MINDBEND

BY

ROBIN COOK

A SIGNET BOOK

PUBLISHER'S NOTE

This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents

either are the product of the author's imagination or are used

fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead,

events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

NAL BOOKS ARE AVAILABLE AT QUANTITY DISCOUNTS WHEN USED To PROMOTE

PRODUCTS OR SERVICES. FOR INFORMATION PLEASE WRITE TO PREMIUM MARKETING

DIVISION, NEW AMERICAN LIBRARY, 1633 BROADWAY, NEW YORK, NEW YORK 10019.

Copyright C 1985 by Robin Cook

All rights reserved. This book, or parts thereof, maV not be reproduced

in any form without permission. For information address G. P. Putnam's

Sons, a Division of the Putnam Publishing Group, 200 Madison Avenue, New

York, New York 10016.

This is an authorized reprint of a hardcover edition published by G. P.

Putnam's Sons, a Division of the Putnam Publishing Group. The hardcover

edition was published simultaneously in Canada by General Publishing Co.

Limited, Toronto.

SIGNEI TRADEMARK REG, U,S. PAT OIF, AND I.R.GN COUNTRI. MASTERED

TRADEMARK-MARCA REGISTRADA HECHO EN CHICAGO. USA.

SIGNET, SIGNET CLASSIC, MENTOR, PLUME, MERIDIAN AND

NAL BOOKS are published by New American Library,

1633 Broadway, New York, New York 10019

First Signet Printing, January, 1986

6 7 8 9

PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

For Barbara

PROLOGUE

FETAL RESEARCH

BANNED

New Regulations for Medical

Research

By HAROLD BARLOW

Special to The New York Times

WASHINGTON, July 12, 1974President Richard M. Nixon signed into law today

the National Research Act (Pub. L. 93-348). The law calls for the creation

of a National Commission for the Protection of Human Subjects in

Biomedical and Behavioral Research. There has been growing concern about

the ethics of research involving children, retarded persons, prisoners,

the terminally ill, and particularly fetuses.

It is hoped that by creating appropriate guidelines some of the shocking

abuses that have been exposed of

7

8 ROBIN COOK

late can be obviated, such as the purposeful infecting of a large number

of retarded children with hepatitis in order to study the natural

progession of the disease, or the discovery a few months ago at a Boston

hospital of a dozen dismembered aborted fetuses.

The first phase of implementing the law includes a moratorium on "re-

search in the United States on a living human fetus, before or after

induced abortion, unless such research is done for the purpose of

assuring the survival of such fetus." Obviously the fetal issue is

intimately tied to the highly emotional abortion issue.

Response to the new legislation in scientific circles has been mixed.

Dr. George C. Marstons of Cornell Medical Center welcomed the new law,

stating that "guidelines for ethical behavior in human experimentation

are long overdue. The competitive economic pressure for research break-

throughs creates an atmosphere where abuse is inevitable. "

Dr. Clyde Harrison of Arolen Pharmaceuticals disagreed with Dr. Mar-

stons, saying that "anti-abortion politics are holding science hostage,

preventing needed health care research. " Dr. Harrison went on to

explain that fetal research has resulted in many significant scientific

gains. Among the most important is a possible cure for diabetes. Fetal

tissue injected into the

MINDBEND

pancreas has been proven to repopulate the islet cells that produce insulin.

Equally important is the experimental use of fetal tissue to heal previously

incurable paralysis resulting from spinal cord injuries. Injected into the

site of the trauma, the tissue causes spontaneous healing by generating

growth of new, healthy cells.

It is too early to judge the impact of this bill until the various commis-

sions mandated by law make their recommendations to Secretary Caspar

Weinberger. In the area of research the new law will have an immediate

impact by severely limiting the supply of fetal tissue. Apparently planned

abortions have been the primary source of such tissue, though it is not

known whether or not this need played a role in doctors' decisions to

abort.

NOVEMBER 27,1984

JULIAN CLINIC, NEW YORK CITY

Candice Harlev felt the needle pierce the skin of her lower back, followed

by a sharp burning sensation. It was like a bee sting, only the pain rapidly

evaporated.

"I'm just putting in some local anesthetic, Candy," said Dr. Stephen

Burnham, a swarthy, good-looking anesthesiologist, who had assured Candy

that she was not going to feel a thing. The trouble was that she had

already felt pain-not a lot but enough to make her lose a certain amount of

faith in what Dr. Burnham had told her. She had wanted to be put to sleep.

But Dr. Burnham had informed her that epidural anesthesia was safer and

would leave her feeling better after the abortion and the sterilization

procedure were over.

Candy bit her lower lip. There was another stab of pain. Again it wasn't

severe, but she felt vulnerable and ill prepared for what was happening. At

thirty-six, Candy had never been in a hospital, much less had an operation.

She was terrified and had told Dr. Burnham as much. She felt the burning

10

MINDBEND 11

sensation again, and by reflex she straightened her back.

"Don't move now," admonished Dr. Burnham.

"I'M sorry", blurted Candy, afraid that if she didn't cooperate they

would not take care of her properly. She was sitting on the side of a

gurney in an alcove next to an operating room. A nurse was standing in

front of her and to the right was a curtain which had been pulled to

isolate the alcove from the busy OR corridor. Behind the curtain, Candv

could hear muted voices and the sound of running water. Directly ahead

was a door with a small window through which she could see the operating

room.

Candy's only covering was a flimsy hospital gown, open in the back where

the doctor was busy doing whatever he was doing. He had elaborately ex-

plained to Candy what was going to happen, but her ability to concentrate

was severely limited by the intimidating surroundings. Everything was new

and frightening.

"Tuohy needle, please," said Dr. Burnham. Candy wondered what a Tuohy

needle was. It sounded awful. She heard a cellophane package being torn

open.

Dr. Burnham eyed the three-inch needle in his gloved hand, sliding the

stylet up and down to make sure it moved freely. Stepping to the left so

that he could make sure that Candy was sitting straight, he positioned

the needle over the area he had injected with the local anesthetic.

Using both hands, he pushed the needle into Candy's back. His experienced

fingers could feel the needle break through the skin and slide between

the bony prominences of Candy's lumbar vertebrae. He stopped just short

of the ligamenturn

12 ROBIN COOK

flavum, the barrier covering the spinal canal. Epidural anesthesia was

tricky and that was one reason Dr. Burnham liked to use it. He knew not

everybody could do it as well as he could and that knowledge gave him

satisfaction. With a flourish he pulled out the stylet. As expected, no

cerebrospinal fluid came out. Replacing the stylet, he advanced the Tuohy

needle another millimeter and felt it pop through the ligamentum flavum. A

test dose of air went in easily. Perfect! Replacing the empty needle with

one filled with tetracaine, Dr. Burnham gave Candy a small dose.

A feel a strange sensation on the side of my leg," said Candy with concern.

"That just means we're where we are supposed to be," said Dr. Burnham. With

deft hands he removed the syringe with the tetracaine and then threaded a

small plastic catheter up through the Tuohy needle. Once the catheter was

in place, he removed the needle. A piece of paper tape went over the

puncture site.

"That's that," said Dr. Burnham, stripping off his sterile gloves and

putting a hand on Candy's shoulder to urge her to lie down. "Now you can't

say that hurt very much."

"But I don't feel the anesthetic," said Candy, fearful they would go ahead

with the surgery even if the anesthetic wasn't working.

"That's because I haven't given you anything yet," said Dr. Burnham.

Candy allowed herself to be lowered to the gurney, the nurse helping by

lifting her legs, then covering her with the thin cotton blanket. Candy

clutched the cover to her chest as if it would afford some protection. Dr.

Burnham fussed with a small plastic tube that snaked out from beneath her.

MINDBEND 13

"Do you still feel as nervous?" questioned Dr. Burnham.

"Worse!" admitted Candy.

"I'll give you a little more sedative," said Dr. Burnham, squeezing

Candy's shoulder reassuringly. While she watched, he injected something

into her IV line.

"OK, let's go," said Dr. Burnham.

The gurney with Candy on it rolled silently into the OR, which was

bustling with activity. Candy's eyes scanned the room. It was dazzlingly

white with white tile walls and floor and white acoustical ceiling. X-ray

view boxes lined one wall, futuristic electronic monitoring equipment

another.

"OK, Candy," said the nurse who'd been helping Dr. Burnham. "We'd like

you to scoot over here." She was on the other side of the operating

table, which she patted encouragingly. For a moment Candy felt irritation

at being ordered about. But the feeling passed quickly. She really had

no choice. She was pregnant with an eighteen-week-old fetus. She

preferred to use the word "fetus." It was easier to think about than

"baby" or "child." Dutifully, Candy moved to the operating table.

Another nurse pulled up Candy's gown and attached minute electrodes to

her chest. A beeping noise began, but it took Candy a while to realize

that the sound corresponded to the beating of her heart.

"I'm going to tilt the table," said Dr. Burnham as Candy felt herself

angle so that her feet were lower than her head. In that position she

could feel the weight of her uterus in her pelvis. At the same time she

felt a fluttering which she had noticed over the previous week and which

she thought

14 ROBIN COOK

might be the fetus moving within her womb. Thankfully, it stopped quickly.

The next instant the door to the corridor burst open and Dr. Lawrence Foley

backed in, holding up his dripping hands just like surgeons did in the

movies. "Well," he said in his peculiarly inflectionless voice, "how's my

girl?"

A don't feel the anesthetic," said Candy anxiously. She was relieved to see

Dr. Foley. He was a tall man with thin features and a long straight nose

that sharply tented the front of his surgical mask. Soon all Candy could

see of his face were his gray-green eyes. The rest was hidden, including

his silver-white hair.

Candy had been seeing Dr. Foley on an infrequent basis for her routine

gynecological care and had always liked and trusted the man. She had not

had a checkup for eighteen months prior to her pregnancy, and when she had

gone to his office a few weeks ago she had been surprised to see how much

Dr. Foley had changed. She'd remembered him as being outgoing and not

without a touch of dry humor. Candy wondered how much of his "new"

personality was due to his disapproval of her unmarried pregnant state.

Dr. Foley looked at Dr. Burnham who cleared his throat: A just gave her 8

milligrams of tetracaine. We're using continuous epidural." Stepping down

to the end of the table, he lifted the blanket. Candy could see her feet,

which appeared exceptionally pale in the bright fluorescent light from the

X-ray view boxes. She could see Dr. Burnham touch her, but she felt nothing

as he worked his way up her body until he wasjust under her breasts. Then

she felt the prick of a needle and told him so. He smiled and said,

"Perfect!"

MINDBEND 15

For a moment Dr. Foley stood in the center of

the room without moving. No one said anything;

ever ' vone just waited. Candy wondered what the

man was thinking about, since he seemed to be

looking directly at her. He'd done the same thing

when she'd seen him in the clinic. Finally, he

blinked and said, "You've got the best anesthesiol

ogist in the house. I want you to relax now. We'll

be finished before you know it."

Candy could hear some commotion behind her, then the snap of latex gloves

as she watched Dr. Burnham fit a wire frame over her head. One of the

nurses secured her left arm to her side with the sheet covering the OR

table. Dr. Burnham taped her right arm securely to a board that stuck out

from the table at right angles. That was the arm with the IV. Dr. Foley

reappeared in Candy's sight, gowned and gloved, and helped one of the

nurses spread large drapes over her, effectively blocking nine-tenths of

her view. Straight up she could see her IV bottles. Behind her, if she

rolled her head back, she could see Dr. Burnham.

"Are we ready?" asked Dr. Foley.

"You're on," said Dr. Burnham. He looked down at Candy and winked.

"You're doing fine," he reassured her. "You may feel a little pressure

or some pulling, but you shouldn't feet any pain."

"Are you sure?" asked Candy.

"I'm sure,"

Candy could not see Dr. Foley, but she could hear him, especially when

he said, "Scalpel." She heard the sound of the scalpel slapping the

rubber glove,

Closing her eyes, Candy waited for the pain. Thank God it didn't come.

All she could feel was the sensation of people leaning over her. For the

16 ROBIN COOK

first time she allowed herself the luxury of thinking that this whole

nightmare might actually pass.

It had all started about nine months previously when she had decided to go

off the pill. She'd been living with David Kirkpatrick for five years. He

had believed she was as devoted to her dancing career as he was to his

writing, but sometime after her thirty-fourth birthday she had begun

nagging David to marry her and start a family. When he refused, she decided

to try getting pregnant, certain he would change his mind. But he had re-

mained adamant when she had told him of her condition. If she continued the

pregnancy, he would leave. After ten days of weeping and countless scenes

she had finally agreed to this abortion.

"Oh!" gasped Candy as she felt a stab of whitehot pain somewhere deep in

her being. It was akin to the feeling when a dentist finds a sensitive spot

in a tooth. Thankfully, the stab didn't last long.

Dr. Burnham glanced up from his anesthesia chart, then stood to look over

the ether screen at the operative site. "Are you guys pulling on the small

bowel?"

"We just packed it away out of the operative field," admitted Dr. Foley.

Dr. Burnham sat back down and gazed directly into Candy's eyes. "You're

doing just great. It's common for someone to feel pain when the small

intestine is manipulated, but they're not going to do that anymore. OK?"

"OK," said Candy. It was a relief to be reassured that everything was going

as it should. Yet she wasn't surprised. Although Lawrence Foley's manner

seemed to lack the old warmth, she still had every confidence in him as a

doctor. He'd been wonderful to her from the start: understanding

MINDBEND 17

and supportive, especially in helping her decide about the abortion. He'd

spent several sessions just talking to her, calmly pointing out the diffi-

culties of raising a child as a single parent and underlining the ease of

having an abortion, though Candy was already in her sixteenth week.

There was no doubt in Candy's mind that it had been Dr. Foley and the

people at the Julian Clinic who had made it possible for her to go through

with the abortion. The only thing that she had insisted upon was that she

be sterilized. Dr. Foley had tried unsuccessfully to change her mind about

the sterilization. She was thirty-six years old and she did not want to be

tempted again to beat the biological clock by becoming pregnant, since it

was obvious marriage was not in her immediate future.

"Kidney dish," ordered Dr. Foley, bringing Candv's attention back to the

present. She heard the ciank of metal against metal.

"Babcock clamp," demanded Dr. Foley.

Candy rolled her eyes back and glanced up at Dr. Burnham. All she could see

were his eves. The rest of' his face was hidden by his surgical mask. But

she could tell he was smiling down at her. She let herself drift and the

next thing she heard was Dr. Burnham saying, "It's all over, Candy."

With some difficulty she blinked and tried to make sense of the scene

slowly coming into focus before her eyes. It was like an old-fashioned TV

warming up: first there were sounds and voices, then slowly the picture and

meaning emerged. The door to the corridor opened, and an orderly pulled an

empty gurney into the room.

"Where's Dr. Foley?" asked Candy.

"He'll see you in the recovery room," said Dr.

18 ROBIN COOK

Burnham. "Everything went perfectly." He moved Candy's IV bottle to the

gurney.

Candy nodded as a tear ran down her cheek. Fortunately, before she could

dwell on the fact that she would remain childless forever, one of the

nurses took her hand and said, "Candy, we're going to move you over onto

the gurney now."

In the adjoining auxiliary room, Dr. Foley directed his attention to the

stainless-steel pan neatly covered by a white towel. To be certain that

the specimen was unharmed, he lifted a corner of the towel. Satisfied,

he picked up the pan, walked down the corridor, and descended the stairs

to the pathology department.

Ignoring the residents and technicians, though several of them spoke to

him by name, he walked through the main surgical area and entered a long

corridor. At the end he stopped in front of an unmarked door. Balancing

the specimen pan in one hand, he got out his keys and opened the door.

The room bevond was a small and windowless laboratory. Dr. Foley moved

slowly but deliberately as he stepped into the room, closed the door

behind him, and put down the pan.

For a few moments he stood paralyzed until a sharp pain in his temples

made him stagger backward. He bumped the countertop and steadied himself.

Glancing at the large institutional clock on the wall, he was surprised

to notice that the minute hand seemed to have jumped five minutes.

Swiftly and silently Dr. Foley performed several tasks. Then he stepped

over to a large wooden crate in the center of the room and opened it.

Within was a second, insulated container. Releasing the latch, Dr. Foley

raised its lid and looked in. Resting on a bed of dry ice were a number

of other

MINDBEND 19

specimens. Dr. Foley carefully placed the newest addition on the ice and

closed the lid.

Twenty minutes later, an orderly dressed in a white shirt and blue pants

pushed a dolly into the small unmarked laboratory and picked up the ice

chest and packed it in a wooden crate. Using the freight elevator, he

took it down to the loading dock and put it into a van.

Forty minutes after that, the wooden crate was taken off the van and

placed in the luggage section of a Gulf Stream jet at Teterboro Airport

in New Jersey.

CHAPTER 1

Adam Schonberg's eyes blinked open and in the darkness of his bedroom he

heard the undulating scream of a siren announcing yet another catastrophe.

Gradually, the noise diminished as the police car or ambulance or fire truck

or whatever it was receded into the distance. It was morning in New York

City.

Snaking a hand out from beneath the warm blankets, Adam groped for his

glasses and then turned the face of the clock radio toward him: 4:47 A.M.

Relieved, he flipped off the alarm, which was scheduled to go off at 5:00,

then pulled his hand back under the covers. He had fifteen more minutes

before he had to haul himself out of bed and into the icy bathroom.

Normally, he'd never take the chance of turning off the alarm for fear he'd

oversleep. But as charged up as he was this morning that was not a

possibility.

Rolling onto his left side, he pressed against the sleeping form of

Jennifer, his twenty-three-yearold wife of one and a half years, feeling

the rhvthmical rise and fall of her chest as she breathed.

20

MINDBEND 21

Reaching down, Adam ran his hand lightly up her thigh, which was slim and

firm from her daily dance workouts. Her skin was soft and remarkably smooth

with hardly a freckle to mar its surface. It had a delicate olive tone that

suggested southern European descent, but that was not the case. Jennifer

insisted that her genealogy was English and Irish on her father's side of

the family, German and Polish on her mother's side.

Jennifer straightened out her legs, sighed, and rolled over onto her back,

forcing Adam to move out of her way. He smiled; even in her sleep she had

a forceful personality. Although her strong character could at times

present itself to Adam as frustrating stubbornness, it was also one of the

reasons Adam loved her so much.

Glancing at the clock, which now said 4:58, Adam forced himself out of bed.

As he crossed the room to shower he stubbed his toe on an old Pullman trunk

Jennifer had covered with a throw to serve as a table. Gritting his teeth

to keep from crying out, he hobbled to the edge of the tub where he sat

down to survey the damage. He had a remarkably low tolerance for pain.

The first time Adam had realized this was during his disastrously short

high school football career. Because he was one of the larger boys,

everyone including Adam himself had expected him to be on the team,

especially since David, Adam's deceased older brother, had been one of the

town stars. But such was not to be the case. Everything had gone well until

Adam had been given the ball and told to run a play he had dutifully

memorized. The instant he was tackled he had felt pain, and by the time

everybody had gotten back on his feet,

22 ROBIN COOK

Adam had decided this was just another area where he could not compete with

his brother's reputation.

Shaking off' the memory, Adam quickly showered, shaved his heavy beard

which would shadow his chin by five that afternoon, and brushed his thick

blac~ hair. He whipped on his clothes, barely glancing in the mirror,

oblivious to his dark good looks.

Less than ten minutes after getting out of bed he was in the two-by-four

kitchen, heating up his coffee. He glanced about the cramped, badly fur-

nished apartment, vowing again that the minute he finished medical school

he would find Jennifer a decent place to live. Then he went over to the

desk in the living room and glanced at the material he'd been working on

the night before.

A wave of anxiety passed through his body. In less than four hours he was

going to be standing in front of the imposing Dr. Thayer Norton, chief of

Internal Medicine. Grouped around would be the rest of the third-year

medical students who were currently rotating on Internal Medicine with

Adam. A few of the students, like Charles Hanson, might be rooting for him.

But the rest would be more or less hoping that he'd make a fool of himself,

which was a distinct possibility. Adam had never functioned well in front

of a group, another disappointmcnt for his father, who was a recognized and

much-sought-after speaker. At the beginning of the rotation Adam had drawn

a blank in the middle of presenting a case, and Dr. Norton had never let

him forget it. Consequently, Adam had postponed his major case presentation

until the end of this rotation, hoping that he'd grow more confident with

time. He did, but not a lot. It was going to be tough and that was why he'd

gotten up

MINDBEND 23

before the sun. He wanted to go over the material yet again.

Clearing his throat and trying to shut out the bustling noise of a New

York morning, Adam began his presentation once again. He spoke out loud,

pretending he was standing in front of Dr. Norton.

0 00

Jennifer would have slept until ten if it hadn't been for two things:

one, she had a doctor's appointment at nine, and two, by seven-fifteen

the temperature in the bedroom had climbed to a tropical level.

Perspiring she kicked off the covers and lay still for a moment until the

shock of yesterday's discovery had again settled in. Yesterday-after a

month of trying to deny the possibility-Jennifer had finally gone out and

bought a home pregnancy test. Not only had she missed two periods, she

had developed morning sickness. It was the nausea more than anything else

that had driven her to buy the test. She did not want to upset Adam, who

had been irritable and tense for the last few months, until she was

absolutely sure. The home pregnancy test had been positive, and today she

was seeing her gynecologist.

Carefully she got out of bed, wondering if anyone realized that dancers,

despite their limber grace on stage, were always stiff and sore in the

morning. Stretching out her leg muscles, she felt the panic wash over

her, obliterating the nausea.

"Oh, God," she moaned to herself. If she really was pregnant, how would

they manage? The money she earned from the Jason Conrad Dancers was their

only income, except for the money her mother sneaked to her behind her

dad's and Adam's backs.

24 ROBIN COOK

How would they ever support a baby? Well, maybe the test was wrong. She

was using an IUD, which was supposed to be the most effective contracep-

tive device next to the pill. At least Dr. Vandermer would end the

suspense. Jennifer knew that it was only because Adam was a medical

student that the doctor had agreed to fit her into his crowded schedule.

She turned to glance at the Sony clock radio her mother had given her.

She hadn't told Adam about the gift because Adam had become touchy over

her parents' generosity, or, as he termed it, their interference.

Jennifer suspected this had become a sore spot with Adam only because of

his own father's stinginess. It was no secret to Jennifer that Dr. David

Schonberg had been so set against Adam's marrYing her that when Adam had

willfully gone ahead and done it, he'd been essentially disinherited. In

one way Jennifer thought that she'd get a bit of pleasure knowing how mad

the old doctor Would be if she really was pregnant. Reluctantly, pulling

her stiff joints into a steady position, she brushed out her lustrous

long brown hair and carefully checked her face in the mirror to make sure

its attractive oval planes and clear blue eyes did not reveal her

anxiety. No need to upset Adam before she had to.

Forcing a cheerful smile, she sallied into the living room where Adam was

going over his speech for the tenth time.

"Isn't talking to oneself the first sign of dementia?" teased Jennifer.

"Clever!" acknowledged Adam. "Especially since I didn't think Sleeping

Beauty could cogitate before noon."

"How are you doing with the presentation?" she

MINDBEND 25

asked, putting her arms around him and turning her face up for a kiss.

"I got it down to the required fifteen minutes. That's about all I can

say." He bent and kissed her.

"Oh, Adam. You'll do just fine. I tell you what: Why don't you give the

presentation to me?" She poured some coffee and then took a seat in the

living room. "What disease does the patient have?"

"Tardive dyskinesia is the current diagnosis."

"What on earth is that?"asked Jennifer.

"It's a neurological disorder involving all sorts of involuntary

movements. It's associated with certain drugs given for psychiatric

problems . . ."

Jennifer nodded, trying to appear interested, but Adam was only a minute

into his speech when her attention turned back to her possible pregnancy.

CHAPTER 2

Dr. Clark Vandermer's office was just off Park Avenue on Thirty-sixth

Street. Jennifer got there by taking the Lexington Avenue subway to Thirty-

third Street and walking north. The building was a large apartment house

complete with awning and liveried doorman. Entrance to the professional

suites was to the right of the building's main entrance. As Jennifer opened

the front door, the slight smell of medicinal alcohol made her flinch. She

had never enjoyed going to the gynecologist, and the idea that she might be

pregnant made this particular visit especially upsetting.

Jennifer walked down a carpeted hallway, reading the names painted with

gold leaf on the doors. She passed the entrances to the offices of two den-

tists and a pediatrician, and came to a door on which was written "GYN

Associates." Below this was a list of names. The second name was Dr. Clark

Vandermer's.

Jennifer took off" the coat that she'd purchased secondhand in Soho for

thirty-five dollars and draped it over her arm. Under the coat she was

26

MINDBEND 27

dressed quite well in a smart Calvin Klein shirtdress that her mother had

recently bought for her at Bloomingdale's.

As she opened the door, Jennifer remembered the office from her previous

visits. On the wall opposite the entrance was a sliding glass panel beyond

which sat the receptionist.

There were a number of women in the waiting room. Jennifer didn't count but

there had to be more than twelve. All were well dressed and most were

either reading or doing needlepoint.

After checking in with the receptionist, who admitted that she had no idea

how long the wait would be, Jennifer found a seat near the window. She

picked up a recent copy of The New Yorker from the coffee table and tried

to read, but all she could do was worry about Adam's reaction if she were

really pregnant.

It was two hours and fifteen minutes before Jennifer was finally called.

She followed the nurse to an examining room.

"Take off all your clothes and put this on," the woman said, handing

Jennifer a paper cover-up. "I'll be back and then the doctor will be in."

Before Jennifer could ask any questions, the nurse was gone and the door

closed.

The room was about ten feet square with a curtained window at one end, a

second door to the right, and bare walls. The furniture included a scale,

a wastepaper basket which was full to overflowing, an examination table

with stirrups, an open locker, and a sink. It was hardly cozy, and Jennifer

remembered that Dr. Vandermer was brusque to the point of rudeness. Adam

had sent her to him because he was supposed to be the best,

28 ROBIN COOK

but "best" did not seem to include an evaluation of bedside manner.

Not knowing how soon the nurse would be back Jennifer hurried. She

deposited her large coat and bag on the floor and used the locker for her

clothes. Once naked, she tried to figure out the cover-up. She couldn't

tell if it should go on with the opening in the front or the back. She

opted for the front. Then she tried to decide what she should do with

herself. Should she lie down on the examination table or just stand? Her

feet were getting cold from the tile floor. She lifted herself onto the

examination table and sat on the edge.

A moment later the nurse returned in a rush.

"I'm so sorry for the long wait," she said in a pleasant but harried

tone. "We seem to be getting busier and busier. Must be a new baby boom."

She quickly began checking Jennifer's weight and blood pressure and then

sent her to the bathroom for a urine specimen. When Jennifer returned,

Dr. Vandermer was waiting.

Jennifer had always been leery of handsome gynecologists, and Dr.

Vandermer evoked that old reservation. He looked more like an actor

playing a role than a real doctor. He was tall with dark hair silvering

on his temples. His face was square with a sharp chin line and a straight

mouth. He wore a pair of reading glasses on the end of his nose and

looked over them at Jennifer.

"Good morning," he said in a voice that did not invite conversation. His

blue eyes swept over her, then her chart. The nurse shut the door behind

them and then busied herself with the contents of a stainless-steel pan

by the sink.

"Ah, yes. You're Mrs. Schonberg, the wife of

MINDBEND 29

Adam Schonberg the third-year medical student," Dr. Vandermer said.

Jennifer didn't know if it were a statement or a question, but she nodded

and said that she was Adam's wife.

A wouldn't think this was a good time for you to be having a baby, Mrs.

Schonberg," said Dr. Vandermer.

Jennifer was shocked. If she hadn't been naked and vulnerable, she would

have been angry. Instead she felt defensive.

"I hope I'm not pregnant," said Jennifer. "That's why you put in an IUD

a year ago. 11

"What happened to the IUD?" asked Dr. Vandermer.

"I think it's still there," said Jennifer.

"What do you mean you think it is still there?" questioned Dr. Vandermer.

"You don't know?"

A checked just this morning. The strings are there."

Shaking his head, Dr. Vandermer indicated to Jennifer that he thought her

less than responsible. He leaned over and quickly wrote something on the

chart. Then he raised his eyes, took off his reading glasses. "On the

history you filled out a year ago you indicated that you had a brother

who'd only lived for several weeks."

"That's right," said Jennifer. "He was a mongoloid baby."

"How old was your mother at the time?" asked Dr. Vandermer.

"I think she was around thirty-six," said Jennifer.

"That's something you should know about," said Dr. Vandermer with thinly

veiled exasperation. "Find out for sure. I want that information on the

chart."

30 ROBIN COOK

Putting down his pen, Vandermer took out his stethoscope and gave Jennifer

a rapid but thorough physical examination, peering into her eyes and ears

and listening to her chest and heart. He tapped her knees and ankles,

scratched the bottoms of her feet, and inspected every inch of her body. He

worked in total silence. Jennifer felt as if she were a piece of meat in

the hands of a very competent butcher. She knew Dr. Vandermer was good, but

she could have used some warmth.

When he finished, the doctor sat down and quickly wrote his findings on the

chart. Then he asked Jennifer about her menstrual history and the date of

her last period. Before she could ask any questions he motioned her into a

prone position and began the pelvic.

"Just relax now," said Dr. Vandermer, finally remembering that his patient

was probably anxious. Jennifer felt an object enter her. It was done

smoothly and expertly. There was no pain, just an unpleasant fullness. She

could hear Dr. Vandermer speak with the nurse. She heard the door open and

saw the nurse leave.

Dr. Vandermer stood up so that Jennifer could see him. "The IUD is still in

place, but it looks like it is low. I think it should be removed."

"Is that difficult?" asked Jennifer.

"Very simple," said Dr. Vandermer. "Nancy went to get me an instrument. It

will only take a second."

Nancy returned with something that Jennifer could not see. She felt a

fleeting twinge of pain. Dr. Vandermer stood up holding a coil of plastic

in his gloved hand.

"You definitely are pregnant," he said, sitting down at the desk and

writing anew on the chart.

Jennifer experienced a rush of panic similar to

MINDBEND 31

the one she had felt the moment she saw that the home pregnancy test was

positive.

"Are you sure?" she managed with a quivering voice.

Dr. Vandermer did not look up. "We'll confirm it by laboratory tests, but

I'm sure."

Nancy finished writing labels on the specimen tubes and came around to help

Jennifer remove her feet from the stirrups. Jennifer swung around so that

she was sitting on the side of the examination table.

"Is everything all right?" she asked.

"Everything is perfectly normal," assured Dr. Vandermer. He completed the

chart, then spun around to face her. His expression was as neutral as when

he'd first entered.

"Can you give me some idea of what to expect?" asked Jennifer. She folded

her hands to steady them and put them on her lap.

"Of course. Nancy Guenther will be your nurse practitioner," Dr. Vandermer

said, nodding at.the nurse. "She'll go over things like that with you. I'll

be seeing you for routine visits monthly for the first six months, then

every two weeks until the last month. Then weekly unless there's a compli-

cation." Dr. Vandermer got up and prepared to leave.

"Will I be seeing you each time I come?" asked Jennifer.

"Generally," said Dr. Vandermer. "Occasionally I might have a delivery.

Then you would be seen by one of my associates or Nancy. In either case

they would report directly to me. Any other questions?"

Jennifer had so many questions she didn't know where to begin. She felt

like her life was coming

32 ROBIN COOK

apart at the scams. She also had the feeling that Dr. Vandermer wanted to

leave now that the exam was over. "What about when it comes time for my

delivery?" she asked. "I don't mind seeing someone else for a routine

visit, but when it comes to delivering, I feel differently. You're not

planning a vacation around my due date, are you?"

"Mrs. Schonberg," began Dr. Vandermer. "I haven't taken a vacation in

five years. I go to an occasional medical meeting and I'm planning to

lecture at a cruise seminar in a couple of months. But that certainly

will not conflict with your due date. Now if you have no more questions,

I'll turn you over to Nancy."

"Just one more thing," said Jennifer. "You asked about my brother. Do you

think it is significant that my mother gave birth to a defective child?

Does it mean I might do the same?"

"I sincerely doubt it," said Dr. Vandermer, edging toward the door.

"Leave the name of your mother's doctor with Nancy and we'll call and

find out the details. Meanwhile, I plan to do a simple chromosomal study

on you. But I don't think there is anything to worry about."

"What about an amniocentesis?" asked Jennifer.

"At this point I don't think there is any need for such a procedure, and

even if there were, it couldn't be done before your sixteenth week. Now

if you'll excuse me, we'll see you in a month."

"What about an abortion?" asked Jennifer anxiously. She didn't want Dr.

Vandermer to leave. "If we decide not to have this child, is it difficult

to arrange for an abortion?"

Dr. Vandermer, who'd had a hand on the door, stepped back in front of

Jennifer, towering over

MINDBEND 33

her. "If you are interested in an abortion, I think that you are seeing

the wrong doctor."

"I'm not saying that I want one," said Jennifer, cowering beneath his

glare. "It's just that this isn't a good time for me to be pregnant, as

you said yourself. I haven't told Adam yet and I don't know what his

reaction will be. We depend on my income."

"I don't do abortions unless there's a medical reason for it," said Dr.

Vandermer.

Jennifer nodded. The man obviously felt strongly about the issue. To

change the subject she asked, "What about my working? I'm a dancer. How

long will I be able to continue to work?"

"Nancy will discuss such questions with you," said Dr. Vandermer,

glancing at his watch. "She knows more about that kind of stuff than I

do. Now, if there is nothing else . . ." Dr. Vandermer moved away from

the examination table.

"There is one other thing," said Jennifer. "I've been nauseous in the

morning. Is that normal?"

"Yes," said Dr. Vandermer, opening the door to the corridor. "Such nausea

is present in at least fifty percent of pregnancies. Nancy will give you

some suggestions on handling it by altering your diet."

"Isn't there something I could take?" asked Jennifer.

"I don't believe in using medication for morning sickness unless it's

interfering with the mother's nutrition. Now if you'll excuse me, I'll

see you in a month."

Before Jennifer could say another word, Dr. Vandermer was out the door.

He closed it behind him, leaving Jennifer with Nancy.

"Diet is a very important part of pregnancy,"

34 ROBIN COOK

said Nancy, handing Jennifer several sheets of printed material.

Jennifer sighed and let her eyes drop from the closed door to the

sheets of paper in her hands. Her mind was a whirl of conflicting

thoughts and emotions.

CHAPTER 3

Adam turned west on Twelfth Street, heading directly into the wind and rain.

It was pitch dark already, despite the fact that it was just seventhirty.

Only a half block to go. He had an umbrella, but it was in sad shape and he

had to wrestle with it to keep the wind from inverting it. He was cold and

damp, but worse, he was exhausted, mentally and physically. The

all-important presentation had not gone well. Dr. Norton had stopped him not

once but twice for grammatical errors, interrupting Adam's train of thought.

Consequently, Adam had left out an important part of the case history. At

the end Dr. Norton had merely nodded and asked the chief resident about

another patient.

Then, to round out the day, Adam had been called down to the emergency room

because it was understaffed and had been given the job of pumping out the

stomach of a young attempted suicide. Inexperienced in such a procedure,

Adam had made the girl vomit, and he'd caught it smack in the chest. And if

that weren't bad enough, fifteen min-

35

36 ROBIN COOK

utes before he was to be off duty, he got a complicated admission: a

fifty-two-year-old man with pancreatitis. That was the reason he was so late

coming home.

Passing the alley that communicated with the scenic airshaft outside their

apartment, Adam saw the assortment of' trash cans that the sanitation

department noisily emptied three mornings a week. Today the cans were full

to overflowing, and a couple of scrawny alley cats had braved the rain to

investigate.

Adam backed through the front door to their building and closed the

worthless umbrella. For a moment he stood in the ancient foyer and dripped

onto the tiled floor. Then he unlocked the inner door and began mounting

the three flights of stairs to their apartment.

To announce his arrival he pressed the doorbell as he pushed the key into

the first of several locks. They'd been broken into twice during the year

and a half they'd lived there. Nothing had been stolen, though. The thieves

probably realized they'd made a mistake as soon as thev saw the beat-up

furniture.

"Jen!" called Adam as he opened the door.

"I'm in the kitchen. I'll be out in a second."

Adam raised his eyebrows. Since his hospital hours were so irregular,

Jennifer usually waited until he was home to start dinner. Sniffing the

savory aroma, he went into the bedroom and took off his jacket. When he

walked back to the living room, Jennifer was waiting. Adam gasped. At first

it appeared that she was only wearing an eyelet apron. Naked legs stretched

from the bottom edge of the apron to high-heeled mules. Her hair was

brushed straight but held back from her face with

MINDBEND 37

combs. Her oval face seemed to be illuminated from within.

Lifting her arms and positioning her fingers as if dancing a classical

ballet, Jennifer slowly revolved. As she turned, Adam saw that under the

apron she was wearing a lavender teddy edged in lace.

Adam smiled. Eagerly he reached out to lift the front edge of the apron

'

"Oh, no!" teased Jennifer, avoiding his grasp. "Not so fast."

"What's going on?" laughed Adam.

"I'm practicing to be the Total Woman, 11 quipped Jennifer.

"Where in heaven's name did you get that ... thing?"

"This thing is called a teddy." Jennifer lifted the front of the apron

and pirouetted again. "I bought it at Bonwit's this afternoon."

"What on earth for?" asked Adam, wondering how much it cost in spite of

himself. He didn't want to deny Jennifer something she wanted, but they

had to be careful on their budget.

Jennifer stopped dancing. "I bought it because I always want to be

attractive and sexy for you."

"If you were any more attractive and sexy for me I'd never get through

medical school. You don't have to dress up in frilly stuff to turn me on.

You're plenty sexy the way you are."

"You don't like it." Jennifer's face clouded over.

"I like it," Adam stammered. "It's just that you don't need it."

"Do you really like it?" asked Jennifer.

Adam knew he was on thin ice. "I love it. You look like you belong in

Playboy. No, Penthouse."

Jennifer's face brightened. "Perfect! I wanted it to be right on the

border between sexy and raunchy.

38 ROBIN COOK

Now, I want you to march right back into the bathroom and take a shower.

When you come out, we'll have a dinner that I hope will make you feel like

a king. Go!"

Jennifer forcibly propelled Adam back into the bedroom. Before he could say

anything, she shut the door in his face.

When he was finished showering, he discovered that the living room had been

transformed. The card table had been brought from the kitchen and laid for

dinner. Two empty wine bottles with candles stuck in them provided the only

light. The silverware sparkled. They only had two place settings. Each had

been a present from Jennifer's parents, one on their wedding day, the other

on their first anniversary. They rarely used them, leaving the pieces

wrapped in tinfoil and hidden in the freezer compartment.

Adam walked over to the kitchen and leaned against the door. Jennifer was

working feverishly, in spite of the handicap afforded by her high-heeled

slippers. Adam had to smile. This woman tottering around his kitchen did

not look like the Jennifer he knew. If she noticed him, she gave no

indication.

Adam cleared his throat. "Jennifer, I'd like to know what's going on."

Jennifer didn't respond. Instead she uncovered a pot and stirred the

contents. Adam could see from the spoon when she placed it on the counter

that it was wild rice. Adam wondered how much that cost. Then he spotted

the roast duck cooling on the carving board.

"Jennifer!" called Adam a bit more forcibly.

Jennifer turned around and thrust a wine bottle and corkscrew into Adam's

arms. He was forced to grab both lest they fall to the floor. "I'm making

MINDBEND 39

dinner," she said simply. "If you want to make yourself useful, open the

wine."

Stunned, Adam carried the bottle into the living room and pulled out the

cork. He poured a little wine into a glass, and held it up to the

candlelight. It was a deep, rich ruby color. Before he could taste it,

Jennifer called him into the kitchen.

"I need a surgeon in here," she said, handing him a large knife.

"What am I supposed to do with this?" he asked.

"Cut the duck in half."

Adam tried a few tentative thrusts with little success. Finally, he put

all his strength behind the blow and sliced the duck in two.

"Now how about telling me what this is all about."

"I just want you to relax and enjoy a good dinner."

"Is there an ulterior motive for all this?"

"Well, I do have something to tell you, but I'm not going to do so until

after we have this feast."

And feast it was. Although the snow peas were slightly overdone and the

wild rice slightly underdone, the duck was sensational and so was the

wine. As the meal progressed, Adam found himself growing sleepy. Jerking

himself awake, he fastened his attention on his wife. Jennifer looked

extraordinarily beautiful in the candlelight. She'd removed the eyelet

apron and was now clothed only in the provocatively sheer lavender teddy.

Her image blurred in Adam's mind, and for a brief moment he fell asleep

sitting at the card table.

"Are you all right?" asked Jennifer, who was just beginning to describe

the home pregnancy test.

40 ROBIN COOK

, I , m fine," said Adam, unwilling to admit he'd been asleep.

"So," continued Jennifer, "I followed the directions. And guess what?"

"What?"

"It was positive."

"What was positive?" Adam knew that he must have missed some key phrase.

"Adam, haven't you been listening to me?"

"Of course I've been listening. I guess my mind wandered for a moment. I'm

sorry. Maybe you'd better start again."

"Adam, I'm trying to tell you that I am pregnant. Yesterday I did one of

those home pregnancy tests and this morning I went to Dr. Vandermer."

For a minute Adam was too shocked to speak

"You're kidding," he said at last.

"I'm not kidding," said Jennifer, meeting his eyes. Sbe could feel her

heart beating out a rapid rhvth- I-oJuntarily she'd clenched her hands into

fists.

"You're not kidding?" said Adam, uncertain whether he was about to laugh or

cry. "You're serious?"

"I'm serious. Believe me, I'm serious." Jennifer's voice shook. She'd hoped

that Adam would be happy, at least at first. Later they could deal with the

host of problems the pregnancy would bring. Jennifer got up, walked around

to Adam, and put her hands on his shoulders.

"Honey, I love you very much."

"I love you, too, Jennifer," said Adam. "But that is not the issue." Ile

stood up, shrugging off her hands.

A think it is the issue," said Jennifer, watching him move away. More than

anything she wanted

MINDBEND 41

to be held and reassured that everything was going to be all right.

"What about your IUD?" asked Adam.

"It didn't work. I guess we should think of this baby as some sort of

miracle." Jennifer forced herself to smile.

Adam began to pace the small room. A baby! How could they have a baby?

They were just barely keeping their heads above water as it was. They

were already close to twenty thousand dollars in debt.

Jennifer watched Adam silently. From the moment she'd left Dr.

Vandermer's office she had feared Adam's reaction. That was why she had

dreamed up the idea of the celebration dinner. But now that the meal was

over she was left with the reality that she was pregnant and her husband

was not very pleased.

"You always wanted to have children," she said plaintively.

Stopping in the middle of the threadbare carpet, Adam looked at his wife.

"Whether I want to have children is also not the issue. Of course I want

children, but not now. I mean, how are we going to live? You'll have to

stop dancing immediately, right?"

"Soon," admitted Jennifer.

"Well, there you have it! What are we going to do for money? It's not as

if I can get a newspaper route after school. Oh God, what a mess. I don't

believe it."

"There's always my family," said Jennifer, fighting back tears.

Adam looked up. His lips had narrowed.

Jennifer saw his expression and quickly added, "I know how you have felt

about accepting sup-

42 ROBIN COOK

port from my family, but if we have a child it will be different. I know

they would adore helping us."

"Oh, sure!" said Adam sarcastically.

"Really," said Jennifer. "I went home this afternoon and spoke to them. My

father said that we are welcome to come and live in their house in

Englewood. Goodness knows, it's big enough. Then as soon as I can get back

to dancing or you start your residency, we can move out."

Adam closed his eyes and hit the top of his head with a closed fist. "I

don't believe this is happening."

"My mother will enjoy having us," added Jennifer. "Because of the baby she

lost, she's particularly concerned about me."

"There's no connection," snapped Adam. "She had a Down's baby because she

was well into her thirties."

"She knows. It's just the way she feels. Oh, Adam! It wouldn't be so bad.

We'll have plenty of space, and you could use the attic room as a study."

"No!" shouted Adam. "Thank you very much but we are not accepting charity

from your parents. They already interfere in our life too much. Everything

in this goddam dump is from your parents," he said, gesturing around the

room.

In the midst of her anxiety Jennifer felt anger stirring. At times Adam

could be so frustratingly obstinate, and certainly less than grateful.

Right from the beginning of their relationship his rejection of her

parents' generosity had been out of proportion. She'd gone along with it to

a point, recognizing his special sensitivities, but now that she was

pregnant it seemed unreasonably selfcentered.

"My parents have not been interfering. I think it

MINDBEND 43

is time for you to control your pride or whatever it is that gets you so

angry anytime my parents try to help us. The fact of the matter is we need

help."

"You can call it what you will. I call it interfering. And I don't want it,

today, tomorrow, ever! We're on our own and we'll handle this by our-

selves."

"OK," said Jennifer. "If you can't accept help from my family, then ask

your father for help. It's about time he did something."

Adam stopped pacing and stared at Jennifer. "I'll get a job," he said

softly.

"How can you get a job?" asked Jennifer. "Every second you're awake you're

either studying or at the hospital."

"I'll take a leave from school," said Adam.

Jennifer's mouth dropped open. "You can't leave school. I'll get another

job."

"Sure," said Adam. "What kind ofjob? Cocktail waitress? Be serious,

Jennifer. I don't want you working while you're pregnant."

"Then I'll get an abortion," said Jennifer defiantly.

Adam wheeled around so that he was facing his wife. Slowly he raised his

hand and pointed his index finger at her nose. "You're not going to get an

abortion. I don't even want to hear that word."

"Then go to your father," said Jennifer.

Adam clenched his teeth. "We wouldn't have to go to anybody it' you just

didn't get yourself pregnant."

The tears that Jennifer had been holding back all day ran down her cheeks.

"It takes two, Vou know. I didn't do this by myself," she said, and broke

into sobs.

"You told me not to worry about babies," snapped

44 ROBIN COOK

Adam, ignoring her tears. "You said that was your department, You did a

great job!"

Jennifer didn't even try to answer, Choking, she ran into the bedroom and

slammed the door.

For a moment Adam stared after her. He felt sick. His mouth was dry from

all the wine he'd drunk. He looked at the cluttered table with the

remains of their dinner spread out in front of him. He didn't have to

look into the kitchen. He already knew what condition it was in. The

apartment was a mess, and it seemed frighteningly symbolic of his life.

CHAPTER 4

Dr. Lawrence Foley pulled into his long winding driveway. The rambling

stone mansion was still out of sight when he pressed the button that

opened the garage door. Rounding the final group of elms, he could see the

towers silhouetted against the night sky. The neo-Gothic castle in

Greenwich had been built in the early twenties by an eccentric millionaire

who'd lost everything in the crash of 1929 and blown his brains out with

an elephant gun.

Laura Foley was in the upstairs sitting room when she heard the Jaguar

enter the garage. At her feet, Ginger, their apricot toy poodle, lifted

his head and growled as if he were a guard dog. Tossing aside the book

she was reading, she looked up at the clock. It was quarter to ten and

she was furious. She'd made dinner for eight o'clock, but Larry had never

bothered to call to say he was going to be late. It was the sixth time

he'd done that this month. If she'd told him once, she'd told him a

hundred times to call. That was all she

45

46 ROBIN COOK

asked. She knew doctors had emergencies, but phoning only took a minute.

Sitting on the couch, Laura contemplated what she should do. She could stay

where she was and let Larry fend for himself in the kitchen, though she'd

tried that before with no results. Until recently, her husband had been

sensitive to her moods. But for some reason, ever since he'd come back from

his medical meeting four months ago, he'd been generally cold and

inconsiderate.

Noises drifted up the back stairs from the kitchen, suggesting that Larry

was already making himself something to eat. Not bothering to come and say

hello added insult to injury. Laura lifted her legs off the hassock,

wiggled her toes into her sandals, and stood up. Walking over to a gilt

frame mirror, she peered at herself. For fifty-six she looked pretty darn

good. But over the last eight weeks Larry had shown absolutely no sexual

interest in her. Could that be the reason for his new burst of professional

enthusiasm? It had taken Larry and Clark Vandermer twenty years to build

their practice to the point where they could concentrate on gynecology

rather than obstetrics. And then Larry had thrown it all away. After coming

back from that medical meeting, he'd calmly announced that he'd quit GYN

Associates and had accepted a salaried position at the Julian Clinic. At

the time Laura had been so stupefied that she'd been unable to respond. And

since joining the Julian Clinic, Larry had been taking on more obstetrical

cases, even though he got the same salary no matter how hard he worked.

A crash interrupted Laura's thoughts. That was another problem. Larry had

become clumsy of late, as well as having lapses of attention. Laura won-

MINDBEND 47

dered if he were on the verge of some sort of breakdown.

Deciding that it was time to confront her husband, Laua straightened her

robe and started down the back stairs. Ginger followed at her heels.

She found Larry at the kitchen counter, eating a large sandwich and

reading a medical journal. He'd taken off his jacket and had thrown it

over the back of a chair. When he heard her enter, he looked up. His face

had that curious slackness it had developed in recent weeks.

"Hello, dear," he said in a flat tone.

Laura stood at the foot of the stairs, allowing her anger to build. Her

husband looked at her for a moment, then went back to hisjournal.

"Why didn't you call?" snapped Laura, infuriated by his attempt to ignore

her.

Larry raised his head slowly and turned to face his wife. lie didn't

speak.

"I asked you a question," said Laura. A deserve an answer. I've asked you

a dozen times to call me if you are going to be late."

Larry didn't move.

"Did vou hear me?" Laura stepped closer and looked into her husband's

eyes. The pupils were large, and he seemed to be looking right through

her.

"Hey," said Laura, waving her hand in front of his face. "Remember me?

I'm vour wife."

Larry's pupils constricted and he blinked as if he had just noticed her.

"I'm sorry I didn't call," he said. "We decided to open an evening clinic

for the neighborhood around the Julian and the response was better than

we'd anticipated."

"Larry, what is wrong with you? You mean to

48 ROBIN COOK

tell me that you stayed until after nine o'clock to man a free clinic?"

"Nothing is wrong with me. I feel fine. I enjoyed myself. I picked up three

cases of unsuspected VD."

"Wonderful," said Laura, throwing up her hands and sitting down in one of

the kitchen chairs. She stared at Larry and took an exasperated breath. "We

have to talk. Something weird is going on. Either you are going crazy or I

am."

"I feel fine," said Larrv.

"You might feel fine, but you are acting like a different person. You seem

tired all the time, as if you hadn't slept in weeks. This whole idea of

giving up your practice is insane. I'm sorry, but it is crazy to give up

what has taken you a lifetime to build."

"I'm tired of fee-for-service private practice," said Larry. "The Julian

Clinic is more exciting and I'm able to help more people."

"That's all well and good," said Laura, "but the problem is that you have

a family. You have a son and daughter in college and a daughter in medical

school. I don't have to tell you how much their tuition is. And keeping up

this ridiculous house that you insisted on buying ten years ago costs a

fortune. We don't need thirty rooms, particularly now that the children are

gone. The salary you're on at the Julian Clinic barely keeps us in

groceries, much less covers our commitments."

"We can sell the house," said Larry flatly.

"Yes, we can sell the house," repeated Laura. "But the kids are in school

and unfortunately we have little savings. Larry, you have to go back to GYN

Associates."

"I gave tip my partnership," said Larry.

"Clark Vandermer will give it back," said Laura.

MINDBEND 49

"You've known him long enough. Tell him you made a mistake. If you want

to change your professional circumstances, you should at least wait until

after the children's schooling is complete."

Laura stopped talking and watched her husband's face. It was as if it

were carved from stone. "Larry," she called. There was no response.

Laura got up and waved her hand in front of her husband's face. He didn't

move. He seemed to be in a trance. "Larry," she yelled as she shook his

shoulders. His body was strangely stiff. Then his eyes blinked and looked

into hers.

"Larry, are you aware that you seem to blank out?" She kept her hands on

his shoulders while she studied his face.

"No," said Larry. "I feel fine."

"I think that maybc you should see someone. Why don't we call Clark

Vandermer and have him come over and look at you. He only lives three

houses away, and I'm sure he wouldn't mind. We can talk to him about

getting back your practice at the same time."

