Marker

by Robin Cook

  “I can’t see either one of you,” Jazz complained. “Should I turn on the interior light?”

  “It’s not necessary, and I prefer you don’t.”

  “What are you doing here?”

  “We came for reassurance.”

  “Reassurance about what?”

  “For one thing, we want to be certain the two patients whose names you got yesterday were sanctioned.”

  “Absolutely. I did them both last night.” Jazz felt her pulse quicken. Nervously, she worried that Bob had somehow learned about the screwups.

  “Then there’s the little matter of a nurse getting whacked in the Manhattan General’s parking lot, supposedly for a measly fifty bucks. What can you tell us about that sorry incident?”

  “Nothing. I haven’t heard a thing. When did it happen?” Jazz ran her tongue around the inside of her mouth. It had gone bone-dry. But she purposefully didn’t look away or squirm in her seat, thanks to her military interrogation training.

  “This morning, between seven and eight. The name was Susan Chapman. Did you know her?”

  “Susan Chapman! Of course I knew her. She was the incompetent charge nurse on my floor.”

  “That’s what we thought, and frankly, that’s why we are concerned. We wanted to be reassured you weren’t involved, considering your reputation, Doc JR. I know that officer bastard in San Diego had it coming, but you did shoot him, even if not lethally. Are you sure this Susan Chapman didn’t get in your face and push you over the edge, something like the marine officer? We feel it is kind of a coincidence she got shot, considering your history, and she being your immediate superior.”

  “Is that what this is about? You think I shot Susan Chapman? Hey, no way! I mean, Susan and I might have had our differences, but that was minor stuff like her always giving me the crap patients or giving me lip because I sat down for two seconds. There’s no way I’d shoot her. Come on! What do you think I am, crazy?”

  “The point here is that we have to be certain your behavior is beyond reproach. I made that very clear when I recruited you into the program. Remember! There can’t be any ripples. Of course, all this is predicated on your wanting to remain an active participant in Operation Winnow.”

  “Absolutely,” Jazz said with conviction.

  “You’re happy with your compensation, and I trust this SUV we’re sitting in has been an enjoyment?”

  “There’s no question. I’m very happy.”

  “Good! Now, do I have your word that if there’s a problem in any aspect in relation to your position, or your fellow workers, or the work that you do for us, you’ll give me a call with the special number I gave you? I trust you still have the number?”

  “I thought that telephone number was just for emergencies.”

  “I’d consider what I’m talking about an emergency. I want you to call if you are ever tempted to do anything out of the ordinary, particularly anything violent that might stimulate an investigation like I’m certain this murder of the charge nurse will do. Remember! I told you from the beginning that for us, security is of the utmost importance, since any breach could put the entire operation in jeopardy. I’m sure you don’t want to do that.”

  “Of course not.”

  “We consider any type of investigation worrisome, especially if you are drawn into it.”

  “I agree.”

  “Then we see eye to eye.”

  “Most definitely.”

  Mr. Bob turned to his companion. “Is there anything you’d like to say or ask Doc JR?”

  “How many days a week do you come to this sports club?” Mr. Dave asked. He uncrossed his arms and leaned forward slightly.

  Jazz shrugged. “I don’t know, maybe five or six, sometimes even seven. Why?”

  “So, other than your apartment or the hospital, this is the only other place you spend significant amounts of your time?”

  “I suppose.”

  “Any current boyfriends or close girlfriends?”

  “Not really,” Jazz said. Although she could not see the man’s face, from his voice, she felt that Mr. Dave was younger than Mr. Bob. “What the hell are these questions for?”

  “We always like to know our agents,” Mr. Bob said, “and the more facts we have, the better we know them.”

  “Seems rather personal to me.”

  “That’s the kind of operation this is,” Mr. Bob said with a smile. His teeth looked particularly white in the dim light. “Do you have any questions for us?”

  “Yeah! What are your real names?” Jazz laughed nervously. She felt she was at a distinct disadvantage with them knowing about her and she knowing nothing about them.

