Chapter 43
The press information department issued Yelena Gregory’s statement, and a half hour later Annabelle read on her computer screen the text from the Associated Press.
TESTS CONDUCTED BY THE NEW YORK CITY HEALTH DEPARTMENT ON THE SUBSTANCE CLAIMED TO BE ANTHRAX BY DR. JOHN LEE ON THE KEY NEWS BROADCAST KEY TO AMERICA REVEAL THAT THE TEST TUBE ACTUALLY CONTAINED POWDERED SUGAR. KEY NEWS DISAVOWS THE HOAX PERPETRATED BY DR. LEE AND HAS TERMINATED HIS ASSOCIATION WITH, AND EMPLOYMENT BY, KEY NEWS.
Short, and not so sweet.
Now she knew where this was going to leave her, at least for the time being. Since she had no medical correspondent to work with, Linus expected her to field-produce. Familiarizing herself with the locations they were shooting and suggesting angles for their coverage wouldn’t be a problem. Annabelle knew her city well, but it sure wouldn’t be fun standing out in the freezing cold New York Harbor on Tuesday morning.
She glanced at her watch, eager for one o’clock to come. She hadn’t had lunch with Constance in quite a while, and she wanted to catch up on everything that had been happening. They were only going up the street to the little Greek restaurant, but at least it was an opportunity to talk without interruption, away from the KEY News crowd.
As she was putting on her coat, the phone rang and she stopped to answer it. “Annabelle Murphy speaking.”
“This is Essex Hills Hospital. We have you listed as the emergency contact for a Jerome Henning.”
“Yes?” she answered with trepidation. It couldn’t be good if they were calling the emergency contact. Her mind raced. Jerome’s parents had died while she was dating him. He had only one sibling, a brother who lived on the West Coast. She was touched that Jerome had put her down to be the person to call in an emergency.
“Hold on one moment, please. The doctor would like to speak with you.”
Oh my God—Jerome. Annabelle felt her face grow hot. What kind of friend was she, so consumed by what was happening in her immediate world that she hadn’t tried again to check on Jerome? She hadn’t been overly concerned. After all, it was just a virus or the flu, wasn’t it? There was so much of all that going around this season.
The doctor was on the line now, and she listened in disbelief.
“Mr. Henning is in critical condition. He’s on a ventilator to help him breathe but, quite honestly, the prognosis is not good.”
Annabelle tried to stay calm. “What’s wrong with him?”
“We’ve just notified the health department, and as the one he’s listed to be informed of his condition, you have a right to know as well. The blood culture indicates anthrax exposure.”
Chapter 44
“Fiona Simon on line three” came the call from the intercom.
Linus punched the lit extension button. “Fiona,” he called. “How’s it going?”
“I’m fine, Linus. The question is, how are you?”
“Oh, you mean the anthrax thing?” He made a concerted effort to sound nonchalant. “Not to worry. It will blow over.”
“People are talking about it, Linus. I was thinking we might include something about it in your book.”
Linus was alarmed. There was no way he wanted this fiasco immortalized.
“Isn’t it too late for that, Fiona?” He searched for a way out. “The editing is all done.”
“True, and I have the advance reading copies all set to send over to you. But we could add another chapter on this anthrax thing before we go to press with the hard covers.”
He had to buy himself some time to figure a way out. He didn’t like refusing Fiona again. He’d already said no when she had pleaded with him to include the heartbreaking story of Seth’s accident, an account sure to hook readers.
“Let me think about it, Fiona, all right? In the meantime, when can I see the reading copies?”
“I’ll messenger them over. To your office?”
“No. Send them to my home.” He rattled off the Central Park West address.
Good. He’d have them to give out at the party on Sunday.
Linus barked out to his secretary. “Get Russ Parrish on the line, will you? And tell him I want to see him right away.”
It took less than two minutes for the entertainment correspondent to arrive.
“Close the door,” Linus commanded, “and take a seat.”
Russ obeyed.
“First of all, you’re lucky that I didn’t rip into you in front of everyone at the meeting this morning.”
Russ looked at his boss with trepidation. “Rip into me about what?” he managed to ask.
“About that ridiculous review of yours this morning.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Linus.”
“Oh, you don’t? What was it again? ‘A dazzling new film’? ‘Amazing performances’? That’s a crock and we both know it, Russ. I got a copy of the movie too. Icicle is a piece of crap.”
“That’s your opinion, Linus,” Russ defended himself. “I thought otherwise.”
“Well, you may have ‘thought otherwise,’” Linus imitated with sarcasm, “though I would hope you have better taste than that. But the bottom line is, our viewers listen to your reviews to decide what they are going to spend their entertainment money on. If you steer them wrong, they aren’t going to listen to you anymore, and that’s bad for the show. And what’s bad for the show has to go.”
Russ waited, desperately wanting to escape to his office and the comfort of his soft white powder.
“So, I’m telling you like it is, Russ,” Linus continued. “Another one of those bogus reviews and you’re history.”
Chapter 45
In light of everything else that was going on at KEY News, Yelena knew some would sneer at the e-mail she was about to send out. But she wanted to get on record on this subject. It concerned her that so many employees were conducting personal business on company time.