Larry didn't respond. Instead, his eyes assumed the blank look again

while his pupils dilated. Laura stared at him for a moment, then quickly

walked over to the kitchen phone. Her irritation had become concern. She

looked up the Vandermers'number in the address book that hung from the

cork bulletin bord and was about to dial when Larry grabbed the phone

from her hand. For the first time in months the slackness had gone from

his face. Instead, his teeth were bared in an unnatural grimace.

Laura screamed. She didn't mean to, but she couldn't help it. She backed

up, knocking over one of the kitchen chairs. Ginger barked and growled.

50 ROBIN COOK

Despite the horrid expression on his face, Larry didn't respond to

Laura's scream. He hung up the phone, then turned. In agonized slow

motion he grasped the sides of his head with both hands while an

anguished wail escaped from his lips. Laura fled up the back stairs in

panic.

Reaching the top, she passed through the sitting room and ran down the

corridor. The huge house was built like the letter H with the upper

hallway traversing the crossbar. The master bedroom was over the living

room in the wing opposite the kitchen.

Reaching the bedroom, Laura closed and locked its paneled door. She ran

to their bed and sat on its edge, her breath coming in short gasps. On

the night table was another address book. She flipped it open to the Vs.

Keeping her finger on Vandermer's number, she lifted the princess phone

to her ear and started dialing. But before the call could go through, one

of the downstairs phones was picked up.

"Laura," said Larry in a cold, mechanical voice. "I want you to come

downstairs immediately. I don't want you calling anybody."

A wave of terror swept over Laura, constricting her throat. Her hand

holding the phone began to shake.

The connection went through and Laura could hear the Vandermers' phone

ringing. But as soon as the phone was answered, the line went dead. Laura

looked at the phone helplessly. Larry must have cut the wire.

"My God," she whispered. Slowly she replaced the receiver and tried to

collect herself. Panicking was not going to solve anything. She had to

think. It was obvious that she needed help; the question

MINDBEND 51

was how to get it. Turning her head, she looked out of the bedroom window.

Lights were on at her neighbors'. If she raised the window and yelled would

anybody hear, and if they did, would they respond?

Laura tried to convince herself she was overreacting. Perhaps she should

just go downstairs as Larry suggested and tell him that he simply had to

get help.

A thump on the door jolted her upright. She listened and was relieved when

she heard a sharp bark. Going to the door, she pressed her ear against it.

All she could hear was Ginger's whining. Hastily she undid the lock so the

poodle could run inside.

The door slammed wide open, bruising her hand and crashing against the

wall. To Laura's shock, Larry was in the doorway. Ginger rushed to Laura's

feet and began to jump up and down, wanting to be picked up.

Laura screamed again. Larry's face was still grotesquely contorted. in his

left hand was a Remington 12-gauge pump gun.

Spurred by utter panic, Laura turned and fled into the bathroom, slamming

and bolting the door. Ginger had followed her and was trembling at her

feet. She picked up the shaking dog and, backing up, watched the door. She

knew that it was not much of a barrier.

A horrendous blast echoed around the tiled room as part ofthe door

splintered and tore away. Flying debris stung Laura's face and the dog

uttered a helpless yelp.

The bathroom had another door and, dropping Ginger, Laura struggled with

its latch. She was dazed but got the door open and ran into a dress-

52 ROBIN COOK

ing room that led back into the bedroom. Glancing over her shoulder, she

could see Larry's hand coming through the hole made by the shotgun blast.

As she raced though the bedroom, Laura caught a brief glimpse of Larry

disappearing into the bathroom. Knowing she had only a few moments'head

start, she dashed into the hall and half ran and half fell down the

staircase. Ginger stayed at her heels.

Vainly she gave the front door a tug, but it was locked, The old man who

had originally built the house had been so paranoid that he had equipped

all the doors with locks that could be secured from both sides. There

were keys somewhere in the bureau in the foyer, but Laura didn't have

time to search for them. Her keys were in her purse in the kitchen.

Hearing Larry start down the stairs, Laura ran down the gallery on the

ground floor.

Normally, she put her purse on the desk beneath the kitchen phone, but

it wasn't there. She tried the back door but, as she expected, it too was

locked. With mounting panic, she tried to think of what to do. The fact

that Larry had actually used the shotgun on the bathroom door made her

heart pound. Ginger leaped into her arms, and she hugged him to her

chest. Then she heard Larry's heels striking the marble of the gallery

floor.

In desperation Laura opened the cellar door, flipped on the cellar

lights, and pulled the door shut behind her. As quietly as she could, she

descended the angled stairway. There was a way out of the cellar that was

secured with an oak beam rather than a lock.

They had never used the basement because they had such an overabundance

of space upstairs. Consequently, it was musty and filled with all

MINDBEND 53

sorts of junk from previous owners. It was a warren of little rooms, and

poorly illuminated with infrequent light bulbs. Laura stumbled over debris

in the hallway, clutching Ginger to herself as she navigated the strangely

tortuous route. She was almost at the exit when the lights went out.

The darkness was sudden and complete. Laura froze in her tracks,

disoriented. The terror consumed her. Desperately, she swung her left

hand in front of her, searching for a wall. Her fingers hit rough wood.

Stumblingly, she made her way along the wall until she came to a doorway.

Behind her she heard Larry start down the cellar stairs. The sound of his

footsteps was distinct, as if he were moving very slowly and

deliberately. A flickering light indicated he was carrying a flashlight.

Knowing that she could never find the exit in the dark, Laura frantically

realized that she'd have to hide. With all the rooms and junk that were

there, she felt that she had a chance. She stepped through the doorway

she'd found, and groped in the darkness. Almost at once her hands encoun-

tered window shutters leaning against the wall. Stepping around them, her

foot hit a wooden object. It was a large barrel resting on its side.

After first checking to make sure that the barrel was empty, Laura got

down on her hands and knees and backed into it, pulling Ginger after her.

She didn't have long to worry if her hiding place were adequate. No

sooner had she stopped moving than she heard Larry approach in the

hallway. Although the barrel pointed away from the door opening, she

could see dim evidence of his flashlight.

Larry's footsteps came closer and closer, and Laura struggled to breathe

quietly. The flashlight beam entered the room and Laura held her breath.

54 ROBIN COOK

Then Ginger growled and barked. Laura's heart skipped a beat as she

heard the pump action of the shotgun. She felt Larry kick the barrel,

rolling her upside down. Ginger yelped and fled. Frantically, Laura

struggled to right herself.

CHAPTER 5

The Eastern shuttle to Washington provided the first peace Adam had

experienced since the previous night. After Jennifer had slammed the

bedroom door, Adam tried lying down on the uncomfortable Victorian couch.

He'd attempted to read about pancreatitis, but found it impossible to

concentrate. There was no way he could stay in medical school if they lost

Jennifer's income. At dawn, after only a couple of hours of restless

sleep, he'd called the hospital and had a note left for his intern saying

he wouldn't be in that day. One way or the other, Adam knew he had to come

up with a solution.

Adam stared out the window at the tranquil New Jersey countryside. The

captain announced that they were passing over the Delaware River and Adam

estimated it was another twentv minutes to Washington. That would put him

in the city at eight-thirty; he could be at his father's office at the

Food and Drug Administration around nine.

Adam was not looking forward to the meeting,

55

56 ROBIN COOK

especially under the present conditions. He hadn't seen his father since the

middle of his first year in medical school, and it had been a traumatic en-

counter. At that time Adam had informed the old man that he was definitely

marrying Jennifer.

Adam was still trying to decide how to open the conversation as he walked

through the revolving door of his father's building. As a child, Adam had

not visited his father's office often, but had gone enough times to leave

him with a feeling of distaste. His father had always acted as if the boy

were an embarrassment.

Adam had been the middle child, sandwiched between an overachieving older

brother, David, and a younger sister, Ellen, the darling of the family.

David had been the outgoing child and had decided as a youngster to become

a doctor like his father. Adam had never been able to make up his mind what

he wanted to be. For a long time he thought he wanted to be a farmer.

Adam got on the elevator and pushed the button for the eighth floor. He

could remember going up in the elevator with David when David was in

medical school. David was ten years older than Adam and, as far as Adam was

concerned, seemed more like an adult than a brother. Adam used to be left

in his father's waiting room while David was taken to meet doctor

colleagues.

Adam got off at the eighth floor and turned to the right. As the offices

became larger and more attractive, the secretaries got plainer. Adam could

remember that it was David who had pointed that out to him.

Hesitating before the executive offices, Adam wondered what his

relationship with his father would be like if David hadn't died in Vietnam.

Not too

MINDBEND 57

many doctors had been killed over there, but David had managed it. He'd

always been one to volunteer for anything. It had been the last year of

the war and Adam had been fifteen at the time.

The event had crippled the family. Adam's mother had gone into a terrible

depression that required shock therapy. She still wasn't her old self.

Adam's father hadn't weathered the news much better. After several months

of his withdrawn silence, Adam had gone to him and told him that he'd

decided to become a doctor. Instead of being pleased, his father had

cried and turned away.

Adam paused in front of his father's office, then screwing up his

courage, walked up to Mrs. Margaret Weintrob's desk. She was an enormous

woman who swamped her swivel chair. Her dress was a tentlike affair made

from a flower-print cotton. Her tipper arms had enormous rolls of fat,

making her sizable forearms appear slender by comparison.

But, aside from her weight, she was exceptionally well groomed. She

smiled when she saw Adam and, without getting up, extended a hand in

greeting.

Adam shook the slightly damp hand and returned the smile. They had always

gotten along fine. She'd been Adam's father's secretary as far back as

Adam could remember, and she'd always been sensitive to Adam's shyness.

"where have you been?" she asked, pretending to be angry. "It's been ages

since you've visited."

"Medical school doesn't allow for too much free time," said Adam. His

father kept few secrets from Margaret, and Adam was sure she knew why he

hadn't been around.

58 ROBIN COOK

"As usual, your father's on the phone. He'll be off in a minute. Can I

get you some coffee or tea?"

Adam shook his head no, and hung his coat on a brass coatrack. He sat

down on a vinyl bleacher. He remembered that his father did not like to

give the impression that the government was wasting the public's money

on such frills as comfortable seating. In fact, the whole outer office

had a utilitarian look. For Dr. Schonberg Senior it was a matter of

principle. For the same reason, he refused the car and driver that came

with his office.

Adam sat trying to marshal his arguments, but he wasn't very sanguine.

When he had called early that morning to arrange the meeting, his father

had been gruff, as if he knew that Adam was going to ask for money.

There was a buzz. Margaret smiled. "Your father's waiting for you."

As Adam grimly rose to his feet, she reached out and placed a hand on his

forearm.

"He's still suffering from David's death," she said. "Try to understand.

He does love you."

"David died nine years ago," said Adam.

Margaret nodded and patted Adam's arm. "I just wanted you to know what's

going on in his mind."

Adam opened the door and went into his father's office. It was a large

square room with tall windows that looked out onto a pleasant inner

garden. The other walls were covered with bookcases and in the middle of

the room was a large oak desk. Two good-sized library tables were spaced

perpendicularly on either side of it, creating a spacious U-shaped work

area. In its center sat Adam's father.

Adam resembled his father closely enough for people to guess their

relationship. Dr. Schonberg,

MINDBEND 59

too, had thick curly hair, though his was graying at the temples. The

greatest difference between the two men was size, the father being more

than five inches shorter than his son.

As Adam came in and shut the door, Dr. Schonberg had a pen in his hand.

Carefully he put it in its holder.

11 Hello," said Adam. He noted that his father had aged since he'd last

seen him. There were lots of new creases across his forehead.

Dr. Schonberg acknowledged Adam's greeting by nodding his head. He did

not stand up.

Adam advanced to the desk, looking down into his father's heavily

shadowed eyes. Adam didn't see any softening there.

"And to what do we owe this unexpected visit?" asked Dr. Schonberg.

"How is mother?" asked Adam, sensing that his fears had been correct. The

meeting was already going poorly.

"Nice ofyou to ask. Actually, she's not too good. She had to have shock

treatment again. But I don't want to trouble you with that news.

Especially considering the fact that your marrying that girl had a lot

to do with her condition."

"That girl's name is Jennifer. I would hope after a year and a half you

could remember her name. Mother's condition started with David's death,

not my marrying Jennifer."

"She was just recovering when you shocked her by marrying that girl."

"Jennifer!" corrected Adam. "And that was seven years after David's

death."

"Seven years, ten years, what does it matter? You knew what marrying out

of your religion would do to your mother. But did you care? And what

60 ROBIN COOK

about me? I told you not to marry so early in your medical career, But

you've never had consideration for the family. It's always been what you

wanted. Well, you got what you wanted."

Adam stared at his father. He didn't have the energy to argue in the face

of such irrationality. He'd tried that on their last meeting one and a

half years ago with no result whatsoever.

"DoWt you care what is happening to me, how medical school is going?"

asked Adam, almost pleading.

"Under the circumstances, no," said Dr. Schonberg.

"Well, then I made a mistake coming," said Adam. "We're in a financial

bind and I thought that enough time had passed to make it possible for

me to talk to you about it."

"So now he wants to talk finances!" said Dr. Schonberg, throwing up his

hands. He glared at his son, his heavy-lidded eyes narrowed. "I warned

you that ifyou willfully went ahead with the marriage to that girl I was

going to cut you off. Did you think I was joking? Did you think I meant

for a couple of years only?"

"Are there no circumstances that might make you reconsider your

position?" asked Adam quietly. He knew the answer before he asked and

decided not even to bother telling his father that Jennifer was pregnant.

"Adam, you're going to have to learn to take responsibility for your

decisions. If you decide something, you have to stick to it, There is no

latitude for shortcuts or compromises in medicine. Do you hear me?"

Adam started for the door. "Thanks for the lecture, Dad. It will come in

handy."

MINDBEND 61

Dr. Schonberg came around from behind his desk. "You've always been a

smart aleck, Adam. But taking responsibility for your decisions is one

lesson you have to learn. It's the way I run this department for the

FDA."

Adam nodded and opened the door. Margaret backed up clumsily, not even

bothering to pretend that she hadn't been listening. Adam went for his

coat.

Dr. Schonberg followed his son into the waiting room. "And I run my

personal life the same way. So did my father before me. And so should

you."

"I'll keep it in mind, Dad. Sav hello to Mom. Thanks for everything."

Adam turned down the corridor and walked to the elevator. After pushing

the button, he looked back. In the distance Margaret was waving. Adam

waved back. He never should have come. There was no way he was going to

get money out of his father.

It wasn't raining when Jennifer stepped from their apartment building,

but the skies looked threatening. In many ways she thought that March was

the worst month in New York. Even though spring was officially about to

begin, winter still held the city firmly in its grip.

Pulling her coat tighter around her body, she set off toward Seventh

Avenue. Under the coat she was dressed for rehearsal in an old leotard,

tights, leg-warmers, and an ancient gray sweater with the sleeves cut

off. In truth, Jennifer didn't know if she would be dancing, since she

was planning on telling Jason that she was pregnant. She hoped he

62 ROBIN COOK

would allow her to continue with the troupe for a couple of months. She and

Adam needed the money so badly, and the thought of Adam dropping out of

medical school terrified her. If only he weren't so stubborn about accepting

help from her parents.

At Seventh Avenue Jennifer turned south, fighting the rush-hour crowds.

Stopping at a light, she wondered what kind of reception Adam was getting

from his father. When she'd gotten up that morning she'd found the note

saying he was off to Washington. If only the old bastard would help,

thought Jennifer, it would solve everything. In fact, if Dr. Schonberg

offered support, Adam would probably be willing to accept help from her

parents.

She crossed Seventh Avenue and headed into Greenwich Village proper. A few

minutes later she turned into the entrance of the Uzanne Caf6, descended

the three steps in a single bound, and pushed through the etched-glass

door. Inside, the air was heavy with Gauloise cigarette smoke and the smell

of coffee. As usual, the place was jammed.

On her toes, Jennifer tried to scan the crowd for a familiar face. Halfway

down the narrow room she saw a figure waving at her. It was Candy Harley,

who used to be one of the Jason Conrad dancers but who now did

administrative work. Next to her was Cheryl Tedesco, the company secretary,

looking paler than usual in a white jumpsuit. It was customary for the

three of them to have coffee together before rehearsal.

Jennifer worked her way out of her coat, rolling it up in a large ball and

depositing it on the floor next to the wall. On top she plopped her limp

cloth bag. By the time she sat down, Peter, the Austrian waiter, was at the

table, asking if she

MINDBEND 63

wanted the usual. She did. Cappuccino and croissant with butter and honey.

After she'd sat down, Candy leaned forward and said, "We have good news

and bad news. What do you want to hear first?"

Jennifer looked back and forth between the two women. She wasn't in the

mood for joking, but Cheryl was staring into her espresso cup as if she'd

lost her best friend. Jennifer knew her as a rather melancholy

twenty-year-old with a weight problem which seemed of late to be getting

worse. She had pixieish features with a small upturned nose and large

eves. Her disheveled hair was a dirty blond, In contrast, Candy was

strikingly immaculate in her appearance, her blond hair twisted neatly

into a French braid.

"Maybe you'd better tell me the good news first," said Jennifer uneasily.

"We've been offered a CBS special," said Candy. "The Jason Conrad Dancers

are going big time."

Jennifer tried to act excited, although she realized she'd probably be

too far along in her pregnancy for television. "That's terrific!" she

forced herself to say with enthusiasm. "When is it scheduled for?"

"We're not sure of the exact date, but we're supposed to tape the show

in a few months."

" So, what's the bad news?" asked Jennifer, eager to change the subject.

"The bad news is that Cheryl is four months pregnant and she has to have

an abortion tomorrow," Candy stated in a rush.

Jennifer turned to Cheryl' "I'm sorry," she said awkwardly. "I didn't

even know you were pregnant."

"No one did," added Candy. "Cheryl kept it a secret till she heard that

I'd had an abortion. Then

64 ROBIN COOK

she confided in me, and it was a good thing she did. I sent her to my

doctor, who suggested amniocentesis because Cheryl said she'd been doing

drugs right through her second month. She hadn't realized she was

pregnant."

"What did the test show?" asked Jennifer.

"That the baby is deformed. There's something wrong with its genes.

That's what they look for when the v do an amniocentesis."

Jennifer turned back to Cheryl, who was still staring into her expresso,

trying not to cry.

"What does the father think?" asked Jennifer and then was sorry, for

Cheryl put her hands over her face and began to sob bitterly. Candy put

her arm about Cheryl as Jennifer glanced around at the nearby tables. No

one was paying attention. Only in New York could you have such privacy

in a public place. Cheryl took a tissue from her purse and blew her nose

loudly.

"The father's name is Paul," she said sadly.

"How does he feel about your having an abortion?" asked Jennifer.

Cheryl wiped her eyes, examining a dark smudge of mascara on the tissue.

A don't know. He took off and left me."

"Well," said Candy, "that gives us a pretty good idea about how he feels.

The bastard. I wish men could take on the burden of being pregnant, say

every other year. I think they might be a little more responsible if that

were the case."

Cheryl wiped her eyes again, and Jennifer suddenly realized how terribly

young and vulnerable the girl was. It made the problem posed by her own

pregnancy seem small in comparison.

"I'm so scared," Cheryl was saying. "I haven't told anyone because if my

father finds out, he'll kill me."

MINDBEND 65

"Well, I hope you're not going to the hospital by yourself," said

Jennifer with alarm.

"It won't be so bad," said Candy with some assurance. "I'd been worried

before my abortion, but it went smoothly. The people at the Julian Clinic

are outstandingly warm and sensitive. Besides, Cheryl will have the

world's best gynecologist."

"What's his name?" asked Jennifer, thinking that she could not say the

same about Dr. Vandermer.

"Lawrence Foley," said Candy. "I'd been turned on to him by another girl

who had to have an abortion."

"It seems like he's doing ;4 lot of abortions," said Jennifer.

Candy nodded. "It's a big city."

Jennifer sipped her cappuccino, wondering how to tell her friends that

she herself had just found out she was pregnant. She postponed the moment

by turning back to Cheryl and saying, "Perhaps you'd like it if I went

with you tomorrow. Seems to me you could use some company."

"I'd love that," said Cheryl, her face brightening.

"Not so fast, Mrs. Schon6erg," said Candy. "We have rehearsal."

Jennifer raised her eyebrows and smiled. "Well, I have some news myself.

I found out yesterday that I'm two and a half months pregnant myself."

"oh, no!" exclaimed Candy.

"Oh, yes!" said Jennifer. "And when I tell Jason, he may not care whether

I come to rehearsal or not."

Candy and Cheryl were too stunned to speak. In silence, the three

finished their coffee, paid the bill, and set off for the studio.

Jason was not there when they arrived, and Jen- 66 ROBIN COOK

nifer felt relieved and disappointed at the same time. She removed her

outer clothes and found a free area on the dance floor. Turning sideways,

she lifted her sweatshirt so that she could see her profile. She had to

admit that she already showed a little.

Adam washed his hands in the men's room on the first floor of the

hospital complex. Catching a glimpse of his haggard face in the mirror,

he realized he looked exhausted. Well, maybe it would make the dean more

sympathetic. After his disastrous meeting with his father, Adam had de-

cided his only recourse was an additional student loan from the medical

center. Straightening his frayed button-down collar, he thought he

certainly looked poor and deserving, and that he should go directly to

the dean's office before he lost his courage.

Bursting into the secretary's office to demand an appointment, Adam was

almost dismayed when the woman said she thought the dean had a few

moments between appointments. She went in to check. When she returned,

she said Adam could go right in.

Dr. Markowitz stood as Adam crossed his office threshold. He was a short,

stocky man with dark curly hair not unlike Adam's. He had a deep tan,

even though it was just March. He approached Adam with his hand

outstretched. When they shook hands, his other hand grasped the back of

Adam's.

"Please, sit down." The dean gestured to a black academic chair in front

of his desk.

From his chair Adam could see a manila folder

MINDBEND 67

with his name on the tab. Adam had met the dean only a few times, but each

time Dr. Markowitz had acted as if he were intimately aware of Adam's

situation. He had obviously pulled the file in the minute or two Adam had

been kept waiting,

Adam cleared his throat. "Dr. Markowitz, I'm sorry to take your time, but

I've got a problem."

"You've come to the right place," said Dr. Markowitz, although his smile

relaxed an appreciable amount. Adam recognized that the dean was more

politician than doctor. He had an unhappy feeling that this meeting would

be no better than the one with his father. He crossed his legs and

gripped his ankle to keep his hands from shaking.

"I just found out my wife is pregnant," he began, watching Dr.

Markowitz's face for signs of disapproval. They weren't subtle. First,

the dean's smile vanished. Then his eyes narrowed as he folded his arms

guardedly across his chest.

"Needless to say," continued Adam, trying to keep up his courage, "this

is going to put us in a financial bind. My wife and I depend on her in-

come, and now with a child on the way ..." Adam's voice trailed off. You

didn't need to be a fortune-teller to know the rest.

"Well," said Dr. Markowitz with a forced laugh, "I'm an internist, not

an obstetrician. Never was very good at delivering babies."

Some sense of humor, thought Adam.

"My wife sees Dr. Vandermer," said Adam.

"He's the best," offered Dr. Markowitz. "Can't get better obstetrical

care than Dr. Vandermer. He delivered our two children."

There was an awkward pause. Adam became aware of the ticking of an

antique Howard clock

68 ROBIN COOK

hanging on the wall to his left. Dr. Markowitz leaned forward and opened

the folder on his desk. He read for a moment, then looked up.

"Adam, have you considered that this might not be a good time to start

your family?"

"It was an accident," said Adam, wanting to avoid a lecture if that was

what the dean had intended. "A birth control failure. A statistic. But

now that it has happened, we have to deal with it. We need additional

financial support or I have to drop out of school for a year or so. It's

as simple as that."

"Have you thought about terminating this pregnancy?" asked Dr. Markowitz.

"We've thought about it, but neither one of us is willing to do so."

"V hat about family support?" questioned Dr. Markowitz. "I don't think

that dropping out of school is a wise move. You have a lot invested in

getting to where you are today. I'd hate to see that put in jeopardy."

"There's no chance of family support," said Adam. He didn't want to get

into a conversation about his father's intransigence or his in-laws'

interference. "My only hope is to borrow more money from the school. If

not, I'll have to take a leave of absence."

"Unfortunately, you are already borrowing the maximum allowed," said Dr.

Markowitz. "We have limited resources in regard to student loans. We have

to spread around what we have so everyone who needs support has access

to it. I'm sorry."

Adam stood up. "Well, I appreciate your time."

Dr. Markowitz got to his feet. His smile reappeared. "I wish I could be

more help. I hate to see you leave us. You have an excellent record up

MINDBEND 69

until now. Maybe you should reconsider the advisability of allowing the

pregnancy to go to term."

"We're going to have the child," said Adam. "In fact, now that the shock

of it all is over, I'm looking forward to it."

"When would you start your leave?" asked Dr. Markowitz.

"I'm finishing Internal Medicine in a few days," said Adam. "As soon as

it is over, I'll look for a job."

"I suppose if you're going to take a leave, it is as good a time as any.

What do you plan to do?"

Adam shrugged. A hadn't made any specific plans."

"I might be able to get you a research position here at the medical

center."

A appreciate the offer," said Adam, "but research doesn't pay the kind

of money I'm going to need. I've got to get a job with a decent salary.

I was thinking more about trying one of the big drug firms out in New

Jersey. Arolen gave our class all those leather doctor bags. Maybe I'll

give them a trv."

Dr. Markowitz flinched as if he'd been struck. "That's where the money

is," he said, sighing. "But I must say I feel as if you were deserting

to the enemy. The pharmaceutical industry has been exerting more and more

control over medical research recently, and I for one am legitimately

concerned."

"I'm not wild about the idea," admitted Adam. "But they are the only

people who might be seriously interested in a third-year medical student.

If it doesn't work out, maybe I'll be back for that research position."

Dr. Markowitz opened the door. "I'm sorry we

70 ROBIN COOK

don't have more resources for financial aid. Best of luck, and let me know

as soon as you can when you plan to get back to school."

Adam left, determined to call Arolen that afternoon. He would worry about

pharmaceutical pressure on research once he had cashed his first

paycheck.

"You're what!" shouted Jason Conrad, the head of the Jason Conrad

Dancers. He threw up his hands in exaggerated despair.

For the four years that Jennifer had known him, Jason had always tended

toward histrionics, whether he was ordering lunch or directing the

dancers. Consequently, she had anticipated such a reaction.

"Now, let me get this straight he moaned. "You're telling me that you're

going to have a child. Is that right? No, tell me I'm wrong. Tell me that

this is just a bad dream. Please!"

Jason looked at Jennifer with a pleading expression. He was a tall

man-six feet three-who looked bovish despite his thirty-three years.

Whether he was gay or not, Jennifer had no idea. Neither did any of the

other dancers. Dance was Jason's life, and he was a genius at it.

"I'm going to have a baby," confirmed Jennifer.

"Oh, my God!" cried Jason, letting his head sink into his hands.

Jennifer exchanged glances with Candy, who had hung around for moral

support.

"This is not happening to me," wailed Jason. "At the moment of our big

break, one of the lead dancers gets herself pregnant. Oh, my God!"

Jason stopped pacing. Holding up his index fin- MINDBEND 71

ger, he looked at Jennifer. "What about an abortion? Surely this isn't a

planned child."

"I'm sorry," said Jennifer.

"But you can always have another child," protested Jason.

Jennifer just shook her head.

"You won't listen to reason?" wailed Jason. He pressed a hand

dramatically against his chest and began to take deep breaths as if he

were experiencing severe chest pain. "You prefer to torture me like this,

straining my heart. Oh God, the pain is awful."

Jennifer felt guilty about getting pregnant just when the troupe was

receiving its big break. She hated to let anyone down. But Jason's

response was a selfish one, and she resented his trying to manipulate her

this way into something as serious as an abortion.

Candy took Jason's arm. "I hope you're kidding about this chest pain."

Jason opened one eye. "Me kidding? I never kid about something like this.

This woman's driving me to an early grave and you ask if I'm kidding?"

"I can probably dance for another month or so," offered Jennifer.

"Oh, no, no, no!" said Jason, instantly forgetting his chest pain. He

began pacing back and forth in front of the old ticket booth. "If you,

Jennifer, are insensitive enough to abandon us at this juncture, we have

to make an adjustment immediately." He stopped and pointed to Candy.

"What about you? Could you dance Jennifer's part?"

Candy was caught off guard. A don't know," she stammered.

Jason watched Jennifer out of the corner of his eye. He knew that

Jennifer and Candy were friends.

72 ROBIN COOK

He thought that jealousy might accomplish what reason couldn't. He needed

Jennifer at least until the TV show was taped, but Jennifer did not re-

spond. She remained silent as Candy finally replied, "I guess I'm in good

shape. I'll certainly try and give it my best."

"Hooray," said Jason. "It's good to hear that someone around here is

willing to make some sacrifices." Then to Jennifer he said, "Maybe you

should head into the office and have Cheryl take you off the payroll. We

aren't a welfare organization."

Candy spoke up. "She should get her base salary for another two weeks.

That's only fair."

Jason waved his hand as if he didn't care. He started back for the gym

floor.

"Also," called Candy after him, "I think it would be easier for our

accounting if we put her on maternity leave."

"Whatever," said Jason with little interest. He opened the door into the

gym. They could hear the other dancers going through their routines.

"Let's get to work, Candy," he called over his shoulder as he disappeared

through the door.

The two women looked at each other. Both felt a little awkward. Candy

shrugged. "I never guessed that he'd offer me a dance position."

"I'm happy for you," said Jennifer. "Really."

Together, they returned to the gym.

Jason's high-pitched voice reverberated around the large room. "OK, let's

take dance variation number two from the top. Positions!" He clapped his

hands and the echo sounded like the report of a gun. "Come on, Candy,"

he yelled.

For a few minutes Jennifer watched the rehearsal.

MINDBEND 73

Then, trying to shake off her feelings of regret, she headed down the hall

to Cheryl's office.

Cheryl was leaning back, reading a paperback romance novel.

"You're supposed to put me on maternity leave," said Jennifer with

resignation.

"I'm sorry," said Cheryl. "Did Jason throw a fit?" She put her book down.

Jennifer could see the title: The Flames of'Passion.

"One of his best," admitted Jennifer. "But I suppose it's understandable.

This is a bad time for me to take a leave." She sank into the chair in

front of the desk. "Jason agreed to let me draw base pay for another two

weeks. Of course, I still get my percentages from past performances."

"What are you going to do?" asked Cheryl.

"I don't know," said Jennifer. "Maybe I can get a temporary job. Do you

have any ideas? How did you find this position?"

"I went to an agency," said Cheryl. "But if you're looking for part-time

work, try one of the temporary secretarial services. They always need

people."

"I couldn't type to save my life," said Jennifer.

"Then try one of the big department stores. A lot of my girlfriends have

done that."

Jennifer smiled. That sounded promising.

"Are you still going to come with me tomorrow?" asked Cheryl.

"Absolutely," said Jennifer. A wouldn't think of letting you go by

yourself. Were you alone when you had the amniocentesis?"

"Yup," said Cheryl proudly. "It was a breeze. Hardly hurt at all."

"Sounds like you have more courage than I," said Jennifer. Jennifer

thought again about her

74 ROBIN COOK

mongoloid brother and wondered if she should ask to have the test.

Cheryl leaned forward, lowering her voice. "Like Candy said, I used to

do a lot of drugs. Pot, acid, you name it. Dr. Foley said that I should

have the test to check the chromosomes. But he made it easy. If you have

to have it, don't worry. I was really nervous, but I'd do it again in a

flash." She sat back, pleased with herself.

Jennifer stared at Cheryl, remembering Dr. Vandermer and his chauvinistic

attitude. "And this Dr. Foley, you like him?"

Cheryl nodded her head. "Dr. Foley is the nicest doctor I've ever met.

If it hadn't been for him, I wouldn't have done anything. And his nurses

are nice, too. In fact, the whole Julian Clinic is just great. I'm sure

Candy would call and make an appointment for you if you'd like."

Jennifer smiled. "Thanks, but my husband sent me to someone at the

medical center. Now, to get back to business. What do I have to do to put

myself on maternity leave?"

Cheryl wrinkled her nose. "I don't know, to tell you the truth. I'll have

to ask Candy."

After making plans to meet Cheryl the following morning, Jennifer got her

coat and bag and went out into the street. Walking to the subway, she

struggled against an almost overwhelming depression, She had always

expected pregnancy to be a wonderful experience, but now that she was

bearing a child, instead of feeling happy, she was confused and angry.

And worst of all she knew that she wasn't going to be able to share such

feelings with anyone because she was certain no one would understand.

MINDBEND 75

Biting her lower lip, Jennifer decided to try Macy's first.

It was nearly six o'clock when Jennifer trudged up the stairs to their

apartment. When she opened the door, she was surprised to find Adam on

the couch. He usually wasn't home this early. Then she realized he must

have taken the rest of the day off after seeing his father.

"How did the meeting go?" she asked, making an effort to be pleasant.

"Was your father helpful?"

"He was a delight," snapped Adam. "He gave me a valuable lecture about

responsibility and consistenc-v."

Jennifer hung up her coat and went over and sat next to Adam. His eyes

were red with dark circles. "Was it that bad?"

"Worse," said Adam. "Now he believes I'm the cause of my mother's

depression."

"But her depression started with vour brother's death."

"He seems to have forgotten that."

"What did he say when you told him that we are going to have a child?"

"I didn't," said Adam. "I never had a chance. He made it very clear that

I was on my own before I could even broach the subject."

"I , m sorry," said Jennifer.

Jennifer examined Adam's face. She didn't like what she saw. He seemed

distant and cold. She wanted to ask him about Dr. Lawrence Foley but

decided to put it off. A think I'll take a shower," she said with a sigh

as she stood up and walked into the bedroom.

76 ROBIN COOK

At first, Adam sat and brooded. Gradually, he realized that he was acting

like an adolescent. Getting up, he went into the bedroom and stripped off

his clothes. Then he opened the door to the bathroom. "Leave the water

on," he shouted over the sound of the shower. While he was brushing his

teeth, Jennifer got out of the shower and, without looking at him, took

her towel and went into the bedroom. Although she left the water going

as he requested, it was obvious that she was irritated.

Adam had always found it difficult to apologize. Maybe they should do

something crazy, like go out to dinner. Stepping into the shower, he

decided to take Jennifer to a restaurant called One by Land, Two by Sea.

It was close enough so they could walk. They'd never eaten there, but one

of Adam's classmates had gone with his parents and had said it was

fantastic and expensive. What the hell, thought Adam. He was going to

have a real job soon and they needed to celebrate.

"Got a great idea," said Adam when he came into the bedroom. "How about

going out for dinner?"

Jennifer looked away from the TV and gloomily shook her head.

"What do you mean, no?" said Adam. "Come on. We need to get out. it will

be a real treat."

"We can't afford it," said Jennifer. She returned to the TV its if the

matter were closed.

Adam towel-dried his hair while he considered this unexpected negative

response. Jennifer was usually ready to try most anything. He sat down

next to her and turned her head from the screen. "Hello," he said. "I'm

trying to talk with you."

Jennifer raised her face, and he noticed that she looked as exhausted as

he did.

MINDBEND 77

"I hear you," she said. "I bought groceries. As soon as the news is over,

I'll make dinner."

"Tonight I want something different than Hamburger Helper," said Adam.

"I didn't get Hamburger Helper," said Jennifer irritably.

" I meant that as a figure of speech," said Adam. "Come on. Let's go out

for dinner. I think we need a break. I went to see the dean this

afternoon and made sure we can't borrow any more money. So I told him I'm

taking a leave of absence."

"You don't have to leave school," said Jennifer. "I already got another

job."

"What kind of job?" asked Adam.

"At Macy's. In the shoe section. The only problem is that I will have to

work alternate weekends, but hopefully we can coordinate that with your

on-call schedule. Surprisingly, I'll be making the same salary as I did

dancing. Anyway, you don't have to drop out of school."

Adam stood up from the bed. "You're not working at Macly's and that's

final."

"Oh," said Jennifer, widening her eyes in mock surprise. "Has the king

spoken?"

"Jennifer, this is hardly the time for sarcasm."

"Isn't it?" said Jennifer. "Seems to me you were being sarcastic just a

few moments ago. It's OK for you but not for me?"

"I'm in no mood for an argument," said Adam, as he went to the bureau for

clean underwear. "You are not going to work at Macy's. I don't want you

standing for long hours while you're pregnant. Subject's closed."

"You are forgetting that this is my body," said Jennifer.

78 ROBIN COOK

"That's true," said Adam. "But it is also true that it is our child."

Jennifer felt the blood rise into her face.

"In any case, I've made up my mind," said Adam. "I'm taking a leave of

absence so that I can work for a year or two. Your job will be to take

care of yourselfand the baby, and that doesn't mean standing around in

a department store." Hoping to end the dialogue, Adam stepped into the

living room. Because of the small size of the bedroom closet, his clothes

were in the hall closet.

"Why can't you stay here and discuss this?" Jennifer called out.

Adam came back into the bedroom. "There's nothing more to discuss."

"Oh yes there is," said Jennifer, giving vent to her anger. A have as

much to say about all this as you do. No one agrees with you about

leaving medical school and the reason is simple: you shouldn't. I'm

perfectly capable of working right up until the last month, even the last

week. Why do both ol'us have to interrupt our careers? Since I obviously

can't continue dancing, it's only sensible that I get the new job. Your

staying in school will be best for all of us in the long run. Besides,

I

-already have a position and you don't have any idea of what you could

do."

"Oh yes I have," snapped Adam. "I'm going to Arolen Pharmaceuticals in

New Jersey. I called this afternoon and they are eager to see me. I have

an interview tomorrow."

"Why are you being so bullheaded about this?" said Jennifer. "You don't

have to leave school. I can work. "

"If you call bullheadedness my desire to keep you healthy and keep your

parents from interfer-

MINDBEND 79

ing in our life, then, yes, I'm bullheaded. One way or the other, the

issue is closed, the discussion is over. I'm leaving school and you are

not working at Macy's. Any questions?" Adam knew he was taunting Jennifer,

but he felt she deserved it.

"I've got plenty of questions," said Jennifer. "But I realize that it is

useless to ask them. I wonder if you realize how much like your father

you are."

"Just shut up about my father," shouted Adam. "If anybody around here is

going to criticize my father, I'll (to it. Besides, I'm not like my

father in the slightest."

He kicked the bedroom door shut with a bang. For a moment he stood in the

middle of the living room, wondering what he could break. Then, instead

of doing something stupid, he finished dressing and drying his hair.

Calmer, he decided to try and make peace with Jennifer. He started to

open the bedroom door and was shocked to find it locked.

"Jennifer," he called over the sound of the TV. "I'm going to go out and

get something to eat. I'd like you to go with me."

"You go ahead," called Jennifer. "I want to stay by myselffor a while."

Adam could tell that she'd been crying and he felt guilty.

"Jennifer, open the door," he begged. The TV plaved on. "Jennifer, open

the door."

Still no answer. Adam felt his anger return in a rush. Stepping back, he

eved the door. For a second it seemed symbolic d all his problems. With-

out thinking, he raised his right foot and kicked with all his strength.

The wood around the latch gave, and the door new open, crashing against

the bedroom wall. Jennifer drew herself up in a tight ball against the

headboard.

80 ROBIN COOK

Adam could tell that she was terrified, and he immediately felt stupid.

"They don't make doors the way they used to," he said lamely and tried

to laugh. Jennifer didn't say anything. Adam pulled the door away from

the wall. Where the doorknob had struck, there was a hole in the plaster.

"Well, that was stupid," he said, trying to sound cheerful. "Anyway, as

I was saying. Let's go out and get something to eat."

Jennifer shook her head no.

Adam looked around self-consciously, embarrassed by his tantrum. "OK,"

he said meekly. "I'll be back later."

Jennifer nodded but didn't speak. She watched Adam leave and heard the

door to the hall close and lock. What was happening to them, she won-

dered. Adam seemed like a different person. He'd never been violent, and

violence terrified her. Was this pregnancy going to change everything?

CHAPTER 6

Climbing the third and final flight of stairs in Cheryl Tedesco's apartment

building, Jennifer was appalled. She'd thought her own building was bad, but

Cheryl's made it seem like the Helmsley Palace. A couple of winos-Jennifer

hoped they were not residents-had camped in the lobby.

Checking the number on Cheryl's apartment, Jennifer hesitated before

knocking. Then she had to wait while there were a number of clicks and fi-

nally the sound of the chain being moved before the door swung open.

"Hi! Come on in," said Cheryl. "Sorry it took me so long. My dad insisted

on putting on all sorts of locks. "

A think it's a good idea," said Jennifer, quickly stepping inside. Cheryl

went into the bathroom to finish dressing while Jennifer looked about the

unkempt apartment.

A hope you followed doctor's orders," she called, knowing that Cheryl had

been advised not to have food or drink save for a small amount of water

when she first woke up.

81

82 ROBIN COOK

A haven't eaten a thing," yelled Cheryl.

Jennifer shifted her weight from one foot to another. Sensing that the

entire building was filthy, she didn't want to sit down. The whole idea of

accompanying Cheryl was beginning to upset her, but she couldn't let her go

alone. At least she'd get to see the fabulous Dr. Foley, though she wasn't

about to challenge Adam about obstetricians just yet. They had half made up

the night before, but Jennifer was still distraught at the thought of Adam

leaving medical school. She had her fingers crossed that this interview at

Arolen would be unsuccessful.

"Ready," said Cheryl, emerging from the bedroom. She had an overnight bag

slung over her shoulder. "Let's get the show on the road."

The hardest part of the trip to the Julian Clinic was climbing down

Cheryl's stairs without failing and then getting by the winos. Cheryl was

unconcerned about the bums, saying that when the super got up he'd send

them packing.

They walked to the Lexington Avenue subway and caught the No. 6 train to I

10th Street. It wasn't the greatest neighborhood, but it quickly improved

the closer they got to the clinic. In fact, an entire city block had been

leveled to accommodate the new health-care center. The building was a

fifteen-story contemporary structure of mirrored glass, reflecting the

image of the surrounding early nineteenth-century tenements. For a block in

all directions, the old buildings had been renovated, sandblasted, and

refurbished so that they shone with quaint splendor. And for another block

beyond that, many of the buildings were fronted by scaffolding, indicating

that they too were being repaired. It appeared as if the clinic was taking

over a whole section of the city.

MINDBEND 83

Jennifer went through the front entrance expecting the usual hospital

furnishings but was pleasantly surprised by a lobby that reminded her more

of a luxury hotel. Everything was new and spotlessly clean. The large

reception area was so well staffed that Jennifer and Cheryl did not have to

wait long before a pretty black secretary said, "May I help you?" She was

dressed in a white blouse and blue jumper and wore a name tag that said

"Hi! I'm Louise."

Cheryl's answer was barely audible. "I'm to see Dr. Foley. I'm to have an

abortion."

Louise's face clouded over with concern. "Are you all right, Ms. . . ."

"Tedesco," said Jennifer. "Cheryl Tedesco."

"I'm fine," insisted Cheryl. "Really I am."

"We have psychologists on call for admitting if you'd like to talk to one

now. We'd like to make you as comfortable as possible."

"Thank you," said Cheryl. "But I have my friend here." She pointed to

Jennifer. "I wanted to ask if she will be permitted to go upstairs with

me."

"Absolutely," said Louise. "We encourage patients to have company. But

first let me call up your record on my computer and then alert the

admitting people. Why don't you two go over to the lounge and relax. We'll

be with you in just a few minutes."

As Cheryl and Jennifer walked around to the comfortable sitting area,

Jennifer said, "I'm beginning to understand why you and Candy are so high

on this place. If Louise is any example of how they treat you here, I'm

truly impressed."

They barely had time to slip out of their coats when an elderly gentleman

approached them, pushing a cart with a coffee and tea dispenser. He was

84 ROBIN COOK

dressed in a pink jacket, which he proudly stated

was worn by volunteers.

"Are the nurses this friendly, too?" asked Jennifer.

"Everybody is friendly here," said Cheryl, but despite her smile,

Jennifer could tell that she was anxious.

"How are you doing?" she asked, reaching over and squeezing Cheryl's

hand.

"Fine," said Cheryl, nodding her head up and down as if trying to

convince herself.

"Excuse me, are you Cheryl Tedesco?" asked another p1casant-looking young

woman dressed in a white shirt with a blue jumper. Her name tag said "Hi!

I'm Karen."

"I'm Karen Krinitz," she said, offering a hand which Cheryl shook

uncertainty. "I've been assigned to coordinate your case and to make sure

everything runs smoothly. If you have any problems, just page me." She

patted a small plastic device clipped over a blue belt that matched her

jumper. "We want your stay here to be as pleasant as possible."

"Are all the patients assigned a coordinator?" asked Jennifer.

"They certainly are," said Karen proudly. "The whole idea here is that

the patient comes first. We don't want to leave anything to chance. There

is too much opportunity for misunderstanding, especially now that

medicine has become so highly technical. Doctors can sometimes become so

engrossed in the treatment that the patient is momentarily forgotten.

It's our job to keep that from happening."

Jennifer watched as the woman said good-bye and disappeared around a

planter. There was some-

MINDBEND 85

thing about her that Jennifer found strange, but she couldn't put her

finger on it.

"Did her speech seem odd to you?" she asked Cheryl.

"I didn't understand what she was talking about. Is that what you mean?"

"No," said Jennifer, turning to see if she could catch sight of the woman

again. A just thought there was something odd about the way she talked.

But it must be me. I think morning sickness is affecting my brain."

"At least she was friendly," said Cheryl. "Wait until you meet Dr.

Foley."

A few minutes later a man came by and introduced himself as Rodney

Murray. He was wearing a blue jacket made of the same heavy cotton as

Karen's jumper with an identical tag announcing his name. His voice also

had an odd flat quality, and as Jennifer stared at him, she realized that

his eyes did riot seem to blink.

"Everything is ready for you, Ms. Tedesco," he said, fastening a plastic

ID bracelet around Cheryl's wrist. "I'll be accompanying you upstairs,

but first we have to go to the lab for your blood work and a few other

tests."

"Can Jennifer come with us?" asked Cheryl.

"Absolutely," said Rodney.

The man was extraordinarily attentive to Cheryl, and after a few minutes

Jennifer dismissed her initial impression as the working of an

overwrought imagination.

The lab was expecting Cheryl, so they didn't have to wait. Again,

Jennifer was impressed. She'd never been to a doctor's office or a

hospital where she didn't have to wait for everything. Cheryl was

finished in minutes.

86 ROBIN COOK

As they rode up in the elevator, Rodney explained that Cheryl was going

to a special area the hospital had for "pregnancy termination." Jennifer

noted that evervone at the Julian Clinic studiously avoided the wor~

"abortion." She felt it was a good idea. Abortion \,,,,as an ugly word.

They got off at the sixth floor. Again, nothing about the floor resembled

the average hospital. Instead of slick vinyl, the floor was covered with

carpeting. The walls were painted a pale blue and hung with attractive

framed prints.

Rodney took them to a central area that was carefully decorated not to

look like a nurses' station. In front of the central station was a

tastefully appointed lounge where five people dressed in what Jennifer

assumed was the Julian uniform were waiting. Three of the women wore name

tags indicating that thcy were RNs. Jennifer liked the fact that they

were not dressed in the traditional starched white. She had the feeling

that Karen was right: the Julian Clinic had thought of everything. She

began to wonder if Dr. Vandermer had admitting privileges, since she was

sure the delivery floor reflected the same attention to comfort.

"Ms. Tedesco, your room is right over here," said one ofthe nurses who

had introduced herself as Marlene Polaski. She was a broad, big-boned

woman with short blond hair who looked around Cheryl's room as if she

were checking every detail. She even opened the door to the toilet.

Satisfied, she patted the bed and told Cheryl to slip out of her clothes

and make herself comfortable.

The room, like the corridor, was as pleasantly furnished as one in a good

hotel, except for the standard hospital bed. A television was set into

the ceiling at an angle so that it could be viewed

MINDBEND 87

comfortably from either the bed or the easy chair. The walls were light

green with lots of built-in cabinets. The floorwas covered with green

carpet.

After changing into her own pajamas, Cheryl climbed into the bed.

Marlene whisked back into the room, pushing an IV cart. She explained to

Cheryl that they needed an IV just for safety's sake. She started one

deftly in Cheryl's left arm, carefully attaching a small arm board.

Jennifer and Cheryl watched the drops falling in the millipore chamber. All

at once it didn't seem so much like a hotel room.

"So," said Marlene, putting on the last strips of tape. "We'll be taking

you down to the treatment room in a few moments." Then, turning to Jenni-

fer, she said, "You are welcome to come along. That is, of course, if

Cheryl will permit it. She's the boss."

"Oh, yes!" said Cheryl, her face brightening. "Jennifer, you will come,

won't you?"

The room seemed to spin momentarily. Jennifer felt as if she'd expected to

go wading but instead was being thrown into the deep end of the pool. Both

Marlene and Cheryl were looking at her expectantly.

"All right, I'll come," she said finally.

Another nurse swept in with a syringe.

"Here's a little tranquilizer for you," she said brightly as she pulled

down Cheryl's sheet.

Jennifer turned to the window, vaguely studying the rooftop scene that she

could see through the slats of the blinds. When she turned back, the nurse

with the syringe was gone.

"Gangway," called another voice as a gowned and hooded nurse pushed a

gurney into the room and positioned it alongside Cheryl's bed.

88 ROBIN COOK

PP

"My name is Gale Schelin . she said to Cheryl. "I know you don't really

need this gurney and that you could walk down to the treatment room, but

it's standard procedure for you to ride."

Before Jennifer had time to think, she was helping to move Cheryl onto

the gurney and then push her out of the room.

"All the way to the end of the hall," directed Gale.

Outside the treatment room several orderlies took over the gurnev. After

the doors closed behind Cheryl, Jennifer felt relieved. Then Gale took

her arm, saying, "You'll have to enter this way. 11

A don't think it's a good idea . . ." began Jennifer.

"Nonsense," interrupted Gale. "I know what you're going to say. But this

part of the procedure is nothing. The most important thing is Cheryl's

outlook. It's important for her to have the kind of support that family

can bring."

"But I'm not family," said Jennifer, wondering if she should add "and I'm

pregnant myself."

"Family or friend," said Gale, "your presence is crucial. Here. Put this

over your clothes and this over your hair. Make sure that all your hair

is tucked in." She handed Jennifer a sterile gown and hood. "Then come

on in." Gale disappeared through a connecting door.

Damn, thought Jennifer. She was in a storeroom filled with linens and a

large stainless-steel machine that looked like a boiler. Jennifer guessed

it was a sterilizer. Reluctantly, she put on a hood, tucking in her hair

as she was advised. Then she put on the gown and tied it across her

abdomen.

The connecting door opened and Gale returned, eyeing Jennifer as she

opened the latch on the sterilizer. "You're fine. Go right in and stand

to

MINDBEND 89

the left. If you feel faint or anything, just come back in here." There was

a hiss as steam escaped from the machine.

Taking a deep breath, Jennifer went into the treatment room.

It looked just like she had imagined it would. The walls were white tile

and the floor some sort of white vinyl. There was a white porcelain sink

mounted on the wall and glass-fronted cabinets filled with medical

paraphernalia along one side of the room.

Cheryl had been transferred to an examination table that stood in the

center of the room. Next to it was a stand that supported a tray with a

collection of stainless-steel bowls and plastic tubing. Against the far

wall was an anesthesia cart with the usual cylinders of gas attached.

There were two nurses in the room. One of them was washing Cheryl's

abdomen, while the other was busy opening various packets and dropping the

contents onto the instrument tray.

The door to the treatment room opened and a gowned and gloved doctor came

in. He immediately went to the instrument tray and arranged the instruments

to his liking. Cheryl, who had been calmly resting, pushed herself up on

one elbow.

"Ms. Tedesco," said one of the nurses, "you must lie back for the doctor."

"That's not Dr. Foley," said Cheryl. "Where is Dr. Foley?"

For a moment no one moved in the room. The doctor and the nurses exchanged

glances.

"I'm not going through with this unless Dr. Foley is here," said Cheryl,

her voice cracking.