  “Sorry, that’s confidential.”

  “Then I don’t have any questions.”

  “Okay,” Mr. Bob said. “We have something for you: another name. I trust that you are working tonight.”

  “Absolutely! I’m on the next four nights, so I’m available. What’s the name?”

  “Clark Mulhausen.”

  Jazz repeated the name. With a new mission, she was now fully recovered from the shock of the men surprising her in the Hummer and from Chapman’s murder being mentioned. In fact, she was now elated. She was, in her words, jumping right back into the water.

  “So you’ll be able to do Clark tonight?”

  “Consider it done,” Jazz said with a confident, wry smile.

  Mr. Bob opened his door and got out. Mr. Dave did the same on his side. “Remember! No ripples!” Mr. Bob reminded her before closing his door.

  “No ripples,” Jazz repeated over her shoulder, but she wasn’t sure the men had heard, because both rear doors closed simultaneously as she spoke. She watched the two men walk down the row of cars toward an H2 Hummer that was a spitting image of hers. Jazz hadn’t noticed it when she’d come into the garage. As soon as the men climbed into their vehicle, Jazz started her engine and backed out of her slot.

  “Creeps,” she muttered as she drove toward the ramp leading up to the street. Although she was excited about getting another name and glad everything was copacetic about Operation Winnow, she was aggravated by the way she was being treated. She didn’t like being subservient and talked down to, which is what the conversation with Mr. Bob and Mr. Dave had been like. Even the names of the two men were stupid and a slap in the face. She also vaguely wondered how much they were being paid for each sanction if she was getting five grand. Hell, she thought, she was doing all the work.

  So, what do you think?” David Rosenkrantz asked Robert Hawthorne.

  Bob was in the driver’s seat, slowly drumming his fingers on the steering wheel and staring out the windshield at the bare concrete wall while he mulled over their conversation with Jazz. He had yet to start the car. Dave was in the passenger seat, eyeing his boss.

  “I don’t know,” Bob said finally, throwing both hands into the air. He shook his head and turned to his underling. Bob was a big, athletic-appearing man with coarse features that contrasted with his Italian suit. The natty dress was a relatively new affectation. Most of his life had been spent in military fatigues, roaming the world on special ops as a member of the Army’s Special Forces. “Running this operation is a classic catch-22. We spend so much effort finding and cultivating these antisocial fruitcakes who are willing to carry out the missions without compunction, but then we have to deal with their craziness. This Rakoczi is a case in point. Can you imagine she actually tried to shoot that marine officer in the nuts just because he made a pass at her?”

  “Yet she’s effective,” said Dave. Dave was in his mid-twenties, almost half Bob’s age. He was of a slighter build but equally athletic. He’d been recruited by Bob in prison, where both had done time: Bob for nearly killing a gay man who had made the mistake of approaching him in a bar, and Dave for simple grand larceny.

  “She’s the best we have,” Bob answered. “That’s why I’m torn. There’s no pussyfooting around with Radoczi. We give her a name and bam, the person’s gone t
he same night. Not once has there been any hesitation and excuses like we’ve had to put up with with all the others. But like I implied to her, I’m afraid she might be a loose cannon.”

  “Do you think she was involved with the murder of the nurse?”

  “To tell you the truth, I have no idea, although I wouldn’t put it past her. At the same time, I know she wouldn’t do it for fifty bucks, so maybe it was a mugging. I just don’t know. I’d hoped that by surprising her, we’d have a better idea.”

  “She didn’t react much when you first mentioned the nurse’s name, but then she seemed to get a little mad.”

  “I got the same impression, but I don’t know how to interpret it. Like most of our emissaries, she has a history of not getting along with her superiors, so the news that Chapman was dead might have just made her feel good about not having her around anymore.” Bob started the vehicle’s engine and twisted around to back out of the parking slot.