FROM: YELENA GREGORY
TO: ALL PERSONNEL
USE OF KEY NEWS COMPUTER FACILITIES IS PERMITTED FOR LEGITIMATE AND APPROPRIATE PURPOSES ONLY. THESE INCLUDE: JOURNALISTIC RESEARCH, COMPANY-RELATED ACTIVITIES, AND OTHER USES APPROPRIATE FOR A NEWS ORGANIZATION. NOT INCLUDED IS USE OF COMPUTER FACILITIES FOR PERSONAL SHOPPING. AS THE HOLIDAY SEASON APPROACHES, ALL KEY NEWS PERSONNEL ARE REMINDED THAT YOUR COMPUTER IS NOT TO BE USED FOR HOLIDAY SHOPPING PURPOSES.
Yelena read the message over again and hit the Send button.
Chapter 46
Before she left to go to the hospital, Annabelle stopped at the news president’s office, anticipating she would be breaking the news about Jerome to Yelena. But Yelena had already heard. Joe Connelly sat with her. The health department in New Jersey had informed its New York City counterpart, which had, in turn, alerted KEY’s security department.
“That’s it. All of the KEY to America offices are to be evacuated for testing, and I want every single one of the staff tested for anthrax exposure,” Yelena commanded. “I don’t care if it’s warranted or not. We are not taking any chances.”
The security chief nodded. “We can set up the station for nasal swabs to be taken in the cafeteria.”
“Fine.” Yelena sighed. “At least we can be grateful that it’s Friday. KTA doesn’t have to be on the air again until Monday morning. Hopefully we will have an all-clear by then.”
Chapter 47
“Don’t you dare come home, Gavin. I mean it. I don’t want you bringing home anything with you,” his wife screeched through the phone.”
“Even if I have been exposed, Marguerite, it’s not contagious. I won’t pass it on to you.”
“It might be on your clothes or something.”
“Leave some clothes out in the garage. I’ll change before I come inside.”
“Absolutely not, Gavin.” She was adamant. “I would think that you’d want to protect me.”
There was no use fighting or rationalizing with her. Marguerite’s mind was made up. Gavin had learned over the course of t
heir interminable marriage that it was easier to let Marguerite have her own way. He might be the man from whom American viewers got their morning financial news, the man who had marshaled the Winstons’ money into hefty bank accounts, but in his own home Marguerite called the shots. Otherwise, his life was misery.
It wasn’t even that Marguerite was trying to protect their children. They had no kids to worry about. Just that damned dog, Gigi. Marguerite doted on the poodle, but that miserable little thing reminded Gavin more of a rat than a dog. He wouldn’t shed a tear if Gigi snorted a little anthrax.
Gavin snapped off his cell phone and got in line at the cafeteria annex to wait his turn for his nasal swab.
No wonder he had to look for affection wherever he could find it.
Chapter 48
The soft, rhythmic sound of the ventilator pulsed through the hospital room. Annabelle was allowed only a few minutes to stand beside Jerome’s bed.
He wasn’t going to get better.
She watched him lying there, so still now beneath the thin cotton blanket. Thought of him just the day before, so eager to hear what she thought about his treasured manuscript. He’d spent so much time on it. Therapy, he’d said. Something to concentrate on and vent his frustrations with the lunacy at work, something to look forward to getting published, something to take his mind off the years of yearning for Annabelle.
She’d cut him off, changing the subject, when he told her that. She was married to Mike, loved Mike and their children more than she had ever thought possible. Though, admittedly, they were going through a rough patch right now, she was committed to her family. She knew that. But there had been times, in the middle of the night, when Mike, unable to sleep, prowled the apartment and Annabelle lay by herself, wondering what her life would have been like if she had chosen Jerome instead.
Always, the first thing that came to mind was that she wouldn’t have Thomas and Tara. Because of that, no matter how things worked out with Mike, Annabelle was certain that she had no regrets.
She reached down and gently pushed the brown hair back from Jerome’s smooth forehead. So young, so smart, so strong, and yet so ill-equipped to fight his way back from this.
Jerome had thought he was invincible. Willing to take chances, determined to live large. From that first day she had met him at the videotape library, early in their careers at KEY, Annabelle had been attracted to his almost boundless energy, inquisitive dark eyes, and easy smile.
Jerome was a party boy. That was his strength and his weakness. With his sense of adventure, his curiosity and enthusiasm about trying new things and visiting new places, he was fun to be around. Together they were always sampling the latest ethnic restaurants or planning interesting excursions for their days off work.
But catching Jerome using drugs had turned Annabelle off. She wasn’t a prude and enjoyed a drink herself once in a while, but cocaine scared her. No good could come of it. Jerome had assured her he would stop and, eventually, he had. But not before Annabelle had broken off their relationship. And then she had met Mike.
Again, work had proved to be the matchmaker for Annabelle. She had been sent downtown to do a story on fire safety. Mike had been one of several firefighters she’d interviewed, but he was the only one she’d felt the immediate pull toward as he good-naturedly demonstrated the fire equipment for the camera. He was so earnest in his explanations, so seemingly sure that his was one of the most important jobs in the world. His passion for helping people came through loud and clear, and Annabelle found herself hooked.