"I'm Dr. Stephenson," said the man. "Dr. Foley cannot be here, but the

Julian Clinic has author-

90 ROBIN COOK

ized me to take his place. The procedure is very easy.

"I don't care," pouted Cheryl. "I won't have the abortion unless he does

it."

"Dr. Stephenson is one of our best surgeons," said a nurse. "Please lie

back and let us get on with this." She put her hand on Cheryl's shoulder

and started to push her down.

"Just a minute," said Jennifer, surprised at her own assertiveness. "It

is obvious that Cheryl wants Dr. Foley. I don't think you should try to

force her to accept someone else."

Everyone in the room turned to Jennifer as if they'd just realized she

was standing there. Dr. Stephenson came over and started to lead her out

of the room.

"Just a minute," said Jennifer. "I'm not going to leave. Cheryl says she

doesn't want the procedure unless Dr. Foley does it."

"We understand," said Dr. Stephenson. "If that is the waY Miss Tedesco

feels, then of course we will respect her wishes. At the Julian Clinic

the patient always comes first. If you'll just go back to Miss Tedesco's

room, she will be right along."

Jennifer glanced at Cheryl, who was now sitting on the edge of the

examination table. "Don't worry," she said to Jennifer. "I won't let them

do anything until Dr. Foley comes."

Bewildered, Jennifer let herself be led out of the treatment room. The

gurney that had brought Cheryl was being rolled back inside, which made

Jennifer feel more comfortable. Removing the hood and gown, she deposited

them in a hamper in the corridor.

Almost immediately Marlene Polaski appeared. "I just heard what

happened," she said to Jenni-

MINDBEND 91

fer. "I'm terribly sorry. No matter how hard you try in a large institution,

sometimes things go wrong. It's been chaotic here for twenty-four hours. We

thought that you knew about poor Dr. Foley."

"What are you talking about?" asked Jennifer.

"Dr. Foley committed suicide the night before last," said Marlene. "He shot

his wife and then himself. It was in all the papers. We thought you knew."

Jennifer stepped into the corridor. Cheryl rolled past her. Jennifer

sighed, glad she was with Dr. Vandermer after all.

As Adam got off the bus in Montclair, New Jersey, he thanked the driver who

looked at him as if he were crazy. Adam was in fact in an oddly jazzed-up

mood, a combination of anxiety about the upcoming job interview and guilt

about his behavior the previous evening. He'd attempted to apologize to

Jennifer, but the best he'd been able to do was sav he was sorry that he'd

broken the door. He hadn't changed his mind about her standing up all day

throughout her pregnancy selling shoes.

Adam spotted the Arolen car right where the

secretary had said it would be: in front of the

Montclair National Bank. Adam crossed the busy

commercial street and tapped on the driver's win

dow. The man was reading the New York Dail - v

News. He reached over his shoulder and unlocked

the rear door.

It was a short ride from the town to the newly constructed Arolen

headquarters. Adam sat with his hands pressed between his knees, taking

every-

92 ROBIN COOK

thing in. They stopped at a security gate, and a uniformed guard with a

clipboard bent down and stared at Adam through the window. The driver

said, "Schonberg," and the guard, apparently satisfied, lifted the

white-and-black-striped gate.

As they went up the sloping drive, Adam was amazed by the opulence. There

was a reflecting pool in the center of the well-tended grounds surrounded

by trees. The main building was a huge bronzed structure whose surface

acted like a mirror. The sides of the building tapered as they soared up

into the sky. There were two smaller buildings on either side, connected

to the main building by transparent bridges.

The driver skirted the reflecting pool and stopped directly in front of

the main entrance. Adam thanked the man and walked up toward the door.

As he drew closer, he checked his appearance in the mirrorlike surface.

He had on his best clothes, a blue blazer, white shirt, striped tie, and

gray stacks. The only problem was that there were two buttons missing

from the left sleeve of the jacket.

Inside the front door he was issued a special badge and told to take the

elevator to the twelfth floor. Riding up in solitary splendor, he noticed

a TV camera that slowly moved back and forth, and he wondered if he were

being observed. When the doors opened, he was greeted by a man about his

own age.

"Mr. McGuire?" asked Adam.

"No, I'm Tad, Mr. McGuire's secretary. Would you follow me, please."

He led Adam to an outer office, told him to wait, and disappeared through

a door that said "District Sales Manager, Northeast."

Adam glanced around. The furniture was repro- MINDBEND 93

duction Chippendale, the wall-to-wall carpet a luxurious beige. Adam

couldn't help but compare the environment to the decaying medical center

he'd recently left, and recalled the dean's warning. He didn't have time for

second thoughts before Clarence McGuire opened the door and motioned Adam

inside. He walked over to a couch and sat down as McGuire gave Tad a few

final orders before dismissing him.

McGuire was a youthful, stocky man an inch or so shorter than Adam. His

face had a satisfied air about it, and his eyes almost closed when he

smiled.

"Would you care for something to drink?" he asked.

Adam shook his head.

"Then I think we should begin," said Mr. McGuire. "what made you interested

in Arolen?"

Adam nervously cleared his throat. "I decided to leave medical school, and

I thought that the pharmaceutical industry would find use for my training.

Arolen gave my class their black bags and the name stuck in my mind."

Mr. McGuire smiled. "I appreciate your candor. OK, tell me why you are

interested in pharmaceuticals."

Adam fidgeted a little. He was reluctant to give the real, humbling reasons

for his interest: Jennifer's pregnancy and his desperate need for cash.

Instead, he tried out the line he had practiced on the bus. "I was

influenced to a large degree by my gradual disillusionment with the

practice of medicinc. It seems to me that doctors no longer consider the

patient their prime responsibility. Technology and research have become

more rewarding intellectually and financially, and medicine has become more

of a trade than a profession." Adam

94 ROBIN COOK

wasn't sure what he meant by that phrase, but it had a nice ring to it so

he let it stand. Besides, Mr. McGuire seemed to buy it.

"Over the last two and a half years I've come to believe the

pharmaceutical companies have more to offer the patient than the

individual doctor has. I think I can do more for people if I work for

Arolen than if I stay in medicine."

Adam leaned back on the sofa. He thought what he had said sounded pretty

good.

"Interesting," said McGuire. "It sounds as if you have given this a lot

of thought. However, I must tell you that our usual method of starting

people like yourself is in our sales force. What the medical professional

likes to call 'detail men.' But I don't know if that would give you the

sense of service you are seeking."

Adam leaned forward. "I assumed that I would start in sales, and I know

it would be a number of years before I could really make a contribution."

He watched McGuire for signs of skepticism, but the man continued to

smile.

"One thing that I particularly wanted to ask . . said McGuire. "Is your

father with the Food and Drug Administration?"

Adam felt the muscles of his neck tighten. "My father is David Schonberg

of the FDA," he said, "but that has no bearing on my interest in Arolen.

In fact, I am barely on speaking terms with my father, so I certainly

couldn't influence his decisions in any way."

"I see," said Mr. McGuire. "But I can assure you that we are interested

in you and not your father. Now, I would like to hear about your

schooling and work experience."

Crossing his legs, Adam began from the begin- MINDBEND 95

ning, starting with grammar school and leading up to medical school. He

described all his summer jobs. It took about fifteen minutes.

"Very good," said Mr. McGuire when Adam had finished. "If you'll wait

outside for a few minutes, I'll be out shortly." As soon as the door

closed, McGuire picked up the phone and called his boss, William Shelly.

Shelly's secretary answered, and McGuire told Joyce to put the VP on the

line.

"What is it?" asked Bill Shelly, his voice crisp and commanding.

A just finished interviewing Adam Schonberg," said Mr. McGuire, "and you

were right. He is David Schonberg's son, and he's also one of the best

candidates I've seen in five years. He's perfect Arolen executive material,

right down to his philosophies about current medical practice."

"Sounds good," agreed Bill. "If he works out, you'll get a bonus."

"I'm afraid I can't take credit for finding him," said Clarerice. "The kid

called me."

"You'll get the bonus just the same," said Bill. "Give him some lunch and

then bring him up to my office. I'd like to talk with him myself."

Clarence hung up the phone and returned to the waiting area outside his

office. "I just spoke with the vice-president in charge of marketing who is

my boss and he'd like to talk with you after lunch. What do you say?"

"I'm flattered," said Adam.

Jennifer I urned away from the window in Cheryl's room and looked at her

friend. She seemed almost angelic with her white skin and freshly washed

96 ROBIN COOK

blond hair. The tranquilizer that she'd been given had obviously taken

effect. Cheryl was asleep, her head comfortably elevated on a pillow.

Jennifer didn't know what to do. Cheryl had been brought back from the

treatment room and told about Dr. Foley's death. Marlene Polaski had tried

to convince Cheryl that Dr. Stephenson was as good a doctor as Dr. Foley

and that Cheryl should go ahead and have the procedure done. She reminded

Cheryl that every day that passed made the abortion more risky.

Jennifer eventually had agreed with Marlene and had tried to change

Cheryl's mind, but the girl continued to insist that no one was going to

touch her except Dr. Foley. It was as if she refused to believe the man had

committed suicide.

Staring at the still form on the bed, Jennifer noticed that her friend's

eyes were slowly opening.

"How do you feel?"

"Fine," said Cheryl sleepily.

"I think I should be going," said Jennifer. "I've got to get dinner ready

before Adam gets home. I'll give you a call later. I can come back tomorrow

if you'd like. Are you sure you don't want Dr. Stephenson to do the

procedure?"

Cheryl's head lolled to the side. When she spoke, her words were slurred.

"What did you say? I didn't hear you exactly."

"I said I think I'll be going," said Jennifer, smiling in spite of herself.

"Did they give you some champagne before they brought you back here? You

sound drunk."

"No champagne," murmured Cheryl as she fumbled with the bed covers. "I'll

walk you to the elevator." Cheryl threw back the blanket, inadvert-

MINDBEND 97

ently jerking the IV line that was still attached to her left arm.

"I think you'd better stay where you are," said Jennifer. Her smile

disappeared, and she felt the initial stirring of fear. She reached out

to restrain Cheryl..

But Cheryl already had her legs over the side of the bed and was pushing

herself up into a shaky sitting position. At that point she noticed that

she had pulled out her IV and was bleeding from the spot where the tube

had entered her arm.

"Look what I did," Cheryl said. She pointed to the IV and in doing so,

lost her balance.

Jennifer tried to grab her shoulders, but in a limp, fluid movement,

Cheryl slipped off the bed onto the floor. All Jennifer could do was to

case her down. She ended up bent double, her face resting on her knees.

Jennifer didn't know what to do: call for help or lift Cheryl. Since

Cheryl was in such an unnatural position, she decided to help her back

to bed and then get the nurses, but when she raised Cheryl's arms, all

she saw was blood.

"Oh God!" she cried. Blood was pouring from Cheryl's nose and mouth.

Jennifer turned her on her back and noted that the skin around her eyes

was black and blue, as if she'd been beaten. There was more blood on her

legs, coming from beneath the hospital gown.

For a few seconds Jennifer was paralyzed. Then she lunged for the nurse's

call button and pressed it repeatedly. Cheryl still had not moved. Aban-

doning the call button, Jennifer dashed to the door and frantically

called for help. Marlene appeared almost immediately and pushed past

Jennifer, who flattened herself against the wall of the corridor,

98 ROBIN COOK

her hands pressed to her mouth. Several other hospital nurses rushed into

the room. Then someone ran out and issued an emergency page over the

previously silent PA system.

Jennifer felt someone take her arm. "Mrs. Schonberg. Can you tell us what

happened?"

Jennifer turned to face Marlene. There was blood on the side of the nurse's

cheek. Jennifer peered into the room. They were giving Cheryl mouth-tomouth

resuscitation.

"We were talking," said Jennifer. "She didn't complain about anything. She

Just sounded drunk. When she tried to get out of bed, she collapsed and

then there was all that blood."

Several doctors, including Dr. Stephenson, ran down the hallway and into

Cheryl's room. Soon another doctor arrived with what looked like an

anesthesia machine. Marlene helped him maneuver it into the room, leaving

Jennifer alone. Jennifer leaned against the wall, feeling dizzy. She was

vaguely aware of other patients standing in the doorways of their rooms.

Two orderlies appeared with a gurney. A moment later Jennifer saw Cheryl

for the last time as she was taken back to the treatment room. She had a

black anesthesia mask clasped over her shockingly pale face. At least a

dozen people were grouped around her shouting orders.

"Are you all right?" asked Marlene, suddenly appearing in front of

Jennifer.

A think so," said Jennifer. Her voice was flat, like Dr. Stephenson's.

"What's wrong with Cheryl?"

A don't think anvbody knows yet," said Marlene.

"She'll be all right,' I said Jennifer, more as a statement than a

question.

"Dr. Stephenson is one of the very best," said

MINDBEND 99

Marlene. "Why don't you come to the lounge across from the nurses' station.

I don't want you sitting by yourself."

"My bag is in Cheryl's room," said Jennifer.

"YOU wait here. I'll get it," said Marlene.

After retrieving it, Marlene took Jennifer to the lounge and offered her

something to drink, but Jennifer assured her that she was fine.

"Do you know what they're going to do?" asked Jennifer, not certain she

wanted to hear the answer.

"That's up to the doctors," said Marlene. "They'll certainly take out the

fetus. Other than that, I don't know."

"Is the baby causing this bleeding?"

"Most likely. Both the bleeding and the shock. That's why they have to get

it out."

Making Jennifer promise to call if she needed anything, Marlene went back

to work. Every few minutes, though, she would wave to Jennifer and Jennifer

would wave back.

Jennifer had never liked hospitals, and this present experience confirmed

her long-standing aversion. She checked her watch. It was three-twenty.

Almost an hour passed before Dr. Stephenson reappeared. His hair was matted

across his forehead, his face drawn. Jennifer's heart skipped a beat.

"we did the best we could," he said, sitting opposite her.

"Is she . . ." began Jennifer, feeling as if she were watching a soap

opera.

Dr. Stephenson nodded. "She's dead. We couldn't save her. She had DIC, or

diffuse intravascular coagulation. It's a condition that we don't really

understand too well, but it is occasionally associated with abortions.

We've only had one other

100 ROBIN COOK

case here at the Julian, and fortunately the patient did well. With

Cheryl, however, the situation was complicated by uncontrollable

hemorrhaging. Even if we had been able to resuscitate her, I'm afraid she

would have lost her kidney function."

Jennifer nodded, but she didn't understand in the slightest. It was all

too unbelievable.

"Do you know the family?" asked Dr. Stephenson.

"No," said Jennifer.

"That's too bad," he said. "Cheryl was not willing to give their address

or phone number. It's going to make it difficult to track them down."

Marlene and Gale appeared in front of Jennifer. Both had been crying.

Jennifer was astounded. She'd never heard of nurses crying.

"We're all very upset about this," said Dr. Stephenson. "That's the

trouble with practicing medicine. You do your best, but sometimes it is

Just not enough. Losing a young, vibrant girl like Cheryl is a tragedy.

Here at the Julian Clinic we take this kind of failure very personally."

Fifteen minutes later Jennifer left the clinic by the same door she'd

entered with Cheryl only hours before. She could not quite grasp the fact

that her friend was dead. She turned and looked up at the mirrored

la~-ade of the Julian Clinic. Depite what had happened, she still had a

good feeling about the hospital. It was a place where people counted.

Following McGuire off the elevator on the nineteenth floor after iunch,

Adam paused, He was again both impressed and appalled by the costly

furnishings. The appointments were so lavish they made McGuire's floor

seem utilitarian by comparison.

MINDBEND 101

Quickening his step, Adam caught up with McGuire just as he was entering

the most spectacular office Adam had ever seen. One entire wall was glass,

and beyond it the Jersey countryside unrolled in winter majesty.

"You like the view?" asked a voice. Adam turned. "I'm Bill Shelly," the man

said, walking around his desk. "Glad you could come out and see us."

"My pleasure," said Adam, surprised at Mr. Shelly's youthfulness. Adam had

expected someone at least fifty years of age as a senior executive. Mr.

Shelly did not appear to be more than thirty. He was Adam's height with

closely cut blond hair combed with a razor-sharp part. His eyes were a

startlingly bright blue. He was dressed in a white shirt with the sleeves

rolled up, pink tic, and tan slacks.

Mr. Shelly gestured out the window. "Those buildings in the distance are

Newark. Even Newark looks good from a distance." Behind Adam, McGuire

chuckled.

Looking out the window, Adam realized he could also see the lower part of

Manhattan. There were lots of clouds, and shafts of sunlight slanted down,

illuminating some of the New York skyscrapers while leaving others in blue

shadow.

"How about some refreshment," said Mr. Shelly, moving over to a coffee

table that supported a silver service. "We've got coffee, tea, and just

about anything else."

The three men sat down. McGuire and Adam asked for coffee. Bill Shelly

poured himself a cup of tea.

"McGuire has told me a little about you," said Shelly, sizing up Adam as he

talked.

Adam began to speak, repeating essentially the

102 ROBIN COOK

same things he had told McGuire earlier. The two Arolen executives exchanged

glances, nodding imperceptibly. Bill had no doubt that McGuire's assessment

had been accurate. The content of the personality profile that Bill had

ordered drawn up during lunch confirmed Bill's sense that Adam was a

particularly good choice for their managerial training program. Finding

candidates was a high priority, since the company was expanding so rapidly.

The only reservation Bill had was that the boy might go back to medical

school, but that could be handled too.

When Adam finished, Bill put down his teacup and said, "We find your

attitude about the medical profession sympathetic with our own. We too are

aware ofdoctors' lack of social responsibility. I think you'%e come to the

right place. Arolen could very well be a perfect home for you. Do you have

any questions for us?"

"if I am hired, I would like to stay in the New York area," said Adam. He

was reluctant to move away from the medical school and wanted Jennifer

delivered at the center.

Bill turned to McGuire. "I think we could find an opening, don't you,

Clarence?"

"Indeed," agreed Clarence quickly.

"Any other questions?" asked Mr. Shelly.

"Not that I can come up with at the moment," said Adam. Thinking the

meeting over, he started to rise, but Bill leaned over to stop him. "Wait

just a little longer." Dismissing his colleague, he said, "Clarence, I'll

send him down to your office shortly." As the door closed behind McGuire,

Bill rose to his feet.

"First, let me tell you that we are very interested in you. Your medical

background is first-

MINDBEND 103

rate. Second, I want to assure you that we would be hiring you on your own

merits, not because of any influence that you may or may not have with

your father."

"I appreciate your saying that," said Adam, impressed by Mr. Shelly's

frankness.

Lifting the personality profile that McGuire had put together, Shelly

added, "You'd be amazed to know that we have already a complete report

on you.

Adam felt a moment's outrage that Arolen would dare invadc his privacy,

but before he'could protest, Bill was saying, "Everything in this report

encourages me not only to hire you but to offer you a spot in our

managerial training program. What do you say?"

Dazed, Adam tried to regain his composure. Things were moving faster than

he'd ever expected. "Is the managerial training done here as well?" he

asked.

"No," said Mr. Shelly. "Sales training is located here, but the

management program is held at our main research center in Puerto Rico."

Puerto Rico! thought Adam. And he had been worried about leaving

Manhattan. "That's a very generous offer," he said at last. "But I think

I'd prefer to start out a little slower, My original idea was to begin

as a sales rep so that I could learn about the business world."

"I can appreciate that," said Mr. Shelly. "But the offer remains. I

should tell you that Arolen is planning to reduce its sales force

starting next year. You might want to keep that in mind."

"Does this mean I have been offered a sales job?" asked Adam.

"Yes, indeed," said Bill. "And there's one more

104 ROBIN COOK

person in our organization that I'd like you to meet." He flipped on his

intercom and asked his secretary to ask Dr. Nachman if he could come down

and meet the new recruit they had discussed earlier.

"Dr. Heinrich Nachman is head of our research center in Puerto Rico. He's

in town for our board meeting, which was held this morning. I'd like you to

meet him. He's a renowned neurosurgeon and a fascinating individual.

Talking with him might make you consider the Puerto Rico offer more

seriously."

Adam nodded, then asked, "When would you like me to start? I'm ready now."

"I do like your attitude," said Shelly. "I'll have you enrolled in our next

sales representative course, which I believe starts in a week. You'll have

to spend a day with a sales rep before then, but I'm sure Clarence McGuire

can set that up for you. As for salary, you'll go on the payroll

immediately. Also, after reading your file, I guess you would like to know

about our maternitv benefits."

Adam could feel his face redden. He was saved from replying by Dr. Heinrich

Nachman's entrance.

The neurosurgeon was exceptionally tall and thin. He had shaggy dark hair

and eyes that appeared to miss very little. He greeted Adam with a broad

smile and stared intensely at him for several minutes. Adam was about to

squirm under the unwavering gaze when the doctor said, "Are we going to see

this young man in Puerto Rico?"

"Unfortunately, not just yet," said Shelly. "Adam feels he'd like to learn

a bit about the business before committing to managerial training."

"I see," said Dr. Nachman. "From what Bill's told me you'd be a real asset

to our organization.

MINDBEND 105

Our research is moving ahead faster than we had anticipated. It would be a

fantastic opportunity for you. You have no idea."

"What area does the research involve?" asked Adam.

"Psycbotropic drugs and fetology," said Dr. Nachman.

There was a pause. Adam looked from one man to the other. They were both

staring at him. "That's very interesting," he said self-consciously.

"At any rate," said Dr. Nachman, "welcome to Arolen Pharmaceuticals." The

researcher stuck out his hand, and Adam shook it.

On the bus ride back to the city Adam felt some misgivings. He remembered

Dr. Markowitz's statement about deserting to the enemy. The idea that a

company could make so much money selling drugs to people who were ill

seemed contrary to all his ideals. He realized that doctors did essentially

the same thing. But there was something else that bothered Adam about

Arolen, something he couldn't quite define. Perhaps it had to do with the

fact that they had done a "complete report" on him.

In anv case, he hadn't made a lifetime commitment and for the moment he

needed the money. If he and Jennifer saved carefully, there was no reason

he couldn't be back in medical school in eighteen months.

As the bus entered the Lincoln Tunnel, Adam pulled out his worn wallet and

surreptitiously glanced into it. There they were, ten crisp hundreddollar

bills nestled against the half-dozen ragged

106 ROBIN COOK

singles. Adam had never seen so much money in cash. Bill had insisted Adam

take an advance, pointing out he might need some new clothes. He wouldn't

be wearing whites to work.

But a thousand dollars! Adam still could not believe it.

Struggling with two Bloomingdale's bags containing shirts and a jacket

for himself and a giftwrapped new dress for Jennifer, Adam took the

Lexington Avenue subway to Fourteenth Street and walked to the apartment.

As soon as he opened the door he heard Jennifer on the phone, talking to

her mother. He glanced into the kitchen and saw no preparations for din-

ner. In fact, he saw no signs of groceries, either. Promising himself

that he was not going to get upset that evening, he walked into the

bedroom where Jennifer was just saying good-bye. She hung up the phone

and turned to face him.

She looked terrible. Her checks were streaked and her eyes were red from

crying. Her hair was half in a bun, half out, hanging limply over her

shoulders.

"Don't tell me," said Adam. "Your parents are moving to Bangladesh."

Large tears welled up in her eyes, and Adam wished he'd kept his big

mouth shut. He sat down next to her and put his arm around her shoulders.

"I tried to call you earlier," said Adam. "The phone was busy."

Jennifer let her hands drop into her lap. "Why were you calling?"

"Just to tell you I was going to be a little late. I got you a little

surprise. Interested?"

MINDBEND 107

Jennifer nodded. Adam went out and got the package. She opened it slowly.

Finally, after carefully refolding the paper, she opened the box.

Expecting delight, Adam was upset when Jennifer just sat holding the

pretty Belle France chemise, the tears continuing to roll down her

cheeks.

"Don't you like it?" he asked.

Jennifer wiped her eyes and pulled the dress out of the box, stood up and

held it under her chin so she could see herself in the mirror. "It's

gorgeous," she said. "But where did you get the money?"

Adam shrugged his shoulders. "If you don't like it, I'm sure you can

exchange it."

Jennifer walked back to Adam and, with the dress still pressed against

her chest, kissed him on the mouth. "I love it. It's one of the prettiest

dresses I've ever seen."

"Then why are you crying?"

"Because I had such an awful day. Did you ever meet Cheryl, Jason's

secretary?"

"I don't think so," said Adam.

"It doesn't matter," said Jennifer. "But she was only nineteen or twenty.

Today I went with her to a place called the Julian Clinic . . ."

A know of it," interrupted Adam. "A huge, new HMO organization, kind of

like the Mayo Clinic. Some of the students that have gone there for

various rotations say it's a bit weird."

"It wasn't the place that was strange," said Jennifer. "It was what

happened. Cheryl went there to have an abortion."

Adam cringed. "Wonderful!" he said with sarcasm. "You went with someone

to have an abortion? Jennifer, are vou crazy?"

"She didn't have anybody else," explained Jennifer. A couldn't let her

go alone."

108 ROBIN COOK

"Of course not," said Adam. "But if you don't mind my asking, where was her

family or her boyfriend? Why did it have to be you, Jennifer?"

11 1 don't know," admitted Jennifer. "But I went. And then she died!"

"Died!" repeated Adam with horror. "What did she die of? Was she sick?"

Jennifer shook her head. "She was apparently quite healthy. They were just

about to do the abortion when Cheryl realized her own doctor wasn't

present, and she refused to go ahead with the procedure. She expected a Dr.

Foley, but the man is dead. He'd committed suicide. So another doctor was

going to do the abortion."

"In some group practices the patient can't choose which physician they

see," said Adam.

"That may be true," said Jennifer, "but it seems to me that the patient

should be informed in advance if the doctor she expected is not going to be

there."

"I can't argue with that," said Adam. "But if she refused the abortion, how

did she die?"

"They said it was diffuse intravascular coagulation. She died right in

front of me. One minute she was all right, and the next minute she fell on

the floor bleeding. It was awful." Jennifer pulled her lower lip into her

mouth and bit on it. Her eyes filled with tears.

Adam put both arms around her and patted her back.

Neither spoke for a few moments. Adam let Jennifer calm down while he

puzzled over the story. How could Cheryl have died of DIC if the abortion

had been canceled? He guessed that it had been a saline induced abortion

and the solution had already been started. He was tempted to ask more

MINDBEND 109

but thought it best if Jennifer weren't made to dwell on the experience.

But Jennifer was unwilling to drop the subject. "What is diffuse

intravascular coagulation?" she asked. "Is it common?"

"No, no," assured Adam. "It's very rare. I don't know too much about it. I

don't think anybody does. Something starts the clotting process inside the

blood vessels. I think it's associated with extensive trauma or bad burns

and occasionally with abortions. But in any case, it is rare."

"It doesn't happen to people who are just pregnant?" asked Jennifer.

"Absolutely not!" said Adam. "Now I don't want you to get

medical-schoolitis and think you I re going to come down with every exotic

disease you hear about. Right now I want you to take a shower, try on this

new dress, and then we'll eat."

"I didn't get groceries," said Jennifer.

"I noticed," said Adam. "No matter. I have a wallet full of money and I'm

dying to tell you how I got it. You take a shower and we'll go out to a

fancy restaurant and celebrate, OK?"

Jennifer got a tissue and blew her nose. "OK," she managed. "I hope I'll be

good company. I'm so upset."

While Jennifer showered, Adam stepped into the living room and looked up

DIC. As he expected, the condition was not related to pregnancy. Putting

the medical text back on the shelf, he noticed the PDR. His curiosity

piqued, he slipped the volume out of the bookcase and turned to the section

for Arolen Pharmaceuticals. Except for an extensive list ot'generic

antibiotics, Arolen did not have many exclusive products in the patented

prescription drug category. There were several tranquilizers

110 ROBIN COOK

that Adam did not recognize as well as some antinausea preparations,

including one for pregnant women, called pregdolen.

Adam wondered how Arolen managed to do so well with such a small list of

new products. They had to sell a lot of drugs to pay for the impressive

headquarters. He put the book back, deciding Arolen's financial base was

none of his business. At least not as long as they continued to pay his

generous salary.

CHAPTER 7

Two days later, Adam was waiting on the street in front of his apartment

house for the Arolen rep to pick him up. McGuire had called the preceding

evening and said that a Percy Harmon would meet Adam at eight-thirty and

take him on a round of sales calls.

Adam had been standing outside for nearly twenty minutes, but despite the

cold drizzle he was glad to be out of the apartment. Although he and

Jennifer had patched up their quarrel, she was still upset that he had

dropped out of medical school and taken a job at a drug company. He knew

part of the reason her reaction bothered him so much was his own

ambivalence about working for Arolen. Still, it wasn't forever and it did

solve their financial problems. Maybe his in-laws would even tell her he'd

done the right thing when she went out to visit today, but he doubted it.

A blue Chevy was slowing in front of him. The driver stopped and rolled

down the window. "Can you tell me where 514 is?"

"Percy Harmon?" called Adam. ill

112 ROBIN COOK

"You betcha," answered the driver as he leaned over and opened the

passenger-side door.

Closing his jacket against the rain, Adam ran down the steps and ducked

into the car.

Percy apologized for being late, explaining that traffic on the FDR Drive

had been murderous due to an accident at the Forty-ninth Street exit.

Adam liked Percy immediately, appreciating his friendliness. He was a

little older than Adam and was dressed in a dark blue suit with a red

polkadot tie and matching handkerchief. He looked businesslike and

successful.

They turned north on Park Avenue and headed uptown.

"Clarence McGuire was pretty enthusiastic about you on the telephone," said

Percy. "What's your secret?"

"i don't know for sure," said Adam, "but I suppose it's because I was a

third-year medical student at the medical center."

"Good God, of course that's it!" said Percv. "No wonder they loved you.

With your background, vou'll be way ahead of us laymen."

Adam was far from convinced. He'd learned a lot of facts about bones and

enzymes, and the function of T-lymphocytes. But how useful was that

information to Arolen? Besides, such facts had a disturbing way of dropping

out of Adam's mind after a particular test was over. He glanced around the

inside of Percv's car. There were pamphlets in boxes on the back seat. Next

to the boxes were looseleaf notebooks, computer printouts, and a pile of

order forms. Printed memoranda were stuck into the recesses on the dash.

The car had the look of a busy office. Adam was not convinced that his

medical-school background would be of

MINDBEND 113

any use in his new job. He glanced over at Percy, who was busy navigating

the New York City traffic. The man looked relaxed and confident and Adam

felt envious.

"How'd you get involved with Arolen?" asked Adam.

"I was recruited straight out of business school," said Percy. "I'd taken

some health economics courses in college and was interested in the health

field. Somehow Arolen found out and contacted me for an interview. I

researched the company and was impressed. Being a sales rep has been fun,

but I'm looking forward to the next step. And thanks to you, I'm heading

off for the managerial training in Puerto Rico."

"What do you mean'thanks to me'?"

"Clarence told me that you were going to be my replacement. I've been

trying to go to Puerto Rico for a year."

"Thev offered me the same opportunity," said Adam.

"To go straight to Puerto Rico?" exclaimed Percy. "My God, man, take them

up on it. I don't know if you know it but Arolen is owned by an extremely

fast-growing financial group. About ten years ago some clever guys

started an organization called MTIC to invest in the health industry.

Arolen was one of their first acquisitions. When they got control of the

company, it was an inconsequential drug house. Now it is challenging the

biggies like Lilly and Merck. Joining now, you'll still be getting in on

the ground floor. Who did you meet out at Arolen besides Clarence

McGuire?"

"Bill Shelly and Dr. Nachman."

Percy whistled and took his eyes off the traffic long enough to give Adam

an appraising glance.

114 ROBIN COOK

"You got to meet two of the original MTIC founders. Both are rumored to

be on the board of directors of MTIC as well as having executive positions

with Arolen. And how did you meet Nachman? He is the head of research down

in Puerto Rico."

"He was here for some meeting," explained Adam curtly. Percy's response

made him wonder anew if Aroien was interested in him or, despite their

assurances, his father.

"The other thing about Puerto Rico," Percy was saying, "is that the

center there is as luxurious as a resort. I've only been there once, but

it is out of this world. I'm looking forward to training there. It's

going to seem like a paid vacation."

Watching the rain beat on the windshield, Adam wondered what kind of

maternity facilities they had in Puerto Rico. The idea of bright sun as

well as the chance to get Jennifer away from her parents had certain

appeal. He sighed. It was nice to daydream, but the fact of the matter

was that he wanted to stay as near to the medical center as possible.

Puerto Rico was out of the question.

"Here we are," said Percy, guiding the car over to the curb in front of

a typical midtown New York City apartment building. He parked in a "No

Standing" tow zone, opened the glove compartment and took out a small

sign that read: "Visiting Physician." "This represents a slight

distortion of the usual meaning of this phrase, but it's nonetheless

true," he said, smiling at Adam. "Now let's plan the attack. The idea

here is for you to get some idea of what it's like to call on a typical

physician. This fellow's name is Dr. Jerry Smith. He happens to be a very

successful Park Avenue obstetrician. He's also a horse's ass. He thinks

of himself as some intellectual giant, so it will be

MINDBEND 115

extremely easy to butter him up. He also likes free samples, a predilection

which we will be happy to indulge. Any questions before we go to battle?"

Adam said no, but Dr. Markowitz's comment about defecting to the enemy

haunted him as he got out of the car. Percy opened the trunk and gave Adam

a large umbrella to hold while he got out a bunch of drug samples.

"Smith's favorites are tranquilizers," said Percy. "Whatever he does with

them all, I have no idea." Percy loaded a small cardboard box with a

variety of drugs, then closed the trunk.

Dr. Smith's office was packed with women. The air was close and smelled of

damp wool.

Adam hurried after Percy, who went straight to the receptionist.

Reluctantly, Adam glanced around and saw many pairs of eyes regarding him

over the tops of magazines.

"Hello, Carol," Percy was saying. "What a stunning outfit. And your hair!

There's something different. Don't tell me. Let me guess. You got a perm.

God, it looks terrific. And how's that little boy of yours? Good, huh.

Well, let me introduce you to Adam Schonberg. He's going to be taking over

my customers. Now, would you mind if he looked at that dynamite photo you

have of your boy? The one on the bear rug. 11

Adam found himself holding a cube of plexiglass with different photos on

each side. Percy adjusted it in his hand so that he was looking at a chubb

y baby lying on a bath towel.

"And Carol, what about your father?" asked Percy, taking the picture cube

out of Adam's hands and putting it back down on the desk. "Is he out of the

hospital yet?"

Two minutes later Percy and Adam were stand- 116 ROBIN COOK

ing in the doctor's consultation room, waiting for Smith to appear. "That

was an amazing performance," whispered Adam.

"Piece of' cake," said Percy with a wave of his hand. "But I'll tell you

something. The receptionist or nurse is the person you have to impress in

the doctor's office. She controls access to the phvsician and if you don't

handle her properly, you 1 11 die of old age waiting to get in."

"But you acted like you were good friends with that woman," said Adam. "How

did you know all those things about her personal life?"

"Arolen provides you with that kind of information," said Percy simply.

"Arolen keeps a complete record on every member of each physician's staff

as well as the doctor himself. You feed it into the computer.Then when you

have questions, you can get the answers. Nothing mysterious about it. It's

just attention to detail."

Adam glanced around Smith's office. It was elegantly furnished, composed of

dark lacquered cabinets and floor-to-ceiling bookshelves. Facing into the

room was a large mahogany desk, piled high with journals. Adam glanced at

the date on the top issue of the American Journal of' Obstetrics and

Qynecology. It was more than a year old. A paper mailing binder was still

around the magazine. It had never been opened.

The door opened. Dr. Smith stopped on the threshold and called down the

hall. "Put the next patients into rooms six and seven."

A voice answered, but it was too far awav to hear.

"I know I'm behind schedule," shouted Dr. Smith. "So what else is new? Tell

them I've got an important conference." He came into the office and kicked

MINDBEND 117

the door shut behind him. "Nurses, shit!" He was a big man with an

impressive paunch. His heavy jowls made him look like an old bulldog.

"Dr. Smith, how are you?" beamed Percy. Smith allowed the rep to shake

his hand and then quickly retreated behind his desk, where he brought out

a pack of filter-tipped Camels. He lit one and blew the smoke out through

his nostrils.

"I'd like you to meet Adam Schonberg," continued Percy, gesturing toward

Adam. "He's started training for Arolen and I'm taking him around to meet

a few of my more prestigious clients."

The doctor smiled and said, "Well, what do you bovs have for me this

morning?"

All sorts of samples," said Percy, putting the cardboard box on the edge

of the desk and opening it. Dr. Smith eagerly moved forward on his chair.

"I know how much you like Marlium, Arolen's top-selling tranquilizer, so

I brought you a good supply. You'll notice that the packaging has been

improved. Patients love these new bright yellow bottles. I also have a

reprint for you. Studies just completed at the Julian Clinic here in New

York indicate that Marlium has the fewest side effects of any

tranquilizer on the market today. But I don't have to tell you that.

You've been telling us the same thing for as long as I can remember."

"Damn right," said Dr. Smith.

Percy lined up the other drug samples in neat rows on Dr. Smith's desk,

all the time maintaining a running commentary on the proven excellence

of the various products. At every possible juncture he complimented Dr.

Smith's perspicacity in prescribing Arolen drugs for his patients.

"And last but not least," said Percy, "I've brought you fifty starter

samples of pregdolen. I know I

118 ROBIN COOK

don't have to convince you of the virtues of this drug for morning

sickness, You were one of the first to recognize its value. However, I do

have a reprint of a recent article that I'd like you to read when you get

a chance. It compares pregdolen with other similar drugs on the market and

shows that pregdolen is cleared by the liver faster than anything put out

by the competition."

Percy put a glossy reprint on top of one of the piles on Dr. Smith's

desk.

"By the way, how is that boy of yours, David? Isn't he a junior now up

at Boston University? Adam, you should meet this kid. Looks like Tom

Selleck, only better."

"He's doing very well, thanks," beamed Dr. Smith. He took one last drag

on his cigarette before crushing it in a beanbag ashtray. "The kid is

premed, you know."

A know." said Percy. "He's not going to have any trouble getting into

medical school."

Fifteen minutes later Adam found himself climbing back into the passenger

side of the Chevy Celebrity. Percy slid the umbrella in on the floor of

the back seat and then got behind the wheel. There was a parking ticket

under the windshield wiper.

"Oh, well," said Percy. "That sign of mine doesn't always work." He

turned on the wipers and the ticket disappeared. "Ta-da!" he said,

raising his hands as ifhe'd just done a magic trick. "The car is

registered to Arolen and the legal department takes care of that sort of

thing. Now, let's see who's next." He picked up the clipboard and turned

to the next computer printout.

The morning passed quickly as Adam watched Percy expertly handle

receptionists and push Arolen products onto busy practitioners. Adam was

amazed

MINDBEND 119

at how effective Percy was with the physicians. Having talked with Percy

all morning, he was aware of how little scientific information Percy had

to draw on. Yet it didn't seem to matter. Percy knew just enough to make

it sound as if he knew a great deal, and armed with a lot of current drug

information, he was able to snow the physician. Adam began to appreciate

the low regard that Arolen had for the intelligence of the average doctor.

Around eleven-thirty, after leaving the office of an internist on Sutton

Place South, Percy got into the car and rested his head on the steering

wheel. "I think I'm having a hypoglycemic crisis. I gotta get something

to eat. Is it too early for you?"

"It's never too early for me," said Adam.

"Great!" said Percy. "Since Arolen is paying, we're going to do it

right."

Adam had joked in the past about the Four Seasons restaurant as being a

symbol of the rich, though he'd never been in the place. When Percy had

suggested they go there, Adam thought he was joking. When he led the way

into the Grill Room, Adam almost passed out.

Putting his linen napkin on his lap, Adam tried to remember what it was

like in the crowded hospital cafeteria. It seemed a million miles away.

A waiter asked Adam if he wanted a drink. Not sure of himself, he looked

over at Percy who calmly ordered a martini. What the hell, thought Adam,

who quickly said he'd have the same.

"So what is your impression of the business now that you've gotten your

feet wet?"

"It's interesting," said Adam evasively. "Do you eat here every day?"

"No, to tell you the truth. But McGuire said to impress you."

120 ROBIN COOK

Adam laughed. He liked Percy's candor. "I'm impressed enough with your

abilities. You're very good."

Percy shook his head. "It's easy. Like catching fish at a trout farm. For

some inexplicable reason, doctors know very little about drugs. Maybe you

can tell me the reason."

Adam thought for a moment. He'd had courses in pharmacology like everyone

else, but it was true that he knew very little about the actual use of the

drugs. He'd only been taught about their action on a cellular level. What

little he knew about prescribing he'd picked up on the wards. Before he

could answer Percy's question, their drinks arrived.

"Here's to your career with Arolen," said Percy, holding up his glass.

"what about this pregdolen you've been pushing?" asked Adam, remembering

Jennifer's recent complaints. "My wife has been having some trouble with

morning sickness. Maybe I should take a couple of those starter samples."

"I wouldn't if I were you," said Percy, suddenly serious. "I know Arolen

sells a ton of it, and a lot of people think it's the best thing since

sliced bread, but I don't think the drug works and there's a possibility

it's toxic."

"What do you mean?" asked Adam.

"It's been written up in several of the more important medical journals,"

said Percy, taking another sip of his drink. "Of course, I don't refer to

those articles when I call on the doctors. Obviously the doctors haven't

read them because they keep prescribing the stuff like crazy. It sure

explodes the myth that doctors get their drug information from the medical

journals. For most practitioners

MINDBEND 121

that's bullshit. They get their drug information, what little they get,

from the likes of me, and I only tell them what I want to tell them."

Percy shrugged when he noticed Adam's shocked expression. "You more than

anyone must know that doctors prescribe out of hunch and habit. Our job

is to try to make Arolen part of that habit."

Adam slowly turned his glass and watched the olive revolve. He was

beginning to realize what he'd have to close his eyes to in this line of

work.

Sensing Adam's misgivings, Percy added, "To tell you the honest truth,

it will be a relief to get away from the sales end of the business."

"Why?" asked Adam.

Percy sighed. "I don't know how much of this I should be telling you. I

don't want to dampen your enthusiasm. But some weird things have been

going on in my area. For instance, a number of doctors that I'd been

seeing on a regular basis have been taken off my sales list. At first I

thought that they'd moved awav or died, but then I found out that most

of them had gone on an Arolen Conference Cruise, come back, and given up

their practices to go to the Julian Clinic."

"Julian Clinic" evoked a strange response in the pit of Adam's stomach,

as he remembered the name from Jennifer's story.

"Some of those doctors I'd gotten to know pretty well," continued Percy,

"so I went to see them even though the Julian Clinic isn't part of my

territorv. What struck me was that they had all changed somehow. A good

example was a Dr. Lawrence Foley I'd been seeing since I began working

for Arolen. He didn't have much use for Arolen products, but I saw him

because I liked the man. In fact, we played tennis about twice a month."

122 ROBIN COOK

"The Lawrence Foley who just committed suicide?" asked Adam.

"That's the one," said Percy. "And his suicide is part of the kind of

change I'm talking about. I really felt I knew the man. He was a partner

in one of the busiest OB-GYN practices in town. Then he went away on an

Arolen cruise, came back, and gave up everything to work at the Julian

Clinic. When I went to see him, he was a different man. He was so

preoccupied with work, he couldn't take the time to play tennis. And he

was not the suicidal type. The man had never been depressed a day in his

life, and he loved his work and his wife. When I heard what happened, I

couldn't believe it. After shooting his wife he put the shotgun in his

mouth and ..."

"I get the picture," said Adam quickly. "What's the story about these

Arolen Conference Cruises?"

"They are very popular medical seminars that are given on a cruise ship

in the Caribbean. The lecturers are the most famous professors and re-

searchers in their various fields. The meetings have the best reputation

of any medical conventions in the country," said Percy. "But that's all

I know. Being curious, I asked Clarence McGuire about them, but he said

he didn't know much more except that they were organized by MTIC."

"If you're really curious," said Adam, "why not ask Bill Shelly? If what

you told me is true about Arolen liking information about doctors, it

seems to me they'd be fascinated by your observations. Besides, I can

tell you that Bill Shelly is a surprisingly young and personable guy."

"No kidding," said Percy. "Maybe you're right. Maybe I'll go over there

this afternoon. I've always wanted to meet Mr. Shelly and this could be

my chance."

MINDBEND 123

When Adam asked Percy to drop him off at the medical center late that

after-noon, he had the feeling he was not going to be the same doctor after

working for Arolen. They had visited sixteen physicians' offices and had,

according to Percy, dispensed over five hundred bottles of sample drugs.

Most of the doctors had been like Smith: eager to get the samples, quick to

accept Percy's pitch.

Adam went into the hospital through the medical school entrance and headed

up to the periodical room at the library. He wanted to look up pregdolen in

the recent journals. Percy's comments had made him curious, and he did not

like the idea of selling a drug with really bad side effects.

He found what he wanted in a ten-month-old issue of the New England Journal

of'Medicine. It would have been hard for a practicing OB man to have missed

it.

Just as Percy had suggested, pregdolen had proved inefficacious when tested

against a placebo. In fact, in all but three cases the placebo had done a

better job in controlling morning sickness. More importantly, the studies

showed that pregdolen was often teratogenic, causing severe developmental

abnormalities in fetuses.

Turning to the Journal of Applied Pharmacology, Adam found that despite the

adverse publicity, pregdolen's sales had shown a steady increase over the

years, with an especially impressive surge in the last year. Adam closed

the journal, wondering if he were more awed by Arolen's marketing abilities

or the average obstetrician's ignorance.

Putting the magazine back, he decided it was a tossup.

124 ROBIN COOK

* 0 0

Percy Harmon felt like he was on top of the world as he drove out of the

parking area of his favorite Japanese restaurant with a fabulous meal of

sleak sukiyaki under his belt. The restaurant was located in, of all

places, Fort Lee, New Jersey, but at that hour of the night, ten-thirty, it

wouldn't take more than twenty minutes to return to his apartment in

Manhattan.

He did not notice the nondescript man in a blue blazer and tan slacks who'd

stayed at the bar the entire time Percy had been in the restaurant. The man

watched until the blue Chevy disappeared from sight, then made for the

nearby phone booth. "He's left the restaurant. Should be at the garage in

fifteen minutes. I'll call the airport. 11

Without waiting for an answer, the man cut the connection and dropped in

two more coins. He pushed the buttons slowly, almost mechanically.

Driving down the Harlem River Drive, Percy wondered why he had never

thought of going to Bill Shelly before. Not only had the man welcomed

Percy's observations, he'd been downright friendly. In fact, he'd taken

Percy to meet the executive vice-president, and making those kinds of

contacts within an organization like Arolen was invaluable. Percy felt that

his future had never looked so promising.

Percy stopped in front of the garage Arolen had found for him just four

blocks from his Seventyfourth Street apartment. The only time it was in-

convenient was when it was raining. It was in a huge warehouselike

structure that dominated the potholed street. The entrance was barred by an

imposing metal grate. Percy pressed the remote

MINDBEND 125

control device that he kept in the glove compartment and the grate lifted.

Above the entrance was a single sign that said simply "Parking, day, week,

or month," followed by a local telephone number.

After Percy had driven inside, the metal grille* reactivated and with a

terrible screeching closed with a definitive thud. There were no assigned

spots, and Percy made a hopeful swing around before heading down the ramp

to the next level. He preferred to park on the ground floor; the ill-lit

spaces of the substreet levels always made him nervous.

Because of the late hour, Percy had to descend three levels before finding

a spot. He locked the car and walked toward the stairwell, whistling to

keep his spirits up. His heels echoed against the oil-stained cement floor

and in the distance he could hear water dripping. Reaching the stairs, he

yanked open the door and almost fainted with shock. Two men with

old-fashioned crew cuts and wearing plain blue blazers faced him. They

didn't move, they didn't speak. They just stood blocking his way.

Fear spread through Percy's body like a bolt of electricity. He let go of

the door and stepped backward. One of the men reached out and with a bang

sent the door crashing against the wall. Percy turned and [led, racing for

the stairwell at the opposite end of the garage. His leather-soled shoes

skidded on the concrete, making it hard for him to keep his balance.

Looking over his shoulder, he was relieved to see that neither of the two

men was in pursuit. He reached the door of the far exit and tried to pull

it open. The handle didn't budge. His heart sank. The door was locked!

126 ROBIN COOK

All he could hear was the rasping sound of his own breath and the

constant drip of water. The only other way out was the ramp and he

started toward it. He was almost there when he saw one of the men

standing immobile at the base of the sloping driveway, his arms at his

side. Percy ducked behind a parked car and tried to think what to do.

Obviously the men had split up; one was watching the stairwell, the other

the ramp. It was then that Percy remembered the old automobile elevator

in the center.

Keeping low, he moved toward it stealthily. When he reached it, he raised

the wooden gate, ducked under, then lowered it after himself. The other

three walls of the elevator were enclosed with a heavy wire mesh. The

only light came from a bare overhead bulb. Percy's shaking finger pushed

the button marked " 1. "

The elevator activated with a snapping noise, followed by the

high-pitched whine of an electric motor. To Percy's relief, the platform

jolted, then slowly started to rise.

The elevator moved at an agonizingly slow rate, and Percy was no more

than six feet from street level when the two men materialized beneath

him.

Without haste, one of them walked over to the elevator control and, to

Percy's horror, reversed its direction. Panic-stricken, Percy repeatedly

pushed the button, but the elevator relentlessly continued its descent.

Gradually, he realized that they had planned for him to use the elevator.

That was why they had not chased him. They wanted to trap him.

"What do you want?" he shouted. "You can have my money." Desperately, he

pulled out his wallet and tossed it through the wooden lattice to the

MINDBEND 127

garage floor. One of the men bent and picked it up. Without looking through

it, he pocketed it. The other man had pulled out what Percy first thought

was a gun. But as he drew closer he realized it was a syringe.

Percy backed to the rear of the elevator, feeling like a trapped animal. As

the machinery ground to a stop, one of the men reached out and raised the

wooden gate. Percy screamed in terror and slid to thenoor.

Just over an hour later, a blue van pulled onto the tarmac at Teterboro

Airport and rolled to a stop in front of a Gulf Stream jet. Two men got

out, walked to the rear of the van, and hefted out a sizable wooden crate.

Silently, the cargo door on the plane slid open.

CHAPTER 8

There must have been more than a hundred people in the conference

room. All had come to watch their friends and relatives graduate

the Arolen sales course. Arnold Wiseman, the man who'd been in

charge of the course, sat in the front of the podium next to Bill

Shelly. To their right was a large limp American nag.

Adam was somewhat embarrassed by the ceremony, aware that Arolen

was making more of a production than the four weeks of classes

deserved. Yet it was fitting, since Adam had learned that

nine-tenths of what the drug rep sold was pure show.

When he thought about it, Adam was amazed at how quickly those

four weeks had gone. From the first day, he had realized that his

two and a half years of medica I school put him ahead of everyone

else. Half of the other twenty students had degrees in

pharmacology, five had master's degrees in business

administration, and the rest were from various departments of

Arolen Pharmaceuticals.

Adam searched the crowd for Jennifer, thinking

128

MINDBEND 129

she might have changed her mind at the last minute and come, but even as he

searched he realized it was a vain hope. She'd been against his working for

Arolen from the beginning, and even if she had overcome her distaste for his

new job, her morning sickness had become so severe that she could rarely

leave the apartment before noon. Still, he couldn't keep himself from

staring at all the darkhaired women in the audience in case by some miracle

she had arrived.

Suddenly his roving gaze stopped short at a small man with dark curly hair

dressed in a black raincoat. He was standing by the entrance with his hands

thrust into his pockets. Plain, wire-rimmed eyeglasses rested on his

aquiline nose.

Adam turned away, thinking his eyes were plaving a trick on him. Then he

slowly turned to look at the man again. There was no doubt. It was his

father.

Adam spent the rest of the ceremony in a state of shock. When the

formalities were concluded and the reception had begun, he pushed his wav

toward the door where the man was standing. It was his father all right.

"Dad?" said Adam.

Dr. Schonberg turned around. He was holding a shrimp on the end of a

toothpick. There was no smile on his lips or in his eyes.

"What a surprise," said Adam, unsure how to act. He was flattered that his

father had come, but nervous too.