  “I think we’ll just have to hold tight and see what happens,” Bob said. Once he got the car in the clear, he put it in drive and started for the ramp. “If there are any more coincidental shootings, we’ll have to suspect the worst, and she’ll have to go. If that happens, you’ll be the man.”

  “Yeah, I know,” Dave said. “That’s why I asked her about her habits.”

  “I guessed as much,” Bob said, pulling up to the booth. “But take what she said with a grain of salt. People like Rakoczi have as much qualms about lying as they do about polishing their shoes.”

  Dave nodded, but he wasn’t concerned. Rakoczi’s loner inclinations would make dealing with her a breeze.

  thirteen

  LAURIE PUT THE SMALL PLASTIC cap on the device after she thought it was adequately saturated, and placed it on the edge of the sink. She certainly wasn’t going to sit and watch it for the required time. Instead, she climbed into the shower and lathered herself with a body wash and shampooed her hair. She then stood under the stream of water for a few minutes, allowing it to cascade over her head. For Laurie, a shower wasn’t quite the therapeutic experience that a bath was, but it was as calming just the same.

  It had been a restless night for Laurie, with her mind refusing to turn off. When she was able to sleep, it was in snatches, haunted by disturbing dreams, including the recurrent nightmare about her brother sinking into the mud. When the alarm had sounded, there was a certain relief that the long night was finally over. She hardly felt rested but was relieved to get out of bed. The covers and sheets were in such disarray from her tossing and turning that it appeared as if there had been a wrestling match.

  Similar to the previous two mornings, when she had initially stood up, she had a touch of nausea. As she turned off the shower, there was still a remnant, but assuming the situation would be the same, she expected she’d feel almost normal after a bit of breakfast.

  Laurie stepped out onto the bath mat, dried herself off, then turned and bent her head back into the shower stall to shake her thick mane of hair like a dog emerging from a dip in a pond. She then vigorously hand-dried her hair and wrapped it up in the towel. Only then did she hazard a look down at the innocent piece of plastic resting on the edge of the sink.

  Laurie caught her breath. With slightly trembling fingers, she picked up the device as if by holding it closer there might be a different result. But there wasn’t. In the small window in the plastic sheath were two pink lines. Laurie closed her eyes and held them shut for an extended moment. When she reopened them the pink lines were still there. She wasn’t conjuring them up in her mind. Having studied the directions on the side of the box, Laurie knew that the test was positive. She was pregnant!

  With trembling knees, Laurie put down the top of the toilet seat and sat down. For a moment, she felt completely overwhelmed. Too many disconcerting things had happened in too short a time. It had all started with her semi-split with Jack, followed quickly by her mother’s cancer, the situation with the BRCA1 mutation, and then her whirlwind relationship with Roger. And now she was being drawn into yet another potential tumult. Most of her life, she had dreamed about what it was going to be like to be pregnant, but now that she was, she didn’t know how to feel. It was like her life was spinning out of control.

  Laurie put the testing device back on the edge of the sink and looked at the box it had come in, which she had placed on top of the hamper. Once again, she was tempted to blame the messenger, as if being pregnant was the fault of the pregnancy test. Laurie could have done it the night before, but she read that it was the most reliable and sensitive in the morning. So she had waited. It was obvious to her that she had been procrastinating and putting off the inevitable. When the thought of possibly being pregnant had suddenly occurred to her in Roger’s office, she was almost certain she was. After all, it would explain the morning nausea, which she had been foolishly trying to attribute to scallops.

  Laurie shook her head in dismay. The fact that being pregnant had come as such a surprise was yet another example of her ability to put things that she didn’t want to think about out of her mind. She distinctly remembered acknowledging to herself that she had missed a period three weeks before. But with everything else going on, she had decided not to worry about it, and she didn’t. After all, she had missed periods before, particularly when under stress, and currently, there was certainly no dearth of stress in her life.

