "The letter Bruce wrote."

  Sergeant Willie Monticelli veered right and exited off the Henry Hudso n p arkway at 178th Street. He sped down Fort Washington Avenue, passe d h ood Park, and turned left at 167th Street. He made a hard right o n b roadway, accelerated past the main hospital building and Babie s h ospital, and took a sharp left.

  Ten seconds later the squad car arrived at the Sidney Pavilion entrance.

  Willie pulled the car up on the sidewalk, braking with a horrid screech , inches before hitting the cement stairs at the entrance. Max was out o f t he car before it came to a complete stop, Willie not far behind. Th e t wo sprinted up the stairs, badges out. The security guards, spottin g t he police IDs, stepped back to avoid being the victims of a two-ma n s tampede.

  "Any other police arrive yet?" Max asked without breaking stride.

  "None," the guard yelled back.

  Max continued to run, busting through doors like an Old West gunslinge r i n a saloon. He reached the reception desk.

  "Where's Sara Lowell?" he asked.

  The receptionist looked up quizically.

  "And who might you Max tossed his badge on her desk.

  "Lieutenant Bernstein, NYPD. Where is Sara Lowell?"

  "She is a very popular young lady today."

  "What does that mean?"

  "It means, Lieutenant, that you are not the first person in a rush t o s peak to her."

  "Who else?"

  "Jennifer Riker just called looking for Ms. Lowell. She said it was ver y u rgent."

  "Dr. Riker's wife?"

  "Ex-wife," the receptionist corrected.

  "Anyhow, I couldn't find Ms. Lowell anywhere so Mrs. Riker spoke to he r s ister instead."

  "Cassandra? Where is she?"

  The receptionist shrugged.

  "I couldn't tell you for sure. She spoke to Mrs. Riker, turned all whit e a nd funny, and then ran off without a word. Didn't even have th e c ourtesy to hang up the phone."

  "Where did she go?"

  "She got in the elevator and went up. It stopped at the third floor."

  Max turned toward the elevator.

  "Willie?"

  The sergeant stood at the elevator, holding the door open.

  "One step ahead of you, Twitch."

  "Then let's move."

  Harvey cradled the gun close to him as he swung open the door slowly.

  He had considered the possibility that Sara Lowell might launch som e s ort of futile attack when he first opened the door.

  But when he looked in the cold room, he knew that he had worrie d n eedlessly.

  Sara was slumped in the corner. Her eyes were closed, her head tilte d b ack at a strange angle. Her normally pale complexion was frighteningl y w hite, colorless. Her trembling lips were thin and blue.

  She looked so pitifully small and helpless, huddled in the corner like a w ounded animal trapped in a cage.

  "Sarar No response. Her breathing was labored and uneven. Her shoulde r d rooped into her chest, her arms hung limply at her sides.

  "Sarar Still nothing. Her eyes remained closed. A choking noise, lik e s omething was stuck in her air passage, came from her throat.

  Part of him wanted Sara to stay unconscious, but most of him wanted he r t o be awake. He wanted her to be conscious when he killed her, to hav e t he right to stare at him with accusing, hateful eyes as he pulled th e t rigger. The haunting image would never leave him, he knew. It would b e h is own way of serving penance.

  He kept his distance on the off chance that she would regai n c onsciousness and try to surprise him. From where he stood near th e d oorway, he would have plenty of time to raise his gun and fire shoul d s he try to cross the room. Not even someone with Michael's quicknes s w ould be able to cross a room that fast.

  For a moment he considered using the knife in his pocket on her. I t w ould, no doubt, be quieter. But no, he would stick to the gun. The gu n w as more impersonal. It could kill from a distance. Stabbing someone , slicing their throat from ear to ear or jutting the long blade into th e h eart ... only a certain sort of man could do such a thing.

  Harvey found it too painful to stare at Sara's pathetic form crouched i n t he corner. He swerved his eyes toward the neat row of test tubes on th e t op shelf. He read the labels. So close was he to his project that h e h ad each patient's code and every chemical in this room memorized.

  87m332 was Ezra Platt. 98k003 was Kiel Davis. The next one should be , yes it was, 39k10, Kevin Fraine ..."Sarar Still nothing. Her trouble d b reathing had deteriorated into struggled gasps and arduous intakes.

  Harvey felt tears push into his eyes, but as he had done when he ordere d b ruce's death, he forced them back down. His eyes moved down the row o f b eakers.

  Naoh, S02, H2So4, next should be H3PO4, and then. where was the HC1?...

  Sara's slumped arm moved like it had been spring-released.

  The arm shot toward him as he raised his gun. In her hand Sara held a l arge glass beaker filled with HC1. Harvey's eyes widened.

  HCl. Hydrochloric acid.

  There was no time to react. The liquid flew across the room and splashe d o nto Harvey's face.

  He screamed.

  The acid ripped at him. It burrowed into his face, eating away at hi s f lesh, shredding his corneas and pupils, tearing apart the milky whit e o f his eyes. Pain engulfed him, but the pain in his skin was nothin g c ompared to what was happening in his eyes.