"So it is true," said Dr. Schonberg sternly "You're working for Arolen

Pharmaceuticals!"

Adam nodded.

"What happened to medical school?" asked Dr. Schonberg angrily. "What am I

going to sav to

130 ROBIN COOK

your mother? And after I went to such lengths to be sure you would be

admitted!"

"I think my A average had something to do with that," said Adam. 11

Besides, I'll go back. I've just taken a leave of absence."

"Why?" demanded Dr. Schonberg.

"Because we need the money, said Adam. "We are going to have a child."

For a moment Adam thought he saw a softening in his father's expression.

Then Dr. Schonberg was looking about the room with distaste. "So you have

allied yourself with this . . ." He gestured at the sumptuously appointed

hall. "Don't tell me you are unaware that business interests are trying to

take over the medical profession."

"Arolen provides a public service," said Adam defensively.

"Spare me," said Dr. Schonberg. "I'm not interested in their propaganda.

The drug houses and the holding companies that control them are out to make

money like any other industry, yet they waste millions of PR dollars trying

to convince the public otherwise. Well, it is a lie. And to think that my

own son has become a part of it and because of that girl he married .. ."

"Her name is Jennifer," snapped Adam, feeling the blood rise to his face ;1

"Dr. David Schonberg. Bill Shelly had come up behind Adam, champagne glass

in hand. "Welcome to Arolen. I'm sure you are as proud of your son as we

are. My name is Bill Shelly."

Dr. Schonberg ignored the hand. "I know who you are," he said. "And to be

perfectly honest, I am appalled rather than proud to see my son here. The

only reason I responded to your invitation was to make certain that Arolen

is not expecting

MINDBEND 131

any special considerations because Adam here has joined your

organization."

"Dad," sputtered Adam.

"I've always appreciated honesty," said Bill, withdrawing his hand, "and

I can assure you that we did not hire Adam because his father is with the

FDA."

"I hope that is true," said Dr. Schonberg. "I wouldn't want you to think

that Arolen will have an easier time getting new drugs approved."

Without waiting for a reply, Dr. Schonberg tossed his shrimp into a

wastebasket and pushed through the crowd toward the door.

Adam shook his head in disbelief. "I'm terribly sorry," he said to Bill

Shelly.

"There is no need to apologize," interrupted Bill. "You're not

responsible for your father's beliefs. He's had lots of experience with

the less honest companies in our field. I'm only sorry that he's not had

enough contact with Arolen to appreciate the difference."

"That may be true," said Adam, "but it still does not excuse his

behavior."

"Maybe someday we could convince your father to take one of the Arolen

Conference Cruises. Have you heard of them?"

Adam nodded, remembering Percy Harmon. He had not thought about the man

for over a month, but now Adam wondered why the genial rep had not kept

in touch as he'd promised.

"We've invited your father many times," contintied Bill. "Not only on the

cruise, but also to visit our research facilities in Puerto Rico. Perhaps

you might be able to talk him into accepting our invitation. I'm certain

that if he did, his opinion about Arolen would change."

132 ROBIN COOK

Adam forced a laugh. "At this point in my life I couldn't talk my father

into accepting a free Rembrandt painting. We're barely on speaking terms.

Frankly, I was shocked to see him here today."

"That's a shame," said Bill. "We'd love your father to be one of our

featured lecturers. You know that the seminars have the best reputation

in the country. And, of course, all your father's expenses would be paid

if he agreed to speak."

"Sounds like you should try to appeal to my mother," laughed Adam.

"Spouses are not invited, 11 said Bill as he guided Adam toward the

champagne table.

"Why not?" asked Adam, taking a drink.

"The cruises are strictly academic," said Bill.

"Yeah, sure," said Adam.

"I mean it," said Bill. "The cruises are sponsored by Arolen, but they

are run by MTIC. The only reason the company chose a ship was to keep the

doctors from their usual interruptions: no telephone, no patients, and

no stockbrokers. Each cruise concentrates on a particular clinical or

research topic, and we invite the top men in each field to lecture. The

quality of the seminars is really superb."

"So the ship just goes out to sea and anchors?" asked Adam.

"Oh, no," said Bill. "The ship leaves from Miami, travels to the Virgin

Islands, then to Puerto Rico, then back to Miami. Some of the guests,

usually the lecturers, disembark in Puerto Rico to visit our research

institute."

"So it's all work and no play. Not even any gambling?"

"Well, just a little gambling," admitted Bill with a smile. "Anyway, your

father would enjoy the

MINDBEND 133

experience, so if you have any influence as far as that might be concerned,

you might try to use it."

Adam nodded, but he was still thinking about Percy Harmon. He'd seemed so

sincere that Adam was surprised that he'd not called. He was about to ask

Shelly when the rep had left Manhattan, but Bill was saying, "Have you

given any more thought to our managerial training offer?"

"To tell the truth," said Adam, "I've been completely absorbed by the sales

course. But I promise to think about it."

"Do that," said Bill, his eyes gleaming over the rim of his champagne

glass.

0 00

Later that afternoon Adam was in McGuire's office, going over his sales

territory. "You'll be taking over Percy Harmon's area," said McGuire.

"Normally we'd assign a more experienced rep, but as you know we have great

confidence in you. Here, let me show you."

Clarence opened up a map of Manhattan with a large portion of the east side

outlined in yellow marking pencil. It started at Thirty-fourth Street and

ran north, bounded on the west by Fifth Avenue and on the east by the

river. Adam was disappointed that it did not include his medical center,

but New York Hospital, Mount Sinai, and the Julian Clinic were within the

border.

As if reading Adam's mind, Clarence said, "Of course you understand that

you are not responsible for hospitals or large health maintenance orga-

nizations like the Julian Clinic."

"Why not?" questioned Adam.

"You are eager!" Clarence laughed. "But I can

134 ROBIN COOK

assure you that you will be busy enough with the private MI)s in your area.

All hospitals are handled by the main office."

"The Julian Clinic is more than a hospital said Adam.

"That's true," said Clarence. "In fact, there is a special relationship

between Arolen and the Julian, since both are controlled by MTIC. Conse-

quently, the Julian provides Arolen with direct access to clinical

information, and Arolen provides the Julian with special educational

opportunities."

Leaning forward, Clarence picked up a computer printout and put it on

Adam's lap. "If you have any concern about not being busy enough, just take

a quick glance at this list of your clients."

The weight of the material in Adam's lap was considerable. The front page

said: "Upper East Side Manhattan MD Listing." Under that was written:

"Property of Arolen Pharmaceuticals, Montclair, New Jersey"; and in the

lower right-hand corner was the single word "Confidential."

Adam flipped through the sheets and saw an alphabetical list of physicians

followed by their addresses and phone numbers. The first name on the last

page was Clark Vandermer, 6-/ East 36th Street.

As Adam considered what it would be like calling on Jennifer's

obstetrician, McGuire launched into a long description of the kinds of

doctors Adam would be seeing.

"Any questions?" he said at last.

"Yes," said Adam, remembering the one he'd forgotten to ask Shelly that

morning. "Do you know what happened to Percy Harmon?"

Clarence shook his head. "I'd heard that he was to take the managerial

course in Puerto Rico, but I

MINDBEND 135

don't know if he actually did. I have no idea. Why do you ask?"

"No particular reason," said Adam.

"well, if you don't have any other questions, you can be on your way.

We're always available if you need us, and don't let me forget, here are

the keys to your Arolen car. It's a Buick Century."

Adam took the keys.

"And here is the address of a parking garage. It's as near to your

apartment as my staff could arrange. We pick up the rent."

Adam took the paper, again awed by his company's generosity. A parking

place in the city was worth as much as a car.

"And last but not least, here's your computer access code, as was

explained to you during the sales course. Your personal computer is in

the trunk of the car. Good luck to you."

Adam took the final envelope and shook hands once again with the district

sales manager. He was now officially an Arolen detail man.

0 00

After tuning the radio to an FM rock station, Adam rolled down the window

and jauntily stuck out an elbow. Traveling at fifty miles an hour, he

felt unaccountably light-headed. Then he recalled his father's sneering

disbelief and his smile faded.

"We need the money!" he said out loud. "If you'd helped us, I'd still be

in medical school."

His mood did not improve when he reached the apartment only to find it

empty, a short note taped to the refrigerator: "Gone home." Adam tore it

off and threw it across the room.

He pulled open the refrigerator door and looked

136 ROBIN COOK

inside. There was a little leftover roast chicken. He took it out along

with a jar of mayonnaise and two pieces of ryc. After making a sandwich,

he went into the living room and set up his personal computer. Turning it

on, he keyed in his access code. What doctor should he look up? Hesitating

a moment, he keyed in Vandermer's name. Then he took the telephone off the

cradle and hooked it up to the modem. When everything was ready, he pushed

the execute button, leaned back, and took a hefty bite from his sandwich.

Small red lights appeared on the modem, indicating that he was attached

to the Arolen mainframe.

The screen in front of Adam shimmered, then some text appeared. Adam

stopped chewing for a moment and leaned forward to read.

CLARK VANDERMER, M.D., F.A.C.O.G.

-Biographical data

-Personal data

-Econornic data

-Professional data

-Pharmaceutical usage data

(press space bar to select)

His interest aroused, Adam pressed the space bar until the cursor was

next to "Personal data." Then he pressed the execute key. Again he got

an index:

PERSONAL DATA:

--Family history (past) includes parents and siblings

--Family history (present) includes wife and children Interests and hobbies

MINDBEND 137

-Likes and dislikes

-Social history (includes education)

-Health history

-Personality profile

(press space bar to select)

My God, thought Adam, this is Orwell's 1984. He moved the cursor to "Family

history (present)" and again pushed the execute button. Immediately the

screen filled with extensive text. For the next ten minutes Adam read about

Clark Vandermer's wife and children. It was mostly insignificant detail,

but there were some important things as well. Adam learned that Vandermer's

wife had been hospitalized on three occasions for depression following the

birth of their third child. He also discovered that his middle child, a

female, was diagnosed as having anorexia nervosa.

Adam looked up from the screen, appalled. There was no reason for a drug

firm like Arolen to have such a complete file on a doctor. He suspected

everything they could use was summarized under the single category

"Pharmaceutical usage data." To prove his point, Adam called up that

category and got what he expected, namely an analysis of Vandermer's

prescribing habits, including the amounts of each type of drug he

prescribed each year.

Returning to the index, Adam asked the computer to print out on the

high-speed dot-matrix printer a full report on Dr. Vandermer. The printer

sprang to life, and Adam went back to the kitchen for a Coke.

It was thirty-two minutes before the printer fell silent. Adam tore off the

last sheet and gathered the long train of paper that had formed behind the

138 ROBIN COOK

computer. There were almost fifty pages. Adam wondered if the good doctor

had any idea of the amount of material Arolen had amassed on him.

The content of the report was dry and tediously complete. It even

included Vandermer's investments. Adam skimmed until he got to a descrip-

tion of Vandermer's practice. He learned the doctor was a co-founder of

GYN Associates along with Lawrence Foley! Lawrence Foley, the doctor who

had committed suicide so unexpectedly. Adam wondered if Jennifer knew

Foley had once been in partnership with her own doctor.

Reading on, Adam discovered that Vandermer's current associates were Dr.

John Stens and Dr. June Baumgarten.

His curiosity piqued, Adam decided that Dr. Vandermer would be his first

customer. Remembering Percy Harmon's advice that the way to the doctor

was through his receptionist, Adam punched her up on the computer. Her

name was Christine Morgan. She was twenty-seven, married to David Morgan,

a painter, and had one male child, David Junior, nicknamed DJ.

Trying to conjure up Percy Harmon's confident air, he dialed GYN

Associates. When Christine answered, he explained that he was taking over

for Harmon. He mentioned in passing that the rep had spoken so warmly of

her handsome son. He must have done something right because Christine

told him to come right down. She'd try and get him in.

Five minutes later Adam was heading north on Park Avenue, trying to

remember which Arolen drugs he was supposed to push on OB-GYNs. He

decided he'd concentrate on the generic line of vitamins that Arolen

advertised for pregnancy.

MINDBEND 139

In the neighborhood of Thirty-sixth Street and Park Avenue even unoccupied

tow zones were hard to come by. Adam had to be content with a fire hydrant

space between Park and Lexington. After locking the car, he went around the

back and opened the trunk. It was outfitted with a full complement of

Arolen samples, reprints, and other paraphernalia. There were a dozen Cross

pens emblazoned with the Arolen insignia. Adam was to give them out at his

discretion.

Adam selected an appropriate sample of the drugs and reprints and tossed

them into his briefcase. He slipped one of the Cross pens into the side

pocket of his jacket. Locking the trunk, he set off at a brisk pace for

Vandermer's office.

Christine Morgan was a tightly permed woman with frightened-birdlike

mannerisms. She slid back the glass and asked if she could help him.

"I'm Adam Schonberg from Arolen," he said with as big a smile as he could

muster as he gave out his first Arolen business card. She returned the

smile and motioned for him to come into the reception area. After he'd

admired her most recent photos of DJ, Christine led him back to one of the

empty examining rooms, promising that she would let the head nurse know

that he was there.

Adam sat down on the stool in front of the small white desk. He eyed the

examination table with its stainless-steel stirrups. It was hard to imagine

Jennifer there as a patient.

Several moments later the door burst open and Dr. Clark Vandermer walked

in. To pass the time Adam had pulled out a desk drawer and was casually

looking at the collection of pens, prescription pads, and lab slips. Now

flushing a deep crimson, he shut the drawer and stood up.

140 ROBIN COOK

"Was there something in particular you were looking for?" asked Dr.

Vandermer sarcastically. He was holding Adam's business card and glanced

back and forth between the card and Adam's embarrassed face. "Who the hell

let you in here?"

"Your staff," managed Adam, purposefully vague.

"I'll have to talk to them," said Dr. Vandermer as he turned to leave.

"I'll have someone show you out. I have patients to see."

"I have some samples for you," said Adam quickly. "Also a Cross pen."

Hastily he fished out the pen and held it toward Vandermer who was about to

tear Adam's business card in half.

"Are you by chance related to Jennifer Schonberg?" asked Dr. Vandermer.

"She's my wife," said Adam eagerly, adding, and a patient of yours."

"I thought you were a medical student , said Dr. Vandermer.

"That's true," said Adam.

"Then what the hell kind of nonsense is this?" Vandermer said, waving the

business card.

"I've taken a leave from medical school," said Adam defensively. "With

Jennifer pregnant, we needed the money."

"This is not the time for you people to be having a baby," said Vandermer

pedantically. "But if you are foolish enough to do so, your wife can still

work."

"She's a dancer," said Adam. Remembering Vandermer's own personal problems,

Adam didn't think it fair for the doctor to offer easy solutions.

"Well, it's a crime for you to leave medical school. And working as a

detail man for a drug firm. My God, what a waste!"

Adam bit his lip. Vandermer was beginning to

MINDBEND 141

remind him of his father. Hoping to end the lecture, he asked Vandermer if

there wasn't something that could be done for Jennifer's morning sickness.

"Fifty percent of my patients get morning sickness," said Dr. Vandermer

with a wave of his hand. "Unless it causes nutritional problems, it is best

to treat it symptomatically. I don't like to use drugs if I can avoid it,

especially not Arolen's pregdolen. And don't you start playing doctor and

give her any of that crap. It's not safe, despite its popularity."

Adam's opinion of Dr. Clark Vandermer rose a little. He might be

unpleasantly brusque, but at least he was up-to-date in his medical

reading.

"As long as you are here," said Dr. Vandermer, "you can save me a phone

call. I'm scheduled to lecture next week on the Arolen Conference Cruise.

What's the latest I can board the ship in Miami?"

A don't have the slightest idea," admitted Adam.

"Wonderful," said Dr. Vandermer, reassuming his sarcastic tone. "Now would

you come with me.

Grabbing his briefcase, Adam followed the man out of the examination room

and down the narrow corridor. After about twentv steps Vandermer stopped,

opened a door, and stepped aside to allow Adam to pass. As he did,

Vandermer unceremoniously thrust the Arolen business card into Adam's hand,

then closed the door behind him. Blinking, Adam found himself back in the

crowded waiting room.

"Did you see the doctor?" asked Christine.

A did indeed," said Adam, wondering why in hell thev hadn't discussed the

Arolen cruises during the sales course. If he had known the answer to

142 ROBIN COOK

Vandermer's question, he might have been able to make his pitch.

"I told you I could get you in," said Christine proudly.

Adam was about to ask if he could see either of the other doctors in the

group, when he noticed the nameplates on the wall behind the reception-

ist. In addition to Vandermer, Baumgarten, and Stens, Dr. Lawrence Foley

and Dr. Stuart Smyth were also listed. Adam didn't remember seeing a Dr.

Smyth in Vandermer's file.

Reaching into his pocket, Adam pulled out the Cross pen. "Got a little

surprise for you," he said, handing it to Christine. Brushing off her

thanks, he pointed to Dr. Smyth's name. "is he a new associate?"

"Oh, no," said Christine. "Dr. Smyth has been an associate for fifteen

years. Unfortunately, he's very sick. But I never did see too much of

him. He scheduled most of his patients at the Julian Clinic."

Adam looked back at the nameplates. "Is this the Dr. Foley who committed

suicide?"

"Yes. What a tragedy," said Christine. "He was my favorite doctor. But

we didn't see too much of him either during the last six months. He also

began scheduling his patients at the clinic."

Christine's comment jogged Adam's memory. Percy Harmon had been upset

that so many doctors, including Foley, were abandoning their practices

to go to the Julian Clinic.

"Were you here when Dr. Foley left?" asked Adam.

"Unfortunately," admitted Christine. "It was a nightmare because all of

his patients had to be called and rescheduled."

MINDBEND 143

"Had he been on a trip before he moved?" asked Adam.

"I think so," said Christine. "If I remember correctly he'd been to some

kind of medical meeting. I think it was a cruise."

"What about Dr. Baumgarten and Dr. Stens?" asked Adam. "Are they here

today?"

Sorry, " said Christine. "They're both in surgery."

0 . 0

"I don't understand," Adam said two hours later, waving his chopsticks at

Jennifer. "How come you were too sick to drive out to Arolen this morning,

but well enough to go shopping with your mother all afternoon?"

Jennifer lowered her eyes, pushing her stir-fried vegetables around on her

plate. Earlier she had tried to explain to Adam why it was important for

her to talk with her mother. But Adam had shrugged off her explanation, and

now, rather than say anything nasty, she decided to say nothing at all.

Adam drummed his fingers on the Formica tabletop. Ever since Jennifer had

learned she was pregnant, they seemed unable to talk rationally about

anything. Adam was afraid that if he criticized her further, she would

start to crv.

"Look," he said, "forget about today. Let's just enjoy dinner. You look

beautiful. Is that a new dress?"

She nodded, and he guessed it was a present from her mother.

"It's sure pretty," he said diplomatically, but Jennifer was not to be

soothed.

"The dress may be OK, but I look awful. I thought being pregnant would make

me glow with femi-

144 ROBIN COOK

ninity, but I just feel fat and unattractive." When Adam didn't answer,

she added, "I think a lot of it has to do with this awful nausea. I don't

know why they call it morning sickness when it seems to last all dav."

Adam reached across the table and squeezed her hand. Hoping to cheer her

up, he began telling her about his disastrous visit to Dr. Vandermer.

While he talked, her face began to relax.

"I told you he had a dreadful bedside manner," laughed Jennifer. "Did he

say anything useful about the nausea."

"No, just that it would go away and you were doing fine."

Jennifer sighed. As they walked back from the restaurant, she said little

and as soon as they got home she got into bed and turned on Dynasty.

Depressed by his first day as a rep and upset by his wife's silence, Adam

restlessly turned on his computer. Idly he called up GYN Associates,

thinking he would add Dr. Smyth's name. To his surprise, it was already

there. Wondering if he had made a mistake that afternoon, he went back

to the printout on Vandermer. Smyth's name was not listed. To

cross-check, Adam called up the other associates, Stens and Baumgarten.

Neither Smyth nor Foley appeared in their files.

Adam bit his lower lip. There had to be checks in the program that would

catch such an omission. Or maybe the programmers forgot to put in a

cross-check. If that were the case, Adam felt he should probably tell

Arolen.

Wondering which associates appeared in Smyth's file, Adam punched the

doctor's name. The monitor blinked, then displayed a curt message: "OBGYN

Cruise course 9/9/83. Refresher course sched-

MINDBEND 145

uled 6/5/84 with planned visit to Puerto Rico Research Center." Adam

rubbed the corners of his mouth. The computer obviously knew about Smyth

but apparently had no file on him. Adam couldn't understand it.

He opened his list of customers and ran his finger down the list. Smyth

wasn't mentioned. Adam decided that Arolen serviced Smyth at the Julian

Clinic, even though he was technically a member of GYN Associates. Still,

it all seemed very peculiar.

Puzzled, Adam decided to retrieve Lawrence Foley's file. The machine

printed out a single word: "Terminated."

Pretty sick humor on the part of some programmer, thought Adam.

Over the next three weeks Adam's proficiency as a salesman improved

significantly. As long as he loaded the doctors on his list with samples,

most of them were pleased to hear him extol the virtues of Arolen

Pharmaceuticals. They rarely questioned his claims or inquired about

possible side effects. Adam cheerfully pushed Arolen's full line of drugs

with one exception: pregdolen. The journal article and Vandermer's

warning had impressed him, and he did not want to be responsible for

encouraging the use of such a potentially dangerous drug.

In the evenings he would look up on the computer the doctors he planned

to see next, but just for information to help sales. He decided not to

worry about any possible omissions or inaccuracies like the one involving

GYN Associates.

Then, just when he was relaxing into his new routine, something happened

that aroused his mis-

146 ROBIN COOK

givings. He had an appointment to see a group of busy internists, but when

he reached the office, the receptionist told him they all had to cancel. One

of the partners had just returned from an Arolen cruise and announced he was

quitting the practice and going to work at the Julian Clinic. The other

doctors were furious and at their wits' end trying to accommodate his

patients.

Adam walked away remembering how Percy Harmon had described a similar

incident. And that reminded him that he had never learned why Percy had

failed to call him. When he'd asked in New Jersey, no one had seemed sure

where Harmon was, though he apparently had not gone as planned to Puerto

Rico. Knowing how excited Percy had been about the management program, Adam

found this extremely disturbing.

One afternoon when he finished his rounds early, he decided to run out to

headquarters and see if Bill Shelly could answer some of his questions.

He'd become increasingly curious about the mysterious Arolen cruises. While

he wasn't ready to move to Puerto Rico, he thought a five-day medical

seminar at sea might be fascinating. It would make him feel as if he were

back in medical school. And maybe a little vacation would put his marriage

back in perspective. Jennifer's nausea had worsened, and she was spending

more and more time at her parents'. When Adam tried to interest her in his

new job or to persuade her to call some of her friends, she just put him

off.

It was nearly three-thirty when Adam pulled into the Arolen parking lot.

Shelly had said on the phone that he'd be available until four. A uniformed

guard checked with Shelly's office before buzzing Adam through. When Adam

reached the executive

MINDBEND 147

floor, Bill's secretary Joyce was waiting by the receptionist.

"Good to see you, Mr. Schonberg," she said. "Bill is upstairs. Would you

follow me?"

At the end of the hall, Joyce unlocked the door to a small elevator. She

stepped inside and, using the same key, selected the twenty-first floor.

Adam was startled to find himself riding up the outside of the building in

a glass cage. It was not a pleasant sensation, and he closed his eyes to

the Jersey countryside until the elevator came to a Stop.

He was greeted by a heavily muscled man in a tee shirt and khaki trousers.

"Adam Schonberg?" he asked before leading Adam down a sun-drenched

corridor. The entire exterior wall was glass, and Adam edged as far away

from it as possible. He wasn't exactly afraid of heights, but he didn't

enjoy them. He felt better when they entered an empty lounge. A television

screen was turned to the news. Beyond the lounge was a Nautilus room and

beyond that, a locker room lined with massage cubicles. A wide door at the

opposite end led to the pool.

The man in the tee shirt held the door but did not follow Adam through it.

For a moment the light was so strong, Adam could barely see. One entire

wall was glass, rising for two stories and curving back to form a portion

of the roof. The floor was made of glistening white marble, and the pool

itself was constructed of white tile with blue markings.

A lone swimmer was vigorously doing laps. As he turned, he caught sight of

Adam and swam over to the edge. He was wearing tiny goggles that just

covered his eyes and a black rubber racing cap.

"How about a swim?" said Bill Shelly.

148 ROBIN COOK

Adam shook his head. "Sorry, but I forgot my bathing suit."

" No need for a suit right now. It's the men's hour. Come on, give it a

try. I'm sure Paul can rustle up a towel."

Adam wavered. There really was no reason to refuse, and the chance to

swim twenty-some stories off the ground did not come along every day.

"OK," said Adam. "How do I find Paul?"

"Go back into the locker room. You'll see a buzzer on the wall. Push it

and Paul will appear like a genie."

Adam did as he was told. Paul showed him to a locker and supplied him

with an enormous towel and a white terry-cloth robe.

Adam stripped off his clothes and put on the robe. Walking back outside,

he was acutely aware of his winter white body, and he wondered again how

Shelly maintained his tan. Feeling extremely self-conscious, Adam dropped

the protective robe and dove in. The water was ice cold.

"We keep the pool cool so that it is stimulating , explained Bill when

he caught the pained expression on Adam's face.

After he began swimming, Adam felt better, but when he tried to emulate

Bill's tumbling turns, he only succeeded in getting a nose full of water.

He came up coughing and sputtering.

Bill took pity on him and led him back to the locker room, suggesting

they both have a short massage.

"What is it you wanted to see me about?" Bill asked when they were

settled on adjoining tables.

Adam hesitated. Even though Bill had always been nice to Adam, he never

dropped his cool executive manner.

MINDBEND 149

"I wanted to learn more about the Conference Cruises," said Adam as Paul

indicated he should roll on his back. "My customers always ask about them."

"What do they want to know?"

"Who can go. How you schedule the various specialties. Whether there's

someone at Arolen they can call for information."

"They can call the toll-free MTIC number," said Bill stifflv. "I was hoping

you were going to tell me you'd decided to take the managerial training

course.

"Not just yet," said Adam as Paul continued to knead his shoulders. "But I

was wondering if you would consider sending me on one of the cruises. Do

any of the sales reps go?"

"I , m afraid not," said Bill, getting up and starting to dress. "There are

a lot of people here who would like to go. Unfortunately, the Fjord is not

that big a ship. Anyway, you'd find it boring. Since the purpose of the

program is to supply continuing education to the practicing physician, most

of the entertainment areas of the ship have been converted into lecture

halls."

"I'd still like to go."

" I , m sorry," said Bill, who was obviously losing interest in the

subject. He went to a mirror to put on his tie. "I think it would he smart

for you to concentrate on the work that you are supposed to be doing."

Adam decided this was not the moment to ask about the doctors who had given

up their practices after going on a cruise. It was obvious that Bill Shelly

was becoming irritated by Adam's questions. As he dressed and followed Bill

to the elevator Adam was careful to answer questions, not ask

150 ROBIN COOK

them. But later, driving back to New York, Adam continued to ponder some

of the strange occurrences he now associated with the Arolen cruise. Percy

Harmon's disappearance in particular was disturbing. When Adam had learned

Percy had not gone to Puerto Rico, he'd tried calling him but no one ever

answered. As he drove into the city through the Lincoln Tunnel, Adam

decided to stop by Percy's apartment. Maybe one of his neighbors knew

where he was.

Percy lived in a rundown brownstone four doors in from Second Avenue.

Adam found Percy Harmon's name next to the button for 3C. He pushed it

and waited.

Diagonally across the street, a man in a rumpled blue suit threw down a

cigarette and ground it under the heel of his shoe. Looking in both

directions, he started across to the brownstone, his hand moving toward

his breast pocket.

Adam shifted his weight and pushed the button for the superintendent.

Almost immediately the small foyer filled with a raucous buzz and Adam

opened the door. The interior was dilapidated but much cleaner than in

Adam's building. On the floor below, Adam heard a door open. He walked

to the head of the stairs and looked down. An unshaven man in a

sleeveless undershirt was on his way up.

"Whaddaya want?" said the super.

"I'm looking for Percy Harmon," said Adam.

"You and everybody else," said the super, obviously unimpressed. "He

ain't here, and I haven't seen him for more than a month."

"Sorry to bother you," said Adam as the super went back down. Turning to

leave, Adam hesitated by the stairs. He heard the super's door close and

MINDBEND 151

on a sudden impulse quietly climbed to the third floor. He knocked on 3C,

but there was no answer. He tried the door, but it was locked. He was debat-

ing leaving a note when he noticed a window at the end of the corridor

leading to the fire escape.

Although he had never done anything like this in his life, Adam opened the

window and climbed out. He had an intuitive feeling something had happened

to Percy. He wanted to look into Harmon's apartment to see if there was any

sign of how long he'd been away.

The fire escape was old and rusted, and Adam tried not to look down through

the metal grate at the concrete courtyard below. After inching along with

his hands pressed against the building, Adam finally reached Percy's

window. It was ajar about two inches. Hoping no one would see him and call

the cops, Adam raised the window. Having come this far, he figured he had

nothing to lose and climbed inside Percy's musty bedroom.

Heart pounding, Adam walked around the unmade bed and opened the closet

door. It was filled with clothes. Turning, he looked inside the bathroom.

The water level in the toilet was low, suggesting that it had not been used

for some time.

Adam walked back through the bedroom and into the living room. There was a

newspaper on the coffee table with a seven-week-old date. Moving into the

kitchen, Adam saw that the dishes in the sink were covered with a fuzzy

black mold. Obviously, Percy Harmon had planned to return. And that was

exactly what Adam had feared. Something unexpected must have happened to

the man.

Adam decided to get out and call the police. Before he could leave the

kitchen, a soft noise

152 ROBIN COOK

made him freeze. It was the distinctive sound of a door closing.

Adam waited. There was only silence. He peered out into the living room.

The security chain on the front door was slowly swinging back and forth.

Adam almost passed out. If it had been Percy who'd come in, why was he

hiding? Adam stayed glued to his spot in the kitchen, straining to hear

additional noise. When the refrigerator kicked on next to him, he moaned

with fright. Finally, deciding that at least ten minutes had passed, that

maybe it was all his imagination, he walked into the living room and

glanced into the bedroom. He could see the open window to the fire escape.

The curtains were slowly billowing in the draft. Adam estimated that it

would only take a second to cross the room and climb out.

He never made it. As he ran for the window, a figure appeared from the

closet. Before Adam could respond, a fist slammed into his abdomen, sending

him sprawling to the floor.

CHAPTER 9

When Jennifer arrived at GYN Associates for her monthly checkup, she noticed

there were fewer people waiting than on any of her previous visits. Sitting

on one of the couches, which she had all to herself, she took out a magazine

to read but couldn't concentrate. Instead, she marveled that nothing

untoward had happened to her or her unborn child while Dr. Vandermer had

been out of town attending his convention. She'd been sure that she'd start

bleeding while he was away, and even though she still was not reconciled to

his gruff manner, she didn't want to have to see a new doctor.

in less than fifteen minutes, Jennifer was taken to an examination room. As

she took off her street clothes and put on the paper robe, she asked the

nurse if Dr. Vandermer had enjoyed his vacation.

"I guess so," said Nancy without enthusiasm. She handed Jennifer the urine

container and motioned toward the lavatory door.

Something in her tone bothered Jennifer, but when she came out of the

bathroom, Dr. Vandermer was waiting.

153

154 ROBIN COOK

"I haven't finished with Mrs. Schonberg," said Nancy. "Please, give me

another few minutes. I still have to draw her hematocrit and weigh her."

A just wanted to say hello." His voice was unusually soft, without his

normally brusque overtone. "How are you, Jennifer? You look well."

"I'm fine," said Jennifer, surprised.

"Well, I'll be back as soon as Nancy's done." He closed the door, and Nancy

stood for a moment staring after him. "God!" she said. "If I didn't know

him better, I'd swear he was on something. Ever since he came back, he's

been weird. He's much nicer to his patients, but he's made my job ten times

more difficult. Oh well . .." Nancy turned back to Jennifer. "Let's get

your blood and weight."

She had just finished when Dr. Vandermer returned. "I'll take over," he

said in the same flat voice. "Your weight is fine. How have you been

feeling in general?"

"I haven't examined her yet," interrupted Nancy.

"That's all right," said Dr. Vandermer. "Why don't you run the hematocrit

while I talk to Jennifer."

With an audible sigh, Nancy took the hematocrit tubes and left the room.

"So how have you been feeling?" asked Dr. Vandermer again.

Jennifer stared at the man facing her. He had the same polished good looks,

but his face was slack, as ifhe were exhausted. His hair was also a little

different. It seemed bushier, and instead of his usual hurried manner, he

gave Jennifer the impression that he actually wanted to know what was on

her mind.

"I guess I've been feeling pretty good," she said.

"You don't sound very enthusiastic."

MINDBEND 155

"Well said Jennifer, "I'm less tired, but the morning sickness has gotten

worse, no matter what I do about diet."

"How do you feel about this pregnancy?" asked Dr. Vandermer. "Sometimes

emotions play a role in our well-being."

Jennifer looked at Dr. Vandermer's face. He seemed genuinely concerned. "To

tell the truth," she said, A feel very ambivalent about being pregnant." Up

until that moment she'd been unwilling to admit it, even to her mother. But

Dr. Vandermer did not seem disapproving.

"Second thoughts are very common," he said gently. "Why don't you tell me

how you really feel."

Encouraged by his attitude, Jennifer found herself telling him all of her

fears about her career and her relationship with Adam. She admitted that

Vandermer had been right; it wasn't the proper time for them to have a

child. She talked for nearly ten minutes, saved from tears only by an odd

lack of affect in Vandermer's expression. He was concerned but in some way

remote.

When she finished, he said softly, A appreciate your confiding in me. It's

not healthy to bottle up your feelings. In fact, they may be related to

your continued morning sickness, which should have abated by now. I think

that we will have to try you on some medication." Turning to Nancy, who had

just returned to the room, he said, "Would you go down to the supply room

and bring back a handful of pregdolen samples?"

Nancy left without a word.

"Now then," said Dr. Vandermer, "let's get a good look at you."

The examination included ultrasonography,

156 ROBIN COOK

which Dr. Vandermer described as a method by which images were produced

as ultrasonic waves echoed off the baby's tissues. Jennifer wasn't sure

she understood, but Dr. Vandermer assured her it was both painless and

harmless to mother and fetus alike, and indeed it was. Although a

technician came in to run the unit, Dr. Vandermer insisted on doing the

test himself. On a screen much like a television's Jennifer saw the

outline of her baby.

"Do you care to know the sex of the child?" asked Dr. Vandermer,

straightening up.

"I guess," said Jennifer, not having given the matter much thought.

"I can't be sure," said Dr. Vandermer, "but if I had to guess it looks

like a boy."

Jennifer nodded. For the moment it didn't make any difference if it were

a boy or a girl, but she wondered how Adam felt.

Back in the examination room, Dr. Vandermer sat down at the small desk

and began to write up his findings. He dismissed Nancy, who left without

a word, obviously displeased to have had her job curtailed.

Jennifer sat on the table, wondering whether she should dress. Finally,

Dr. Vandermer turned to face her. "Aside from the morning sickness,

you're doing fine, and maybe this will stop the nausea." He stacked the

samples next to her and wrote out a prescription as well. "Take one pill

three times a day."

Jennifer nodded. She was willing to try anything.

"Now," said Dr. Vandermer in his new monotone voice, "there are two

things I want to discuss with you. First, the next time I see you it will

be at the Julian Clinic."

MINDBEND 157

Jennifer felt her heart skip a beat. The image of Cheryl slumping to the

floor flashed before her. She could see the blood and feel the icy panic.

"Jennifer, are you all right?" asked Dr. Vandermer.

"Maybe I should lie down," said Jennifer, feeling suddenly dizzy.

Dr. Vandermer helped her to lie back.

"I'm terribly sorry," said Jennifer. "I'm all right now. Why will I be

seeing you at the Julian Clinic?"

"Because I've decided to join their staff," said Dr. Vandermer, checking

her pulse. "I'm no longer interested in private practice. And I can assure

you that as a patient you will get better care at the Julian Clinic. Now,

do you feel all right?"

Jennifer nodded.

"Is this the first time in your pregnancy you've felt faint like this?"

"Yes," said Jennifer and went on to describe Cheryl's unexpected death.

"What an awful experience for you," Dr. Vandermer said. "Especially being

pregnant. Fortunately, such a clotting disorder is extremely rare, and I

hope you don't blame the Julian Clinic. I heard about that case and I

happen to know that Miss Tedesco had withheld certain aspects of her

medical history. Her extensive drug usage had caused hematologic problems

that did not show up in routine lab work. Had Miss Tedesco been more

forthright, she'd undoubtedly be alive today. I'm only telling you this so

you won't have any doubts about the clinic."

"I'd heard good things about it before I went with Cheryl. And I must admit

I was impressed with the staff's caring attitude."

158 ROBIN COOK

"That's one of the reasons I'm going there. The doctors aren't involved

with any of the competitive nonsense associate with private practice."

Jennifer sat up, relieved to find that the dizziness had completely passed.

"Are you going to be all right now?" asked Dr. Vandermer.

"I think so," said Jennifer.

"The second thing I wanted to discuss with you is the possibility of doing

amniocentesis."

Jennifer felt another rush of light-headedness, but this time it passed

quickly. "You've changed your mind," she said. It was a statement, not a

question.

"That is true," said Dr. Vandermer. "Initially, I was convinced that your

brother's problem had been congenital, meaning a chromosomal change after

conception. But I got the slides from the hospital where your brother died,

and the lab thinks the problem may be hereditary. Given that possibility,

it would be a mistake not to take advantage of all the technology at our

disposal."

"Would the test show if my child had the same problem?" asked Jennifer.

"Absolutely," said Dr. Vandermer. "But we should do it soon, since it takes

several weeks to get the results. If we wait too long, it will be difficult

to do anything if the result is positive."

"By 'doing anything' you mean an abortion?" said Jennifer.

"Yes," said Dr. Vandermer. "The chances of a problem are very small, but

with the ambivalence you've voiced, I think that you would be able to

handle such an eventuality."

"I'll have to talk with my husband and my parents," said Jennifer.

MINDBEND 159

She left the office nervous about the prospect of amniocentesis but glad

she had a doctor as caring as Vandermer. She'd have to tell Adam that she'd

totally reversed her original impression of the man.

Adam never quite lost consciousness. He was vaguely aware of being dragged

into Percy's living room and unceremoniously dumped onto the couch. He felt

his wallet being removed, and then replaced. That little sequence didn't

jibe with his expectations, and puzzling it over, he shook off his stupor.

The first thing he did was search for his glasses, which were suddenly

thrust into his hand. He put them on and the room came into focus. Sitting

in front of him was a heavyset man in a blue suit and a white shirt open at

the collar.

"Good morning," said the man. "Welcome back."

Adam moved. Nothing hurt, which was surprising.

"Unless you want to ride down to the police station, Mr. Schonberg, you'd

better tell me what you were doing in this apartment."

"Nothing," croaked Adam. He cleared his throat.

"You're going to have to do better than that," said the man, lighting a

cigarette and blowing smoke toward the ceiling.

"I could say the same for you," said Adam.

The stranger reached over and grabbed Adam's shirt front, almost lifting

him off the couch. "I'm not in the mood for wisecracks," he snarled.

Adam nodded.

As suddenly as he'd grabbed him, the man let

160 ROBIN COOK

him go. "OK," said the stranger. "Let's start again. What were you doing

in this apartment?"

"I am a friend of Percy Harmon," said Adam quickly. "Well, sort of a

friend. I was starting work for Arolen Pharmaceuticals and he took me

around to teach me the routine."

The man nodded slightly, as if he accepted the story so far.

"Percy was supposed to call me," Adam said. "He never did and he never

answered his phone. So I came over to see if he was here."

"That doesn't explain why you broke into the apartment," said the

stranger.

"It was an impulse," said Adam meekly. "I wanted to see if he was all

right."

The man didn't say anything. The silence and the tension quickly began

to wear on Adam. A liked Percy," he said. "I was worried about him. He

was supposed to go to Puerto Rico for a training course, but he never got

there."

The man remained silent.

"That's all I know," said Adam. "I never saw him again."

A believe you," said the man, after a pause.

"Thank you," said Adam, relieved to the point he could have cried.

The man stubbed out his cigarette. Reaching into his breast pocket, he

pulled out a card and extended it to Adam. It said "Robert Marlow, Pri-

vate Investigator." In the lower right-hand corner was a telephone

number.

"About six weeks ago Percy Harmon left a Japanese restaurant in Fort Lee,

New Jersey. He never got home. I've been hired by the family to see what

I can find out. I've been watching the apart-

MINDBEND 161

ment. Aside from a couple of young ladies, you're the only one to show up."

"Do you have any idea of what could have happened to him?" asked Adam.

"Not the foggiest," said Mr. Marlow. "But if you happen to hear anything,

I'd appreciate a call."

Adam still felt shell-shocked when he got back to his empty apartment.

Jennifer's absence irritated him. He was upset and he wanted to talk to

her, but he guessed she was off with her mother again. He flung himself

down on the bed and turned on the news. Slowly he began to unwind.

The next thing Adam knew, he heard the front door close and for a moment

thought he was back in Harmon's apartment.

"Well, well," teased Jennifer. "Lying down on the job."

Adam didn't answer.

"What's the matter?" she asked.

"I suppose you've been to Englewood," Adam snapped unreasonably.

Jennifer stared at him. She wasn't up to one of Adam's moods. She resented

having to apologize for seeing her parents. Putting her hands on her hips,

she said, "Yes, I did go home."

"I guessed as much," said Adam, turning to the television.

"What is that supposed to mean?" asked Jennifer.

"Nothing in particular, 11 said Adam.

"Look," said Jennifer, sitting on the edge of the bed, "I had good reason

to go home. Dr. Vandermer suggested I have amniocentesis. I went home to

discuss whether or not to do it."

162 ROBIN COOK

"That's nice," said Adam sarcastically. "You discuss it with your parents

even though it is our child."

"I knew I couldn't get hold of you during the day," explained Jennifer,

trying to be reasonable. "Of course I planned to discuss it with you. But

I wanted to talk to my mother because she experienced the trauma of giving

birth to a Down's baby."

"I still think the decision is ours alone," said Adam.

He rolled over and put his feet on the floor knowing he was being unfair.

"Besides, I thought Vandermer said you didn't need amniocentesis."

"That's true," said Jennifer. "But today he told me that after checking the

slides on my brother, he thinks I should have it."

Adam got to his feet and stretched. From the little he knew about genetics,

he didn't think that Jennifer needed amniocentesis. "Maybe you should get

a second opinion. When I initially asked around for an OB man, people also

recommended Herbert Wickelman."

Jennifer shook her head. "I don't need to see anyone else. Another opinion

would just confuse the issue further. I'm happy with Dr. Vandermer and I

have confidence in him, particularly since his manner has improved so

much."

"What do you mean?" asked Adam.

"Since he returned from his medical conference, he seems to have more time

and interest," said Jennifer. "He isn't so rushed."

Adam forgot his anger. "Has he changed in any other wav?" he asked.

"He says he's tired of private practice," said Jennifer, taking off her

dress and heading into the

MINDBEND 163

bathroom. "He's decided to go to the Julian Clinic, and I'm to see him there

from now on."

Adam slowly sank back on the bed.

"I never thought I'd go back to the Julian after Cheryl died," Jennifer

called out, "but Dr. Vandermer -has convinced me of its excellence. And you

know I was impressed by the staff."

Adam heard the sound of water in the bathroom sink. He didn't know what to

say. He hadn't mentioned anything to Jennifer about Percy Harmon's

disappearance or any of his other suspicions about Arolen, but now that it

seemed as if Vandermer was involved, Adam knew he had to do something.

Adam walked to the bathroom, where Jennifer was washing her face. "I'm

going to insist that you see Dr. Wickelman. I don't like the idea of

Vandermer going to the Julian Clinic."

Jennifer looked up, surprised. There were times lately when Adam acted very

strangely.

"I'm serious," he began, but stopped in midsentence, glimpsing a familiar

bottle on the edge of the sink.

"What the hell is this?" he demanded, grabbing it.

Jennifer glanced from his face to the small bottle he held in his hand.

Then she turned and silently hung up her towel.

"I asked you a question," yelled Adam.

"I think the answer is obvious. It's pregdolen. For my morning sickness.

Now if you'll excuse me." She started for the bedroom. Adam grabbed her

arm.

"Where did you get this?" he demanded, holding the bottle directly in front

of her.

Jennifer pushed it away. "If you must know, from Dr. Vandermer."

164 ROBIN COOK

"That's impossible," said Adam. "Vandermer would never prescribe this

stuff."

Jennifer pulled her arm free. "Are you suggesting that I'm lying?"

Adam returned to the bathroom and poured some of the blue-and-yellow

capsules into his hand. It was pregdolen all right.

"Did you hear me?" demanded Jennifer.

"I don't want you taking this drug," he said. "Do you have any more of it?"

"I'm going to follow my doctor's orders," said Jennifer. "Since I started

taking these pills, I've had the first nausea-free day in months. And re-

member, you are the one who sent me to Dr. Vandermer in the first place."

"Well, you're definitely not going back," said Adam. He lifted Jennifer's

tote bag from the shelf above the toilet and looked inside. The additional

packages of pregdolen were right on top.

Trying to grab the purse, Jennifer shouted, "I like Dr. Vandermer and I

trust him. Give me my bag! "

Adam fished out the other samples before letting it go. "Listen!" he said.

"I don't want you taking this stuff. It's dangerous."

"Dr. Vandermer wouldn't give it to me if it were dangerous," said Jennifer.

"And I intend to take it. After all, I'm the one who is suffering, not you.

And I think that you should remember that you are not a doctor. In fact,

all you are right now is a drug salesman."

Adam opened the sample packages while he lifted the lid of the toilet with

his foot.

"Give me my medicine!" yelled Jennifer, realizing what he was doing.

MINDBEND 165

Adam dumped the contents of the first bottle into the toilet.

Desperately, Jennifer snatched a bottle from Adam's hand and ran into the

bedroom. Stunned, Adam hesitated, then ran after her. For a minute they

stood face to face. Then Jennifer dashed back into the bathroom and tried

to lock the door. But she wasn't fast enough. Adam got his foot beyond the

door, and a brief shoving match ensued. Slowly the door inched open until

Jennifer gave way. She backed up against the shower stall, hiding the

bottle behind her.

"Give me the pregdolen," ordered Adam.

Jennifer shook her head. Her breath was coming in short gasps.

"OK!" snapped Adam as he reached out and roughly pulled her hands from

behind her back.

"No!" shouted Jennifer.

One by one he peeled back her fingers, took the bottle, and emptied it into

the toilet. Jennifer began pounding his back. To protect himself, Adam

threw up his right hand, accidentally hitting the side of her head. The

blow sent her reeling against the wall, momentarily stunned.

Adam dumped the remaining samples into the bowl and flushed them away. Then

he turned to apologize to Jennifer, but she was so furious she wouldn't

listen.

"You're not my doctor," she screamed. "I'm tired of being sick every day,

and if he gives me medication to feel better, I'm going to take it."

She tore into the bedroom and pulled her suitcase down from the top of the

closet.

"Jennifer, what are you doing?" asked Adam, though it was pretty clear what

she had in mind.

166 ROBIN COOK

Jennifer didn't answer but began rolling up clothes and throwing them into

the case.

"Jennifer, we can have disagreements without your running away," said

Adam.

Jennifer turned to face him, her cheeks flushed.

"I'm going home. I'm tired, I don't feel well, and I can't stand this

bickering."

"Jennifer, I love you. The only reason I took those pills away is to

protect our child."

"I don't care why you did it. I have to get away for a few days." She

picked up the phone and Adam listened while she called her father and

made arrangements to take a cab to his office so he could drive her home.

"Jennifer, please don't do this," he begged as she went back to her

packing, but she refused to look at him while she closed the case, picked

up her purse, and stalked out of the apartment.

Alone, it took Adam a few minutes to believe she had actually gone.

Dazed, he wandered into the living room and sat down at the computer.

Turning it on, he connected with the Arolen mainframe and tried to call

up Vandermer's file. He intended to see if Dr. Vandermer's prescribing

habits had changed, but the screen remained blank save for the stark

message: "Transferred to Julian Clinic."

Shocked, Adam wondered if any other files had been erased from the

computer. He pulled the printout McGuire had given him and then asked the

machine to relist the doctors in his assigned territory. Not only had the

computer dropped Vandermer's file, but six other doctors had been taken

off the list.

Frantically, Adam began calling up each of the expunged doctors' names.

None of them had files!

MINDBEND 167

Four had entries like Dr. Smyth's-" Refresher course scheduled . .

."-suggesting that if a doctor went on an Arolen cruise, he didn't have to

be detailed any longer. Two had entries like Vandermer's: "Transferred to

Julian Clinic." Adam wondered if the Cruise Conferences pitched the Julian

Clinic as well as Arolen products.

More confused than ever, Adam asked the computer to list all the physicians

on staff at the Julian Clinic. Dutifully the dot-matrix printer sprang to

life and spewed out a sizable roster. Adam ran his eyes over the list of

names and stopped short at an entry halfway down the sheet: Dr. Thayer

Norton! What the hell was Norton doing at the Julian Clinic? He was chief

of Internal Medicine at the university.

Slowly Adam typed Thayer Norton's name into the computer and requested his

file. All he got was "Transferred to Julian Clinic"!

The idea that the old battle-ax would give up his coveted medical chair at

the university was unthinkable. Adam wondered if Norton had recently taken

a Conference Cruise.

Going back to the computer, Adam tried to access statistical data about the

Julian. He discovered that of the six doctors who had transferred, four

were OB-GYN specialists. Maybe that proved something. For another half hour

Adam fed questions into the computer, but most of his requests were

returned with the message that his access code was not recognized for the

material he was requesting. Switching tactics, he asked for the number of

times amniocentesis was done at the Julian in the previous calendar year.

He got the number: 7,112. When he asked how many had shown an

168 ROBIN COOK

abnormality in the fetus, the computer again refused his access code.

Adam finally asked how many therapeutic abortions had been performed

during that time period: 1,217.

Totally mystified, Adam turned off the computer and went to bed, where

he spent the night confronting an outraged Jennifer in his dreams.

CHAPTER 10

The next morning Adam was so upset to wake up and find Jennifer's side of

the bed empty, that he left the apartment without even bothering to have

a cup of coffee. By eight-thirty he was pacing restlessly outside GYN

Associates, waiting for the office to open. The moment he saw Christine

he began pressing the bell.

"Hello, Adam Schonberg."

Adam thought it was propitious that she'd remembered his name. He

adjusted his dark blue knit tie and said with the sincerest smile he

could muster, "I was in the neighborhood so I thought I'd drop by and get

an update on DJ's batting average.

"He's doing terrific," said Christine. "Better than even I anticipated.

In fact, last Friday . . ."

Adam tuned out as he tried to organize his thoughts. When Christine

paused for breath, he said, "What are the chances that you can get me in

to see Dr. Vandermer?"

"Dr. Vandermer is at the Julian Clinic," she said.

"He's gone already?"

169

170 ROBIN COOK

"Yup. The whole office is a disaster. Yesterday was his last day here,

even though he has hundreds of patients scheduled for the next six

months. I'll be on the phone from now until Christmas."

"So it wasn't expected?" asked Adam.

"Hardly," said Christine. "He came back from his cruise and told Dr.

Stens and Dr. Baumgarten that he was leaving. He said he'd had it with

private practice."

That was exactly what Percy had said about Foley, thought Adam, as

Christine turned away to answer the phone.

"What a mess," she said once she'd hung up. "And all the patients are mad

at me."

"Did Dr. Vandermer behave strangely when he got back from the cruise?"

asked Adam.

"I'll say," laughed Christine. "Nothing we did was good enough for him.

He drove us all crazy, though in some ways he was a lot more considerate.

Before, he'd always been pretty abrupt."

Remembering his own meeting with the doctor, Adam felt that "abrupt" was

a generous description of the man's manner.

"The strangest thing about the affair," continued Christine, "is that Dr.