  Lowering her head to look at her abdomen, Laurie tried to understand that there was the beginning of a child inside of her. Although she had always considered the idea to be natural, now that it was actually happening, it seemed so phenomenal as to defy belief. She immediately knew when the conception had occurred. It had to have been that morning when she and Jack had found themselves both strangely wide awake in the middle of the night. At first, they had been careful not to bother the other, but when they had discovered that they were both not sleeping, they started talking. The talking led to a caress, and the caress progressed to an embrace. The resulting lovemaking had been natural and initially fulfilling, but later, when Laurie found herself still awake, the intensity of the lovemaking had ironically made her realize what she was missing: a family with children. Now the ultimate irony was that the lovemaking had actually created a child she’d longed for, although without the marriage.

  Laurie got to her feet and stood sideways in front of the mirror. She tried to see if there was any bulge to her abdomen, but then openly laughed at herself. She knew that at five weeks, an embryo was no bigger than about eight millimeters, or a third of an inch, hardly enough to cause any visible external changes.

  All at once, Laurie stopped laughing and stared at herself in the mirror. Being pregnant under the current circumstances was hardly a laughing matter. It was a mistake with serious consequences for her life, and for others as well. Thinking in that vein made her wonder how it had happened. She had always been careful to avoid lovemaking when she thought she might be fertile, so how did she mess up? She thought back to the night they had made love, and as soon as she did so, she realized what had happened. At two o’clock in the morning, it was technically the next day. The previous day had been her tenth day, and it probably would have been okay, but certainly not the eleventh day.

  “Oh, my word!” Laurie said out loud in a despairing voice as the reality of the situation began to sink in. She truly felt overwhelmed, and even a little depressed. The need to talk with Jack had suddenly changed from a desire to a necessity, yet at the moment, she wondered how she was going to find the emotional strength. There were too many problems swirling in her mind, not least of which was the knowledge that she was positive for the BRCA1 marker. How was that going to play into her being pregnant? She had no idea, but the thought invariably brought up the word “abortion.” Despite being a medical doctor, Laurie had always associated the word more with its political connotations concerning women’s rights than with a procedure that she would consider herself. Suddenly, all that changed.

  “I’ve got to get a grip!�
�� Laurie said to her image in the mirror with more determination than she felt. She got out her hair dryer and began drying her hair. Her one refuge was her professional persona. Despite her problems, she had to get to work.

  As she’d expected, Laurie’s queasiness all but disappeared after she’d had some breakfast. Bran Flakes without milk turned out to be the most palatable. While she ate, the right lower abdominal discomfort she’d felt on occasion over the last few days returned. With her fingers, she pushed in over the area. It accentuated the feeling, especially when she moved her fingers closer to the midline, but it still wasn’t anything she would have called pain. Vaguely, she wondered if it was a normal sensation of early pregnancy. Since she had never been pregnant before, she didn’t know if implantation caused such a feeling. Intellectually, she knew that the process involved a kind of invasion of the uterine wall, so it wasn’t out of the realm of possibility. There was also the chance the discomfort could be from the right ovary. One way or another, it wasn’t her biggest concern.

  When Laurie arrived at the OCME, it was only about seven-fifteen, but she was still pessimistic about catching Jack in the ID office. Lately, he seemed to be coming in earlier and earlier. Her assumption was corroborated when she saw Vinnie’s preferred location vacant and his newspaper, open to the sports page, abandoned on the desk, which undoubtedly meant he was already down helping Jack. Chet was hard at work, sitting at the main desk and going through the folders of the bodies that had come in during the night. It was to be his last day for the job that week. Laurie was the medical examiner on call for the upcoming weekend, which also meant that the following week’s duty of deciding which cases needed to be posted and distributing them would fall to her.

  “Is Jack already downstairs?” Laurie asked as she took her first sip of coffee. Believing the caffeine would help check her melancholy mood, she hoped her stomach would tolerate the strong brew.

  Chet’s head popped up. “You know Jack. When I got here, he’d already been cherry-picking through all the folders and was eager to get a jump on the day.”