  Thousands of sharp flaming darts punctured the soft gel of his eyeballs.

  His hands flew to his face, his fingers pulled at his eyes in a futil e a ttempt to lessen the pain. He could hear his skin and eyes sizzle , smell the burning flesh on his own face.

  As Sara struggled to her feet, she saw the gun fall from his hand an d b ounce underneath a shelf. She thought groggily of trying to get it bu t d ecided against it. It would probably take too long and give Harvey th e t ime he needed to recuperate. Better to make a run for it.

  Before she took a step, Sara heard Harvey manage his first words sinc e t he acid had landed on his face. They started low, almost inaudible, bu t t hey grew louder with each syllable. He repeated the same words over a n d over as though they were some sort of ritual chant: "You must die, Sara. You must."

  The elevator moved so damn slowly. After thirty seconds of pushing th e c lose-door button, the door grudgingly obeyed by sliding shut. With a g runt it began to ascend.

  "You check the second floor," Max said to Willie. ""I'll go up to th e t hird. Yell if you see
anything."

  "Right."

  The elevator stopped on the second floor. The door had not yet opene d w hen Max and Willie heard what sounded like a long, primal scream.

  "Third floor," Max shouted.

  Willie repeatedly pressed the third floor button, but the elevator's c ourse had already been set and it was not about to be rushed by a huma n s cream. The door opened slowly on the second floor and then paused.

  Impatience overcame Max. He sprinted across the portal. ""I'll take th e s tairway. Meet me up there."

  Willie withdrew his revolver from its holster.

  "Got ya."

  "You must die, Sara ..."

  Sara wasted little time. Summoning up strength she did not have, sh e m aneuvered past Eric's body, shoved Harvey aside, and hobbled toward th e d oor. Even with the adrenalin flow, her movements were slow. The col d h ad stiffened her limbs and constricted her lungs. She had spent so muc h e nergy on the quick swing of her arm and pushing Harvey that she feare d s he might not be able to make it.

  Have to. The baby ... A few minutes earlier Sara had been ready to giv e u p. Trapped in the cold room, no way of escape, no hope of a last minut e r escue ... no Michael in truth, she had almost welcomed defeat.

  There was nothing left. Her spirit had been crushed. Michael dead.

  What difference could survival make when there was no Michael?

  She had begun to drift away. Delirium took control, and it too wa s w elcome. Anything was better than reality. She would just drift an d d rift, not think about Michael, just drift, look around, let her min d r eplay TDon't Fear The Reaper." She could almost hear Buck Dharm a s inging about the Grim Reaper's visit. It was clear she couldn't go on , The door was opened and the wind appeared, The candles blew and the n d isappeared ..."

  She was looking around, looking at all the test tubes and fanc y e quipment on the shelves, looking until too exhausted to look anymore , eyes beginning to close. the curtains flew and then He appeared ..."

  yes there were all the various test tubes and glass dishes and beakers.

  Saying "Don't be afraid, come on, Mary'..." lots of beakers, so many sizes wit h a ll the fancy codes labeled on the front. "and she had no fear ..."

  Sara had not held a beaker or test tube since tenth-grade chemistry.

  God, she hated that class. Seemed like all they did was the dam n p eriodic table. She remembered very little of it now, like the Spanis h s he took for four years and never used again. A few words sh e r emembered. Hola was hello. as she ran to him ..." adios was good-bye.

  Buenos dias was good morning. The same with chemistry. H2O was water.

  CO2 was carbon dioxide andhcl ..."and they started to fly ..." HC1 wa s h ydrochloric acid.

  Acid.

  Harvey's tortured voice pursued after her.

  "You have to die, Sara. You have to ..."

  Sara glanced behind her. Harvey had scrambled to his feet.

  He pried his hands off his face and took a knife from his pocket.

  His face was red and blotchy.

  Sara turned back around and moved forward. Behind her Harvey began t o l unge toward the lab door. He moved like a maniac without reason , without concern for what might be in his way. And like a maniac, h e m oved fast.

  "You have to die. You have to ..."

  She tried to hobble faster. Her eyes fixed on the doorknob.

  Just a few more seconds, just a few more steps, almost there, almost ...

  She reached out. Her hand touched the doorknob and then closed aroun d i t. Harvey was right behind her now, just a few yards back. He stumble d a nd dove forward, landing inches away from her. Sara turned the knob.

  The door was locked.

  Her heart sank. Her fingers quickly moved to the deadbolt ..."You hav e t o die, Sara ..." and twisted it clockwise. She heard the bolt slid e b ack.

  Her hand moved back to the knob again.

  That was when she felt cold fingers wrap around her ankle.

  From the floor below her.

  "You have to die, Sara. You have to."

  She screamed, trying to pull her bad foot free, but he held on. He s uddenly tugged hard and Sara toppled to the floor beside him. Pai n r ushed up her leg. She kicked at him, but the blows did not seem t o b other him. He was beyond pain now, beyond any form of rationality. He w as like some robot set on destroy and nothing she could do woul d d e-program him. He had to silence her. He had to save his clinic.

  There was nothing else.