Vandermer's partner, Dr. Foley, did the very same thing. And at the time

it made Dr. Vandermer furious. But it wasn't so bad when Dr. Foley left

because there were four doctors to take up the slack. Now there are only

two because poor Dr. Smyth is still in the hospital with his weird

disease."

"What kind of disease?" asked Adam.

"I don't know the name , she said. "It's some kind of trouble with his

nerves. I remember when it started." She lowered her voice as if what she

was saying were a secret. "One moment he was

MINDBEND 171

normal, the next he was making strange faces. It was grotesque. And very

embarrassing-"

A woman entered the office and came up to the reception desk, and Adam

stepped out of the way, thinking that Smyth's problem was similar to the

case of tardive dyskinesia that he had discussed in his presentation at

the medical school. In that case the cause was an unexpected reaction to

tranquilizers.

"Do you know if Dr. Smyth had any psychiatric problems?" Adam asked once

the patient was seated.

"I don't think so," said Christine. "He was one of the nicest young men.

Looks a little bit like you. Dark, curlv hair."

"What hospital is he in?" asked Adam.

"He was admitted to University, but I heard one of the nurses say that

he was going to be transferred to the Julian Clinic."

The phone rang again, and Christine reached for it.

" One last question," said Adam. "Did Foley or Smyth go on a Conference

Cruise like Dr. Vandermer?"

"I think they both did," said Christine, lifting the phone. "GYN

Associates, could you please hold?" Turning back to Adam, she asked,

"Would you like to see either Dr. Stens or Dr. Baumgarten?"

"Not today," said Adam. "Another time, when things aren't quite so

hectic. Give my best to DJ."

Christine gave Adam a thumbs-up sign and pushed the blinking button on

the telephone.

Leaving the office, Adam felt he could no longer ignore the strange

coincidences relating to the Julian Clinic. Why had so many doctors

abruptly left their practices to work there? And why, after doing

172 ROBIN COOK

so, had Vandermer suddenly decided to prescribe pregdolen to Jennifer? As

unpleasant as this last interview would be, Adam felt he had no choice but

to confront the obstetrician. He had to convince him either to treat

Jennifer without medication or to relinquish her as a patient. Adam knew he

couldn't persuade his wife to change physicians on his own.

As he approached the southern limits of Harlem, he saw the clinic towering

over the surrounding tenements. Admiring its mirrored surface, Adam

realized that it must have been designed by the same architects who had

built Arolen headquarters. The office building was better suited to its

surroundings. The clinic struck Adam as a twentyfirst-century vision flung

into a two-hundred-yearold setting.

A half block away Adam found a parking spot and backed into it. Taking his

briefcase in case he needed to disguise his visit as a sales call, he

jogged up the broad steps to the clinic's entrance.

The moment he walked inside his suspicions dissipated. He had intended to

march through the lobby to the OB-GYN section as if he were a member of the

staff. From his experience as a medical student he knew that if someone

acted as if he belonged, he could go anywhere in a hospital. But the re-

laxed atmosphere of the Julian changed his mind. He walked directly up to

the large information booth and said he wished to speak with Dr. Vandermer.

"Certainly," said the receptionist. She picked up a phone and relayed

Adam's request. "The doctor is in," she said, smiling broadly. "Do you know

how to get to the GYN clinic?"

MINDBEND 173

"Maybe I should ask the doctor if he has time to see me. I want to talk to

him about my wife."

"Of course he'll see you," she said, as if Adam had lost his senses. "Let

me call one of the orderlies." She pressed a small bell on the counter and

a young man in blue shirt and white chino pants appeared. The receptionist

gave him instructions.

He led Adam down a long central hallway, past a flower shop, a bookstore,

a pleasant-looking cafeteria.

"This is an impressive place," said Adam.

"Yes," said the young man mechanically.

Adam glanced at him as they walked. He had a broad, expressionless face.

Looking more carefully, Adam thought he seemed drugged; he was probably a

psychiatric case. A lot of the chronic patients worked in hospitals. It

made them feel more confident.

The man left Adam in a lounge that resembled a private living room rather

than a hospital waiting room. There was a couch, two chairs, and a small

desk. Strange clinic, thought Adam as he walked to the window. The darkened

glass gave a peculiar cast to the row houses across the street. He felt as

if he were looking at an old photograph.

He wandered back to the couch and began leafing through one of the

magazines. A few minutes later the door opened and Dr. Vandermer came in.

Adam got hastily to his feet.

The man was imposing, especially in his starched white coat. But he seemed

less hostile than at their first meeting.

"Adam Schonberg, welcome to the Julian," he said.

"Thank you," said Adam, relieved and at the same time taken aback by

Vandermer's cordiality.

174 ROBIN COOK

"I'm surprised to find you here. I thought you were very happy in your

practice."

"I was at one time," said Dr. Vandermer. "But fee-for-service medicine is

a thing of the past. Here we try to keep people well, instead of just

trying to cure them when they are sick."

Adam noticed that Vandermer's voice had an oddly flat inflection, as if he

were reciting from memory. "I wanted to talk about Jennifer," he said.

"I assumed as much," said Dr. Vandermer. "I asked the geneticist to come

by."

"Fine. But first I want to discuss the pregdolen."

"Has it helped your wife's nausea?" asked Dr. Vandermer.

"she thinks so," said Adam. "But I suspect it is simply a placebo effect.

What surprises me is that you gave it to her."

"There are a number of drugs on the market," said Dr. Vandermer, "but I

think pregdolen is the best. Normally, I don't like to use drugs for morn-

ing sickness, but your wife's had gone on too long."

"But why pregdolen?" said Adam tactfully. "Especially after the negative

report in the New England Journal. "

"That was a poorly designed study," said Dr. Vandermer. "They didn't use

the proper controls."

Unwilling to confront Vandermer directly, Adam finally said, "But you told

me the last time we spoke that pregdolen was dangerous. What's made you

change your mind?"

Dr. Vandermer shook his head, puzzled. "I've never said the drug was

dangerous. I've been using it for years."

A distinctly remember..." began Adam as two other doctors entered the

lounge. One was a tall,

MINDBEND 175

thin man with gray hair. He was introduced as Dr. Benjamin Starr, the

Julian Clinic's geneticist,

"Dr. Starr and I were just discussing your wife's case this morning,"

said Dr. Vandermer.

"Indeed," said Dr. Starr, launching into a detailed description of the

case. His voice had the same flat inflection as Vandermer's, making Adam

wonder if all the doctors at the Julian Clinic worked themselves to

death.

Adam tried to understand what Starr was saying, but the man seemed to be

speaking deliberately over Adam's head. After trying to make sense out

of the reasons given for Jennifer's amniocentesis, Adam decided he was

wasting his time. It was as if both Vandermer and Starr were trying to

confuse him. As soon as he could, Adam said he had to leave. Dr.

Vandermer offered to buy him lunch in the cafeteria, but Adam insisted

he had to go.

Walking down the hall, he decided Jennifer was right. Dr. Vandermer was

a changed man, and it made Adam nervous. In fact, the whole clinic struck

a false note. Looking at the beautifully decorated rooms, he could

understand why the Julian had such appeal. It seemed the ideal hospital

environment. At the same time, it was almost too nice and, to Adam's

mind, slightly sinister.

Back in the car, Adam hesitated before turning on the ignition. There was

no doubt in his mind that Vandermer had originally proclaimed pregdolen

dangerous and all that super-scientific rhetoric about Jennifer needing

amniocentesis alarmed him. With his wife sequestered at her parents', his

hands were tied. The only thing he was sure of was that he did not want

Jennifer taking pregdolen, which meant that he didn't want her to keep

seeing Vandermer. The problem was that she obviously

176 ROBIN COOK

trusted Vandermer and didn't want to change doctors.

Pulling out into the street, Adam realized that Jennifer was right on two

counts: he wasn't a doctor and he knew nothing about obstetrics. He

realized that if he hoped to change Jennifer's mind, he'd better study

up on the subject.

There were no parking places within blocks of the university hospital,

so Adam pulled the Buick into the hospital parking garage. After he'd

found a space, he went down to the medical center. The Irish fellow at

the information booth recognized him and lent him a white jacket.

in the library, he selected several recent textbooks on obstetrics and

began looking up both morning sickness and amniocentesis. When he was

finished, he turned to a chapter on fetoscopy-the visualization of the

fetus within the uterus-and stared in wonder at the photos of what his

child must look like at this stage in its development.

Returning the books to the desk, Adam made his way to the hospital. After

the soft carpets and gleaming paint at the Julian, the university medical

center looked like a set for Dante's Inferno. It was uniformly drab with

peeling paint and stained floors. The nurses and staff appeared rushed,

and their expressions indicated that their patients' psychological

well-being was not high priority.

Adam took the main elevator to Neurology on the tenth floor. Pretending

that he was still a student, he marched to the nurses' station and posi-

tioned himself squarely in front of the chart rack. There were three

nurses, two ward clerks, and a resident standing about talking, but none

of them so much as looked at Adam.

Dr. Stuart Smyth's chart was in the slot for

MINDBEND 177

room 1066. After a furtive glance at the nurses, Adam grasped the

metal-backed record, pulled it out of the rack, and stepped back into the

relative quiet of the chart room. There was a doctor there, but he was on

the phone making a tennis date. Adam sat down at the desk.

Curiously, Smyth was diagnosed as having tardive dyskinesia. Reading over

the history, Adam learned that Dr. Smyth had no past record of

psychotropic drugs. The cause of his illness was still listed as unknown,

and most of the workup involved sophisticated attempts to isolate a

virus.

The only positive test Adam found was the EEG, but the resident had

written that the results, though slightly abnormal, were nonspecific. In

short, Dr. Smyth had been poked, prodded, and bled for a myriad of tests,

yet the source of his troubles still had not been discovered. He'd been

in and out of the hospital for two and a half months. On a happier note,

he had started to improve, though no one knew why.

Adam returned the chart and walked down the hall to room 1066. Unlike the

other rooms, the door was shut. Adam knocked. After hearing what sounded

like "Come in," he pushed open the door and stepped into the room.

Stuart Smyth was seated near the window, surrounded by books and

periodicals. As Adam entered, he looked up and adjusted rimless glasses.

Adam immediately saw that Christine's observation that he and Smyth

looked alike was true, and it pleased Adam because Stuart was a handsome

man.

Adam introduced himself as a medical student, and Smyth, whose face was

periodically contorted by a grimace, asked Adam to sit down and ex-

178 ROBIN COOK

plained that he was making the best of his confinement by reviewing the

entire field of OB-GYN. His speech was difficult to understand because his

lips and tongue were also affected by distorting spasms.

Despite his impediment, Dr. Smyth was eager for company and not at all shy

about his illness. Adam waited patiently as he slowly recounted the

details, most of which Adam had already gleaned from the chart. He did not

mention the Arolen cruise, and Adam got around to the subject by first

mentioning that Dr. Vandermer was taking care of Jennifer.

"Vandermer is a great obstetrician," said Dr. Smyth.

"He was recommended by one of the OB residents," said Adam. "Apparently he

handles a lot of the house staff."

Dr. Smyth nodded.

"I suppose you've heard that he's just returned from an Arolen cruise?"

Dr. Smyth nodded as his face bunched in a spasm.

"Did you ever go on one of the cruises?" asked Adam.

The book Smyth had been reading slid from his lap and thumped on the floor.

He reached down and picked it up, but when he started to answer, his tongue

wouldn't cooperate and he ended up just nodding his head.

Adam was afraid of tiring Smyth with more questions, but when he stood to

go the doctor waved him back to his seat, making it clear that he wanted to

talk.

"The cruises are wonderful," Smyth managed at last. "I went on one six

months ago and was scheduled to go again this week. This time I was invited

MINDBEND 179

to stop in Puerto Rico. I was looking forward to it, but obviously I'm not

going to make it."

"When you are discharged, 11 said Adam, "I'm sure you'll be able to

reschedule."

"Maybe," said Smyth. "But it is difficult to get a reservation, especially

for Puerto Rico."

Adam next asked about the Julian Clinic. Smyth offered a few superlatives,

but then was taken by a series of contortions so severe he finally motioned

Adam to leave.

Adam thought about returning in a few minutes, but was so far behind in his

Arolen calls that he decided he'd better get to work. Even if he were

suspicious about the drug company, he didn't want to get fired.

When he got home slightly after six, he found the apartment in the same

disorder in which he'd left it. His note, which said "Welcome home. I'm

sorry. I love you," was still on the floor by the door where he'd left it.

Glancing in the refrigerator, he remembered there was nothing in it, and

he'd have to go out to eat. Before doing so, he dialed Jennifer's parents

I number, hoping she'd answer.

Unfortunately, her mother answered the call. "Adam! So nice of you to

call," she said icily.

"Is Jennifer there?" asked Adam as politely as he could.

"She is," said Mrs. Carson. "She's been trying to call you since -early

this morning."

"I've been working," explained Adam, pleased that she wanted to reach him.

"Good for you," said Mrs. Carson. "I should tell

180 ROBIN COOK

you that Jennifer had an amniocentesis test this morning. Everything went

smoothly."

Adam almost dropped the phone. "Oh my God, how is she."

"Fine, no thanks to you."

"Please put her on the phone," said Adam.

"I , m sorry," said Mrs. Carson in a voice that suggested she wasn't

sorry at all, "but Jennifer is sleeping at the moment. When she awakens,

I'll mention that you called."

There was a click as Mrs. Carson hung up.

Adam eyed the receiver for a moment as if it were responsible for his

frustration. Controlling himself', he calmly replaced the instrument in

its cradle, but the nervousness and fear that he'd felt after leaving the

Julian came back in a rush. Why on earth hadn't Vandermer mentioned

Jennifer was in the clinic that morning?

CHAPTER 11

Jennifer never called, and the next morning Adam awoke still filled with

anxiety. After shaving, he found himself pacing the bedroom floor. What

was going on at the clinic? He was terrified at the thought of the

strangely mechanical Vandermer continuing to treat Jennifer but didn't

know how to stop his wife from seeing him. If only he could figure out why

the doctors changed so much after the cruises. If only he could go on one

himself, maybe he'd be able to figure out a way of persuading Jennifer

that Vandermer was dangerous.

Smyth had said his cruise was scheduled to leave from Miami this week.

Adam wondered what would happen if he showed up instead.

, "They'd tell me to get my ass off the boat," he said out loud.

Suddenly he stopped pacing, went into the living room, and turned on the

computer. By the time he got the phone hooked up to the modem, be was

sure he was right.

In his usual two-fingered style, he called up Dr. Stuart Smyth's file and

was told again that the

181

182 ROBIN COOK

doctor was scheduled for a refresher course, a second cruise, that was to

leave that very day.

Dressing quickly, Adam made up his mind. Christine had said he looked

like Smyth, and he had seen the resemblance himself. He picked up the

phone and dialed Miami information. When the operator answered, he

requested the number for Arolen Cruises. The operator said in a nasal

voice, "Sorry, but there is nothing listed under that name.

Adam replaced the phone. Then he had another idea. This time he asked for

a listing for the Fjord. No luck. There was a Fjord Travel Agency, but

that didn't sound promising.

Adam picked up his seersucker jacket and took it into the kitchen. The

iron was on top of the refrigerator and he plugged it into the wall

socket next to the sink. Folding a bath towel lengthwise, he put it on

the kitchen card table and pressed out the jacket's worst wrinkles. That

was when he got the inspiration to call MTIC.

"There is no MTIC in the directory," said the Miami operator, "but there

is MTIC Cruise Lines."

Elated, Adam took the number and tried to call. When a woman answered,

he introduced himself as Dr. Stuart Smyth and asked if he were still

expected on today's cruise. His secretary had failed to confirm his

reservation.

"Just one moment please," said the woman. Adam could hear the faint

sounds of a computer keyboard.

"Here it is," she said. "Stuart Smyth of New York City. You're expected

with today's OB-GYN group. You should be on board no later than 6:00

P.M.

"Thank you," said Adam. "Can you tell me one other thing? Do I need a

passport or anything?"

MINDBEND 183

"Any type of identification is fine," said the woman. "You just need

proof of citizenship."

"Thanks," said Adam, hanging up. How the hell was he going to get proof

of Smyth's citizenship?

For ten minutes Adam sat on the edge of the bed trying to make a

decision. Except for the passport problem, the idea of impersonating

Smyth on the Arolen cruise had a lot of appeal. There was no doubt in

Adam's mind that in order to change Jennifer's impression of Vandermer

he'd have to have damn good evidence of the man's instability. Going on

the cruise seemed the most promising course of action.

But could he impersonate a practicing OB man? And what if there were

people on the cruise who were personal friends of Smyth? Impulsively,

Adam decided he'd give it a try. What could he lose? If he ran into a

personal friend of Smyth, he'd tell him that Smyth had sent him in his

place. And if Arolen found him out, he'd simply say that he couldn't

function as a rep without more information. The worst they could do was

fire him.

With the decision made, Adam jumped into action. His first call was to

Clarence McGuire, whom he told that a family crisis would take him out

of town for a few days. Clarence was instantly sympathetic, hoping that

things would work out.

Adam's next call was to the airlines to see what flight he could get to

Miami. Between Delta and Eastern, he could go anytime he chose.

Finally, he worked up his courage to call Jennifer. His mouth went dry

as he heard the connection go through. One ring. Another. Then Mrs.

Carson picked up the phone.

Using all the graciousness he could muster, Adam

184 ROBIN COOK

said good morning and asked if he could talk with his wife.

"I'll see if she is awake," said Mrs. Carson coolly.

Adam was relieved when Jennifer said hello.

"I'm sorry if I woke you," said Adam.

"I wasn't asleep," said Jennifer.

"Jennifer," said Adam. "I'm sorry about the other night. I don't know

what happened to me. But I want you to come home. The only trouble is

that I have to go out of town for a few days for work."

"I see," said Jennifer.

"I'd prefer not to explain right now, but it is probably best for you to

stay with your parents for a few more days."

"I suppose you're going down to Puerto Rico," said Jennifer icily.

"No, I'm not," said Adam.

"Where are you going?" asked Jennifer.

"I'd rather not say," said Adam.

"Fine," said Jennifer. "Have it your way. Incidentally, just in case

you're interested, I had the amniocentesis yesterday."

"I know," said Adam.

"How did you know?" asked Jennifer. "I tried calling you from seven in

the morning on. You were never in."

Adam realized that Mrs. Carson had not even told Jennifer that he'd

phoned the previous evening. Getting his wife back was going to be an

uphill battle.

"Well, you have a wonderful time on your trip," said Jennifer coldly, and

she hung up before Adam could even tell her how much he loved her.

0 0*

MINDBEND 185

Jennifer put down the phone wondering what could be so important that Adam

would leave her at this difficult time. It had to be Puerto Rico, and yet

Adam had never lied to her before.

"Anything new?" questioned Mrs. Carson.

Jennifer turned to face her parents.

"Adam is going on some kind of trip," she said.

"How nice for him," said Mrs. Carson. "Where is he going?"

"I don't know," said Jennifer. "He wouldn't tell me.

"Could he be having an affair?" asked Mrs. Carson.

"By George, he better not be," said Mr. Carson, who lowered his Wall Street

Journal and glared at the two women.

"He's not having an affair," said Jennifer irritably.

"Well, he's surely acting inappropriately, said her mother.

Jennifer got some Raisin Bran cereal and cut up a banana. Since she'd

started the pregdolen, her nausea had all but disappeared. She carried her

breakfast to the table and sat in front of the TV.

The phone rang again, and she leaped up, thinking it was Adam calling,

having changed his mind about the trip. But when she picked up the phone,

it was Dr. Vandermer on the other end.

"I'm sorry to be calling so early," he said, "but I wanted to be certain to

get you."

"It's all right," said Jennifer, her stomach doing a flip-flop.

"I'd like you to come back to the clinic today," said Dr. Vandermer. "I

need to talk to you. Could you make it this morning some time around ten?

I'm afraid I have surgery this afternoon."

"Of course. I'll be there at ten," said Jennifer.

186 ROBIN COOK

She hung up the phone, afraid to ask what he wanted to talk about.

"Who was it, dear?" asked Mrs. Carson.

"Dr. Vandermer. He wants to see me this morning."

"What about?"

"He didn't say," said Jennifer softly.

"Well, at least it can't have anything to do with the amniocentesis,"

said Mrs. Carson. "He told us the results take about two weeks."

Jennifer dressed quickly, her mind trying to guess what Dr. Vandermer was

going to tell her. Her mother's comment about the amniocentesis test made

her feel a bit better. The only other thing she could think of was that

one of the blood tests had shown she was low on iron or some vitamin.

Mrs, Carson insisted on driving Jennifer to the Julian Clinic and going

in with her for her appointment. They were escorted immediately to Dr.

Vandermer's new office, which smelled of fresh paint.

Dr. Vandermer stood when they entered and motioned for Jennifer and her

mother to take the two chairs in front of his desk. Looking at his face,

Jennifer knew that something was seriously wrong.

"I'm afraid I have some bad news," he said in a voice that betrayed no

emotion.

Jennifer felt her heart leap. All at once the room felt intolerably hot.

"Normally it takes two weeks to get the results of an amniocentesis,"

said Dr. Vandermer. "The reason is that tissue cultures have to be made

in order to see the nuclear material properly. Occasionally, however, the

abnormality is so apparent that the free cells in the amniotic fluid tell

the story. Jennifer, like your mother, you are carrying

MINDBEND 187

a baby with Down's syndrome. The karyotype is of the most severe type."

Jennifer was speechless. There had to be a mistake. She couldn't believe

that her body would deceive her and produce some sort of monster.

"Does that mean that the child won't live more than a few weeks?" Mrs.

Carson asked, struggling with her own memories.

"We believe that the infant wouldn't survive," said Dr. Vandermer. He

walked over to Jennifer and put his arm on her shoulder. "I'm sorry to be

the bearer of such news. I would have waited for the final results, but it

is better for you to know now. It gives you more time to make a decision.

It may not seem much consolation to you, but try to remember that you are

a very young woman. You can have lots of other children and, as you men-

tioned yourself, this is not the best time for you and Adam to have a

baby."

Jennifer listened in shocked silence. Dr. Vandermer turned and caught Mrs.

Carson's eye.

"I think you should go home and discuss the situation with your family,"

Dr. Vandermer continued. "Believe me, it's better to come to a decision now

than after a lengthy and difficult labor and delivery."

"I can vouch for that," said Mrs. Carson. "Dr. Vandermer's right, Jennifer.

We'll go home and talk. Everything is going to work out fine."

Jennifer nodded and even managed a smile for Dr. Vandermer, whose face

finally revealed a trace of emotion.

"Please call me whenever you want," he said as they left.

The two women passed through the clinic, descended into the parking garage,

and retrieved their

188 ROBIN COOK

car in silence. As they drove up the ramp, Jennifer said, "I want to go

home to my apartment."

VP

"I thought we'd go right back to New Jersey , said Mrs. Carson. "I

think your father should know about this."

"I'd like to see Adam," said Jennifer. "He didn't say what time he was

leaving. Maybe I can catch him."

"Maybe we should call first," said Mrs. Carson.

"I'd prefer just to go," said Jennifer.

Deciding this was not the time to argue, Mrs. Carson drove her

daughter downtown, When they went up to the apartment, Jennifer saw

that Adam's two suitcases were still in the closet and none of his

clothes seemed to be missing. She felt reasonably confident that he

had not left.

"well, what do you want to do?" asked her mother.

"Wait and talk to him," said Jennifer in a tone that brooked no

further debate.

0 0a

"I'm going to have to charge you a fee if this happens again," teased the

porter at the university information booth.

Adam took the white coat and slipped it on.

"I just can't stay away from this place. I'm homesick." The sleeves were

two inches too short and there was a big yellow stain on the pocket. "

Is this the best you can do?" he joked.

Confident in his medical disguise, Adam took the elevator to Neurology,

went directly to the nurses'station, smiled at the ward clerk, and again

pulled Smyth's chart from the rack.

All he really wanted was the information on the

MINDBEND 189

front sheet. Turning his back to the clerk, Adam copied down all the

personal information he could find on Smvth: health insurance information,

social security number, wife's name, and birth date. That was a good

start.

Returning the chart to the rack, Adam took the elevator back down to the

library on the main floor. A research assistant directed him to a com-

pendium of American physicians. Looking up Stuart Smyth, Adam checked the

schools the man had attended from college through residency and was

interested to note that he'd done a year of surgical training in Hawaii.

Adam also memorized all of Smyth's professional associations.

His final act before leaving the medical center was to call Christine at

GYN Associates under the pretext of setting up an appointment with Baum-

garten and Stens the following week. He managed to learn that Smyth was

an avid tennis player, a lover of classical music, and a movie buff.

Back in the Buick, Adam drove across town and turned right on Eighth

Avenue. As he approached Forty-second Street, the city changed from

office buildings and warehouses to garish movie theaters with harsh neon

lights and adult bookstores advertising twenty-five-cent X-rated flicks.

Streetwalkers in high-heeled sandals and miniskirts beckoned to him as

he parked his car.

Adam wandered east, lingering in front of magazine stands. After many

offers of drugs, he was approached by a thin man wearing one of those

narrow mustaches that Adam remembered from thirties films.

"You interested in a real lady?" asked the man.

Adam wondered if a real lady was the opposite of the kind that you had

to inflate. He was tempted

190 ROBIN COOK

to ask but wasn't sure if the thin man would appreciate his humor.

"I'm interested in some ID cards," said Adam.

"What kind?" asked the man as if it were an everyday request.

Adam shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe a driver's license and a voter's

registration card."

"A voter's registration card?" repeated the thin man. "I never heard of

somebody asking for that."

"No?" said Adam. "Well, I'm sort of new at this. I want to go on a

cruise, and I don't want anyone to know who I really am."

"Then you want a friggin' passport," said the man. "When do you need it?"

"Right now," said Adam.

"I trust you got cash."

"Some." said Adam. He'd been careful to lock most of his money, plus his

own identification cards, into the glove compartment of the car.

"It will cost you twenty-five for the driver's ficense and fifty for the

passport," said the thin man.

"Wow," said Adam. "I only have fifty on me."

"Too bad," said the man. He turned and started toward Eighth Avenue.

Adam watched him for a moment, then continued walking toward Broadway.

After a few steps he felt a hand on his shoulder.

"Sixty bucks for both," said the thin man.

Adam nodded.

Without another word the man led Adam back toward Eighth Avenue and into

one of the many stores that were plastered with hand-lettered signs

reading "Going Out of Business! Last Three Days! Everything Reduced!"

Adam noticed that the"Last Three Days!" sign was brittle with age.

MINDBEND 191

The store sold the usual assortment of cameras, calculators, and

videotapes and a handful of "authentic Chinese ivories." A center table

supported a line of miniature Empire State Buildings and Statues of

Liberty, plus coffee mugs with "I Love New York" on the sides.

None of the salesmen even looked up as the thin man led Adam through the

length of the store and out the rear door. In the back of the building

was a hall with doors on either side. Adam hoped he wasn't getting

himself into something he couldn't handle. The thin man knocked on the

first door, then opened it and motioned Adam into a small, dark room.

In one corner was a Polaroid camera on a tripod. In another was a

drafting table, set under a bright fluorescent light. A man with a shiny

bald head sat at the table. He was wearing one of those green visors Adam

remembered seeing on cardplayers in old westerns.

The thin man spoke. "This kid wants a driver's license and a passport for

sixty bucks."

"What name?" asked the man with the green visor.

Adam quickly gave Smyth's name, address, birth date, and social security

number.

There was no more talk. Adam was positioned behind the Polaroid camera

and several pictures were taken. Next, the man with the green visor went

over to the drafting table and began to work. The thin man leaned against

the wall and lit a cigarette.

Ten minutes later Adam walked back through the store, clutching his phony

IDs. He didn't open them until he reached the car, but when he did he

found they looked entirely authentic. Pleased, he

192 ROBIN COOK

turned the car toward the Village. He had only an hour or so to pack.

When he reached the apartment, he was surprised to find the police lock

unengaged. He pushed open the door and saw Jennifer and her mother.

"Hi," he said, quite amazed. "This is a nice surprise."

"I was hoping to catch you before you went to Puerto Rico," said

Jennifer.

"I'm not going to Puerto Rico," said Adam.

"I don't think you should be going anyplace, It said Mrs. Carson.

"Jennifer has had a shock and she needs your support .

Adam put his things on the desk and turned to Jennifer. She did look

pale.

"What's the matter?" asked Adam.

"Dr. Vandermer gave her some bad news," replied Mrs. Carson.

Adam did not take his eyes from Jennifer's face. He wanted to tell Mrs.

Carson to shut up, but instead he stood directly in front of his wife.

"What did Dr. Vandermer say?" he asked gently.

"The amniocentesis was positive. He said our baby is severely deformed.

I'm so sorry, Adam. I think I'll have to have an abortion."

"That's impossible," said Adam, slamming his fist into his palm. "It

takes weeks to do the tissue cultures after an amniocentesis. What the

hell is wrong with this Vandermer?"

Adam strode to the phone.

Jennifer burst into tears. "It's not Dr. Vandermer's fault," she sobbed,

explaining that the abnormality was so severe that tissue cultures

weren't needed.

Adam hesitated, trying to remember what he'd read. He couldn't recall any

cases where tissue culture wasn't needed.

MINDBEND 193

"That's not good enough for me," he said, putting through a call to the

Julian Clinic. When he asked for Dr. Vandermer, he was put on hold.

Mrs. Carson cleared her throat. "Adam, I think that you should be more

concerned about Jennifer's feelings than about Dr. Vandermer."

Adam ignored her. The Julian Clinic operator came back on the line and told

Adam that Dr. Vandermer was doing a procedure but would call back. Adam

gave his name and number and then dropped the receiver into its cradle.

"This is crazy," he mumbled. "I had a strange feeling about the Julian

Clinic. And Vandermer

." He didn't finish the sentence.

"I think the Julian Clinic is one of the finest hospitals I've ever been

in," said Mrs. Carson. "And except for my own doctor, I've never met a more

caring man than Dr. Vandermer."

"I'm going over there," said Adam, ignoring his mother-in-law. A want to

talk to him in person." Picking up his keys, Adam strode toward the door.

"What about your wife ?" demanded Mrs. Carson.

"I'll be back." Then he left, slamming the door behind him.

Mrs. Carson was furious. She couldn't believe that she had originally

favored the marriage. Hearing Jennifer weep, she decided it was better not

to say anything. She went over to her daughter, murmuring, "We'll go home.

Daddy will take care of everything."

Jennifer didn't object, but when she got to the door, she said, "I want to

leave Adam a note."

Mrs. Carson nodded and watched Jennifer write a short note at Adam's desk,

then put it on the floor by the door. It said simply: "Gone home.

Jennifer."

194 ROBIN COOK

0 0 a

Adam drove uptown like an aggressive New York City cabbie, pulled

directly in front of the Julian Clinic, and jumped out of the car. A

uniformed security guard tried to stop him, but Adam merely called over

his shoulder that he was Dr. Schonberg and it was an emergency.

When he reached Gynecology, the receptionist acted as if he were

expected.

"Adam Schonberg," she said. "Dr. Vandermer said for you to wait in his

office." She pointed down another corridor. "It's the third door on the

left."

Adam thanked the girl and went to the office she'd indicated. The room

was impressive, the shelves filled with books and medical journals. Adam

glanced at a row of model fetuses, feeling an uncharacteristic urge to

vandalize the place. He wandered over to the desk. It was a large, inlaid

affair with claw feet. On top was a pile of typed operative notes

awaiting signatures.

Dr. Vandermer came in almost immediately. He was carrying a manila folder

under his arm.

"Won't you sit down?" he suggested.

"No, thank you," said Adam. "This won't take long. I just wanted to

confirm my wife's diagnosis. I understand you believe she's carrying a

chromosomally defective child."

"I'm afraid so," said Dr. Vandermer.

"I thought it took weeks to do tissue cultures," said Adam.

Dr. Vandermer looked Adam directly in the eye. "Normally, that is true,"

he said. "But in your wife's case there were plenty of cells for us to

examine directly in the amniotic fluid. Adam, as a

MINDBEND 195

medical student, I'm sure you understand these things happen. But as I

told your wife, you're both young. You can have other babies."

"I want to see the slides , said Adam, preparing himself for an argument.

But Vandermer just nodded and said, "Why don't you follow me?"

Adam began to wonder if he'd been too hasty in his judgment. The man

seemed genuinely sorry to be the bearer of such bad news.

On the fourth floor Vandermer led Adam to the cytology tab. Adam blinked

as they went through the door. Everything was white: walls, floor, ceil-

ing, and countertops. At the back of the room was a lab bench with four

microscopes. Only one was in use, and a middle-aged brunette woman looked

up as Dr. Vandermer approached.

"Cora," he asked, "I hate to bother you, but could you get us the slides

on Jennifer Schonberg?"

Cora nodded and Vandermer motioned for Adam to sit down at a teaching

microscope with dual viewing heads.

"I don't know if you wanted to see the B scan ultrasonography or not,"

said Dr. Vandermer, "but I brought it anyway." He opened the folder he'd

been carrying and handed the images to Adam.

As a medical student, Adam had not had any experience with

ultrasonography, and the pictures looked like inkblots to him. Dr.

Vandermer took the photo that Adam was examining, turned it over, and

outlined the developing fetus with the tip of his finger. "The technique

is getting better and better," he said. "Here you can plainly see

testicles. A lot of times at this age you can't tell the sex by

ultrasound. Perhaps this little guy takes after his father."

196 ROBIN COOK

Adam realized Vandermer was doing his best to oe friendly.

The door swung open and Cora reappeared with a trav of slides. Each had a

tiny cover glass over its center. Dr. Vandermer selected one that had been

labeled with a grease pencil. He placed it under the optical head of the

microscope, put a drop of oil on it, and lowered the oil-immersion lens.

Adarn sat up and looked through the eyepiece.

Dr. Vandermer explained that the specimens had been specially stained to

make viewing of the chromatin material as easy as possible. He said they

had to find a cell in the process of division. Finally, he gave up and

asked for Cora's assistance.

"I should have let you do this in the first place , he said, changing seats

with the woman.

It took Cora about thirty seconds to find an appropriate cell. By

manipulating the hairline pointer, she showed Adam the chromosomal abnor-

mality.

Adam was crushed. He had hoped the results would be ambiguous, but even to

his inexperienced eye, the problem was clear. Cora continued pointing out

other minor problems that had been noticed, including the fact that one of

the X chromosomes also appeared slightly abnormal.

Finally, Cora asked if he would like to see another case that demonstrated

a more common type of Down's syndrome.

Adam shook his head. "No, but thanks for your time." He put both hands on

the lab bench and started to rise. Halfway up he stopped. Something was

wrong. He leaned forward and peered into the microscope. "Show me that X

chromosome abnormality again," said Adam.

Cora leaned forward and put her face to the

MINDBEND 197

eyepiece. Soon the hairline pointer moved to a pair of identical

chromosomes. Cora started to explain the suspected abnormality, but Adam

interrupted her.

"Are those X chromosomes?" asked Adam.

"Absolutely," said Cora. "But . . ."

Adam again interrupted her and asked Dr. Vandermer to take a look. "Do you

see the X chromosomes?"

"I do," said Dr. Vandermer, "but like you, I can't appreciate the

abnormality that Cora is talking about."

"I'm not concerned about the abnormality," said Adam. "I'm concerned about

the two X chromosomes. Just a moment ago on the ultrasound image you

pointed out that my child is a boy. This slide we are looking at is a

girl."

Dr. Vandermer had straightened up when Adam had begun to talk. His face

wiped clean of all expression.

Cora immediately turned to the microscope. "He's right," she said. "This

slide is of a girl."

Slowly Dr. Vandermer raised his right hand to his face. Cora flipped over

the edge of the slide tray and checked the number. Then she checked the

number on the slide. They matched. Getting the main register, she checked

the number there. The name was Jennifer Schonberg. Looking very pale, Dr.

Vandermer told Adam to wait for a moment.

"Has anything like this ever happened before?" asked Adam when the doctor

had gone.

"Never," said Cora.

Dr. Vandermer reappeared with a large man in tow. Like Dr. Vandermer, he

was wearing a long white coat. Dr. Vandermer introduced him to Adam

198 ROBIN COOK

as Dr. Ridley Stanford. Adam recognized the name. He was the author of the

textbook on pathology that Adam had used during his second year of medical

school, and had been chief of pathology at University Hospital.

"This is a disaster," said Dr. Vandermer after Dr. Stanford had taken a

look.

A agree," said Dr. Stanford, his voice as emotionless as Vandermer's. "I

can't imagine how this could have happened. Let me make some calls."

Within a few minutes there were ten other people crowded around the

microscope.

"How many amniocenteses were done yesterday?" asked Dr. Vandermer.

Cora glanced at the book. "Twenty-one," she said.

"They all have to be repeated," said Dr. Vandermer.

"Absolutely," said Dr. Stanford.

Turning to Adam, Dr. Vandermer said, "We owe you a vote of thanks." The

others echoed his sentiments.

Adam felt as if a huge black cloud had been lifted from over his head.

His child was not some kind of genetic monster. The first thing he wanted

to do was call Jennifer.

"We would be honored if you would stay for lunch," said Dr. Stanford.

"There's a fabulous pathology lecture on retroperitoneal tumors which you

might find interesting-"

Adam excused himself and hurriedly descended to the main lobby. He

couldn't believe that in the face of the current disaster they wanted him

to stay for lunch and a lecture! There was no question but the place was

weird. Passing the front

MINDBEND 199

door en route to the telephone, Adam was pleased to see that his car was

still where he'd left it.

Adam first called the apartment, but there was no answer. Thinking that

Jennifer might have gone home with her mother, he dialed the Englewood

number, but there was no answer there, either.

After a moment's hesitation, Adam decided to go back to the apartment.

He ran out of the Julian Clinic, got in his car, and started for home.

His excitement at the good news was beginning to give way to a heightened

sense of uneasiness about the Julian Clinic and Dr. Vandermer. It had

been only a lucky break that he'd noticed the discrepancy. What if he

hadn't and Jennifer had had an abortion!

Adam felt all his anxieties return in a rush. He'd narrowly averted one

catastrophe, but unless he could get Jennifer to switch from both

Vandermer and the clinic, there might be more. For a while he'd abandoned

the thought of the Arolen cruise. Now it looked again as if it might be

the only way to get the evidence to prove Vandermer was dangerous. Adam

looked at his watch. It was twelvetwenty. Still time to make the Fjord

by six o'clock.

Reaching his apartment door, Adam was disappointed to find the police

lock engaged. He found Jennifer's impersonal note and decided to call En-

glewood once again. He was pleased when Jennifer answered instead of her

mother.

"I've got good news and bad."

"I'm in no mood to play games," said Jennifer.

"The good news is that they got your specimen mixed up at the clinic.

Someone else's baby has the bad chromosomes. They mixed up the slides."

For a moment Jennifer was afraid to ask if Adam were telling the truth

or if this were just some sort

200 ROBIN COOK

of plot to make her lose faith in Vandermer. The news seemed too good to

be true.

"Jennifer, did you hear me?"

"is it true?" asked Jennifer tentatively.

"Yes," said Adam, and he described how he'd noticed the discrepancy in

relation to the sex of the cell.

"What did Dr. Vandermer say?" asked Jennifer.

"He said that all the amniocenteses done that day have to be repeated."

"is that the bad news you were referring to?" asked Jennifer.

"No," said Adam. "The bad news is that I'm still going out of town,

unless you promise me something."

"What do I have to promise?" asked Jennifer skeptically.

"Promise to see Dr. Wickelman for the remainder of your pregnancy and

stop taking pregdolen."

"Adam . . ." said Jennifer, drawing out his name impatiently.

"I'm more convinced than ever that there is something strange about the

Julian Clinic," said Adam. "If you agree to see Dr. Wickelman, I'll

promise not to interfere with anything he suggests."

"Mistakes happen every day in hospitals," said Jennifer. "Just because

one happened at the Julian Clinic doesn't mean I shouldn't go there. It

seems like the ideal place to have my baby now that I've gotten over that

episode with Cheryl Tedesco. I like the people there and the atmosphere."

"Well," said Adam. "I'll see you in a few days."

"Where are you going?" asked Jennifer.

"I'd rather not say," said Adam.

" U nder the circumstances, " said Jennifer, " don't

MINDBEND 201

you think that you should stay here? Adam, I need you.

"That's a little hard to believe with you at your parents' and me alone in

the apartment. I'm sorry, but I have to run. I love you, Jennifer."

Adam hung up and called Eastern Airlines before he had time to have second

thoughts. He booked a seat on a flight leaving for Miami from LaGuardia in

forty-eight minutes.

Adam got his small Samsonite suitcase from the closet and began packing.

Just as he was cramming in his toilet articles, the phone rang. Adam

reached out his hand, but then, for once in his life, ignored the sound.

Even a minute's delay would make him miss his flight.

0 0

Jennifer waited, letting the phone ring on and on. Finallv, she hung up.

Right after speaking with Adam, she'd decided that she'd be willing to see

this Dr. Wickelman if it meant so much to Adam. She could at least give the

man a chance, and if she didn't feel comfortable with him, she could always

go back to Dr. Vandermer. But Adam had apparently left. Jennifer felt

abandoned. Before she took her hand off the receiver, the phone rang again.

Hoping it was Adam, she picked it up before the first ring was complete. It

was Dr. Vandermer.

"I assume you have heard the good news."

"Yes, Adam just told me," said Jennifer.

"We are very grateful to your husband," said Dr. Vandermer. "It is unusual

for someone to notice a secondary abnormality in the face of an overwhelm-

ingly positive finding."

202 ROBIN COOK

"So it is true that I am not carrying a defective child," said Jennifer.

"I'm afraid I can't go so far as to say that," said Dr. Vandermer.

"Unfortunately, we have no idea of the result of your amniocentesis.

We'll have to repeat the procedure. I'm terribly sorry this happened.

There were twenty people besides yourself who had amniocentesis that day,

and all of them have to be repeated. Obviously it will be done at the

clinic's expense."

"When do you want to repeat the test?" asked Jennifer. She appreciated

Dr. Vandermer's willingness to accept responsibility even though the

error was undoubtedly made by someone in the lab,

"As soon as possible," said Dr. Vandermer. "Remember, we are up against

a time constraint if there really is a problem."

"How about if I get back to you in the morning?" said Jennifer.

"That will be fine. There's no rush, but the sooner we do it, the

better."

CHAPTER 12

The flight to Miami was uneventful. As soon as Adam was airborne, he removed

his own driver's license from his billfold and replaced it with Smyth's.

Then he studied the addresses in the passport. If someone asked him where he

lived, he wanted to be able to rattle it off by heart.

The plane landed at five minutes after four, and since Adam had carried his

luggage aboard, he was at the taxi stand by four-fifteen. The taxi was an

old broken-down Dodge station wagon and the driver spoke only Spanish, but

he recognized the name of the Fjord and understood that Adam was going on

a cruise.

Adam stared at the tropical scenery. Miami was much more beautiful than

he'd imagined. Soon they passed over a long causeway and Adam saw the

harbor. The cruise ships were tied up in a line, with the Fjord the last in

the row. Compared to the others, the Fjord seemed neither especially large

nor particularly small. Like the others, it was painted white. It had one

huge smokestack with

203

204 ROBIN COOK

an image of two intertwining arrows on the side. Adam wondered if that

were MTIC's logo.

Adam's driver could not get close to the curb, so Adam paid him and got

out in the middle of the street. Suitcase in hand, he made his way toward

the entrance of the building. The din of car horns, voices, and idling

motors was terrific, the air heavy with fumes. It was a relief to get

inside.

Adam made his way to an information booth where the receptionists'

uniforms reminded him of the staff's dress at the Julian Clinic. They,

too, were dressed in white blouses and blue jumpers.

Adam had to shout to be heard. He asked how he should check in and was

told to go up the escalator to the second level. Adam thanked the girl

who'd directed him by mouthing the words.

Getting on the escalator was a trick, especially with the suitcase. While

he rode up, he looked over the crowd. Although there were a few women,

the majority of the people were men and they certainly looked like

doctors-prosperous and selfsatisfied. Most were dressed in business

suits, though a few had on sport shirts and slacks.

On the second floor of the terminal was a long registration table,

divided into alphabetical segments. Adam joined the line marked "N-Z."

Glancing around the room, he suddenly got cold feet. Maybe he should

leave. No one would notice. He could just catch a cab to the airport and

fly home. He began counting the number of people between him and the

registration desk. At that moment, Adam's eye caught those of a man

standing a few feet away in the neighboring line. Quickly looking away,

Adam nervously tapped his foot. There was no reason for someone to be

staring at him. Gradually, Adam allowed his eyes to return

MINDBEND 205

to the next line. Unfortunately, the man was still looking directly at

him. When he saw Adam look up, he smiled. Self-consciously, Adam smiled

back. Then, to his horror, the man came over.

"My name is Alan Jackson, 11 he said, forcing Adam to put down his

suitcase and shake hands. Nervously, Adam introduced himself as Stuart

Smyth. Alan just nodded and smiled again.

He was at least ten years older than Adam and had broad shoulders and a

narrow waist. His sandy hair was combed forward, probably to hide a bald

spot.

"You look awfully familiar," said Alan. "Are you from New York?"

Adam felt the blood drain from his face. He hadn't even checked in yet

and already he was in trouble.

At that moment the loudspeaker came to life: "Good afternoon, ladies and

gentlemen. For those of you with boarding cards, the Fjord will be ready

to receive you in just a few minutes. If you haven't received a boarding

card, we recommend that you proceed to the registration desk

immediately."

"Aren't you in orthopedics?" asked Alan as soon as the loudspeaker fell

silent.

"No," said Adam, relieved. Obviously the man didn't know the real Smyth.

"I'm OB-GYN. How about you?"

"Orthopedics. I'm with the University of California, San Diego. This your

first Arolen cruise?"

"No," said Adam quickly. "How about you?"

"It's my second," said Alan, turning suddenly. "'My God, there's Ned

Janson. Hey, Ned, you old bastard. Over here!"

Adam saw a stocky, dark-haired man who was with one of the few women in

the crowd look up.

206 ROBIN COOK

Seeing Alan, his face lit up with a smile. He took the woman by the arm and

made his way over.

While Alan and Ned had a back-slapping reunion, Adam introduced himself to

the woman. Her name was Clair Osborn. She was a handsome lady, about

thirty, with a round, healthy face, and long, muscular legs. She was

dressed in a short black-and-white skirt. Adam was enjoying himself until

she told him she was a gynecologist.

"What's your specialty?" asked Clair. "Orthopedics or OB-GYN?"

"Why limit the choices to those two?" joked Adam, trying to change the

subject.

"It's my brilliant intuition," said Clair. "Plus the fact that this cruise

is for orthopods and obstetricians only."

Adam laughed nervously. "Well, I'm OB."

"Really?" said Clair with delight. "Then we'll be going to the same

functions."

"That will be nice," said Adam. "Is this your first cruise?" Adam wanted to

talk about anything other than OB-GYN. He didn't fool himself into thinking

he could hold up his end of a professional conversation.

"Sure is," said Clair. "It's Ned's first time, too. Right, Ned?" Clair

yanked on Ned's arm to get his attention. Hearing bits and pieces of their

conversation, Adam understood that Alan and Ned had trained at the same

hospital.

"Hey! This is great," said Ned after meeting Adam. "Why don't we all have

dinner tonight?"

Alan shook his head. "The Arolen people do the seating. They consider meals

an extension of the scientific sessions."

"Oh, bullshit," said Ned. "What is this supposed to be, summer camp?"

MINDBEND 207

The man in front of Adam moved away with his boarding card in hand. Adam

stepped up to the counter and faced a young man nattily dressed in a

white blazer. On the breast pocket was the same logo Adam had seen

painted on the side of the Fjord's smokestack. On his lapel was a name

tag that said "Juan." Below the name and in small letters was printed

"MTIC."

"Your name, please?" asked Juan. His voice sounded as if he'd asked the

question so often that he was speaking by rote.

"Stuart Smyth," said Adam and fumbled with his billfold to get out the

driver's license. In the process his Arolen card dropped on the counter.

Luckily, Juan was already busy entering Stuart Smyth into the computer

so he didn't see it. Adam turned around to see if any of his new friends

had noticed, but they were busy talking. Adam turned back to face Juan,

thinking that by the time this cruise was over, he was going to be a

nervous wreck. Furtively, he slipped the Arolen card into his jacket

pocket.

"Passport?" asked Juan.

After a moment of panic Adam found the passport in his inside jacket

pocket and handed it over. Juan opened it. Adam felt a stab of terror,

but Juan just looked at it for two seconds and handed it back, saying,

"Here's your boarding card. Please present it to the purser and he will

assign you your stateroom. If you leave the ship during the cruise, be

sure to have the card on your person. Next, please."

Adam stepped aside so the man behind him could approach the counter. So

far so good.

After Alan had obtained his boarding card, he, Ned, and Clair accompanied

Adam to the Arolen

208 ROBIN COOK

desk. There they were given a package of "goodies" as Ned called them. The

process starts, thought Adam as he took the gift, a leather shoulder bag

with the MTIC logo on the side. inside the bag were a Cross pen and pencil

set, a legal-sized, leatherbound note pad, and a lecture schedule for the

cruise. There was also an array of Arolen products which comprised a small

pharmacy. Adam glanced at the loot with interest, but knew that he'd have to

wait to examine it in detail.

The loudspeaker crackled to life and it was announced that the ship was

ready to board. A cheer rose from the crowd as Adam and his newly made

friends slowly walked outside. A uniformed policeman checked their boarding

cards at dockside, and they all trooped up the gangway.

Stepping off the ramp, Adam found himself on the main deck. It wasn't a new

ship by any stretch of the imagination, but it appeared to be well cared

for and certain sections seemed to have been recently renovated. The

personnel were all dressed like the man at the registration desk, in white

blazers and black slacks. Their uniforms were spotlessly clean and

carefully pressed.

Adam was approached by one of the stewards who politely checked his

boarding card and directed him to a desk to the right. Apparently, there

were different colored boarding cards for those who had been on a previous

cruise. Ned and Clair were sent to a different desk.

Adam was assigned stateroom 407 on A deck, which was the floor below the

main deck. As he took his kev, he noticed that the purser had the same

monotonous inflection in his voice as the man at the registration desk.

Alan, who was right behind Adam, was assigned

MINDBEND 209

stateroom 409. As they walked away, Adam commented on the flat speech

pattern.

"I suppose they say the same thing over and over again," said Alan.

A steward approached Adam and relieved him of his small suitcase and his

new Arolen shoulder bag.

"Thank you," said Adam.

The man didn't respond except by indicating that Adam was to follow him.

"See you later, Stuart," called Alan.

It took Adam a moment to remember that that was his name. "Yes, of

course," he called.

The steward was leading him past a gift shop filled with Gucci bags and

Japanese cameras. At the back were wines, liquors, and tobaccos as well

as a drug section. For the first time, Adam thought about the possibility

of seasickness.

"Excuse me," he said. "When will the store be opened?"

"About an hour after departure."

"Do they sell Dramamine or those ear patches for motion sickness?" asked

Adam.

The steward looked at him with a blank expression ' "I don't know if they

sell Dramamine or those ear patches." The way he echoed Adam's question

didn't invite further conversation.

Staterooms 407 and 409 were adjacent on the port side of the ship. Alan

was nowhere in sight. Adam's steward opened the door to 407 and led Adam

inside.

To Adam, who'd never been on a luxury liner, the room seemed small. There

was a single bed on the right with a night table. On the left were a

small desk and a chair. The bathroom was a tiny

210 ROBIN COOK

affair with a shower, toilet, and sink crammed next to a narrow closet.

The steward stuck his head in the bathroom, entered, and reappeared a

moment later with a glass of water, which he handed to Adam.

"For me?" asked Adam. He took the glass and sipped the water. It had a

rather chemical taste.

The steward reached into his side pocket and pulled out a yellow capsule,

which he extended toward Adam. "Welcome back," he said.

Adam smiled uneasily. "Sure is good to be here," he said, eyeing the

yellow capsule. It became obvious that the steward expected him to take

the pill.

Adam put out his hand and the steward dropped the capsule into his palm.

It didn't look like Dramamine, but how was he to know?

"Is this for motion sickness?" he asked.