She gave him her business card on the pretext he could phone her if he thought of anything else she should include in her piece. The next day Mike did call, not to add to the news story but to ask her out for dinner. From then on, they had been almost inseparable.
Jerome had taken it hard.
How had everything gotten so complicated, so messed up? The most important man in her life was trapped in the dark hell of depression, while another she still cared about was losing the fight for his life.
Annabelle struggled to make sense of what was happening, her mind trying to recall the facts about inhalation anthrax. Jerome had been sick earlier in the week, then felt better for a day, then had a recurrence. Classic symptoms. But the incubation period between exposure and symptoms was at least two days. That would mean the latest he could have been exposed to the anthrax spores was the end of last week, not yesterday, when there was all the excitement about Dr. Lee’s anthrax display. A display that turned out to have been a fake.
If Lee had been telling the truth and his confederate at the lab had really given him the deadly powder, what had happened to it? Where was the anthrax now? And how had Jerome been exposed?
And, if Jerome had been exposed, who else might be?
Chapter 49
She had wanted to go directly home from the hospital but then realized she couldn’t. She had to go back to the Broadcast Center and get that mandatory nasal swab taken. Annabelle toyed with the idea of ignoring Yelena’s order. But if they were keeping a list of who was tested, as they undoubtedly would be, Annabelle didn’t like the prospect of being called on the carpet for noncompliance. Plus, it didn’t really hurt to get checked.
It was already dark as she released the car service at the curb in front of the building. A biting wind blew from the Hudson River, up the wide corridor of Fifty-seventh Street. Annabelle pushed through the revolving door into the lobby, glad to be in warmth again, slid her identification card across the electronic scanner, and waited for the beeping signal. She took the stairs from the lobby down to the long hallway that led to the cafeteria.
There was no wait. Everybody must have made it a point to get down for their tests while on company time, wanting to get out as early as they could on a Friday night.
“Am I the last one?” Annabelle asked the nurse.
The medical professional consulted the printed list on the desk. “No, there are still a few others who haven’t come in yet.”
Annabelle stood dutifully as the stick was inserted in her nose. She hoped this would turn out to be a complete waste of her time.
Back on the sidewalk outside the Broadcast Center, Annabelle pulled on the gloves she took from her tote bag and wondered if she should hail a taxi. It would be nice to take a cab, but the traffic going downtown on a Friday night was sure to be heavy. The meter would just tick away. Conscious of their family’s tight budget, Annabelle headed for the subway.
Fifty-seventh Street was still congested with cars heading for the on-ramp to the backed-up West Side Highway. The other direction was not much better, with motorists heading to Broadway or farther east to the twinkling holiday lights of Fifth Avenue. As she moved along the wide sidewalk, Annabelle’s long strides almost kept pace with the snail-like progress of the vehicles. She passed restaurants, clothing stores, and apartment buildings. People entered and exited, all had lives and problems of their own. By the end of the second long block, her mind on Jerome, Annabelle didn’t feel the cold.
She slipped her subway pass from the zippered compartment of her wallet and stuck it in the turnstile. Debris littered the jammed platform and floated in the gust of air that swooshed through the tunnel as the train pulled into the station. A crush of riders pushed forward as the car doors opened. Let ’em off first, she thought. As she moved to board the train, Annabelle felt herself being shoved forward, and her tote bag was yanked out of her hand.
She turned in the direction of the force, searching the faces in the rush-hour crowd, catching sight of a dark coat with a hood pulled up heading toward the steps as the subway doors closed, trapping Annabelle helplessly inside.
Chapter 50
With Christmas coming and budget cutbacks making overtime scarce, Edgar could use all the extra hours he could get. His sister had two young kids and a husband who was on the lam, leaving Edgar as the male figure in his nephews’ lives. He relished playing Santa Claus, determined that the boys would have as good a holiday
as possible despite the fact that their father was a miserable lowlife. But that dream cost money, and when someone from the night shift called in sick, Edgar dutifully volunteered to do a double.
The cafeteria was normally fairly quiet during the evenings, night-shift staffers preferring to order take-out dinners from the pizza joints and Chinese restaurants in the area. Tonight, there was more activity than usual as the last KTA staffers straggled through on their way to get their noses swabbed. Edgar got in line himself. He’d spent a lot of time on the KTA floor and, after all, the tests were free. Why take any chances?
By nine o’clock the health workers had packed up their testing paraphernalia and gone. The grill was turned off at ten and the cook went home, leaving Edgar to empty the coffee urns, wipe the counters, and lock everything up for the night.
As he went to switch off the lights in the kitchen, he noticed an industrial-size pot soaking in the large sink. He didn’t want the guy who opened up in the morning to be greeted by that. Edgar rolled up his sleeves.
A turn of the faucet sent the hot water rushing into the stainless-steel sink. The noise of the pounding liquid and of the pot hitting the sink’s sides as Edgar scrubbed blocked out any warning sounds.
He was rinsing away the soap when he felt the piercing pain between his shoulder blades.
Chapter 51
Nowhere to Run Page 8