  He pulled her ankle and her body slid toward him. Her fingers reache d o ut, trying to grasp anything that might slow him down, but there wa s n othing but the slick tile.

  "have to die ..."

  He grabbed her hair and tugged harshly. Holding her in place, Harve y r aised himself up. He lifted the knife above his head. Sara made a fis t a nd swung. It landed in Harvey's groin. He made an oofing noise and fel l o ff her.

  Sara scrambled to her feet. She twisted the knob. The door opened.

  She heard Harvey scream.

  "NO!"

  She fell out into the hallway as Harvey stumbled to his feet after her.

  Then Sara heard somebody say, "It's over, Harv. Drop it."

  They both froze.

  The voice, Sara thought ... but it can't be.

  Her line of vision traveled past Harvey. It traveled down to th e c orridor until it reached the spot where the voice had come from.

  "Michael!"

  Still holding the knife, Harvey spun toward the voice. The acid ha d r endered his right eye useless, but his left could still make ou t s hapes. A man was standing about ten feet away from him. It was Michael.

  And the figure behind him ... he squinted, trying to make out' the face... His tormented voice said her name.

  "Cassandra."

  With tears running down her face, Cassandra turned away.

  "Let go of the knife," Michael said.

  "It's over."

  Lieutenant Bernstein came flying around the corner. Sergeant Monticell i f ollowed with his gun drawn. He aimed at Harvey's head.

  But Harvey had already dropped the knife. There was no point i n c ontinuing. Killing Sara would no longer benefit AIDS because Michae l k new the truth. So did Cassandra and Lieutenant Bernstein and that othe r p olice officer. He could not kill them all. He could not hide the trut h a ny longer.

  So what should he do now?

  His whole body went limp. The officer with the gun tackled him an d f lipped him roughly onto his stomach. There was no need. Harvey offere d n o resistance. Through his one good eye, he saw Michael pick up Sara.

  They embraced for a very long time.

  He was cuffed and dragged to his feet. Cassandra could still not fac e h im. A pity. He had really cared for her. He might even have loved her.

  But how could he make her understand that his happiness was irrelevant?

  How could he make her understand that he had become merely a shell, a t ool, a valuable asset in the war against AIDS? His personal life wa s i mmaterial. It was Harvey the doctor and researcher that mattered; Harvey the man had always been superfluous.

  His eyes still burned from the acid, but he was not thinking about tha t a nymore. He was mulling over his options. He would get a lawyer, a l awyer who could stall for as long as possible. Just a few months o f f reedom was all it would take to perfect SRI ..."You have the right t o r emain silent," the police officer was saying.

  "Anything you say ..." and even if he had to spend time in jail, s o w hat? He might be able to work on the formula in prison and correspon d w ith researchers in the outside world. He had read about a doctor doin g t hat somewhere. He could still make a contribution, still give the worl d h is expertise.

  But first, he would call a lawyer. A good, smart lawyer.

  Yeah, that was it. That's what he'd do. That's exactly what he would do.

  EPILOGUE:

  thursday, April 9

  Lenny walked into the 87th Street Precin
ct.

  He strode past the usual ugly glares and catcalls with a smile.

  When he arrived at his destination, Lenny said, "Take that pencil out o f y our mouth."

  Lieutenant Max Bernstein looked up.

  "Hi, Len."

  "Ready to go visit Sara and Sam?"

  "Let me just finish this up."

  "What is it?"

  "Paperwork. That's all I do now."

  "Hang in there," "Lenny said.

  "Someone has to blaze the trail."

  Max began to fiddle with his new mustache.

  "I never thought of myself as much of a trailblazer."

  "Sometimes greatness is thrust upon you."

  "No one talks to me anymore," Max said.

  "All I get is shit detail."

  "Being a leader is a lonely business."

  "It's not funny, Len."

  "Do you wish you never said anything?"

  Max remembered the news conference seven months ago.

  Newspaper and television reporters from all over the globe were there t o c over the capture of the Gay Slasher and the revelation that SRI was a h oax. On that day Max had not planned on saying anything except th e u sual "this was a team effort" bullshit. His mouth, however, had othe r i deas.

  A reporter had asked, "How does it feel to be a hero, Lieutenant?"

  "I'm just glad the case is over."

  "Do you realize that you're an idol? Parents consider you a role mode l f or their children."

  "I doubt that."

  "Don't be so modest, Lieutenant. Do you think this case is an example o f h ow far the gay community will go to deceive the American public?"

  "I don't understand your question."

  "Do you think this was a plot by a subversive gay group to get mor e m oney for AIDS?"

  "There is no doubt that Dr. Riker acted on his own," Max said.

  And then he added, "Furthermore, since I am your hero of the week, I w ill tell you that it just so happens that I myself am ..." and that wa s w hen he spilled it.

  "Well?" Lenny said.

  "Are you sorry about coming out of the closet?"

  Max shrugged.

  "I don't know."

  "You've done a lot of good."

  "My career is in the toilet." Lenny smiled.

  "You take the good with the bad. Give it time."

  "Have any other comforting cliches?"

  "No. Just remember that legally the police department can't do a dam n t hing to you."