The steward said nothing, but his unblinking stare made Adam acutely

uncomfortable.

"I'll bet it is for motion sickness," said Adam, tossing the pill into

his mouth. After a swallow, he gave the water glass to the steward, who

returned it to the bathroom. While he was out of the room, Adam took the

yellow capsule out of his mouth and dropped it into his pocket.

The steward pulled down the covers on the bed as if he expected Adam to

take a nap. Then he set Adam's suitcase on a stand and began to unpack.

Amazed at such service, Adam sat on the bed and watched the man silently

go about his business. When the steward was finished, he thanked Adam and

left.

For a moment Adam sat puzzling over the steward's behavior. Then he got

up and upended his new Arolen shoulder bag. The drugs spilled onto the

blanket.

MINDBEND 211

Taking the yellow capsule out of his pocket, he checked to see if it

matched any of the samples. It didn't. Adam wondered if he would be able to

find a PDR on board. There should be a library with basic reference books.

He was curious about the yellow capsule. It had to be for motion sickness.

Adam glanced at it one last time, then put it into a small bottle of

aspirin.

He picked up the lecture schedule and began to read. It was nearly

twenty-five pages long. The first half dealt with orthopedics, the second

with OB-GYN. Adam noted that most of the lectures were clinically oriented,

which he thought accounted for the conferences' popularity.

Adam was convinced that if anything were done in the nature of

brainwashing, it had to be done during the lectures. But what could they

say to make a doctor like Vandermer change his mind about a drug? Could it

be some kind of subliminal hypnosis? Adam tossed the schedule aside. He

guessed he'd find out soon enough.

The blast of a horn made Adam jump. Then he heard the engines start. He

decided to go on deck to watch.

Hanging up his seersucker jacket and removing his tie, Adam stepped into

the corridor. He paused outside of room 409, realizing that although they

shared a common wall, he'd heard nothing from Alan. Adam rapped on the door

and waited, but there was no answer. Another steward came past, and Adam

had to flatten himself against the wall. Then he knocked again. He was

about to leave when he heard a thump from inside the room. With the heel of

his hand, he pounded on the door, thinking perhaps Alan was in the

bathroom. Still there was no answer. Reaching down, Adam tried

212 ROBIN COOK

the latch. The door was unlocked and swung inward.

Alan was sitting on the edge of the bed. At his feet was a water glass

that had apparently just fallen to the floor.

"I beg your pardon," said Adam, embarrassed. Alan mumbled that it didn't

matter, but Adam saw that he must have been asleep.

"Sorry to have disturbed you," said Adam. "I was going to watch the

departure and thought that maybe you . .." Adam didn't finish his sen-

tence. Alan was slowly falling forward. Entering the room, Adam grabbed

him before he hit the floor and eased him back onto the bed.

"Hey, are you OK?" asked Adam.

Sleepily, Alan nodded. "I'm just tired."

"I think you'd better have a snooze," laughed Adam, glancing around at

the night table, suspecting that Alan might have taken a drink or two.

But there was no liquor in evidence. He debated if he should cover the

man, but since Alan was fully dressed, he just left him on top of the

spread.

Back at the reception area there were still a few people waiting for room

assignments. The gangplank, however, had been raised. Adam continued up

two levels to what was called the promenade deck and went outside.

The change from air-conditioned coolness to the torpid Miami heat was a

shock. Adam went to the railing and looked down at the quay. Stevedores

were busy casting off the lines, freeing the ship from its mooring. The

vibrations of the engines increased, and side thrusters moved the ship

slowly away from the pier. From the stern Adam heard a cheer and then the

noise of a Dixieland band.

Walking forward, Adam soon came to a teak

MINDBEND 213

barrier with a door leading to the bow. A sign cautioned: "Crew Only.

Passengers Not Permitted Forward." Adam tried the door. It was unlocked, but

he decided not to test his luck by going through.

The horn blared again and at the same time the vibration of the ship

changed. Adam guessed that the main screws had started to turn. Slowly, the

ship began to move forward.

Adam met other passengers exploring the ship. Everyone was friendly and

outgoing. A vacation mood prevailed.

Adam descended a deck and found himself surrounded by conference rooms of

all sizes, ranging from a full-fledged theater to seminar rooms for less

than a dozen people. Almost all the rooms were equipped with blackboards

and slide projectors.

Amidships, Adam came to a door marked "Library." He wanted to go in and

look for a PDR, but the door was locked. Assuming that it would be open in

the morning, he continued forward. Soon the central corridor ended at a

locked door, which Adam guessed led to the crew's quarters.

Descending another level, Adam came out on the main deck. He wandered past

the store and the reception area and stopped to look into the main dining

room. It was huge, with crystal chandeliers and large picture windows. At

one end was a raised platform with a podium for speakers. On either side of

the platform were swinging doors which apparently led to the kitchen.

Stewards busy laying the tables were going in and out of the doors with

their trays. A sign near the entrance stated that dinner would be served at

nine o'clock.

Adam descended another level to the A d~ck where his stateroom was located.

A number of

214 ROBIN COOK

cabin doors were open, and Adam could see the doctors unpacking and going

in and out of each other's rooms.

Walking down still another level, Adam found more conference rooms, a

small gym, the ship's doctor's office, and an indoor swimming pool. De-

ciding he had explored the ship as much as he could, Adam made his way

back to the promenade deck, where a noisy cocktail party was well under

way.

Ned Janson spotted him and rushed him over to a group next to the pool.

There was no way Adam could refuse, and soon he found himself drinking

an ice-cold Heineken.

"Where the hell is Alan?" asked Ned over the babble of voices.

"In his room, sleeping," said Adam.

Ned nodded as if it were expected and then started slapping his thigh as

the band struck up "When the Saints Come Marchin'In."

Adam smiled across the table at Clair, who seemed to be enjoying herself,

and then glanced around the party. It seemed a typical gathering of MDs.

It was boisterous, physical-with lots of backslapping, jokes, and booze.

The minute Adam finished his beer, Ned thrust another into his hand.

Rather suddenly the ship began to pitch. Adam looked back and saw that-

the lights of Miami had vanished. The ship was now out into the Atlantic.

His stomach did a flip-flop, and he hastily put down the beer.

The other doctors at the table seemed oblivious to the ship's motion, and

Adam wished he'd been able to find an anti-nauseant. Once again he won-

dered if the yellow capsule were for seasickness.

MINDBEND 215

He was tempted to ask but then decided he couldn't stay in the loud,

laughing group a minute longer.

He excused himself and quickly walked forward to a quiet spot by the rail.

After a few minutes he felt better but decided to lie down for a while in

his cabin. Closing his eyes, he felt OK, although the beer was still

sloshing around in his stomach.

Jennifer and her father had gone for a walk in the field behind their

house. She knew he wanted to discuss her pregnancy, and for the last half

hour she had held him off with a barrage of chatter. Finally, turning back

to the house, Jennifer decided it was time to face the subject.

"What do you think I should do, Father?"

Mr. Carson put his arm around her. "Whatever you think is right."

"But what is your opinion?" asked Jennifer.

"That's a different question," said Mr. Carson. "Your mother really trusts

this Dr. Vandermer. The mix-up with the amniocentesis samples was

unfortunate, but I like the way he handled it. My feeling is that you

should follow his recommendations."

"Dr. Vandermer wants me to repeat the amniocentesis immediately," said

Jennifer.

"If he thinks there is a chance you might want to consider an abortion,

then I think you should do it. Your mother and I don't believe that a

severely defective child should be brought into this world. It's not fair

to anyone, including the child. But that's just the way we feel."

"I suppose I feel the same way," said Jennifer. "It just makes me feel so

bad."

216 ROBIN COOK

Mr. Carson gave his daughter a squeeze. "Of course, honey. And your

husband isn't making things any easier. I don't like to make judgments,

but I don't appreciate the way he is acting. He should be here helping

make these decisions, not gallivanting off on some mysterious trip."

They reached the screen door at the back of the house. They could hear

Mrs. Carson in the kitchen, preparing dinner.

"You're probably right," said Jennifer, opening the door. "I'll call Dr.

Vandermer and have the amniocentesis repeated tomorrow."

* 00

"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. Dinner is now being served."

Adam woke from a sound sleep, and it took him several minutes to realize

that the voice was coming from a small speaker in the wall of the cabin.

He looked at his watch. It was nine o'clock.

Struggling to his feet, Adam felt the ship rolling as well as pitching.

The idea of dinner wasn't all that appealing. He took a quick shower,

trying to maintain his balance, then dressed and left the cabin. He

paused a minute and knocked on Alan's door, but there was no answer.

Either the man was still asleep or he had already gone to dinner. In

either case, it wasn't any of Adam's business.

He noticed the ship's store was open and went in to buy Dramamine, but

the man behind the counter said they were out and would have to wait

until morning to get more from the storeroom. Disappointed, Adam made his

way to the dining room, where a steward asked if he was an obstetrician

or an orthopedist. Adam told him OB and the

MINDBEND 217

steward led him to a table near the speaker's platform.

There were five other doctors already seated. Adam was so busy remembering

that his name was Stuart, he only caught two of his companions I names

during the introductions: Ted and Archibald.

The conversation was almost exclusively medical, although more about the

profession's economics than its practice.

Adam said little, preoccupied with his queasy stomach. As soon as he could,

he motioned for the steward to remove his plate, wondering how the others

could ignore the rolling motion of the ship. After coffee was served, a

tall, dark man mounted the speaker's platform.

"Hello, hello," he said, testing the microphone. "My name is Raymond

Powell, and I am your official MTIC host. Welcome to the Arolen Phar-

maceuticals Medical Conference Cruise."

Conversation ceased as people turned their attention to the podium. Powell

gave a typical welcoming speech and then handed the microphone to Dr.

Goddard, who was in charge of the actual medical program.

When Goddard finished speaking, Powell stepped back to the microphone and

said, "And now we have a surprise. For your enjoyment, let me present the

Caribbean Dancers."

Doors on either side of the speaker's platform burst open and a dozen

scantily clad dancers swept into the room. Adam noticed only two men. The

rest were unusually pretty young girls. Behind the dancers was a rock group

with electric guitars. This band quickly set up speakers on the plaform.

As the girls worked the audience, Adam saw that Powell and Goddard were

standing to one side as

218 ROBIN COOK

if trying to assess the effect of the dancers on the usually restrained

medical group. After a few minutes Adam found his attention held by a

particularly attractive brunette. She had narrow hips and firm, upstanding

breasts. She caught Adam's eye for just a moment and he could have sworn

that she winked at him. Unfortunately, Adam's stomach was not cooperative,

and in the middle of the performance, Adam reluctantly decided that he'd

better visit the deck.

Excusing himself, he fought his way through the boisterous crowd in more

and more of a hurry to get away. He barely reached the rail of the prome-

nade deck before his stomach turned over and he vomited violently over

the side. After a minute he glanced around to check if anyone had seen

him. Thankfully, the deck was deserted. Lowering his eyes, he inspected

the front of his shirt. It was clean. Relieved, Adam wandered forward

into the wind. He wasn't ready to go below yet.

After a few minutes he felt a little better, and when he reached the door

forbidden to passengers, he simply opened it and walked through. The

lights were scarcer in this part of the ship and the deck was a plain

unvarnished gray. Adam walked all the way to the bow and looked down on

a tangle of ropes and chains. The sea leaped and twisted on either side.

The starry sky stretched out above him.

A hand suddenly fell on Adam's shoulder.

"This is an unauthorized area," said a man with a Spanish accent.

"I , m sorry," said Adam nervously, trying to make out the man's face.

"This is my first cruise and I was just wandering around. Any chance of

visiting

MINDBEND 219

the bridge?" Adam remembered the adage that the best defense was offense.

"Are you stoned?" asked the man.

"Me?" said Adam, taken aback. "No. I'm fine."

"No offense," said the man, "but we've had some bad experiences with

passengers in the past. The captain happens to be on the bridge. I'll see

if he'll let you up."

After asking for Adam's name, the man disappeared as silently as he'd

arrived. A moment later a voice shouted down, inviting him up. There was

a ladder to starboard.

Adam walked around the side and found a stairway. He guessed that on a

ship a ladder and a stairway were the same thing. At the top, the man

with the Spanish accent was holding open the door to the bridge.

Inside, Adam saw that the instruments were illuminated by red lights,

giving the room a surrealistic air. The man at the wheel ignored Adam's

presence, but another man stood up and introduced himself as Captain Eric

Nordstrom. He seemed younger than Adam would have expected and, at first,

seemed rather wary of his guest.

"Jos& said this is your first cruise, Dr. Smyth."

"That's right," said Adam uneasily, remembering that Smyth had already

been on an Arolen cruise. The captain made no comment, and Adam asked,

"Who owns the ship?"

"I'm not sure," said Nordstrom. "The crew works for a company called

MTIC. Whether they own the ship or lease it, I don't really know."

"Is MTIC a good employer?"

Captain Nordstrom shrugged. "We get our paychecks on time. It's a bit

boring running the same

220 ROBIN COOK

route over and over, and socializing with this crew has its limitations."

"Don't you get to meet the passengers?" asked Adam.

11 Never," said Captain Nordstrom. " MTIC is strict about keeping the

passengers and the ship's crew from fraternizing. You're the first person

I've had on the bridge in a long time. We've had some unfortunate

experiences with the passengers getting drunk."

Adam nodded. If the amount of alcohol that the doctors had consumed

tonight was any indication, he wasn't surprised.

Away from the sea breeze, the pitching of the ship began to bother Adam

again, and he decided to say good-bye.

"Josi~_ accompany Dr. Smyth back to the passenger section," said Captain

Nordstrom.

Jose moved quickly, preceding Adam out the door. He went down the steep

ladder, oblivious to the movement of the ship. Adam followed but much

more cautiously.

"In a day or so you'll have your sea legs," said Jos& with a laugh.

Adam wondered.

As they walked aft, Jos6 offered some technical details about the ship.

Adam nodded dutifully, but most of the terms went over his head. When

they got to the barrier, Jos,& hesitated, shifting his weight from one

foot to the other. In the better light Adam could see the man's face,

which was dominated by a luxurious mustache.

"Dr. Smyth ..." began Joso. "I was wondering if you would do me a favor."

"What do you have in mind?" asked Adam suspiciously. From what the

captain had said, crew and

MINDBEND 221

passengers were not supposed to mix, and Adam was not interested in any

trouble. On the other hand, the idea of having a friend among the crew was

appealing and could come in handy.

"They sell cigarettes in the ship's store," said Jos6. "If I gave you the

money, would you buy some for me?"

"Why don't you get them yourself?" asked Adam.

"We're not allowed beyond this door."

Adam considered the request. It seemed sufficiently innocuous. "How many

packs do you want?"

"As many as you can get for this." Jos6 reached into his pocket and pulled

out a fifty-dollar bill.

Adam had the feeling that Jos6's request wasn't so innocent after all. Jos6

was probably running a little shipboard black market.

"Let me start with ten dollars' worth," said Adam.

Jos6 quickly substituted a ten for the fifty.

Adam took the money and told Jos6 that he'd meet him at the same location

the next day at eleven. He remembered from the lecture schedule there was

a coffee break scheduled at that time. Jos6 smiled broadly, his teeth

startlingly white against his mustache.

Taking a few deep breaths of sea air, Adam went inside and headed for his

stateroom.

CHAPTER 13

Adam heard the voice calling Dr. Smyth but ignored it. The name had

nothing to do with him, and he preferred remaining immobile. Then someone

grasped his arm and with great effort he opened his eyes.

"My glasses," said Adam, surprised to find he was slurring his words.

Slowly and carefully he swung his feet over the side of the bunk and

groped around on the night table. His hand hit the glasses and knocked

them on the floor. Reaching over to pick them up, he suddenly remembered

he was Dr. Smyth.

The steward handed him a glass of water.

"Thank you," said Adam, puzzled.

Then the steward held out another one of the yellow capsules. Without

hesitating, Adam took it and put it into his mouth. But as he had done

the day before, he didn't swallow it, taking a little water instead.

Satisfied, the steward took the glass into the bathroom. Adam slipped the

capsule from his mouth.

222

MINDBEND 223

"Excuse me," he said, his words much clearer. "What are these yellow

pills?"

"They are to relax you," the steward said in his oddly mechanical voice.

"Hey," said Adam. "I am relaxed. A little seasick maybe, but relaxed.

Wouldn't it be better if you gave me something for my stomach?"

"The yellow pills are to make you more relaxed and receptive," the

steward said, opening the door.

"Receptive to what?" called Adam.

"To instructions," said the steward as he pulled the door closed.

Adam got up feeling unusually tired and weak. He'd had no idea that

seasickness could be so debilitating. Forcing himself into the bathroom,

he showered and dressed, still puzzling over the steward's comment.

On his way to breakfast, he decided to see if Alan were up. This time,

instead of knocking, he just turned the knob and the door swung open.

Alan was still stretched out on the bed, his eyes closed, his breathing

deep and even.

"Alan," called Adam. Slowly the man's eyes fluttered open, only to close

again. Adam bent down and gently lifted Alan's eyelids. At first, all he

saw was sclera, but then the corneas descended and seemed to focus.

"Wake up," said Adam. He took his hands from Alan's eyes and, grabbing

his shoulders, pulled him into a sitting position.

"What's the matter with you?" he asked.

11 Nothing," said Alan in a flat voice that reminded Adam of the

steward's. "I'm just tired. Let me sleep." He started to sag backward,

but Adam caught him.

224 ROBIN COOK

'Tell me," demanded Adam. "What is your 3ame?,

"Alan Jackson."

"Where are you?" asked Adam.

"I'm on an Arolen cruise." Alan spoke with no inflection whatsoever.

"What month is this?"

'June said Alan.

"Raise your right hand," said Adam.

Dutifullv, Alan raised his right hand. He was like an automaton or a

patient under heavy sedation. In fact, he reminded Adam of his patient

with tardive dvskinesia. When the man had first come into the hospital,

he'd been so heavily medicated that he'd slept around the clock, although

if aroused he'd been oriented to time and place.

Adam allowed Alan to slump back onto his bed. After watching him for a

moment or two, he returned to his own stateroom. Closing the door, Adam

felt really afraid for the first time. Alan had been drugged. There was

little doubt of that.

Obviously, the yellow pills were some kind of tranquilizer. All at once

Adam recalled how drowsy he'd felt when the steward had awakened him. He

had attributed his condition to the aftermath of seasickness, but mavbe

he, too, had been drugged. Yet how could that have happened? He hadn't

taken the yellow pills and what little dinner he'd eaten he'd vomited

almost immediately. Maybe it was the water.

Adam went into the bathroom and filled his glass. It had no smell.

Gingerly, he tasted it. It had a chemical flavor, but that could be from

chlorination. Dumping it down the drain, Adam decided to go to breakfast.

The dining room held no trace of last night's

MINDBEND 225

raucous party. A buffet had been set up in the center of the room with an

impressive array of food. People were lined up, patiently awaiting their

turn. Adam strolled among the tables and looked for Ned and Clair but

didn't see them.

His stomach not only felt better, he was actually hungry. The only

trouble was, now that he had an appetite, he was terrified to eat. He

eyed the buffet. There was the usual selection of scrambled eggs, bacon,

sausage, and Danish. Then Adam saw something even better: a large bowl

of fruit.

Thinking that unpeeled fruit had to be safe, he took several bananas, two

oranges, and a grapefruit and made his way to an empty table. Just as he

sat down, Ned and Clair appeared. Adam called out to them, and they came

over to his table. They said they would join him.

Adam watched them go through the buffet line. They seemed tired, and when

they came and sat down, Adam noticed that they hadn't taken much food.

He was puzzled. If the drug were in the food and water, why weren't they

and the other doctors in the room knocked out like Alan? Maybe it was the

yellow pill. Maybe it was only given to guests on their second cruise.

Maybe it was the combination of the capsule and whatever was put in the

food ...

"Quite an affair last night," said Ned interrupting Adam's thoughts.

Adam nodded.

"I'm exhausted," said Clair. "I didn't think I'd drunk as much as I must

have. I slept like the dead."

"Same with me," said Ned. "Must be the salt air."

Trying to sound casual, Adam said, "Have you

226 ROBIN COOK

people been given any yellow capsules for seasickness?"

"I haven't," said Ned, sipping his coffee. He looked at Clair.

"Nor have I," she said. "Why do you ask?"

"Well, I'm looking for an anti-nauseant. I just wondered . . ." He let

his voice trail off, not wanting to arouse their suspicion. If he

mentioned anything about the doctors being drugged, they would think he

was crazy. Ned and Clair drank their coffee in silence. Obviously,

neither of them felt very well.

After breakfast Adam stopped at the ship's store. It had a new supply of

Dramamine and anti-motion patches. Adam bought some of the patches, and

before he left he remembered to pick up ten dollars' worth of Marlboros

for Jose.

Back in his cabin he found another yellow capsule with a glass of water

on his night table. This time he flushed both down the toilet.

The first lecture of' the morning was scheduled for the large auditorium.

Given by a Columbia pathologist, it was stultifyingly dull. Adam noticed

that a number of the doctors were dozing and wondered whether it was

because they were bored or drugged. The second lecture was given by Dr.

Goddard and was far more interesting. Adam noticed a number of the

doctors straightening up in their chairs. Goddard was summarizing a re-

cent experiment that showed that fetal tissue that was injected into

adults was not rejected. The guess was that the fetal tissue had not

developed antigens strong enough to elicit an antibody response. The

potential for the therapy was immense. Repopulating islet cells in the

pancreases of diabetics was only one of the revolutionary possibilities.

MINDBEND 227

At the coffee break, Adam went back to his stateroom, got the cartons of

Marlboros, and headed up to the promenade deck. He waited until no one

seemed to be around, then walked up to the barrier and stepped through

the door. Jos& was waiting. He had a canvas bag over his shoulder and the

cartons disappeared into it in a flash. At least he's not drugged,

thought Adam, and he handed back Jose's ten-dollar bill.

Confused, the sailor examined the bill, thinking something was wrong with

it.

"I have a deal you can't refuse," said Adam. "I'll get you cigarettes if

you get me food and water."

Jos6 raised his eyebrows. "What's the matter with the food back there?

I thought it was pretty fancy. "

"Part of the deal is no questions," said Adam. "I won't ask you what you

do with so many cigarettes, and you don't ask me what I do with the

food."

"Fine by me," said Jos6. "When do you want to meet again?"

"At four this afternoon, but I'd like some food now.

Jos& glanced over his shoulder, then told Adam to follow him. They walked

forward to a bulkhead door, which Jos4~ opened. Making sure they were

alone, Jose led Adam down to his cabin in the bowels of the ship. It was

like a jail cell. There was a shower and a toilet with no door and the

air was heavy with the odor of sweat and stale cigarettes.

Jos~ told Adam to make himself comfortable, laughing at his own joke as

he went out the door. Adam eyed the bunk and sat down on it.

Within five minutes Jose returned with a paper bag full of food,

including bread, cheese, fruit and

228 ROBIN COOK

juice. He handed the parcel to Adam, who pointed at an empty container in

the corner of the room which he asked Jose to fill at the sink.

" Do you have the same water as the rest of the ship?"asked Adam.

"t don't know," said Jose. "I'm not an engineer." He opened the door and

peered out. "We have to be careful. There are some people who wouldn't like

the fact that we are doing business."

Adam took the hint and scuttled back to his cabin, where he opened his

suitcase and hid the food. He put the two juice containers into the closet

and covered them with a soiled shirt. Checking his watch, he realized he

was late for the third lecture and hurried back.

Stretched out on an examining table in the Julian Clinic, Jennifer was

amazed at her own calm. Deciding vThether or not to repeat the amniocente-

sis had bcen far harder than the actual return to the hospital. Dr.

Vandermer had scheduled her for an early appointment, and she and her

mother were waiting for his arrival. He didn't keep them long, but he

looked so haggard, Jennifer decided the amniocentesis rnix-up had worse

ramifications for him than for herself. Vandermer's face was puffy and his

speech brief and halting, yet he performed the procedure even more smoothly

than the first time. The only problem for Jenni(er was that she felt her

child move soon after the needle had been placed. It frightened her, but

Dr. Vandermer assured her that there was no cause for alarm.

Afterward, Jennifer sat up on the table and said, A guess I don't have to

tell you to contact me as soon as you learn anything."

MINDBEND 229

"No, you don't," he said. "I'm taking personal interest in how the

laboratory handles this. You try to relax, and don't worry."

"I'll try," said Jennifer. She appreciated the attention Dr. Vandermer

was giving her, but she wished he didn't look so serious. It made her

more nervous than she already was.

0 00

At lunch Adam bought another ten dollars' worth of cigarettes and took

them back to his cabin. On his way out, he decided to check again on

Alan.

The door was still unlocked, but when Adam opened it, Alan was gone! Adam

checked the bathroom, thinking that perhaps the man had collapsed there,

but the cabin was completely empty. Adam was certain that the man he'd

seen before breakfast was in no shape to go for a walk. But it was

possible he had improved, and Adam hoped that was the explanation. Yet

it was also possible that he had been taken out, and the implications of

that were frightening. One way or another, Adam felt it was important to

find Alan.

He first checked the dining room, then the sun deck, where an outdoor

grill had been set up for hamburgers and hot dogs. A number of passengers

were stretched out on deck chairs, sleeping. Adam walked back through the

empty conference rooms and made his way down to the gym and doctor's

office. A sign on the door said: "For Emergency, See Steward."

Adam was getting more and more anxious. He had to calm down or someone

would notice and become suspicious. He decided to go back to the dining

room. He wouldn't eat, but he'd watch the other doctors.

230 ROBIN COOK

As soon as he found his table, he realized that the girl on his right was

the brunette dancer he'd admired the night before. She was dressed in a

demure suit and could have been mistaken for a passenger.

Gazing around the room, Adam spotted a number of other dancers. Feeling a

tug on his sleeve, he turned his attention to the brunette next to him.

"My name is Heather," she said in that oddly inflectionless voice Adam was

beginning to associate with the cruise. She didn't offer her last name.

The other guests at the table seemed to be concentrating on their rneal. A

bowl of savory minestrone was placed in front of Adam. As he pretended to

eat a little, Heather rewarded him with her undivided attention. Adam kept

nodding and smiling until she finally said, "You're not eating much."

Adam, who had been toying with his food, said simply, "I'm afraid I've been

seasick." It was the only excuse that came to mind.

"It's better to eat," said Heather. "Strangely enough, an empty stomach is

more vulnerable."

"Really?" said Adam evasively. Then as an afterthought, he added, "You

haven't eaten much yourself."

Heather laughed a high-pitched, grating laugh. "That's a problem of being

a dancer. I always have to watch my weight."

Adam nodded. He knew from Jennifer that dancers were obsessed with their

weight.

"Would you like me to come to your cabin tonight?" Heather asked as

casually as she would if inquiring about the weather.

Adam was glad he hadn't been eating. If he'd had anything in his mouth, he

would have choked. As it was, he coughed and glanced around to see if

MINDBEND 231

anyone else had heard, but his fellow guests just continued eating in their

silent half-stupor. Adam turned to Heather. Although her voice was strange,

she certainly didn't seem drugged. Adam decided to play along. She might be

able to answer some questions about this increasingly odd cruise.

"Come after your last performance," he whispered.

"I'll be in your cabin at eleven," she agreed enthusiastically.

Adam turned beet red. Fortunately, the other diners seemed too out of it to

notice. With a quick smile Adam nodded to her.

He went down to his cabin and hastily ate some of Jos&'s bread and cheese.

At the afternoon lecture Adam noticed more and more empty seats. There was

no sign of Alan, though later on Adam caught up with Ned and Clair. They

smiled but hadn't seen Alan and had very little to say. Adam guessed they

were receiving low dosages of tranquilizers. By the third lecture, a good

number of people in the audience were asleep, and Adam was convinced it

wasn't just because they were bored.

At four he left and went to meet Jose. Maybe the sailor would have an idea

where Alan might be found.

"I'd like to talk," said Adam when Jos6 let him through the barrier.

"What's the matter?" asked Jos&.

"Nothing," said Adam. "I'd just like to ask you some questions."

Jos6 led him back to his cabin and shut the door. From an upright locker he

produced two glasses and a bottle of dark rum. Adam declined, but Jose

filled both glasses anyway. "What's on your mind?" he said.

232 ROBIN COOK

"Have' vou been around the entire ship?" asked Adam.

Jose downed his rum in a single gulp. "Nope," he said, wiping his mouth

with the back of his hand. "Not all of it. I haven't seen where all those

pricks with the white coats berth."

"I thought they lived up here with the crew," said Adam.

"What, are you crazy?" asked Jos6. "We never see those weird guys. They

have cabins on C deck."

"Where is that? I thought B was the lowest deck."

Jos6 lifted the second glass. "You sure you don't want some rum?"

Adam shook his head.

"The stairs to the stewards' quarters are in the passengers' mess," said

Jos6, sipping the second drink. "The only reason I know that is because

I went there looking for something to eat one day when we were in port.

Unfortunately, I got caught and I almost lost my job. But what do you

care about those guys?"

"The reason I'm asking these questions," explained Adam, "is because a

passenger in the room next to mine seems to have disappeared. First he

seemed ill, and now he's vanished."

"Did you try the sick bay?" asked Jos6. "One of the crew told me they

have a fully equipped hospital. He knew because he helped bring in the

equipment."

"Where is it?" asked Adam.

"On B deck," said Jose. "Behind the doctor's office."

Adam picked up the food Jos6 had wrapped for him. The sick bay sounded

like a promising place to find Alan.

"What about more cigarettes?" asked Jos6.

MINDBEND 233

"Sure," said Adam. "Tomorrow morning. Same time."

"Sounds good," said Jose. "Let me check the hall." He put down his empty

glass and started to open the door.

"One more question," said Adam. "Do you know anything about the dancers?"

Joso~ looked back at Adam with a broad smile. "Not as much as I'd like

to know."

"Are they prostitutes?" asked Adam, thinking it would be good to know for

sure before Heather's visit.

Jos6 shook his head, laughing. "No, they're college girls working for

extra credit. What kind of question is that?"

"Do you ever get to see them?" asked Adam.

"I wish," said Jose. "Listen, they never let us mingle with those weirdos

who run the cruise. But I did see one of the girls on a beach in Puerto

Rico about a year ago. I tried to get some action, but she wasn I t

interested. I was pretty drunk and tried to grab her. That's when I found

out she was wearing a wig. It came off, and her head was shaved. On

either temple there were big round scars. Now tell me that isn't weird."

"What had happened to her?" asked Adam.

A never found out," said Jose. "She kneed me and suddenly I lost

interest."

"What a cruise," said Adam, picking up his parcel.

"What's the matter?" asked Jose. "You're not enjoying yourself?"

When the phone rang, Jennifer had a premonition it was Dr. Vandermer. She

heard her mother answer and then a moment later give a little shriek.

234 ROBIN COOK

That was when Jennifer knew. She started downstairs before her mother

could call her. When she reached the kitchen, Mrs. Carson wordlessly held

out the receiver.

"Hello, Dr. Vandermer," Jennifer said, controlling her voice.

"Hello, Jennifer," he said. There was a long pause. "I'm afraid I have

bad news."

"I expected it," she said. She could sense that Dr. Vandermer was

struggling to find the right words.

"The amniocentesis is definitely positive," he said. "This time I

supervised the straining of the amniotic fluid myself. There was no

chance of error. The same major chromosomal abnormality is there. In

fact, the specimens were never mixed up. I'm afraid that in addition to

Down's syndrome, your fetus must have significant developmental

abnormality of its sex organs."

"Oh God," said Jennifer. "That's terrible."

"It is," agreed Dr. Vandermer. "Look, if we are going to do something,

I think we should act quickly."

"I agree. I've thought it over carefully, and I want to have an abortion.

The sooner the better."

"In that case I'll try to arrange it for tomorrow."

"Thank you, Dr. Vandermer," said Jennifer. Then she hung up.

Mrs. Carson put her arms around her daughter and said, "I know how you

must feel, but I believe you are doing the right thing."

"I know I am. 1just want to talk to Adam."

Mrs. Carson's mouth tightened angrily.

"Mother-, he's still my husband, and I don't want to do this without

telling him."

"Well, dear, whatever you think best." Her

MINDBEND 235

mother left the kitchen and went upstairs, probably to complain about Adam

to her husband on the other phone.

As soon as she was alone, Jennifer dialed the apartment just in case Adam

had returned. She let it ring twenty times before hanging up and dialing

information for Arolen Pharmaceuticals in Montclair, New Jersey. When the

Arolen switchboard answered, she demanded to speak to Clarence McGuire. She

wasn't put through until she'd had a shouting match with his secretary.

"How are you, Mrs. Schonberg?" McGuire said when he finally came on the

line.

"Not very well," said Jennifer coldly. "I want to know where my husband

is."

"I'm sorry, but I don't know myself. He called in and said he had to go out

of town because of family problems."

"You wouldn't lie to me, would you?" asked Jennifer. "I thought you'd sent

him to Puerto Rico."

"He turned down the offer," said McGuire. "And there's no reason for me to

lie to you."

Jennifer hung up feeling confused. She'd been so certain that Adam was on

a trip for Arolen and hadn't wanted to tell her, she had trouble conceiving

of any other possibility. Impulsively, she placed a call to Adam's father.

"I'm sorry to bother you, Dr. Schonberg," said Jennifer, who'd never called

the man before, "but I'm looking for Adam and I thought you might know

where he is."

"I haven't the slightest idea," said Dr. Schonberg, "and you of all people

should know that."

Jennifer hung up the phone as her mother came back into the kitchen. She

must have overheard Jennifer's conversation with McGuire. "Better not

236 ROBIN COOK

tell your father this," she said. "He already thinks Adam is having an

affair."

0 *0

Adam was nervous. He'd been handed another yellow capsule about six

o'clock, and the stewards were watching him carefully during dinner. Afraid

that they were realizing he was avoiding their treatment, Adam resorted to

hiding food in his napkin to make it look like he was eating. As soon as he

could, he left the dining room. On the way back to his cabin he checked out

the infirmary. It was an impressive setup with a full operating room and

fancy radiological equipment. But there were no patients in the small ward.

As he passed Alan's room, he opened the door, expecting to see an empty

cabin. To his surprise, Alan was in bed and in essentially the same condi-

tion as he'd been in before his disappearance. Adam roused him. Alan seemed

to know where he was but insistcd he had never left his room. Adam eased

him back onto the bed and returned to his own cabin.

Coming on the cruise to discover why Vandermer had changed his position on

pregdolen had seemed like a good idea in the safety of New York. Now Adam

only wanted to get home safe and sound to his wife. He remembered someone

explaining to him that the reason Arolen sent the doctors on a cruise was

to get them away from their usual cares. But drugging them so they didn't

know what they were doing was more than extreme. It was terrifying.

A knock on Adam's door sent his pulse racing. He hoped it wasn't the

blank-faced steward with another pill.

MINDBEND 237

"Oh God," said Adam when he saw it was Heather.

"I'm so glad they let me off the last set," she said, coming in and looking

about the small cabin. She was wearing a see-through blouse and what must

have been the shortest skirt Adam had ever seen. She did have a marvelous

figure. I'm crazy, thought Adam, unable to take his eyes off her. How on

earth would he go about explaining this scene to Jennifer?

"Heather, why don't you sit down so I can talk with you?"

Heathei stopped the little dance she was doing about the room. "Sure," she

said, dropping onto the bed next to Adam and pressing her bare thigh

against his leg. With two daintv kicks she sent her high heels across the

room.

"What would you like to talk about?"

"You," said Adam, finding it difficult not to look down at the curve of her

breasts.

"I'd rather talk about you," said Heather, putting her arms around his

neck.

"That's what you told me at lunch," said Adam, gently pushing her away,

"but I really want to get to know you * "

"There's not a whole lot to tell," insisted Heather.

"Look, this isn't a run-of-the-mill job for a young girl. How did you

happen to end up here?"

Heather didn't answer. At first Adam believed she was thinking, but when he

looked at her, she appeared to be in a trance.

"Heather?" said Adam, waving his hand in front of her eyes.

"Yes", she said, blinking.

"I asked you a question."

"Oh, yeah. How did I end up on the Fjord? Well,

238 ROBIN COOK

it's a long story. I was a secretary at Arolen Pharmaceuticals in New

Jersey. They liked me and offered me a job with MTIC in Puerto Rico. I

started as a secretary there, too, but then they found out I liked to

dance, so I got this job."

That explained the dancing, thought Adam, but not the prostitution, if

she actually was a prostitute. Adam was willing to give her the benefit

of the doubt.

"Are you enjoying yourself on the cruise?" Heather asked, changing the

subject.

"I'm having a wonderful time," said Adam.

"I'm going to make it even better," promised Heather. "But first I have

a present for you."

"Really," said Adam.

"You wait right here." Getting up, she went over to the little purse

she'd put on the desk. When she turned around, Adam saw she was holding

out two more of the yellow capsules. He felt a twinge of panic.

"Could you get me some fruit juice from the closet?" he asked. A can't

stand the water."

"OK," said Heather agreeably. She put the pills down on the desk and

fetched the juice. Removing the top of the container, she handed it to

Adam, who palmed the pills and dropped them behind the bed when she put

the juice back.

"Now I'm really going to make you enjoy this cruise," she said, sitting

on his lap.

"Wait just a second," said Adam, avoiding her lips. "What were the

capsules you just gave me?"

"It was for enjoyment," said Heather. "To make you relax and forget your

troubles."

"Do you take them?" asked Adam.

"No," said Heather with her high-pitched laugh. "I don't have any

troubles."

MINDBEND 239

"What makes you think I do?" asked Adam.

"All the doctors have troubles," said Heather.

"Do you visit all the doctors?" asked Adam. "You and the other dancers?"

"No," said Heather. "Just the ones Mr. Powell and Dr. Goddard tell us to

see."

"And they told you to see me?"

Heather nodded.

"Do you know why?"

"Because you haven't relaxed enough," said Heather petulantly. "Aren't

you interested in me?"

"Yes, indeed," said Adam. He bent her head and kissed her, while his

fingers probed her hairline to see if she was wearing a wig. She wasn't,

but as he rubbed the skin above her temples he felt little ridged lines.

"Heather, I want to ask you a question. Are those scars?"

"I don't think so," said Heather, sounding annoyed. "Where?"

"Along your temples," said Adam. Gently, he turned her head to one side

and separated her hair so he could see. There were small scars, about a

centimeter long, 'just as Jos~ had described.

Heather raised her hand and felt the spot. Then she shrugged.

"Do vou have any idea how you got those?" asked Adam.

"No," said Heather. "And what's more, I don't care.

"I'm sorry if I'm not much fun," said Adam. "I guess I'm just too

relaxed."

Heather looked disappointed. "Maybe I should have waited to give you the

capsules."

"Will Mr. Powell be pleased that I've finally forgotten my worries?"

asked Adam.

240 ROBIN COOK

Heather nodded, gently rubbing his shoulders.

"Why does Mr. Powell care if I'm relaxed?" asked Adam.

"So you can go to the instruction room," said Heather.

Adam stared at the girl. She caught his glance and said quickly, "Are you

sure you're too relaxed?"

"Absolutely," said Adam. "bo you know where this instruction room is?"

"Of course. In fact I'm supposed to take you there. But not until you're

ready."

"I've never been this relaxed before," said Adam, allowing his arms to

go limp. "Why don't you take me now?"

Instead of answering, Heather seemed to go into another trance. A few

minutes later she picked up the conversation as if she were unaware of

the pause. A could take you to the instruction room if you take another

pill. I'm supposed to make sure you fall asleep."

"Give it to me," said Adam. "I can hardly keep my eyes open now.

It was curious how easy it was to fool Heather. Like the steward, she

seemed almost childlike in her trust. After a while Adam lay back and

closed his eyes. Ten minutes later, Heather helped him to his feet and

guided him out the door. They went back to the central stairs, climbed

to the main deck, and entered the dining room. Just beyond one of the

doors to the side of the podium was a pantry with tablecloths, flatware,

and trays. To the right was another door that opened onto a stairway that

descended deep into the ship. Adam guessed it led to C deck.

As they went down, they passed several stewards coming up. Adam tried to

avoid their eyes.

MINDBEND 241

He didn't want anyone to notice that he was faking his sedation.

When they reached the bottom of the stairs, they went down a long hall

to a pair of double doors.

"Stuart Smyth," said Heather to the steward who was guarding the

entrance. "He's a repeat."

"Bench 47," said the steward, handing Heather something that looked like

a credit card. She and Adam went inside.

When Adam's eyes adjusted to the dark, he saw he was in what appeared to

be the lobby of a theater. Peering over the chest-high wall, he saw a

movie screen. There was no sound, but he thought he saw images of doctors

flickering in the dark.

A steward took the card from Heather and without a word grasped Adam by

the arm and pulled him into the theater. Even in the dark Adam could see

that the seats were very different from those in a regular movie house.

Each one looked like a miniature electric chair with a myriad of elec-

trodes and straps. There were fifteen to twenty seats in each row and

more than twentv rows.

Holding his arm in an uncomfortably firm grip, the steward led Adam down

the center aisle. Adam was shocked to see that the doctors were stark

naked and were restrained by leather straps. They all wore helmets fitted

with earphones and surface electrodes for stimulation. They all seemed

to be heavily drugged, like Alan, to a point between sleeping and

wakefulness. More wires snaked around their bodies and were attached with

needle electrodes to various nerve sites.

The steward stopped by an empty chair in the front row. Then he inserted

the card into a slot on the side of the chair and started to adjust the

wires.

242 ROBIN COOK

Adam was almost afraid to breathe. He felt as if he'd been dropped into

a horror movie. Glancing up at the huge screen, he saw the image of a

doctor offering a patient a generic brand of medicine. The moment the

name flashed on the screen, the doctor's face contorted in pain and he

dropped the bottle. At the same time Adam heard an eerie wail rise from

the doctors in the room. Then the doctor on the screen reached for an

Arolen product and a broad smile crossed his face. Adam glanced at the

doctor next to him and saw that he, too, was smiling blissfully.

Watching the steward position the straps, Adam realized he was seeing the

very latest in mindcontrol techniques involving adverse conditioning and

positive reinforcing. As more clinical situations were enacted on the

screen, Adam saw the faces of the doctors near him contorting in either

pain or pleasure, depending on the circumstances projected.

My God, thought Adam, I'm in a nightmare where the doctor has become the

patient! No wonder Vandermer had changed his mind about pregdolen. And

to think he is in charge of Jennifer!

The steward began unbuttoning Adam's shirt, and the touch of his fingers

made Adam aware of his own vulnerability. He wasn't an observer. They

meant to wire him up and subject him to the same treatment.

Studying the blank face of the steward as he awkwardly struggled with the

buttons, Adam realized the man was drugged like the doctors, just less

heavily. In fact, Adam decided, all the stewards must be drugged. Maybe

some had even had psychosurgery, as Adam suspected Heather had.

A sequence that condemned unnecessary surgery

MINDBEND 243

came on the screen. Apparently, MTIC wanted to do more than simply brainwash

the doctors into prescribing Arolen products.

The steward had taken off Adam's shirt and was fumbling with his belt.

"Do you know what you are doing?" rasped Adam, unable to remain silent any

longer.

"We are helping the doctors learn," said the steward, taken aback by Adam's

unexpected question.

"At what cost?" said Adam, grabbing the man's wrist.

Slowly but with great strength, the steward peeled Adam's fingers off his

arm. Adam was amazed at the man's strength in light of the amount of drugs

he'd undoubtedly been given.

"Please," said the steward. "You must cooperate." He lifted the helmet

device with the intention of slipping it over the top of Adam's head.

Knowing surprise was his only weapon, Adam snatched the helmet and jammed

it down on the steward's head. Grasping the mass of wires, Adam wrapped

them around the man's neck, then turned and fled, hoping the steward would

be unable to shout before Adam could get out of the room.

As Adam ran up the central aisle, the doctors issued another anguished

wail, sending a new spike of terror down his spine. He rushed for the door,

bursting into the hallway at full speed. As he shot by the guard in the

booth, the man gave a shout.

Adam raced up the stairs to the main deck so quickly that he almost fell.

A steward coming down reached out a hand to help, but he made no attempt to

stop Adam.

In the dining room Adam had to choose whether or not to go farther up. He

decided he would, since

244 ROBIN COOK

the areas below made him claustrophobic. Running past the lecture halls, he

heard a series of bells. Then the ship's PA system crackled to life.

"Now hear this. Passenger Smyth is in distress and must be detained."

Pausing at the top of the stairs, Adam began to shake with fright.

Desperately, he tried to control his panic and think of a place to hide.

The various lockers and closets seemed too obvious. Besides, he'd be

trapped. He continued up another flight of stairs. As he passed the

promenade deck, he heard men shouting on the level below.

Gripped by terror, he emerged on the sun deck and ran by the swimming pool.

Suddenly the imposing white smokestack loomed in front of him. He could see

a metal ladder set into the near side. Without thinking, he grabbed the

lowest rung and began climbing. As he rose from the shelter ofthe deck the

wind buffeted his naked chest. He had gone about fifty feet when he heard

his pursuers on the sun deck below. Imagining a spotlight pinning,him

against the white wall, Adam closed his eyes with fear.

After several seconds had passed with no shout of discovery, Adam hazarded

a downward glance. Several stewards were methodically lifting the canvas

covers of the lifeboats and opening the various lockers. At least they

hadn't guessed his hiding spot, but seeing how high he was above the deck

made him dizzy. When he looked up, it wasn't any better. The stars seemed

to be careening back and forth across the sky.

After a few minutes Adam looked down again. Several stewards were milling

about at the base of the stack. Despite his fear of heights, Adam began

inching his way farther up the ladder. He esti-

MINDBEND 245

mated that he had another twenty-five feet or so before the top. Just below

the top on either side of the stack were two dark openings, each about the

size of a man. He decided to see if he could hide in one. Trying to keep his

mind off the possibility of falling, Adam reached the openings. Within each

was a metal grate floor.

Knowing he couldn't remain in his exposed position any longer, he grasped

the edge of the opening on the left and worked his foot over to the lip.

Suspended between the ladder and the opening, he almost lost his nerve. It

was a long drop to the deck. Marshaling his courage, he let go of the lad-

der and pulled himself inside the stack.

Adam walked around on the catwalk inside of the smokestack once he'd

regained his balance. He had no idea what the space could be used for, but

he was happy it was there. Feeling more secure now that no one could see

him, he began trying to figure out what to do next. The image of those

doctors moaning in pain haunted him. Now he understood what Vandermer and

Foley had endured.

Remembering Dr. Goddard's lecture about Arolen's interest in fetology, he

realized the company must have a growing need for fetal tissue. He suddenly

knew why the Julian Clinic had such an active amniocentesis program. The

mix-up with Jennifer's specimen was probably not an accident. Adam broke

into a cold sweat. What if they talked Jennifer into repeating the

amniocentesis before he got back to New York!

Adam sank to his knees. If he had only run forward, he might have gotten to

the crew's quarters and somehow used the radio. No, he thought, that was

pure fantasy. He was trying to think how he

246 ROBIN COOK

could get back to the deck when there was a thud against the outside of the

stack.

Carefully Adam pulled himself to the edge of the opening and looked over

the rim. About halfway up the ladder was a steward. Adam panicked again. He

was trapped. Maybe the man would not climb into the opening, but that

seemed unlikely.

Adam could hear the man's labored breathing, and a second later a hand

gripped the rim, followed by a foot and then the steward himself. Adam

waited until the man was silhouetted against the opening, his arms apart

for balance. Lunging forward, Adam used both hands to grab the man's head

and ram it as hard as he could against the steel plate of the chimney. Adam

had to grab the steward's jacket to keep him from tumbling backward out of

the opening. He pulled him in and allowed the man to crumble onto the

catwalk. He bent down to look at the man's head. At least there was no

blood.

Pulling the steward into a sitting position, Adam struggled to remove the

man's shirt and white jacket. The bow tie was easy to take off, since it

was just a clip-on. Standing up, Adam tried on the clothes. They were big

but serviceable. Buttoning the top button of the shirt, he put on the bow

tie. Stepping over the man, Adam sighted down the ladder, deciding that

he'd better leave before the man regained consciousness. Adam figured his

best bet was to hide in the crew's quarters.

He was halfway down the ladder when a number of stewards appeared on the

deck below. He'd just have to bluff his way through. When he got to the

deck, he straightened his tie, smoothed his jacket, and started forward.

He had to fight the urge to run as he passed one

MINDBEND 247

of the stewards who was checking deck-chair lockers near the main stairs.

Fortunately, the stairway itself was empty, and Adam reached the promenade

deck other-wise unobserved. The rest of the stewards had dispersed, no

doubt searching for him in other parts of the ship. Adam exited on the

starboard side and walked forward. As he slipped through the door in the

barricade, he realized his disguise might make him look suspicious in that

part of the ship. Pulling off the jacket, he threw it overboard.

Moving quickly, Adam walked to the door that he'd entered with Jos~.

Opening the door, he looked down a corridor illuminated by bare light

bulbs which threw grotesque shadows on the walls. From the far end of the

hall, Adam heard voices and the clink of cutlery. He guessed it was the

crew's mess.

Moving as silently as the metal floor would allow, Adam tiptoed to Jose's

door and knocked. There was no answer. He tried the knob, which turned

easily, then stepped inside, quickly closing the door behind him.

Unfortunately, there was no light in the room. He ran his fingers along

the wall by the door but didn't encounter any switches. Cautiously, he

advanced farther into the room, trying to recall the floor plan. He

remembered there was a lamp fixed to the wall above the suspended bed.

Suddenly a hand came out of the blackness and grabbed Adam by the throat.

"Jos6!" he gasped before the hand tightened its grip, cutting off his

air. Adam was just about to pass out when the grip on his neck loosened.

There was a click, and light fllled the room. Jose was standing in front

of Adam, looking at him with disgust.

248 ROBIN COOK

"Are vott trying to get yourself killed?" he asked, taking bis hand away

and sitting on the edge of the bed.

.'I knocked," Adam managed to say, rubbing his throat. "You didn't answer."

"I was fucking asleep," said Jos~.

"I'm sorry," said Adam, "but it was an emergency.

"One of the college girls after you?" asked Jose sarcastically.

"Not quite," said Adam. "It's the weirdos in the white jackets."

"What the hell do they want with you?" asked Jose.

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you. But there's a chance for you to

make some money. Does that interest you?"

"Money always interests me," said Jose. "What do you have in mind?"

"When do we get to St. Thomas?"

"What time is it?"

Adam looked at his watch. "One-thirty."

"In four or five hours. Something like that."

"Well, I need to stay hidden until we dock, and then I'll have to sneak off

the ship."

Jos~ wiped his face with the back of his hand. "What kind of money are we

talking about?"

Adam took out his wallet and counted the cash. All told, he had close to

three hundred dollars.

"I'll necd some for a taxi, but two hundred seventy-five is yours," said

Adam.

Jos6 raised his eyebrows. A can't guarantee anything, but I'll give it a

try. If you get caught, though, I'll swear we never met."

Adam handed over a hundred dollars. "You'll get the rest when I get

ashore."

MINDBEND 249

Jose nodded agreement and went over to his locker. He pulled out a pair

of grease-stained khaki trousers and a torn flannel shirt. Tossing them

to Adam, he said, "Put them on and you pass for crew. I got a couple of

friends who hate the stewards as much as I do. Maybe they'll help. You

stay here. No one should bother you."

Adam tried to tell Jose how much he appreciated his help, but Jose

stopped him and said the money was all he wanted. Then he pulled on a

pair of pants and left the room.

Adam put on the filthy clothes and stashed his own in the back of' the

locker. Then he looked at himself in the mirror above the sink. He looked

terrible, but for once he appreciated his rapidgrowing beard. He

certainly no longer looked like one of the passengers.

The door opened again and Adam almost fainted, but it was only Jose.

"Next time, why don't you knock," Adam said.

"Hey, this is mv fucking cabin," said Jos& irritably.

Adam couldn't argue that point.

Jos6 sat back down on the bed. "I just talked to a friend of mine about

getting you off the ship. He knows a way. Seems he used it himself one

day when the crew wasn't supposed to go ashore in St. Thomas. The problem

is that it requires all your money up front. I got to pay off two other

guys."

Adam shook his head.

11 Listen," said Jos&, "if you're not happy with the arrangement, why

don't you leave?"

Adam got the point. He didn't have any leverage at all. If Jose wanted

to, he could take the money by force.

With a sigh of resignation, Adam pulled out his

250 ROBIN COOK

wallet. Keeping twenty-five dollars for himself, he handed the rest to

Jos&.

"You act as if you're doing me a favor," the sailor said, stuffing the

notes into his pocket. "But let me tell you, we wouldn't be sticking our

necks out for this kind of money except we hate those steward bastards."

A appreciate it," said Adam, wondering what the chances were that Jose

was just taking him for a ride.

"You can hide here for the rest of the night. In the morning, after we

dock, I'll come and get you. Understand?"

Adam nodded. "Can you give me an idea of your plans?"

Jose smiled. "I'd rather let that be a surprise. You make yourself

comfortable and don't worry about a thing."

Adam could hear Jos~ laughing as he closed the door.

Looking at his watch, Adam guessed that it was going to be a long night.

He thought he was much too tense to sleep, but after a while he drifted

off. He didn't know how many hours had passed when he was awakened by

loud shouts in the corridor. Adam recognized the voice at once.

"In this part of the ship, I am in command, and no one is going to search

without my permission." It was the captain speaking.

A deeper voice responded, "I'm in charge of the ship, so please let me

through."

Adam thought it might have been Raymond Powell.

Other voices began shouting, and Adam could hear doors being opened and

slammed shut.

In panic, Adam glanced around the tiny room

MINDBEND 251

for someplace to hide. There was nowhere. Even the locker was too narrow

to squeeze into. Then he had an idea. He pulled his hair forward over his

forehead and yanked the grease-stained pants down around his ankles.

Hobbling over to the exposed toilet, he sat down. A Penthouse magazine was

laying next to the toilet, and he picked it up and put it on his lap. In

a couple of minutes he heard a key in the lock and the door swung open.

Adam looked up. A steward was standing in the doorway. Adam saw Mr.

Powell right behind him and heard Captain Nordstrom, who was still pro-

testing. Powell gave Adam a look of disgust and moved on. The steward

slammed the door behind him.

For a moment, Adam didn't move. He could hear the group noisily moving

farther down the corridor. Finally, he stood up and pulled up his pants.

Taking the Penthouse over to the bunk, he tried to read but was too

scared the search party would return. In the end, he fell back to sleep

until a loud banging announced the ship had docked. It was five-fifteen.

The next hour and a quarter were the longest in Adam's life. People would

occasionally pass in the passageway, and each time Adam was sure they

were coming to find him.

At six-thirty Jos& came back.

"Everything is ready," he said, going over to the locker and getting out

the bottle of dark rum. "First, I think you better have a drink."

"Do you think I need it?"

"Yup," said Josi~ as he handed Adam a glass. "I would takc it if I were

you."

Adam took a small sip, but the liquor was rough and bitter. He shook his

head and handed the

252 ROBIN COOK

glass back to Jos6. Unconcerned, Jos6 tossed it down.

Returning the bottle to the locker, Jos6 rubbed his hands. "Your

name's Angel in case someone asks. But I don't think you'll have to do

much talking."

Jos6 opened the door to the corridor and motioned Adam to follow him.

CHAPTER 14

Jennifer had a restless night and was in the kitchen when the

phone rang at seven forty-five. She answered it quickly, thinking

that her parents were still sleeping, but her mother had already

picked up.

"I've got it, mother," said Jennifer when she heard Dr.

Vandermer's voice.

"Good morning, Jennifer," he said. "We're all set to take you at

three-thirty. I'm sorry it's so late, but we're so busy we had

trouble even fitting you in. Just stick to clear liquids and by

tonight it will be all over and you can order whatever you want

for dinner."

"OK," said Jennifer without much feeling. "How long will I be

staying?"

I 'Probabiv just overnight. I'll explain things to you when you

are here."

"What time should I check in?"

"Why riot drive over later this morning? That way we can do the

routine admission work. And if the surgical schedule lightens up,

maybe we can

253

254 ROBIN COOK

take you earlier. Meanwhile, just relax and let me worry about the

details."

Jennifer made herself some coffee and walked out into the garden. For

a moment she had second thoughts, but then she decided she was doing

the right thing. Both Dr. Vandermer and her parents felt she had no

other choice. She just wished Adam was there to share in the decision.

0 00

Adam followed Jos6, trying to make himself as unobtrusive as possible.

They walked the length of the passageway, passing the mess, and descended

a steep flight of stairs. The crew members they encountered seemed to

take Adam's presence for granted. Even so, it was a nerve-racking experi-

ence for Adam. He kept expecting someone to recognize him and sound the

alarm.

When they reached the lowest level, they began to walk aft down a narrow

corridor that was lined with pipes and smelled of diesel fuel. They

passed rooms filled with machines, which Adam guessed were the

generators. A number of men were working there, stripped to their waists,

their bodies glistening with sweat. The noise was deafening.

They walked until they came to a large dark room filled with painted

metal dumpsters on casters that stank from the garbage they contained.

Jos4~ went in and guided Adam to the far corner, where two men were

sitting on the floor playing blackjack. As Jos6 approached, the larger

fellow glanced up and then went back to his game.

"Hit me easylike," he said to the smaller man as Jos6 squatted down.

In the wall behind the player was a wide open- MINDBEND 255

ing through which Adam could see a portion of the bustling pier. A swath of

radiant sunlight, which looked heavenly in the hellish surroundings, slanted

into the room.

11 Hallelujah," he muttered as he moved over to the lower door, shielding

his eyes from the intensity of the tropical sun. He felt so close to land-

and freedom. Never mind that he still didn't see how he'd get there. He

glanced outside at the concrete pier again and his elation vanished. To his

immediate right was a passenger gangway carefully guarded by a brace of

white-jacketed stewards who were carefully screening anyone leaving the

ship.

"Jos6, there's no way I can walk out there without being stopped," said

Adam, trying to control his voice.

Without looking up from the card game, Jos~ said, "Just wait."

Adam stood there for a few minutes, wondering what to do.

"Jose," he said, "is this how you're getting me off the ship?" He nodded

toward the gangway.

"Nope," said Jose, "the best is yet to come."

"What are you planning?" said Adam angrily.

Jose didn't answer. Going back to the opening, Adam stared longingly at the

green hills rising gently from the harbor. They were dotted with small

cottages. He was about to question Jos6 again when a line of yellow garbage

trucks started down the pier, belching diesel smoke from vertical exhaust

pipes. They came to a halt not far from the ship's side, one behind the

other. Then there was a fearful blast of an air horn.

The cardplayers cursed, threw down their cards, and went over to the

nearest dumpster. With the

256 ROBIN COOK

big fellow pushing and the other two pulling, they rolled it down the ramp

and up to the lead truck. While the men returned for another dumpster, the

truck went to work. Large hydraulic arms came forward and grabbed the

dumpster, lifting it high over the truck's cab and dumping the contents

in back. It was all done very neatly because the dumpster had a metal lid

that did not open until the last moment. By the time the dumpster was

slammed back onto the concrete, Jos6 and the others had the next one out

on the quay. After a few more loads had been swallowed by the truck, Jose

shouted to Adam, "OK, come over here."

Adam followed him to the next dumpster in line.

"You're going out with the trash," said Jos4~. The three men began to

laugh.

"You want me to get into that?" asked Adam with horror.

"You've no time to argue," said Jos6. "This is the last load for the

first truck."

"Is this the only way off the ship?" asked Adam.

"The only way," said the huskier cardplayer. "I did it myself once. Not

the fanciest way to ride around town, but it ain't crowded."

"Where will it take me?" asked Adam, considering what he should do if he

went through with their plan.

"Right out to a landfill near the airport."

"Jesus," said Adam. "Why didn't you tell me you were going to send me out

with the garbage."

"This ain't garbage," said the cardplayer. "We dump that into the ocean.

This is trash."

The truck's air horn impatiently sounded.

"You have to go," said Jos4~. "You can't hang around my cabin forever.

Put your foot here." He made a platform of his hands and, against his

MINDBEND 257

better judgment, Adam used it as a step. The big cardplayer lifted the

dumpster's lid, and with a swift movement Jos6 tossed Adam headfirst into

the mess of boxes, paper, waxed containers, and other debris. And contrary

to what the cardplayer had said, there was garbage, too. The lid banged

down, and Adam was plunged into darkness. He felt the dumpster roll down the

ramp onto the pier. Then there was a violent jolt and Adam visualized his

rise from the ground. The dumpster shook, tilted upside down, and with a

flash of light Adam screamed and flew into the back of the truck. He ended

up on his hands and knees, covered with trash.

Almost at once the truck began to roll. It was well away from the pier

before Adam worked his head clear of the trash. The junk cushioned his

ride, and he was not disturbed by the bumpy road. But after a few minutes

the tropical sun turned the truck's metal shell into a broiling oven. Adam

began to sweat, and by the time the truck got to the landfill he didn't

care what happened to him as long as he could get out. He was dimly aware

of a diesel whining beneath him as the back of the truck began to lift. A

moment later he shot onto an enormous pile of trash. He got to his feet in

time to see his truck lumber away.

No one had seen him leave the ship. He was safe. Looking about, he could

see the tiny island airport two hundred yards to his right. To his left,

the blue Caribbean stretched as far as he could see.

Dusting himself off as best he could, Adam started walking to the terminal.

The airport was a casual affair with an entrance crowded with colorfully

painted taxis. As Adam

258 ROBIN COOK

started inside, he saw a group of tourists eyeing him nervously. It was

clear that he could not casually buy a ticket unless he did something

about his appearance. Ducking into a small store, he charged a pair of

jeans and a tee shirt that cheerfully proclaimed: "Come to St. Thomas."

In the crowded men's room Adam found an empty stall and changed his shirt

and pants. On the way out, he tossed Jose's old clothes into the trash

where they certainly belonged.

Looking about, Adam spotted the flight schedules, which were displayed

on felt boards with white plastic letters. There were two major carriers:

American and Eastern. To his delight, Adam realized that he could easily

make American's nonstop flight to New York, which would leave at

nine-twenty. He got at the end of the line to buy his ticket.

The line crept forward at a snail's pace, and Adam began to fear he would

miss the plane.

"One-way ticket to New York," he said when he finally reached the

counter.

The girl glared at him as if she thought his casual dress, unshaved face,

and lack of luggage a little odd, but all she said was, "How do you plan

to pay?"

"Credit card," said Adam as he pulled out his wallet, which had somehow

snagged a piece of lemon peel. Embarrassed, Adam flicked it off and

extracted his Visa card.

The girl looked at the card and requested some identification. Adam went

back to his wallet and pulled out his driver's license. The girl checked

it, then showed it to the heavyset clerk at the next counter.

MINDBEND 259

"The Visa card is for Schonberg, but the license reads Smyth," the man

said, coming over to Adam.

Beet red, Adam got out his real license plus his Arolen employment card

that had his picture and handed them over. He tried to explain that a

friend had entrusted him with his license.

"Would you step to the side, please?" the man said, taking Adam's cards

and disappearing through a door. Adam tried not to appear nervous as the

girl continued to sell tickets to the rest of the people in line, eyeing

Adam from time to time to make sure he was not about to leave.

It was nearly ten minutes before the clerk returned with an airline agent

who told Adam he was Baldwin Jacob, the supervisor. He was holding Adam's

cards.

"We'll issue you a ticket," he said, "but the flight is full. You'll have

to go standby."

Adam nodded. There was nothing else he could do. The clerk made out the

ticket and pointedly asked Adam if he had any luggage.

"No," said Adam. "I travel light when I'm on vacation."

He walked over to a cafeteria and bought a couple of donuts and a cup of

coffee, happy not to have to worry about the possibility of being

drugged. Then he put through a call to the Carsons'. Just as he'd feared,

Jennifer didn't answer the phone. Instead, Mr. Carson's baritone echoed

over the wire.

"Hello," said Adam more cheerfully than he felt. "This is Adam. Is

Jennifer awake yet?"

"Jennifer is not here," said Mr. Carson in a distinctly unfriendly voice,

"Where is she?"

"I don't think you can reach her."

11 Look, I know you love your daughter," said

260 ROBIN COOK

Adam, "but the fact of the matter is that I am her husband, arid it is

urgent that I speak with her."

There was a pause as Mr. Carson apparently made up his mind. "She's not

here. She and her mother just left for the Julian Clinic. They are

admitting her this morning."

"Admitting her?" repeated Adam with alarm. "Why is she being admitted? Is

she all right?"

"she's kne," said Mr. Carson. "And that's why I think you should leave her

alone for a few days. After that, you two can iron out your differences.

But frankly, Adam,Your being away at this time is very upsetting.

"Why? What's going on?" said Adam, trying to control his fear.

"Jennifer had a repeat amniocentesis," said Mr. Carson, "arid it was again

positive. She's decided to have an abortion."

Adam felt something snap. "She doesn't need an abortion," lie shouted.

"That's your opinion," said Mr. Carson calmly. "It is not ours or

Jennifer's and under the circumstances, there's not a lot vou can do about

it."

There was a click. The line was dead.

In a panic, Adam tried to call Jennifer at the clinic, only to learn that

she had not been assigned

room yet and, no, patients could not be paged.

Adam slammed the phone down. There was still

half hour before flight time. He tried calling Vandermer, but was told he

was in surgery.

Leaving the phone booth, Adam ran back to the American Airlines counter,

which was now jammed with people trying to check in for the flight. Pushing

and shoving, he managed to get to the front of the line and asked to speak

to the supervisor.

It was several minutes before Mr. Jacob appeared.

MINDBEND 261

Not even trying to conceal his rising hysteria, Adam told the man he had to

get to New York because his wife was going to have a baby.

The supervisor took Adam's ticket and without saying anything checked the

computer. "We'll do the best we can, but, as I said, the flight is fully

booked."

Adam didn't know what to do. Jacob obviously wasn't going to put out any

extraordinary effort for his sake. Adam stood there, trying to think what

he could do. Then he ran back to the telephone and put in a call to an old

friend from college, Harvey Hatfield. Harvey had finished law school and

was working at a big Wall Street firm. Without going into details, Adam

told Harvey that his wife was going to have an abortion and he wanted to

stop her.

Harvey seemed to think he was kidding. "So why are you calling a firm that

specializes in corporate mergers?" he asked.

"Jesus, Harvey, I'm serious."

I 'Well, you'd better get someone who specializes in litigation. Try Emmet

Redford. He's a friend of my father."

"Thanks," said Adam as his flight was announced over the loudspeaker, the

flight he hoped to be on. He dropped the receiver and ran back to the

counter, where he practically flung himself at the clerk he'd originally

approached.

"Please, Miss, I've got to get on the plane. My wife is having a baby and

it's going to die unless I get to New York."

For the first time, Adam had the feeling that someone was taking pity on

him. The girl stared into his frantic eyes and said, "I'll put you on top

of the standby list."

262 ROBIN COOK

Adam allowed himself a little hope, but a few more passengers arrived

breathlessly and were given boarding passes. Then a portly man showed up

with a walkie-talkie. He went through the boarding gate and pulled it

closed behind him.

"Mr. Schonberg," called Carol, the airline clerk.

Adam dashed back to the desk, but Carol was shaking her head. "Sorry, but

the plane is completely full. No standbys at all."

Crushed, Adam collapsed into a seat. He could hear the whine of the jet

engines starting up outside. Then the boarding door reopened and a stew-

ardess appeared, holding up one finger.

The clerk turned to Adam. "Seems like there is one seat, but it is in

smoking. Do you want it?"

0 0*

Unfortunately, the receptionist who greeted Jennifer at the Julian Clinic

was the same girl who had helped admit Cheryl Tedesco. Seeing Karen

Krinitz in her white blouse and blue jumper, Jennifer remembered the

whole awful episode. Karen, however, acted as if they'd never met. She

greeted Jennifer and her mother with the same mechanical smile.

"Hi! I'm Karen. I've been assigned to your case. I'm here to help if you

have any questions or problems. We want your stay to be as pleasant as

possible, so please call me if you need anything."

"Well, isn't that nice," said Mrs. Carson, but Jennifer had the strange

feeling she had heard the entire speech before-word for word.

Karen went on, explaining the Julian philosophy. When she was done, Mrs.

Carson thanked her enthusiastically, saying, "I'm not sure I'll ever be

MINDBEND 263

satisfied with Englewood Memorial after this. There is so much concern for

the patient here."

Jennifer nodded. The clinic certainly cared about people. Yet Karen's

speech bothered Jennifer. She had felt it was a little too pat the first

time she'd heard it.

Jennifer sighed. She decided the experience with Cheryl was upsetting

her. Who cared if a woman memorized a speech that she was required to

give to all the patients?

"Are you all right, dear?" asked Mrs. Carson.

"I'm fine, mother," said Jennifer as she watched Karen recede down the

hall. "Thanks for coming with me today. It means a lot to me."

Mrs. Carson reached over and gave her daughter a hug. She didn't want

Jennifer to know how worried she really was.

The moment Adam's plane landed at Kennedy he ran for the nearest phone

booth. First, he called the Julian Clinic and asked to be put through to

Jennifer's room. There was no answer. Then he dialed again and asked when

Jennifer's procedure was scheduled. When the operator asked who wanted

to know, he said Dr. Smyth. The operator seemed to accept his answer, and

a moment later a nurse came on the line and said that Jennifer Schonberg

was set for that afternoon.

"So she hasn't been done yet?" said Adam.

"Not yet, but she's been called for the OR. Dr. Vandermer is almost ready

for her."

Adam fumbled with his coins and dialed the Julian Clinic a third time,

this time asking to have Dr. Vandermer paged. An OR nurse picked up and

264 ROBIN COOK

said the doctor was unavailable, but should be done with his current case in

thirtv minutes.

With renewed panic, Adam called the lawver that Harvey had recommended,

Emmet Redford. Shouting that it was a life-or-death situation, he finally

got put through. As briefly as possible, Adam told the lawyer that his wife

was going to have an abortion and that he wanted to stop her.

"There's not much you can do, my friend," said Mr. Redford. "According to

the Supreme Court, a husband cannot block his wife's abortion."

"That's incredible," said Adam. "It's mv child, too. Isn't there anything

you can do?"

"Well, I might be able to delay it' ' "

"Do it!" shouted Adam. "Whatever you can!"

"Give me her name and all the particulars," said Mr. Redford.

Adam did so as quickly as he could.

"When is she scheduled to have the abortion?" asked Mr. Redford.

"In thirty minutes or so," said Adam desperately.

"Thirty minutes! What do you expect me to do in half an hour?"

"I've got to go," said Adam. "She's at the Julian Clinic. There's no time

to lose."

Adam dropped the phone and ran through the terminal to the taxi stand.

Leaping into the first cab in line, he yelled for the driver to take him to

the Julian Clinic.

"You got money?" the cabbie asked, eveing Adam's casual dress.

Adam pulled out his twenty, hoping it would be enough. Satisfied, the man

put the car in gear and pulled away from the curb.

. 00

MINDBEND 265

Jennifer was lying on a gurney just outside the treatment room. Her mother

was standing beside her, and Jennifer was again forcibly reminded of her

earlier visit to the Julian with Cheryl. Mrs. Carson was smiling, feigning

confidence, but it was clear she was as nervous as her daughter.

"Why don't you go back to the lounge?" suggested Jennifer. "I'll be fine.

From what Dr. Vandermer says, it's going to be easy."

Mrs. Carson glanced at her daughter, undecided as to what she should do.

"Please," said Jennifer. "Don't make a big deal out of this. Go back and

read a magazine."

Relenting, Mrs. Carson bent down, kissed Jennifer on her forehead, and

headed back toward the lounge. Jennifer watched her go with mixed emotions.

"OK," said the nurse, emerging from the treatment room. "We're all ready

for you." She released the brake on the gurney and pushed Jennifer through

the door. In contrast to the roorn where she'd had her amniocentesis, this

room looked very much like an OR. Jennifer remembered the white floor and

large white glass-fronted cabinets.

Two nurses were waiting. As they moved her to the table, one said, "It will

all be over very soon, and you'll be able to forget the whole episode."

As she lay back, Jennifer thought she felt the child move. She struggled

not to cry as one of the nurses prepped her lower abdomen.

The door to the corridor opened, and Dr. Vandermer came in, dressed in a

surgical scrub suit. Jennifer felt better the moment she saw him.

"How are you doing?" he asked.

"OK, I guess," said Jennifer faintly.

Jennifer wanted him to say something else, but

266 ROBIN COOK

he just stared at her with unblinking eyes. She looked questioningly at the

nurses, but they didn't seem to think there was anything odd about his

silence. Then Vandermcr seemed to come out of his trance and asked the

nurses to hand him the anesthetic.

"You'll just feel a little sting now," said Dr. Vandermer flatly. With a

deft jab he slipped the needle beneath Jennifer's skin.

Closing her eyes, Jennifer tried also to close her mind to what was about

to happen.

0 00

The cab ride from Kennedy Airport to the Julian Clinic was hair-raising.

Once Adam had flashed his twenty, the driver acted as if he were in a race

for his life. He screeched to a halt in front of the hospital in less than

thirty minutes. Adam tossed him the twenty and dashed up the stairs without

waiting for change.

Interrupting the girls chatting at the reception desk, he demanded to know

where Vandermer was operating.

"He's performing an abortion on my wife," he gasped.

"Pregnancy terminations are done on the sixth floor, but . . ."

Adam didn't wait for her to finish. He ducked into an elevator just as the

doors were closing, ignoring the receptionist who yelled after him that he

was not allowed to go to six unaccompanied.

When the elevator stopped, Adam got out and made for the double doors at

the end of the hall marked "Treatment Rooms." As he passed the nurses'

station, he noticed the elaborate antique

MINDBEND 267

furniture and wondered what the Julian was trying to prove.

One of the nurses yelled for him to stop, but Adam kept running. He went

through the double doors and opened the first treatment room door. It was

empty. He went on to the next. A nurse tried to bar his way, but he was

able to look over her shoulder at the patient's face. It wasn't Jennifer.

Adam crossed the hall and tried another door.

"Exactly what do you think you are doing?" asked a nurse with a German

accent.

Adam rudely shoved the woman aside. He saw Dr. Vandermer bending over the

table. He was holding a hypodermic whose needle sparkled under the

overhead light.

"Jennifer!" shouted Adam, relieved that the surgery had proceeded no

further than her being given the local anesthetic. "Don't do it, please.

Don't have the abortion. Not without further tests."

Jennifer started to sit up as two orderlies rushed through the door and

pinned Adam's arms behind his back. Adam saw that both men had the same

unblinking stares as the stewards on the ship.

"OK, OK," said Adam. "You've made your point. You're stronger than I am.

Now kindly let me go."

"Adam Schonberg?" said Dr. Vandermer. Until he'd heard Adam's voice, he'd

thought they were dealing with a psychotic stranger. "What are you doing

here? Jennifer just told me you were out of town."

"Please don't go ahead with the procedure. There's something I must tell

you."

As if suddenly remembering the orderlies, Dr. Vandermer tapped the

nearest on the shoulder and said, "I know this man. You can let go of

him." He undid his mask and let it fall on his chest.

268 ROBIN COOK

The orderlies released Adam as the door to the corridor opened and a

number of clinic staff members peered in to see what was happening.

"Everything is under control," said Dr. Vandermer. Addressing the

orderlies, he said, "Why don't you two wait outside."

As soon as they left, he guided Adam to a small anteroom, promising

Jennifer they would both be back in a minute.

As soon as the door was closed, Adam blurted out, A managed to get on one

of the Arolen cruises."

Dr. Vandermer stared at him as if just noticing the jeans and St. Thomas

tee shirt for the first time. If he knew what Adam was talking about, he

gave no indication.

"I'm happy you got to go," was all he said. "We can compare notes later.

Right now I need to take care of your wife. Why don't you go down to the

lounge and wait for me? I won't be long. 11

"But you don't understand," said Adam. "The Arolen cruises are more than

continuing education sessions. They're a cover for an elaborate behavior-

modification scheme."

Dr. Vandermer debated what to do. Adam was obviously psychotic. Maybe he

could persuade him to go over to Psychiatry, where someone with ex-

perience could help him. Taking a step forward, Dr. Vandermer put his arm

around Adam's shoulder. "I think the person you should be talking with

is Dr. Pace. Why don't we go downstairs and I'll introduce you to him?"

Adam pushed Dr. Vandermer's arm away. "I don't think you heard what I

said. I'm talking about drug-induced behavior modification. Dr.

Vandermer, you were a victim. You were drugged. Do you understand me?"

MINDBEND 269

Dr. Vandermer sighed. "Adam, I know you believe what you are saying, but

I was not drugged on my cruise. I gave lectures. It was a delightful

time, as were the days I spent in Puerto Rico."

"I saw it all," said Adam. "I was on the Fjord. I saw how they drugged

the doctors' food and kept giving them yellow pills. Then they were

subjected to these films. It was mind control. Look, you've got to

believe me. Think. Why did you change your mind about pregdolen? Before

you went on the cruise, you thought the drug was unsafe. You told me

you'd never prescribe it."

11 I've never changed my mind about pregdolen," protested Dr. Vandermer.

"I've always thought it was the best product on the market if one were

forced to use medication for morning sickness."

Realizing he was making no headway, Adam grabbed Dr. Vandermer's hand.

Looking directly into the doctor's eyes, he said, "Please, even if you

don't believe me, please don't abort my child. I think the lab mixup that

occurred with the amniocentesis slides was deliberate. I think Arolen is

trying to increase its supply of fetal tissue, and this is how it is

done."

The door to the room opened.

"Dr. Vandermer," said the nurse in the doorway, "what are we to do?"

Dr. Vandermer waved her away.

"Adam," he said kindly, "I can appreciate how upset you must be with the

way things have turned out. "

"Don't be condescending," warned Adam as he rubbed his eyes. "All I want

is to delay the abortion. That's all. I don't think that's asking too

much."

"It depends from whose point of view you're

270 ROBIN COOK

talking about." He pointed toward the treatment room. "Jennifer might feel

differently. To delay at this point would be cruel for her. She's already

been through more than enough."

Adam realized he was losing the battle. Desperately, he sought some way to

get through to the doctor.

"Now," Vandermer said firmly. "Why don't you go down to the lounge and

wait. I'll be there shortly."

"No," shouted Adam, blocking the way. "You haven't heard everything."

"Adam!" shouted Dr. Vandermer. "Move out of my way or I'll be forced to

have you removed."

11 Listen, I think some of the people running the cruise have had

psychosurgery. I'm telling you the truth. Thev had scars on the sides of

their heads. Right here." Adam reached out to touch the spot he meant on

Vandermer's head. When he did, he jumped back in horror. Tiny ridged lines

were on either side of the doctor's skull. Adam could just see the healing

incisions. Dr. Vandermer reacted angrily.

"This has gone far enough." He opened the door and motioned for the two

orderlies to take Adam away. "Please show Mr. Schonberg down to the lounge.

He can wait there if he behaves himself, but if he gives you any trouble,

call Psychiatry."

Adam put up his hands. "I won't cause anv trouble," he said softly. The

last thing he wanted was to be given some kind of tranquilizer. He realized

that if Vandermer had undergone some sort of psychosurgery, there was no

way he could be persuaded of Arolen's treachery.

"May I speak to my wife?" he said.

Dr. Vandermer eyed Adam for a moment and

MINDBEND 271

then shook his head. "I don't think it is in Jennifer's best interests,

but I will let her make the decision."

He opened the door to the treatment room and stepped inside. Jennifer

pushed herself up on her elbow. "What is happening?" she asked anxiously.

Dr. Vandermer briefly described his scene with Adam, ending with Adam's

request to talk with her. "He seems to have been unable to deal with the

stress of your pregnancy" was the only thing Vandermer had to offer by

way of an opinion.

"Well, he certainly hasn't made the situation any easier for me," said

Jennifer. "I'm sorry he's caused you so much trouble."

"There's no need to apologize," said Dr. Vandermer. "I think we should

get on with the procedure. You can deal with Adam when we are done."

Jennifer nodded. "Why did he have to come back?

You're right. I don't think I can handle Adam just

now. Wh ' y don't you just go ahead while I'm still

in control?"

Dr. Vandermer smiled reassuringly and motioned for the nurse to begin

setting up again. Then he returned to the anteroom and told Adam that

Jennifer would speak to him afterward.

Adam realized there was no use in protesting further. Numbly, he followed

the orderlies down the corridor.

Dr. Vandermer rescrubbed and went back into the treatment room. Picking

up the hypodermic, ho gave Jennifer the local anesthetic. He was just

about to begin the procedure when the door opened again.

"Dr. Vandermer, I'm afraid you'll have to hold up on this case."

Jennifer opened her eyes. Standing at the door

272 ROBIN COOK

was a stocky woman dressed in a scrub suit. Jennifer didn't recognize her,

but Dr. Vandermer did. It was Helen Clark, director of the ORs at the Julian

Clinic.

"We have just been served with an emergency restraining order. We cannot

proceed with Jennifer Schonberg's abortion."

"On what grounds?" asked an astonished Dr. Vandermer.

"I don't know the details," said Mrs. Clark, "but it is signed by a New

York Supreme Court judge."

Dr. Vandermer shrugged and turned back to Jennifer.

"Don't do anything foolish," warned Mrs. Clark. "Defying a court order

would get us all in trouble."

"This is ridiculous," said Dr. Vandermer. "Litigation in the operating

room." But he took off his mask and gloves.

Seeing that he was about to leave, Jennifer bit down on her lower lip to

keep from screaming.

0 *0

After Vandermer had thrown him out of the treatment room, Adam had

immediately phoned Emmet Redford. The lawyer told him that he'd called in

an old favor and had gotten a restraining order. It was on its way to the

clinic as they spoke. Adam went back to the lounge, praying that the papers

would be served in time. Seeing Mrs. Carson bent over a magazine, he took

a chair out of her line of vision.

Less than five minutes later a nurse hurried over to Mrs. Carson. She bent

and whispered something to the older woman who then threw up her hands and

cried, "Her abortion has been canceled!"

C:

MINDBEND 273

Adam felt like cheering until he heard Jennifer's sobs as she was wheeled

down the corridor. He and Mrs. Carson both ran over to her and ended up

standing on opposite sides of the gurney.

"Jennifer," said Adam, grasping her hand. "Everything is going to be all

right."

She wrenched her hand away, crying hysterically, "Leave me alone. You've

gone crazy. Leave me alone."

Adam stepped away and sadly watched the gurney continue down the

corridor.

"Are you responsible for this disaster?" sputtered Mrs. Carson.

Adam was too upset to answer. Was it a disaster to prevent an unnecessary

abortion? Close to tears himself, he turned and walked blindly to the

elevator. Once out on the street, he checked his wallet. Only three

dollars and some change left. He decided he'd better take the subway to

Emmet Redford's Fifth Avenue office.

"Sorry about my clothes," said Adam when the secretary ushered him in,

"I didn't want to waste any time going home to change."

Mr. Redford nodded, although he was disturbed by Adam's appearance. In

fact, he was disturbed by the whole case. Though he'd arranged for the

restraining order, he felt Adam's claims were dubious at best, especially

in light of the information he'd just received from the assistant he had

assigned the case to.

"I think I should be frank," Redford began. "I agreed to help out as a

favor to Harvey, but there are a number of points that seriously trouble

me."

"I couldn't agree more," said Adam. "I think the Julian Clinic is

deliberately doing unnecessary abortions."

274 ROBIN COOK

"I see," said Redford, taking in Adam's unkempt hair and unshaven face.

"But the real problem," continued Adam, "is that Arolen Pharmaceuticals

and its parent company, MTIC, have an elaborate program involving drugs

and even brain surgery to influence the way doctors practice medicine."

This man is nuts, thought Redford with dismay.

Adam's voice became more urgent. "But now that I've learned all this,"

he said, "I don't know what to do about it."

"I can understand your dilemma," said Redford, wondering if Adam were

potentially violent. He certainly seemed excitable. Redford pressed a

concealed button under his desk and said, "Mr. Schonberg, do you mind if

I ask a personal question?"

"Not at all," said Adam.

"Have you ever sought professional help for your obsessions? I think that

might be in everyone I s best interest." -

"What I'm telling you is true," protested Adam.

There was a soft knock on the door. Redford got up to open it and told

his secretary to ask Mr. Stupenski to join them. "I'm afraid a grand jury

wouldn't give much credence to your allegations," he said to Adam while

they waited.

Adam searched the lawver's face for some hint that the man believed him.

There was none,

"I guess you're right," admitted Adam. "The only proof I have is what I

saw."

The door opened again and a young man wearing a pin-striped suit

identical to Redford's came into the room.

"This is my associate, Mr. Stupenski," said Redford.

Adam said hello and then tried once more to

MINDBEND 275

convince Redford that his story was true. "They drug the food on the

cruises and supplement those doses with yellow pills that have to be some

kind of tranquilizer."

"So you say, Mr. Schonberg, but the problem is you have no proof,"

repeated Redford.

The lawvers exchanged knowing glances. Adam stared at them in

frustration.

A think I should tell you that given the amniocentesis report that the

ciinic showed Mr. Stupenski, I'm sorry we went about getting the

restraining order," said Redford. "As it is, it remains in force only

until the emergency hearing three days from now, and since I'm certainly

not going to argue for the motion, you can expect it will be rescinded

at that time. Good day, Mr. Schonberg."

It took Adam a moment to realize that the interview was over.

Four hours later, washed and shaved and dressed in his best suit, Adam

was sitting outside his father's office waiting for Dr. Schonberg to

finish with his last appointment. It was after six o'clock.

When Dr. Schonberg was finally free, he listened with some impatience to

what even Adam had to admit sounded farfetched.

"I simply can't believe this," he told Adam. "Look, if it will make you

feel better, let me call Peter Davenport of the AMA. He's the guy who

certifies the courses for CME credits. He's been on several of the

cruises himself."

Dr. Schonberg dialed Davenport at home and jovially asked his opinion of

the Arolen cruises. After listening for a few minutes, he thanked the man

and hung up.

276 ROBIN COOK

"Pete savs the seminars on the Fiord are completely above board. Some of

the evening entertainment was a little risque, but otherwise the

conferences were among the best he's attended."

"He was probably drugged like the rest of them," said Adam.

"Adam, please," said Dr. Schonberg. "You are being ridiculous. VITIC has

been sponsoring seminars and medical conventions either under its own

auspices or through Arolen Pharmaceuticals for over a decade. The cruises

have been going on for five years."

"That may be," said Adam, losing hope of convincing even his own father,

"but I swear to you they are drugging the doctors and subjecting them to

rigorous behavior modification. They even operate on certain people. I

saw the scars on Dr. Vandermer myself. I think they are controlling him

through some kind of remote-control device."

Dr. Schonberg rolled his eyes. "Even given the small amount of psychiatry

that you've had, Adam, I would think you would be able to recognize how

paranoid your story sounds."

Adam abruptly stood up and started for the door.

"Wait," called Dr. Schonberg. "Come back here for a minute."

Adam hesitated, wondering if his father would relent.

Dr. Schonberg tilted back his chair. "Let's say for the sake of

discussion that there is something to your story."

"That's gracious of you," said Adam.

"What would you have me do? Fm the director of new products for the FDA

and I can't espouse a wild theory like yours. But seeing you are so

upset,

MINDBEND 277

perhaps I should go on one of these cruises and see for mvseif."

"No," interrupted Adam. "Don't go on the cruise. Please."

"Well, what would vou like me to do?"

"I guess I want you to start an investigation."

"I'll make you a deal," said Dr. Schonberg. "If you agree to see a

psychiatrist and explore the possibility that you may be experiencing

some sort of paranoid reaction, I'll make further explorations into

Arolen."

Adam took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. If one more person

suggested that he see a shrink, he'd scream.

"Thanks, Dad," he said. "I'll give your offer some serious thought."

As he rode back to the airport, Adam wondered just what kind of treatment

Arolen had given Pete Davenport ofthe AMA and how much of the medical

profession was under MTIC's control.

Adam landed at LaGuardia around nine and took a cab back to the city. The

thought of returning to his empty apartment was depressing, and he was

very concerned about Jennifer. Although he dreaded having to drive out

to Englewood and brave the Carsons'anger, he didn't feel he had much

choice. He had to talk to Jennifer.

There were no lights on at the Carson house when he pulled into the

drive. Cautiously, he walked up the front steps and pressed the doorbell.

He was surprised when the door opened almost immediately.

11 Your headlights shone right into our bedroom,"

278 ROBIN COOK

Mr. Carson said angrily. "What on earth do you want at this hour?"

"I'm sorry if I woke you," said Adam, "but I need to speak to Jennifer."

Mr. Carson folded his sizable arms across his chest. "Well, you have some

nerve. I'll give you credit for that, but my daughter refuses to speak

to you. Maybe she'll change her mind after a few days, but for the

moment. . ."

"I'm afraid that I must insist," said Adam. "You see, I don't believe she

needs an abortion . . ."

Mr. Carson grabbed Adam's shirt and shouted, "You will insist on

nothing!" He shoved Adam back from the doorway.

Adam regained his balance, cupped his hands over his mouth, and began

calling, "Jennifer! Jennifer! "

"That's enough," yelled Mr. Carson. He grabbed Adam again, intending to

march him to his car. But Adam sidestepped his father-in-law and ran

inside. At the foot of the steps he shouted again for his wife. Jennifer

appeared in her nightgown in the upstairs hall. She looked down at her

husband with dismay.

"Listen to me," shouted Adam again, but before Jennifer could speak, Mr.

Carson had grabbed Adam from behind and carried him back out the door.

Unwilling to fight back, Adam tripped when he was shoved toward his car

and fell off the porch into the bushes. He heard the door slam before he

could scramble to his feet. He was beginning to get the message that Mr.

Carson would never let him speak to Jennifer that night.

Climbing into his car, Adam tried to figure out what he could do to keep

Jennifer from having the

MINDBEND 279

abortion, at least until she got a second opinion. He only had three days

to persuade her.

He was halfway back across the George Washington Bridge before he knew

what he had to do. Everyone wanted proof. Well, he'd go to Puerto Rico

to get proof. He was certain everything he'd seen on the cruise would be

replicated there in spades.

CHAPTER 15

Bill Shell ' v rose from his desk and clasped Adam's

hand. "Congratulations," he said. "You've proba

bly just made the best decision of your lifc."

"I'm not saying I'll definitely take the position," cautioned Adam. "But

I've been giving Puerto Rico a lot of thought, and I'd like to take you

up on the offer to go down there and see the facility firsthand.

Jennifer's not happy about the idea, but if I really want to go, she'll

support me in the decision."

"That reminds me; Clarence left a message that he'd gotten a rather

strange call from your wife. She thought you were away on Arolen

business."

"In-law problems," said Adam with a wave of his hand. "She and my father

have never gotten along."

Even Adam wasn't sure what he meant, but fortunately Shelly nodded

understandingly and said, "Getting back to the matter at hand, I'm

certain you will be thrilled with the Arolen research center. When would

you like to go?"

"Immediately," said Adam brightly. "My bag is packed and in the car."

280

MINDBEND 281

Mr. Shelly chuckled. "Your attitude has always been refreshing. Let me see

if the Arolen plane is available."

While Shelly waited for his secretary to check, he asked Adam what had

changed his mind about the management training program. "I was afraid I

hadn't been convincing enough," he said.

"Quite the contrarv," said Adam, "If it hadn't been for.vou, I never would

have considered it." As he spoke, Adam eyed Bill Shelly's skull, resisting

the urge to see if he, too, had been subjected to surgery. At this point

Adam had no idea if anybody at Arolen could be trusted.

. . 0

There were two Arolen executives on the luxurious Gulf' Stream jet. One had

gotten on the plane with Adam, and the other came aboard in Atlanta. Though

both offered friendly greetings, they spent the trip working, leaving Adam

to distract himself with some old magazines.

When they landed in San Juan, the two executives headed for the Arolen

minibus, which was waiting at the curb. Adam was wondering if he should

join them when he was greeted by two men in blue blazers and white duck

pants. Both had close-cropped hair: one blond, the other dark. Their MTIC

name tags said "Rodman" and "Dunly."

"Good afternoon, Mr. Schonberg," said Rodman. "Welcome to Puerto Rico."

As Dunly relieved Adam of his shoulder bag, Adam felt gooseflesh form on

his back and arms in spite of' the tropical heat. Rodman's voice had the

same inflectionless quality of the stewards on the Fjord, and as they

walked to an awaiting limou-

282 ROBIN COOK

sine, Adam noticed that both men moved with the same mechanical step.

The limousine was not new, but it was a limousine nonetheless, and Adam

felt self-conscious when they put him in the back seat by himself.

Leaning forward, he looked out at the rush-hour traffic. They drove out of

the city, apparently paralleling the northern coast of the island, although

Adam could not see the ocean. They passed shopping centers, gas stations,

and automobile body shops. Everything appeared to be both beginning to

decay and in the process of construction at the same time. It was a strange

combination. Rusting rods stuck out of the concrete in various locations as

if additional rooms or floors had been originally planned but the workers

had failed to return. And there was litter everywhere. Adam wasn't

impressed.

Gradually, the shabby commercial buildings gave way to equally shabby

housing, although on occasion there was a well-appointed and cared-for home

amid the general squalor. There was no separation between rich and poor,

and goats and chickens ran free everywhere.

Eventually, the road narrowed from four lanes to two, and Adam caught

glimpses of the ocean beyond the green hills. The air became fresh and

clean.

Finally, after about an hour and a half, they turned off the main road onto

a well-paved lane that twisted and turned through the lush vegetation. At

one point there was a gap in the foliage, and Adam had a spectacular view

of the sea. The sky was shot with red, and Adam knew the sun was about to

set.

The road plunged down a hill and tunneled beneath a dark canopy of exotic

trees. About a quar-

MINDBEND 283

ter mile farther, the limousine slowed and then stopped. They had arrived at

a gatchouse. On either side and extending off into the forest was an

impressive chain link fence, topped with spirals of barbed wire. Resisters

on the wire suggested the fence was electrified.

An armed guard came out of the house and approached the car. After taking

a sheet of paper from the driver, he glanced at Adam and opened the gate.

As the limousine drove onto the MTIC grounds, Adam twisted in his seat and

watched the gate close. He wondered if the security was there to keep

people out or to keep people in. He began to question what he was getting

himself into. As when he was on the Fjord, he had no real plan and didn't

delude himself that he had any talent as a detective. His only consolation

was that in Puerto Rico he wasn't hiding behind a assumed name.

The car suddenly swept around a bend, and he was confronted by some of the

most magnificent architecture he had ever seen, set against a background of

rolling lawns and clear turquoise sea.

The main building was a hexagonally shaped glass structure of the same

mirrored bronzed glass as Arolen headquarters. To the left and closer to

the beach was another building, only two stories high, which appeared to be

a club. Tennis courts and a generous swimming pool were off to one side.

Beyond it was a white sand beach with a volleyball court and a row of Hobie

Cats and surf sailers. Several of the craft were in use, and their colorful

sails stood out sharply against the water. On the other side of the

clearing were beachfront condominiums. All in all, the compound appeared

like a world-class resort. Adam was impressed.

284 ROBIN COOK

The limousine pulled up beneath a large awning at the front of the main

building.

"Good evening, Mr. Schonberg," said the doorman. "Welcome to MTIC. This

way, please."

Adam got out of the car and followed the man to a registration desk. It

was like signing into a hotel. The chief difference was that there was

no cashier.

After Adam signed in, another blue jacketed clerk, whose name tag said

"Craig," picked up his bag and led him to the elevator. They got out at

the sixth floor and walked down a long corridor. At the very end was

another elevator.

"Will you be with us long?" asked Craig in the now familiar

inflectionless speech.

"Just a few days," said Adam evasively as Craig pulled out his key and

opened one of the doors.

Adam didn't have a room; he had a suite. Craig went around like a

bellhop, checking all the lighting, making sure the TV worked, glancing

at the full bar, and opening the drapes. Adam tried to give him a tip,

but he politely refused.

Adam was amazed by the accommodations. He had a magnificent view of the

ocean, which had darkened with the approaching night. On the distant

islands pinpoint lights sparkled. Adam watched as a single Hobie Cat beat

its way, toward the shore. Hearing sounds of Caribbean music, he stepped

out onto the terrace. A band seemed to be playing in the building Adam

thought was a club. The weather was perfect, and Adam wished Jennifer was

with him. Even the honeymoon suite they'd had in the Poconos, with the

heart-shaped bath, hadn't been so luxurious.

Adam decided to try to call her. To his delight, she answered the phone

herself, but when she realized who it was, her voice became cool.

MINDBEND 285

"Jennifer, please promise me one thing," said Adam. "Don't have the

abortion until I get back."

"Get back?" questioned Jennifer. "Where are you?"

Adam hadn't meant to tell her where he was, but it was too late to think

of a lie. "Puerto Rico," he said reluctantly.

"Adam," said Jennifer, making it obvious that she was furious, "if you

want to tell me what to do, you can't keep running off. The moment the

court gives me clearance, I intend to go back to the clinic."

"Please, Jennifer," said Adam.

"I hope you're enjoying yourself," said Jennifer, and she slammed down

the receiver.

Adam sank back on the bed totally depressed. He. mly had two more days.

The phone rang and Adam grabbed the receiver, thinking it might be

Jennifer, but it was just the receptionist, telling him that dinner was

in half an hour.

The dining room was in the club overlooking the beach. The row of Hobie

Cats stood in the sand just beyond the sliding doors. A full moon had

risen, casting a glittering path along the surface of the water.

The room had dark green walls and matching carpet with pink tablecloths

and pink upholstery. The waiters were dressed in white jackets with black

pants.

Adam was seated at a round table for eight. To his immediate right was

Dr. Heinrich Nachman, whom Adam had met the day he'd had his interview

at Arolen. Next to Dr. Nachman was Dr.

286 ROBIN COOK

Sinclair Glover, a short, portly, red-faced man who said he supervised

fetal research.

Next to Dr. Glover was Dr. Winfield Mitchell, a bearded but bald

middle-aged man wearing wirerimmed glasses. Nachman said Mitchell was in

charge of psychotropic drug development. Adam had the distinct impression

the man was a psychiatrist, judging by how calmly he listened to the

conversation without contributing anything, yet at the same time

maintaining a superior-than- thou attitude.

Beyond Dr. Mitchell was a business executive, a William somebody; Adam

missed his last name. He was strictly Ivy League, with sandy blond hair

and a boyish complexion. Also at the table were Brian Hopkins, who was

in charge of management training, Ms. Linda Aronson, who handled PR, and

a jovial older man named Harry Burkett, who was the manager of the Puerto

Rican compound.

Remembering his experience on the Fjord, Adam was at first reluctant to

try the food, but everyone else was eating with gusto, and none of them

appeared to be drugged. Besides, Adam reasoned, if they had intended to

drug him, they could have done so on the plane.

The atmosphere at the table was relaxed, and everyone made a point of

making Adam feel welcome. Burkett explained the reason MTIC chose Puerto

Rico for its research center was because the government offered excellent

tax incentives as well as a policy of noninterference. It turned out that

many drug firms had large installations on the island.

Adam asked about the heavv security.

"That's one of the prices we have to pay for living in this paradise,"

said Harry Burkett. "There's

MINDBEND 287

always a chance of terrorist activity from the small group championing

Puerto Rican independence."

Adam wondered if that were the whole story, but he did not pursue the

issue.

William, the MTIC executive, looked over at Adam and said, "MTIC has a

certain philosophy about the medical profession. We feel that economiL in-

terests have supplanted service. I've heard that you agree with that

premise."

Adam noticed that the rest of the table was listening. He swallowed a bite

of dessert and said, "Yes, that's true. In the brief time I was at medical

school I was dismayed by the lack of humanism. I felt that technology and

research were considered more rewarding than patient care."

There were several doctors at the table and Adam hoped he wasn't offending

them, but he did notice that Dr. Nachman was smiling. Adam was pleased,

since he thought the more enthusiastic they were about him, the better his

chance of learning what they were doing.

"Do you think your attitude would make dealing with doctors difficult?"

asked Linda Aronson.

"Not at all," said Adam. "I think my understanding of medical reality makes

it easier. As a sales rep I've been reasonably successful."

"From what Bill Shelly has reported," said Nachman, "I think that Mr.

Schonberg is being modest."

"Adam, has anyone described our plans should you decide to enlist in our

management training program?" asked Dr. Glover.

"Not specificall~," said Adam.

Di, Nachman fol(42d his hands and leaned forward. "Arolen is about to

release a whole new generation of drugs or treatment modalities as a result

of our fetal research. We are looking for

288 ROBIN COOK

someone to work with Linda to educate the medical profession in these new

concepts. We feel that you have the perfect background and attitudes for the

job."

"Precisely," said Linda. "But we don't mean to overwhelm you. At first, all

you would be doing would be familiarizing yourself with Arolen's research."

Adam wished he had more than two days. The job they had in mind would

undoubtedly put him in a position to learn what he needed.

"That's not quite true," said Brian Hopkins. "Mr. Schonberg must first take

our management training course."

"Brian, we all know that Mr. Schonberg has to take your course first."

"Please," said Dr. Nachman. "Let's not display our departmental jealousies

yet. There will be plenty of time for that."

Everyone laughed except Hopkins.

Adam finished his dessert and put down his spoon. Looking at Dr. Nachman,

he said, "That was a wonderful dinner, but I'm eager to see the research

facility."

"And we are eager to show it to you. Tomorrow we plan to . .."

"Why not tonight?" interrupted Adam enthusiastically.

Dr. Nachman looked at Glover and Mitchell, who smiled and shrugged. "I

suppose we could show you some of the facilities tonight," said Dr. Nach-

man. "Are you sure you are not too tired?"

"Not in the slightest," said Adam.

Dr. Nachman stood up, followed by Dr. Glover and Dr. Mitchell. The others

excused themselves,

MINDBEND 289

preferring to remain at the table for more coffee and after-dinner drinks.

Dr. Nachman led Adam back to the main building, where guests signed in.

Then the four went through another set of double doors to the research

center. This part of the building was floored in white tile, the walls

painted in bright primary colors.

"These are the administration offices," explained Dr. Nachman. A moment

later Adam found himself crossing a glass-walled bridge. He could see

palm trees waving on either side and realized that there were two

concentric buildings, one nestled inside of the other, much like the

Pentagon in Washington.

Turning down another hallway, Adam smelled the unmistakable odor of caged

animals. Dr. Glover opened the first door and for the next half hour led

Adam from room to room, explaining the complicated machinery and

examining an endless number of rats and monkeys. This was where Arolen

was doing its basic fetology research.

To Adam's surprise, white-gowned technicians were working in some of the

labs, despite the late hour. Dr. Glover explained that ever since they'd

begun to get positive results with fetal implants, they'd been working

around the clock.

"Where do you get your material?" asked Adam, pausing by a cage of pink

mice.

"Most of the research is done with animal systems," explained Dr. Glover,

"and we breed our animals right here at the center."

"But surely you're doing some human implants. Where do you get your

tissue?" persisted Adam.

"Very good question," said Dr. Glover. "We did run into a bit of a

problem after restrictive laws

290 ROBIN COOK

were passed, but we've managed one way or another. Most of our material

comes from the Julian Clinic."

Adam wanted to pound the glass cases in frustration. Why couldn't he get

anyone to listen to him? Obviously, doctors like Vandermer were in-

creasing the supply of fetal tissue by merely increasing the number of

therapeutic abortions.

"Tomorrow," continued Dr. Glover, pleased that Adam was demonstrating

such interest, "we will take you into our hospital wing. We've had some

amazing results, particularly in treating diabetics with fetal pancreatic

extracts."

"I know how interesting this is, but I think Dr. Mitchell would like to

describe some of his work," said Nachman, smiling at Glover.

"Indeed," echoed Dr. Mitchell. "A year from now, when the sales figures

are in, we'll see whose department accounts for the biggest increases."

Mitchell devoted the next thirty minutes to a nonstop monologue on

psychotropic drugs, particularly a new brand of phenothiazine. "It's

effective for every type of' psychotic condition. It's essentially

nontoxic, and it changes the most disturbed individual into an exemplary

citizen. Of course, some spontaneity is sacrificed."

Adam started to protest, but thought better of it. He was certain that

"some spontaneity is sacrificed" was the company's way of downplaying the

drug's side effects. Certainly the stewards on the Fjord and the

orderlies at the Julian had lacked spontaneity."

"What's the name of this new drug?" Adam asked instead.

"Scientific, generic, or trade name?" asked Dr. Mitchell, out of breath

from his monologue.

MINDBEND 291

"Trade name."

"Conformin," said Dr. Mitchell.

"Would it be possible for me to get a sample?"

"You'll be able to get all the samples you want when the drug is

released," said Dr. Mitchell. "We're waiting for FDA clearance."

"Just a small amount?" asked Adam. "I'd like to see how it's packaged.

As a sales rep, I've learned how important that is."

Dr. Mitchell looked at Adam strangely. "Perhaps a small amount," he

murmured.

Adam didn't push the issue, saying, "If the drug is close to being

released, then you've started human testing."

"My word, yes," said Dr. Mitchell, brightening. "We've been using the

dr-ug on humans for several years, on patients with intractable

psychiatric problems brought in from all over the world, in fact. The

drug has proved one hundred percent effective."

"I'd like to visit the ward," said Adam.

"Tomorrow," said Dr. Mitchell. "Right now, I'd like to show you our main

chemistry laboratory. It's one of the most advanced in the world."

There was no doubt in Adam's mind that Arolen's research facilities were

superb, especially when compared with those at University Hospital, where

money was so tight that every No. 2 Mongol pencil had to be included in

grant requests. But after seeing so many labs, Adam became bored. He

tried to look interested, but the longer the tour went on, the more

difficult that became.

"I think that will be enough for tonight," said Dr. Nachman finally. "We

don't want to exhaust Mr. Schonberg on his first evening with us."

"I'll second that," said Dr. Glover. "We only spent half an hour in my

department."

292 ROBIN COOK

"That's because there is more to see here," said Dr. Mitchell.

"Gentlemen!" inter.jected Dr. Nachman, lifting his hands.

"I've enjoyed all of it," protested Adam, careful to use the past tense so

as not to encourage an encore from Dr. Mitchell.

They walked down the main corridor and crossed the connecting bridge to the

outer building. Adam stopped to look behind him. He could see that the

bridge continued beyond the corridor to a third interior building, which

was blocked off by heavy steel doors.

"What's back there?" asked Adam.

"The clinical wards," said Dr. Nachman. "You'll see them tomorrow."

That must be where the psychiatric ward is located, thought Adam. He

hesitated a minute, then followed Nachman out to the main lobby where they

all said good night.

It was quarter to twelve, and even though Adam had had a busy day, he was

not sleepy. A dull headache was beginning behind his eyes, and he could not

forget he had only two more days to come up with convincing, concrete

evidence. Even if he got a sample of Conformin, it would take time to have

it analyzed, and then even more time to try to convince someone like

Vandermer to have himself checked to see if he'd received it. Knowing sleep

was out of the question, Adam opened his door and walked the length of the

corridor to the far elevator. A small Formica sign said "Bathers'

Elevator."

Descending to the ground floor, Adam found himself outside in a dense

garden of palms, bamboo,

MINDBEND 293

and ferns. A curving pathway led through the lush vegetation. Following it,

Adam arrived at the beach.

Taking off his shoes, he stepped onto the cool sand. The full moon made the

night almost as bright as day. The sand was smooth and soft as powder. A

slight wind rattled the rigging of the Hobie Cats so that they sounded like

Japanese wind chimes. Adam could understand why people like Bill Shelly

were so enchanted with the place.

Passing the club, Adam could see into the dining room. A few of the busboys

were still laying the tables for the next meal.

About a hundred yards beyond the club Adam saw the condominiums. They were

designed in a pseudo-Spanish style with stuccoed walls and red tile roofs,

Lights were burning in some of the residences, and Adam caught glimpses of

men and women watching television or reading. The whole scene was so

peaceful it was hard to believe it could be the center of some gigantic

conspiracy. Yet apparently it was. All drug firms spent millions of dollars

attempting to influence the purchasing behavior of doctors, but MTIC wanted

more. It wanted to control the doctors. It was no wonder that Arolen was

planning to reduce its sales force.

Adam turned and retreated along the beach to where he'd left his shoes,

then made his way back to the main building. Halfway down the hallway, he

noticed an exit sign. He tried the door, which opened onto a staircase that

wound up toward the roof. After making sure that he could get back in, Adam

followed the steps to a door, which was also unlocked. Turning the knob, he

found himself gazing out across the top of the main building. The wind was

whipping in off the sea. Adam walked over to the four-foot-high wall that

marked the

294 ROBIN COOK

edge of the roof. From this vantage point, he had a clear view of the

compound. The residential structures ended at a small rocky hill, beyond

which was dense forest. As large as the center was, Adam realized that there

could well be more buildings hidden from sight.

Turning, he looked back at the first interior building. In the bright

moonlight he could clearly see its outline, and he realized that it was an

excellent architectural solution for eliminating windowless offices.

Looking down, Adam could see that the space between the buildings had been

carefully landscaped with pools, greenery, and palm trees. Both buildings

were of equal height, and there was a bridge from one to the other on each

floor.

The core building, which Dr. Nachman had said housed the hospital, was not

visible. Adam crossed the bridge to the second building, walked to the

inner edge, and looked down. Below him was the hospital. It was only three

stories, which was why Adam had been unable to see it before. Directly

below him was the connecting bridge that led to the steel doors he'd seen

on his way out of the lab.

The roof bristled with antennae, wires, and satellite discs, which Adam

guessed were related to some complicated communications center. There were

a number of bubble skylights, the largest being in the exact center of the

building. The roof also contained a cooling tower for air-conditioning and

a shedlike access door similar to the one Adam had used to get to the roof

of the outer building. Light from the central skylight gave the whole

complex an alien, futuristic appearance.

For a few minutes Adam stood with his palms resting on the concrete wall,

which was still warm from the day's sun. The night breeze tousled his

MINDBEND 295

hair. With a sigh he wondered what insane impulse had taken him to Puerto

Rico. There was no way MTIC would let him leave with its secrets.

Frustrated and depressed, he decided he might as well go to bed.

CHAPTER 16

The next day, despite Adam's impatience to see the hospital, he found it

wasn't on his schedule until the afternoon. Most of the morning was spent

with Mr. Burkett, who showed Adam not only the condo where he and Jennifer

would live, but also all the facilities MTIC offered employees' spouses

and children. He wondered what Burkett's response would be if he suddenlv

confronted the man with the knowledge that MTIC was doing its best to see

that Adam's child was never born. It took all of his willpower to smile

admiringly as they walked about the compound. Adam was relieved when

Burkett finally released him just outside of Linda Aronson's office.

Linda greeted Adam with enthusiasm and showed him the computer terminals

that distributed Arolen's information all over the world in a matter of

minutes. She also introduced Adam to Mr. Crawford, who organized the

Arolen cruises. Adam thought the man a dead ringer for the con artist

who'd provided Smyth's fake passport.

Crawford showed Adam a graph analyzing where

296

MINDBEND 297

the doctors who took the cruises practiced. Most came from the New York City

area, though in recent months there had been a number of doctors from

Chicago and Los Angeles as well. Adam noted that a good ten percent of the

doctors who'd been on more than one cruise now worked at the Julian Clinic.

"The cruises have certainly become popular," said Adam, concealing his

dismay.

"Popular isn't the word," said Crawford proudly. "With our present

facilities, there is no way that we can keep up with the demand. MTIC has

already purchased a second cruise ship on the west coast. We estimate it

will be in service within the year. The eventual plan is to have five ships

in operation, which will mean we will be able to accommodate the entire

medical profession."

Mr. Crawford folded his arms across his chest and gave Adam a

what-do-vou-think-of-that look, a proud parent describing his child's

accomplishments. Adam fell sick. An entire generation of doctors programmed

to be unknowing representatives of a pharmaceutical house.

Dr. Nachman met Adam for lunch and afterward led him down to Dr. Glover's

office, where Glover and Mitchell were arguing over who should show Adam

around first.

"It's getting so I can't leave the two of you in the same room," said

Nachman irritably.

Adam wondered if the center's isolation was responsible for their

bickering. The competition between the two doctors had a neurotic quality.

But Adam was pleased that he would at last be seeing the hospital. He

didn't relish another hour of Mitchell's commentary, though, and hoped to

escape it.

298 ROBIN COOK

When they reached the double doors to the innermost building, Dr., Nachman

opened them by gently pressing his thumb against a small electronic scan-

ner. Beyond the doors, the covered bridge was glassed on both sides, and

Adam saw the attractive landscaping he'd appreciated from the roof the

night before.

There was a second set of double doors at the end of the walkway, which Dr.

Nachman again opened with his thumb. The minute the men went through, Adam

recognized the familiar smell of a hospital. After passing through a

three-story foyer illuminated by some of the bubble skylights Adam had seen

the night before, they walked past a series of small operating rooms to a

nurses' station that boasted all the latest telemetry equipment. One of the

nurses showed them into the locked ward beyond. Dr. Glover introduced Adam

to several of the patients.

The doctor presented each case, impressing Adam with the amount of

information he had committed to memory. The few details he couldn't

remember, he was able to call up on one of the computer terminals that were

in each room.

There were several diabetics who had received fetal islet-cell infusions

and who were now completely off insulin. Adam was impressed in spite of

himself, though he knew the ends could never justify the means.

On the far side of the ward were the patients with central nervous system

implants. Adam met a young woman whose spinal cord had been severed in an

automobile accident. After having been a paraplegic for over a year, she

now was able to move her legs, thanks to infusions of fetal central nervous

system tissue. Her movement was uncoor-

MINDBEND 299

dinated as yet, but the results were astounding when compared with the

hopelessness of traditional treatment.

She greeted Dr. Glover with a hug. "Thank you for giving me hope," she

said.

"You're welcome," said Glover, beaming with pride, while Dr. Mitchell

glanced through the chart.

"Bacteria count is going up in the urine," Mitchell criticized.

"We are quite aware of that," said Dr. Glover.

"Let's move on," said Dr. Nachman.

They saw another ten or fifteen patients before Dr. Nachman led them back

to the foyer, where they took the elevator to the next level. This was

the psychiatric floor, and the minute they walked down the hall Dr.

Mitchell seemed to come alive. Stroking his beard, running his hand over

the smooth crown of his head, he described his patients with the

enthusiasm of a born teacher.

"Our main treatment modality is psychopharmacology," he stated. "Once

therapeutic psychotropic drug levels are achieved, we then use a type of

behavior modification."

They came to a set of double doors similar to those that blocked access

to the hospital proper. Dr. Mitchell pressed his thumb against the

scanner.

"This, ofcourse, is the nurses' station," said Dr. Mitchell as he waved

to two middle-aged women dressed in white blouses and blue jumpers. They

just nodded, but two orderlies in blue blazers jumped to their feet. Adam

immediately noticed their- stiff smiles and unblinking stares.

"Some spontaneity is sacrificed," thought Adam wryly.

As they continued down the hall, Mitchell described all the technical

devices, until Dr. Glover

300 ROBIN COOK

interrupted, saving, "Adam understands all this, for God's sake. He's been

to medical school."

But Dr. Mitchell didn't even pause in his narrative. Using his thumb, he

opened the double doors leading to the ward, and Adam and the others filed

in.

For such a modern hospital facility, Adam was surprised to find the ward

laid out identically to the one at University Hospital. But aside from the

floor plan, everything else was different. At University Hospital the beds,

the nightstands, and even the ceilings were about to collapse from lack of

maintenance. In sharp contrast, the ward at MTIC was so spotlessly clean

that it looked as if it had just opened. Even the patients were lying well

cared for in their beds, their covers uniformly pulled up to their chests.

They were awake but immobile. Only their eyes moved as they followed the

visitors' progress down the ward. Adam had never seen such a peaceful ward

and certainly not such a peaceful psychiatric one.

Adam's eyes roved over the blank faces. Dr. Mitchell had begun another of

his interminable lectures. Adam was wondering how long he'd have to listen

when his eyes fell on the patient in the second bed to the right. It was

Alan Jackson! Adam's heart began to pound. He was horrified that Alan might

recognize him. He turned quickly to hide his face, but when he glanced

back, Alan's expression had not changed. He was obviously heavily sedated.

Adam permitted himself a closer look. Alan's head was swathed in bandages,

and there was an IV dripping clear fluid into his right arm. Adam realized

that the Fjord must have stopped in Puerto Rico the day before. No wonder

they had kept Alan so heavily sedated. They had scheduled him for

involuntary surgery all along.

MINDBEND 301

When Mitchell paused in his patient survey, Adam pointed to Alan and

asked, "What was this man's problem?"

Dr. Mitchell looked at Dr. Nachman, who nodded. Mitchell picked up the

chart at the foot of Alan's bed and read the summary out loud. " 'Robert

Iseman of Sandusky, Ohio; admitted for intractable temporal lobe epilepsy

with criminally violent episodes; unresponsive to traditional treatment.'

Iseman had been committed to a psychiatric prison without hope of parole.

He volunteered to participate in the Arolen treatment series." Dr.

Mitchell placed the chart back in its rack.

"Has he been here long?" asked Adam.

"A few days," said Dr. Mitchell vaguely. "Why don't we . . ."

"Excuse me," said Adam, interrupting, "but sometimes it's easier to learn

from a specific case than from generalities. What kind of treatment has

this man had? It would seem from his bandages that he's had some form of

brain surgery."

"He has indeed," said Mitchell after another quick glance at Dr. Nachman.

"We know from his history that he was a particularly intractable case,

and after a course of Conformin we implanted microelectrodes into the

limbic system of his brain. That was his only hope for a lasting cure.

You remember the classic experiments in which electrodes were imbedded

in a bull's head and used to stop it from charging? Well, we've perfected

the technique. We can do a lot more than merely stop a bull frorn

charging."

Adam nodded slowly, as if trying to understand, but his mind recoiled in

horror.

"Keep in mind that Mr. Iseman's treatment has just begun," Dr. Nachman

said. "After he's more

302 ROBIN COOK

fully recovered from the operation, he will undergo conditioning."

I 'Absolutely," echoed Dr. Mitchell. "In fact, treatment will begin

tomorrow, and he can anticipate discharge in about four days. Why don't we

go down to the conditioning rooms so you can see exactly what we do."

Adam took a final glance at Alan's expressionless face and followed the

doctors through the ward.

"Mr. Iseman will be given a combination of reinforced operant conditioning

and adversive conditioning," Dr. Mitchell was saying. "A computerguided

program will be able to detect undesirable mental processes and reverse

them before they manifest themselves in outward behavior."

Adam's mind whirled. He wondered what Mitchell meant by "undesirable mental

processes." It probably ranged from refusing to prescribe Arolen products

to belief in fee-for-service medicine.

"Here is one of our conditioning rooms," said Mitchell, swinging open a

door and allowing Adam to look inside. It was a miniature of the theater on

the Fjord. There was a large projection screen on the far wall facing two

chairs that were fully equipped with electrodes and straps. Adam turned

away in horror, allowing the door to swing shut.

"Is there much effect on the personality?" he asked.

"Of course," said Dr. Mitchell. "That is part of the program. We select

only the most desirable personality traits."

"What about intellect?" asked Adam.

"Very little adverse effect," said Dr. Mitchell, leading the way back

through the ward. "We've been able to document some minor decrease in cre-

ativity, but memory retention is normal. in fact, in

MINDBEND 303

some regards memory is enhanced, particularly for technical information."

Adam looked at Alan as they passed. The man's expression still hadn't

changed. He had been reduced to some kind of zombie.

"The research is progressing well," said Dr. Nachman as he let them

through the steel doors. "Of course, application is limited."

"The fetology work certainly can be put to more general use," said Dr.

Glover.

"That's a matter of opinion," said Dr. Mitchell. "With the behav ior-modi

ficat ion techniques we are perfecting, there will eventually be no

locked wards either in hospitals or in prisons. In fact, both the

National Institute of Mental Health and the Prisons Administration Board

are funding our experiments."

They emerged into the three-story lobby with the bubble skylights. Dr.

Glover was not about to let Mitchell get in the last word. He began to

enumerate the various government agencies that were funding fetology.

Adam was in a state of shock. MTIC planned the ultimate destruction of

an independent medical profession. Doctors would no longer be

free-thinking professionals. They would be employees of the MTIC-Arolen

medical empire.

"Adam," said Dr. Nachman, trying to get Adam's attention. "Are vou still

with us?"

"Yes, of course," said Adam quickly. "I'm just overwhelmed."

"Quite understandable," said Dr. Nachman. "And I think that we should

give you some time to enjoy our recreational facilities. A few hours at

the beach will do vou a world of good. Shall we meet for dinner at

eight?"

304 ROBIN COOK

"What about visiting the operating rooms for psychosurgery? If possible,

I'd like to see them."

"I'm afraid that is out of the question," said Dr. Nachman. "They're

getting ready for a case this evening. "

"Could I watch?" asked Adam.

Dr. Nachman shook his head. "We appreciate your interest, but

unfortunately there is no viewing gallery. If you decide to take the job

down here, though, I'm certain we can get you into the OR."

As Adam went back to his room to change, he realized that he'd better

figure out some way of smuggling tangible evidence out of the center. But

what evidence? What could he bring back to New York that not only would

convince Jennifer not to have an abortion, but would cause the medical

profession to put MTIC out of business?

After several hours of lying in the sun, Adam thought he had an idea. It

was wild, and probably impossible to execute, but if successful, Adam

knew he would have no trouble convincing anyone to take his warnings

seriously.

Cocktails and dinner were an ordeal for Adam. Dr. Nachman seemed to want

to introduce him to as many people as possible, and it was almost eleven

before he could escape to his room after pleading fatigue.

He had decided he could not start to put his plan into effect until

midnight. Too restless to lie down in the meantime, he took off his suit

and dressed in a dark blue shirt and jeans, then carefully opened his

shoulder bag and checked the supplies he'd organized that afternoon.

At eleven fifty-five he could stand the suspense no longer. He left his

room and took the stairway

MINDBEND 305

to the roof. The moonlight was again almost as bright as day. He quickly

crossed the bridge to the first inner building and then walked across to

look down at the second. The skylights blazed, but Adam wasn't certain

that indicated any special activity inside.

Setting his bag on the roof, Adam opened it and pulled out the rope he'd

stolen that afternoon from one of the sailboats. Then he searched for an

appropriate ventilation pipe. After testing to see if it were securely

fastened to the roof, he tied the rope to it and dropped the free end

down three floors onto the bridge to the innermost building.

Unaccustomed to climbing and terrified of heights, Adam summoned all his

fortitude to climb up on the four-foot wall and lower his legs over the

side. After a short prayer, Adam grasped the rope and let go of the wall.

Hanging on for dear life, he inched his way down until his feet touched

the roof of' the bridge. He dropped to his hands and knees and scrambled

to the roof of the hospital building, where he made his way over to the

large central skylight. A movement below made him hold up.

Slowly, he inched to the edge and looked down. Below him was a scene

straight out of a science fiction horror film. The area under the

skylight was an enormous operating room, but instead of being staffed

with doctors and nurses, it was fully automated. Two patients were being

worked on at once by robotlike machines with long flexible arms.

On the far side of the room several patients were lying on a

conveyor-belt like system, their heads locked into stereotaxic vises. At

present, there were only four, but Adam could see that the system was

designed to accommodate at least a dozen at a time.

306 ROBIN COOK

Adam remained glued to the skylight, mesmerized by the sheer scope of the

horror. One of the patients on the belt began to move forward and was fed

into a large CAT scanner, which started to rotate around the patient's

head. When the rotation was complete, the machine paused while robotlike

arms extended and incised the patient's head at the same points at which

Vandermer's scars were made. A small amount of blood appeared and pooled

below the patient's head. Other arms appeared and smoothly bored into the

patient's skull. Adam could hear the whine of the drill through the

skylight. Then the scanner began to function again, while a third set of

arms extended and pushed into the patient's brain. Adam guessed that the

system was inserting the controlling electrodes into the patients' brains

using the CAT scanner to ensure proper placement.

A movement at the left of the room caught Adam's eye and he pulled back.

Behind a leadedglass partition, a group of people were seated at a control

panel. They would have had a clear view of Adam if they cared to look up.

Adam lay down. He could see in by peeking over the edge of the skylight,

but was pretty sure now that he couldn't be seen.

He saw Dr. Nachman reach out and slap Dr. Mitchell on the back. One of the

patients had been completed and was being moved off in preparation for the

next. Adam thought he was going to be sick. MTIC-Arolen was definitely

planning psychosurgery on a massive scale.

After ducking away from the skylight, Adam climbed to his feet and crossed

the roof to the access door. Luckily, it was not locked. He entered a

stairwell similar to the one he had used to reach

MINDBEND 307

the roof ofhis building. Except for a steady hum of the automated

machinery from the OR, everything was quiet. Moving quickly, he descended

to the second floor and carefully opened the door. As he had expected, he

was just beyond the conditioning room. He looked down the hall into the

darkened ward. The only light came from the glass-enclosed nurses' station

on the opposite side of the ward. The nurse on duty appeared to be eating.

Beyond her were two immobile orderlies sitting in straightback chairs.

Staying close to the wall, Adam moved into the ward and ducked down

behind the first bed. In the half light he caught a glimpse of the

patient's face. To his surprise, the man was awake. Adam waited,

wondering if the patient would sound an alarm, but he just lay still, his

unblinking gaze fixed on Adam.

Taking a deep breath, Adam began to crawl the length of the ward under

the beds. When he got to the second from the end, he raised his head to

look at the nurses' station. He was surprised how close he was to it. The

nurse was still working on her sandwich, and the two orderlies hadn't

moved.

It was now or never for his plan. Adam turned to the patient on the bed

above him. Alan gave no sign of recognition.

"Alan, I want to take you out of here," Adam whispered. "Can you make

it?"

There was no response. Adam might as well have been talking to the IV

pole. Alan didn't even blink as Adam carefully undid the tape that held

the IV in place and pulled out the catheter.

"If I get you up, do you think you can walk?"

Again, there was no response.

Grasping Alan's covers, Adam was about to yank

308 ROBIN COOK

them back when he saw a flashlight beam dance across the ceiling of the

ward. Looking at the double entry doors, Adam saw the nurse pressing her

thumb against the scanner. As the doors hissed open, Adam slid to the floor

and ducked under the bed.

The nurse walked up the center aisle, shining her flashlight at each

patient. Adam held his breath as she passed Alan's bed, hoping she wouldn't

spot the detached IV. She didn't pause. Adam could see her feet move to the

end of the ward, pivot, then return. The double doors hissed open, and the

nurse went back outside.

Guessing she wouldn't be back for a while, Adam felt it was an opportune

time to make his move. Pulling back Alan's covers, Adam grabbed him by the

arms and eased him over to the side of the bed. Then, as gently as he

could, he lifted Alan's torso and lowered the man to the floor. There was

a slight thud when his legs hit the floor, but no one at the nurses'

station seemed to hear.

" Can you crawl along the floor?" Adam whispered in Alan's ear.

There was no response.

Refusing to give up, he grasped Alan's hand and began to pull him along the

floor. To his surprise, Alan responded and soon began to crawl on his own.

It was as if he couldn't act unless he were shown what to do.

They made it to the end of the ward. When Adam looked back, all was quiet

at the nurses' station. The next fifty feet were going to be the most

dangerous. Leaving the protection of the beds, they crawled down the hall

toward the stairs. If anyone looked in their direction, they would be seen.

When they reached the door, Adam opened it a few inches and was alarmed

when light spilled

MINDBEND 309

out from the stairwell. Holding his breath, he opened the door wider and

urged Alan through. A moment later they were safe.

Adam stood up and stretched. Then he bent over and lifted Alan to his feet.

He was unsteady at first but regained his balance after a few seconds.

"Can you understand me?" asked Adam. There was a suggestion of a nod, but

Adam wasn't sure. "We're getting out of here!" Taking Alan by the hand,

Adam led the way up the stairs.. Alan walked as if he had no idea where his

feet were, but by the time they reached the third floor his movements

became smoother. It seemed that the more he had to do, the easier it

became. By the time they got to the roof, Alan seemed to be operating under

his own power. Such rapid improvement made Adam think that Alan had been

receiving a small but constant dose of tranquilizer through the IV. When

they emerged onto the roof, Alan seemed almost awake, and Adam noticed that

the pupils of his eyes were no longer fully dilated. But there still seemed

no way Alan would be able to climb the rope three stories to the outer

building. Adam wasn't sure he could even do it himself and cursed his lack

of foresight in not planning better for their escape.

Looking at the landscaped space between the hospital and the next building

he knew they could probably go down easier than up, but he suspected there

was no way of escaping from the enclosed garden.

Afraid Alan's absence would be noticed, Adam realized he had to act. For

lack of a better idea, he took the end of the rope and tied it under Alan's

arms. Then, grasping the rope, Adam began to pull himself up the side of

the building. The most diffi-

310 ROBIN COOK

cult part was at the top when Adam had to let go of the rope and grasp the

top of the wall. His feet flailed in the air as he tried to get purchase

on the sheer concrete. Finally, he made it onto the roof.

After catching his breath, he bent over the wall. Alan was still standing

with his back against the side of the building.

Adam tensed the rope but was only able to lift Alan a few inches. He

realized he needed more leverage. Suddenly, he remembered seeing pictures

of Egyptian slaves hauling stones up the pyramids. They'd held the ropes

over their shoulders like beasts of burden. Adam decided to do the same.

Straining forward with all his might, he staggered back to the far wall

and quickly tied the slack onto the same pipe where the rope had ini-

tially been fastened. When he ran back to the side, he saw Alan dangling

about a third of the way up.

Adam repeated his maneuver three more times. On the fourth tug the rope

stuck, and when Adam looked, he saw Alan was caught directly under the

lip of the wall surrounding the roof. Reaching down, he pulled the doctor

sideways and got hold of his legs, and with great effort, he heaved him

over. The two men fell onto the roof.

When Adam got his breath back, he untied the rope and stuffed it into his

shoulder bag. Then he helped Alan up. There was an angry abrasion on the

man's right cheek, but otherwise he seemed to have weathered the ordeal

admirably.

Slinging his bag over his shoulder, Adam led Alan across the roof to the

outer building and then down the stairwell. At that point Adam was stum-

bling more than Alan. His arms felt limp, his thighs quivered from

exertion, and the palms of his hands were raw. When they reached Adam's

room, he

MINDBEND 311

dropped the doctor on the bed and collapsed beside him.

Adam was out of shape for such rigorous phvsical activity. He would have

liked to have rested, but he knew the danger of discovery increased with

every minute that passed. He helped Alan out of his hospital gown and

quickly dressed him. Fortunately, the two men were approximately the same

size. Then he tucked Alan into bed and prayed that he was still

sufficiently drugged to go back to sleep. As a precaution, Adam locked

the door behind him when he left the room to see if he could find a car.

As he hurried down the hall, he wished once again that he had made better

plans for escape.

0 00

Selma Parkman yawned and glanced at the clock over the medication locker.

It was only one-fifteen. She had over five hours' more duty, and she was

already bored to death. Glancing over at the two orderlies, she wished

she had a little of their patience. From the moment she had arrived at

the center she had been amazed at the staff's placid acceptance of the

dull routine.

"I think I'll take a walk," she said, flipping closed her Robert Ludlum

novel. The orderlies didn't answer.

"Did you hear me?" she asked petulantly.

"We'll watch the ward," said one of them at last.

"You do that," said Selma, working her feet into her shoes.She knew that

nothing would happen while she was gone. Nothing ever happened. When

she'd taken the job, she'd expected a bit more excitement than

baby-sitting a bunch of automa-

312 ROBIN COOK

tons. She'd left a good job in Philadelphia at the Hobart Psvchiatric

Institute to come down to Puerto Rico, and she was beginning to wonder if

she had made a mistake.

Selma left the nurses' station and, desperate for some conversation, took

the elevator to the OR floor and entered the gallery. Dr. Nachman smiled

when he saw her. "Bored?" he said. "I can see we'll have to get You a

more exciting schedule." In reality, he was irritated by her restlessness

and had put her on the list for a course of Conformin treatment.

Selma watched the computer-generated images appearing on the screen in

front of the operators, but she had no idea what she was seeing and soon

became as bored as she'd been downstairs. She said good-bye, but no one

responded. Shrugging her shoulders, she left the gallery, descended a

floor, and retraced her steps to the nurses' station. The orderlies were

as she'd left them. It wasn't time for her rounds, but since she was

already up, she got the flashlight and went into the ward.

The job wasn't demanding to say the least. About half of the patients

were on IVs, and she was supposed to check them at least twice during her

shift. Otherwise all she had to do was shine her flashlight into the face

of each patient to make sure he was still alive.

Selma stopped, her light playing on an empty pillow. Bending down, she

looked along the floor. Once a patient had fallen out of bed, but that

did not seem to be the case here. She moved over to the chart and read

the name: Iseman.

Still thinking that the patient must be nearby, she went back to the

nurses' station and flipped on the ward's overhead lights. A harsh

fluorescent

MINDBEND 313

glare flooded the room. Summoning the orderlies, Selma quickly checked the

room herself. There was no doubt about it: Iseman had vanished.

Selma began to worry. Nothing like this had ever happened. Telling the

orderlies to keep searching, she hurried back up to the OR.

"A patient is missing," she said, spotting Nachman and Mitchell as they

were about to leave.

"That's impossible," said Dr. Mitchell.

"It may be impossible," said Selma, "but Mr. Iseman's bed is empty, and

he's nowhere in sight. I think that you'd better come down and see for

yourselves. "

"That's the patient that was operated on yesterdav," said Dr. Nachman.

"Wasn't he on a continuous Conformin drip?"

Without waiting for Mitchell's answer, he hurried off downstairs. As they

entered the ward, Selma gestured triumphantly toward the empty bed.

Dr. Mitchell picked up the IV line and looked at the catheter. It was

still slowly dripping. "Well, he can't be far."

After exhausting all possible hiding places on the floor, Dr. Nachman and

Dr. Mitchell tried the fetology floor, then the roof, and finally the

garden.

"I think we'd better call out all the orderlies," said Dr. Nachman. "We

have to find Iseman immediately."

"This is incredible," said Dr. Mitchell with disbelief. "I'm surprised

the man could even walk."

"If we don't find him right away," asked Dr. Nachman, "what would happen

if we were to activate his implanted electrodes? Would that let us home

in on him?"

Dr. Mitchell shrugged. "The patient has not started conditioning. If we

activate him, the sig-

314 ROBIN COOK

nals could cause either pain or pleasure but without any specific control on

behavior. It could be dangerous."

"Dangerous to whom?" asked Dr. Nachman. "The patient or people around him?"

"That I can't answer," admitted Dr. Mitchell.

"Well, that's a worst-case scenario," said Dr. Nachman. "I hope he'll be

found in short order. Maybe the dosage in his IV was wrong. In any case,

let's alert all the orderlies. Tell them to carry full hypodermics of

Conformin so that when he is found there's no trouble."

0 00

Adam was beginning to get desperate. There were plenty of cars in the

parking lot opposite the main building, but no keys. Adam had assumed that

with the tight security, people would be careless. But unfortunately, that

was not the case. He cursed himself again for his casual planning.

Not quite sure what he might find, he made his way down the secluded walk

to the beach and over to the club. A handful of cars were in the parking

lot behind the clubhouse, and Adam went from one to another without luck.

Then he noticed a good-sized Ford truck parked at the delivery entrance.

The door was open and Adam swung himself into the cab. He started to search

for the ignition, but before he could find it, an alarm went off with an

ear-piercing wail. Adam fumbled for the door and leapt out in panic.

The club door opened and Adam ran around the building to the shelter of a

stand of pines. The alarm was turned off, but the sound of approach-

MINDBEND 315

ing voices made Adam realize he would have to keep moving. Seeing the

masts of the Hobie Cats, Adam raced to the beach and slid under the near-

est one.

He could hear the men returning to the club. They had obviously decided

it was a false alarm, but Adam knew he only had a few more hours before

daylight to figure out how to get Alan out of the compound. He wondered

if anyone had noticed the patient was missing.

0 0a

Dr. Nachman's face appeared more haggard than usual. His eyes seemed to

have visibly sunk into their sockets.

"He has to be here," said Dr. Mitchell.

"If he's here, then he should have been found," said Dr. Nachman

humorlessly.

"Perhaps he's in the garden. It's the only place left."

"We have twentV orderlies searching," snapped Dr. Nachman. "If he were

there, they would have found him by now."

"He'll be found," said Mitchell, more to convince himself than anyone

else. "Maybe we'll have to wait until it gets light."

"I'm wondering if he could have gotten out of the hospital," said Dr.

Nachman. "He's not the kind of patient we'd like to have found on the

outside."

"He can't have escaped, even if he'd wanted to," said Dr. Mitchell. "He

couldn't have opened the security doors. And besides, Ms. Parkman has

been here. She said she definitely saw the patient when she made her

earlier rounds."

316 ROBIN COOK

"She wasn't here when she came up to the OR," said Dr. Nachman.

"But that was just for a few minutes," said Selma. "And the two orderlies

on duty said that everything was quiet."

"I want the search extended to the main building," said Dr. Nachman,

ignoring Selma. "I'm beginning to fear that someone else is involved,

someone with access to the ward. If that is the case, I think we should

try to activate the patient's electrodes. That might allow us to trace

the man via the transmitter."

"I don't know if it will work," said Dr. Mitchell. "We've never tried to

activate from a distance."

"Well, try it now," ordered Dr. Nachman. "Also, call security and tell

them that no one goes through the main gate."

Dr. Mitchell went to the telephone and called Security. Then he called

the head of programming, Edgar Hofstra, telling him that there was an

emergency and he was needed in the control room. Then he and Nachman went

upstairs.

The control room was on the same floor as the automated operating room.

At one end, protected by a glass wall, was the MTIC mainframe computer.

About a halfdozen white-coated technicians were in evidence, performing

a wide range of operational and maintenance procedures.

Hofstra arrived about ten minutes later, his eyes still puffy with sleep.

Not even bothering to apologize, Mitchell outlined the problem. "If we

can activate the patient's electrodes, I think security can trace the

patient by the transmitter. Do you think you can activate him from long

range?"

"I'm not certain," said Hofstra, seating himself

MINDBEND 317

at the terminal. As soon as he punched in Iseman's name, the computer

responded by saying that there was an error and that the patient was not

engaged. Hofstra overrode the signal.

Everyonc in the room watched anxiously. After a minute the screen flashed

"electrodes activated," followed in another minute by the word "proceed."

" So far, so good," said Hofstra. "Now let's see if his battery has any

power." He entered the command for Iseman's electrodes to transmit. The

result was a verv weak signal that was unintelligible to the computer.

Hofstra swung around in his chair. "Well, the electrodes activated, but

the signal is so weak, I doubt we can trace the location."

. 0 .

Adam never knew where he found the courage to go back into the main

building, particularly when he saw that most of the lights had been

turned on and that groups of' men in blue blazers, carrying hypodermic

syringes, were swarming over the ground floor. Only the thought of

Jennifer and her impending abortion had forced him to risk the

comparative safety of the outdoors. Now he simply walked through the main

building lobby as if nothing was wrong. When he got out of the elevator

on six, the hall was quiet and Adam guessed that they hadn't begun to

search the guests' rooms.

He turned on the light when he got to his room and was relieved to find

Alan still sleeping peacefully.

"I don't know if' you can understand me," said Adam tensely, "but we have

to get the hell out of here."

He pulled Alan to a sitting position and checked

318 ROBIN COOK

the rolls of gauze covering his head. Once he'd carefullv unwound them, he

was pleased to see that the automated surgery had only shaved a small area

on either side of the man's head. Adam grabbed his comb and carefully

covered the bald patches with Alan's remaining hair.

With his heart pounding, he helped Alan to his feet and quietly opened the

door. Three orderlies were entering a suite at the end of the corridor.

Adam knew that if he hesitated he wouldn't get a second chance. The moment

they disappeared into the suite he grabbed Alan's hand and hurried him down

to the bathers' elevator. As the doors closed, Adam heard voices, but no

one seemed to be shouting alarm.

He pressed the ground-floor button. To his horror, after descending

briefly, the elevator stopped on three!

Adam glanced at Alan. He looked better without his bandage, but his face

still had that telltale drugged blankness.

The doors opened and a scarfaced orderly stepped into the elevator.

Glancing mechanically at Adam and Alan, he turned to face the closing

doors. He was so close, Adam could see the individual hairs on his neck.

Adam held his breath as the elevator recommenced its descent.

They were just passing two when the orderly seemed to recognize their

presence. He made a slow turn. In his left hand he held a hypodermic

syringe without its protective plastic cap.

Adam reacted by reflex with speed that surprised him. He went for the

syringe, wresting it from the orderly's grip with a quick twist, and then

pushed the orderlv forward into Alan. As the men collided, Adam jammed the

needle into the man's back just

MINDBEND 319

to the side of the spine, depressing the plunger with the heel of his

hand.

All three of them fell against the wall of the elevator and collapsed in

a heap with Alan on the bottom. The orderiv arched his back, rolled to

the side, and opened his mouth to scream. Adam clamped his hand over the

man's mouth to muffle the cry. The elevator stopped and the doors opened.

The orderly grabbed Adam's arm in a tight grip and began to pry his hand

from his face. Adam strained to keep the man's mouth covered. Then he saw

the man's eyes cross. Abruptly, the man's grip loosened and his body went

limp.

Adam removed his hand and then recoiled in horror. He pushed himself away

and stared at the man, whose eyes had now rolled up into his head.

Although he appeared to have had some kind of plastic surgery to mar his

facial features, Adam still recognized hirn. It was Percy Harmon!

For a second Adam was too startled to react. Then the elevator doors

started to close, and Adam knew he had to keep moving. Wedging Alan

against the door to keep it ajar, he dragged Harmon outside and dropped

him behind the dense ferns. He had a moment's hope of taking him along,

then realized it would be hard enough just handling Alan. He led the

doctor out the back door to the path that led to the beach. His vague

plan was to head over to the condominiums and see if he could find a car

there.

The moon was now partially concealed, and the beach was not the bright

landscape it had been before. The palms and pine trees provided deep

concealing shadow.

Halfway to the club, Adam and Alan came upon the Hobie Cat Adam had

hidden under. Adam

320 ROBIN COOK

halted. An idea stirred in the back of his mind. He looked out at the ocean

and wondered. He wasn't a good sailor by any stretch of the imagination, but

he knew a little about small boats. And he was pleased to note that the last

person to use the Hobie Cat had beached it without taking off the sails.

The sound of a man's shout from the area of the main building made him

decide for sure. Time was running out. First, Adam dragged the boat to the

water. Next, he led Alan to it and helped him climb on, forcing him to lie

down on the canvas. With the bowline, Adam tied Alan loosely to the mast.

Wading into the water, Adam pulled the Hobie off the sand and into the

surf. The waves were only two or three feet high, but they made it hard to

control the boat. When he was waist-deep, he hauled himself aboard.

His original idea was to paddle the boat out of sight around the point, but

he saw that was going to be impossible. He would have to raise the sail. As

quickly as he could, he hauled up the mainsail. He winced in pain from his

raw palms, but he kept at it. Finally the sail billowed out, and the boom

lifted with a clatter. To his relief, the boat stabilized the moment it was

under sail. Turning around, he snapped the rudders into position, then

pushed the tiller to the right.

For an agonizing minute, the boat seemed to drift back toward the beach.

Then, falling off the wind, it shot forward, smacking the incoming waves as

it headed away from the beach. There was little Adam could do but grab Alan

with one hand and hold the tiller with the other.

The boat passed directly in front of the club, but Adam was afraid to try

to change his course. He

MINDBEND 321

heaved a sigh of relief when they got beyond the breakers. Soon after,

they were around the point and safely out of sight.

Relaxing to a degree, Adam looked up at the parabolic curve of the sail

contrasted against the star-strewn tropical sky. Glancing to the west,

he saw the moon intermittently veiled with small, scudding clouds. Below

the moon was the dark silhouette of Puerto Rico's craggy mountains. The

beauty was overwhelming. Then the boat hit the long Atlantic swells and

Adam had to turn his full attention to the tiller. Cleating the mainsheet

securely, he raised the jib and the Hobie Cat shot through the water at

even greater speed. He started to feel optimistic that within a few hours

he'd be far enough up the coast to find help.

a 00

Dr. Nachman turned from the computer in a rage. Harry Burkett had come

to update the research director on the search, but Nachman wasn't content

with false assurances.

"Are vou telling me that all you've leamed with forty men and a million

dollars' worth of security equipment is that one of the orderlies has

been found unconscious and one of our guests, Mr. Schonberg, is missing

from his room?"

"That's correct," said Mr. Burkett.

"And the orderly," continued Dr. Nachman, "was presumably injected in the

back with his own syringe of Conformin?"

"Exactly," said Mr. Burkett. "He was injected with such force that the

needle broke off and is imbedded in the man's skin." Mr. Burkett wanted

to impress the research director with the com-

322 ROBIN COOK

pleteness of his investigation, but Nachman wasn't having any of it. He

found it inconceivable that Mr. Burkett, with his huge staff and

sophisticated resources, could not locate a heavily sedated patient. Thanks

to Burkett's inefficiency, what had started as an inconvenience was rapidly

becoming a serious affair.

Dr. Nachman angrily lit his pipe, which had gone out for the tenth time. He

couldn't decide whether or not he should inform the inner circle of MTIC.

If the problem got worse, the earlier he reported it, the better off he'd

be. But if the problem resolved itself, it would be best to remain silent.

"Has there been any evidence of anyone touching the perimeter fence?" he

asked.

"Absolutely not," said Burkett. "And no one has been allowed out of the

main gate since Dr. Mitchell called." He glanced at the psychiatrist, who

was nervously examining his cuticles.

Dr. Nachman nodded. He was certain the patient was still on the grounds and

that the electrified fence was an insurmountable barrier, but he still

worried about the competence of Burkett's security force. There was no

reason to take chances.

"I want vou to send someone to the airport to check the departing flights,"

he ordered.

A think that's going a bit far," said Burkett. "The patient won't get off

the compound."

"I don't care what you think," interrupted Dr. Nachman. "Everyone told me

the patient couldn't have left the hospital, and obviously he has. So cover

the airport."

"OK," said Burkett with an exasperated sigh.

Dr. Mitchell, who was well aware that he was the man who had insisted the

patient couldn't

MINDBEND 323

have left the hospital, stood up, saying, "Even if the transmitter is too

weak to use to trace the patient, maybe if we stimulate his electrodes,

he'll reveal himself."

Dr. Nachman looked at Mr. Hofstra. "Could we do that?"

"I don't know," said Hofstra. "The position of his electrodes hasn't been

neurophysiologically mapped. I don't know what would happen if we

stimulated him. It might kill him."

"But could we stimulate him?" asked Dr. Nachman again.

"Maybe," said Hofstra. "But it will take some time. The present program

has been written with the expectation that the patient would be initially

present."

"What kind of time are you talking about?"

Hofstra spread his hands apart. "I should know if I'll be able to do it

in an hour or so."

"But you didn't have any trouble activating the electrodes."

"That's true," said Hofstra. "But actual stimulation is much more

complicated."

"Try it," said Dr. Nachman wearily. Then, gesturing with his hands toward

Mr. Burkett, who was still on the phone, he said, "I'd like to have some

kind of backup for his Keystone Kops."

0 00

Looking at his watch, Adam realized that they'd been sailing for nearly

two hours. Once they'd rounded the point north of the MTIC-Arolen beach,

they'd encountered increasingly high swells that occasionally crested and

broke over the canvas trampoline, A couple of times when they were in the

rough of a particularly high wave, Adam was

324 ROBIN COOK

afraid they would be buried by tons of seawater. But each time the boat

had bobbed up and ridden like a cork over the top of the wave.

They headed due west along the northern coast. Unsure if there were anv

reefs or not, Adam stayed about two or three hundred vards offshore. By

far the hardest part of the adventure was dealing with his imagination.

Each minute, his concern grew about sharks lurking beneath them in the

dark swirling water. Every time he glanced down, he expected to see a

huge black fin break the surface.

Certain that they had long since passed the limits of the MTIC-Arolen

compound, Adam began to aim the Hobie Cat toward land. In the past

fifteen minutes or so he'd begun to see occasional lights along the

shore. He now could hear the waves pounding on the beach. He tried not

to think about what that might mean.

A scream shattered the silence. All at once Alan grabbed his head with

both hands and shrieked into the night. Adam was caught totally off

guard. A large bolus of adrenaline shot into his system.

Alan's screams increased to full lung capacity, and he tried to stand up,

straining against the rope that secured him to the mast. He began to

throw himself from side to side, threatening to capsize the boat. Adam

abandoned the tiller and the mainsail sheet and tried to restrain the

crazed man. The boat immediately fell off the wind and the mainsail

luffed.

"Alan!" yelled Adam above the sound of the wind. "What's the matter?" He

grabbed Alan by the shoulders and shook him as hard as he could. Alan was

still clasping his head with his hands with such force that his face was

distorted. His shrieks came amid gasps for breath,

MINDBEND 325

"What's the matter?" shouted Adam again.

Alan let go of his head, and for a second Adam could see his face. The

man's previously blank expression had twisted into one of pain and rage.

Like a mad dog, Alan lunged for Adam's throat.

Shocked at Alan's strength, Adam tried to scramble out of his reach, but

there was little room on the Hobie Cat's trampoline. Alan twisted within

his bonds and flailed his arms, catching Adam in the face with a forceful

punch. Screaming himself, Adam teetered on the edge of the Hobie Cat, his

hands frantically grabbing for a purchase. His fingers found the uncoiled

mainsail halyard, but it did not provide any support. In a kind of agoniz-

ing slow motion Adam toppled into the forbidding ocean.

He plunged beneath the surface of the icy water. Desperately clawing at the

water, Adam fought back up to the air, terrified that at any moment he

would be bitten by a sea monster. His leg brushed the rope in his hand and

he screamed.

Although the sails were luffing, the strong trade wind continued to push

the boat through the water. Adam held on to the mainsail halvard and was

dragged behind like bait on the end of a fish line. He could feel his right

eyelid swelling, but worst of all, there was trailing warmth from his nose,

which he guessed was blood. He expected his legs to be snapped offat any

moment. Hand over hand, he frantically pulled himself back to the boat. On

the trampoline Alan was still shrieking in pain. Adam grabbed a pontoon and

started to scramble out of the water.

The snapping of the uncleated mainsail sounded like rifle shots. The boat

had rotated to windward and suddenly the boom wildly traversed the back

326 ROBIN COOK

of the boat, slamming into the side of Alan's head and pitching him face

downward onto the trampoline.

Adam hauled himself out of the water and, watching out for the swinging

boom, approached the man uneasily, half expecting him to explode anew.

But Alan was unconscious and breathing deeply. Steadying himself on the

bobbing boat, Adam felt Alan's head for a fracture. All he found was an

actively swelling egg-shaped lump.

Carefully Adam rolled Alan over, wondering what had possessed the man.

He'd been so peaceful until that terrifying moment. Adam noticed that one

of the sutured incisions had pulled open, and suddenly he guessed what

might have happened.

Scrambling back to the stern, Adam grabbed the tiller and then pulled in

on the mainsail tackle. The boat responded and the sails filled. Falling

off the wind, Adam headed for the shore. He now had another,

unanticipated problem. He had no idea what Alan could be made to do. Adam

shivered, more from fear than from the chill of his damp clothes.

Edgar Hofstra glanced up at Dr. Nachman, whose eyes had become blood red.

The man's lower lids hung away from his globes while he bent over

Hofstra's shoulder, staring at the computer screen.

"I can't be one hundred percent sure that the electrodes responded," said

Hofstra, "but that was the strongest signal I could send at the moment.

If you give me a couple of hours, I will be able to increase the power."

"Well, see if you can speed things up," said Dr. Nachman. "And maybe you

can remember if any

MINDBEND 327

of our early experiments with monkeys gave us clues as to how the subject

will respond."

"I hate to tell you," said Mitchell, "but in addition to destroying

everything around them, the monkeys in such situations ended up killing

themselves."

Dr. Nachman got up and stretched. "Listen, that may be the good Dews."

"I'll have to take the whole system off line while we work on it," said

Hofstra.

"That's OK," said Dr. Nachman. "At this hour I can't imagine anybody

wanting to send instructions to any of the 'controlled' doctors."

"Too bad the patient hadn't at least been conditioned for the

self-destruct mode," said Dr. Mitchell.

"Yeah, too bad," agreed Dr. Nachman.

a 00

By the time Adam got within a hundred feet of shore, the night had become

significantly darker. He turned the boat to the west and paralleled the

island while he listened carefully to the waves crashing on the shore.

He hoped that the type of sound would enable him to guess the composition

of the beach. With the heavy surf, he was afraid of coral.

Alan had moaned a few times but had not tried to get up. Adam thought

that he was either still unconscious from the blow to his head or in some

kind of post-ictic state from what had been a scizure of sorts. In any

case, Adam hoped that he'd stay quiet until they reached the shore.

The sound of a dog barking against the noise of the ocean caught Adam's

attention, and he strained his eyes shoreward. He could make out, nestled

among the graceful trunks of a forest of coconut

328 ROBIN COOK

palms, a group of dark houses. Thinking that they were a good indication

of a sand beach, Adam shoved the tiller over, ducked under the jibing

mainsail, and headed the boat toward land.

Although Adam let the sail out and was spilling the wind, the boat seemed

to be flying. Holding the tiller with his leg, he reached up and let

loose the Jib, which began to flap angrily in the wind. Ahead, he could

see where the waves were cresting, a white line of foam against the

blackness of the island.

The closer they got, the louder was the noise of the breakers pounding

the shoreline. Adam prayed silently for a sand beach, although at that

speed even sand would be trouble. A huge wave passed under the boat, then

a larger one built behind. The Hobi rode up the face of the wave, and

with terror, Adam thought they were about to flip end over end. But the

boat righted itself as the wave rolled under. Looking behind again, Adam

saw another wave bearing down on them. It looked as big as a house. its

upper edge feathered against the sky, suggesting it was about to break.

Adam saw the top begin to curl. Holding the tiller with one hand and the

side of the trampoline with the other, he closed his eves and braced

himself for submersion.

But the tons of water that Adam expected didn't come. Instead, the Hobic

Cat shot forward with an exhilarating burst of speed. Adam opened his

eyes and saw that they were racing toward shore in front of the torrent

of white water.

Before he knew what was happening, the speeding boat hit the backwash of

the previous wave and bounced into the air, throwing him over the side

into the water. He came up sputtering, but happily surprised that the

water was only waist

MINDBEND 329

deep. Alan had remained on the boat's trampoline, secured by the line

around his chest, but he had rotated around the mast and his legs dangled

over the side. Adam grabbed the boat and pulled it toward shore, straining

against the undertow. The pontoons finally hit the bottom, and Adam waited

for the next wave before running the boat up onto dry land.

He immediately collapsed onto the sand to catch his breath, then fished

out his glasses and slipped them on. Looking around, he saw that they had

landed on a narrow and rather steep sand beach that was strewn with all

sorts of debris. A number of old wood-planked boats were drawn up from

the water's edge and secured around the trunks of nearby coconut palms.

Within the darkness of the trees was a village of ramshackle houses.

A welcoming committee of two scraggy dogs appeared at the edge of the

beach and began to bark loudly. A light went on in the nearest house.

When Adam struggled to his feet, the dogs dashed out of sight for a

moment, only to reappear and bark more insistently. Adam ignored them.

He untied Alan and got the man standing.

Alan held his head as Adam led him up the beach. Just within the shelter

of' the palms, they came upon a ramshackle house with a beaten-up

half-ton pickup parked outside. Adam peered hungrily inside the cab. No

keys were dangling from the ignition. He decided to knock on the door of

the house and take his chances. The dogs were barking wildly now, nipping

at his legs.

As he walked up the steps, a light went on and a face appeared at the

window. Adam checked his back pocket to make sure his wallet was safe.

A moment later the door opened. The man who

330 ROBIN COOK

opened it was stripped to the waist and barefoot. He had a gun in his hand,

an old revolver with a mother-of-pearl handle.

"No hablo much espafiol," said Adam, trying to smile. The man did not smile

back.

"Me puede dar un ride al aeropuerto," said Adam, turning slightly and

pointing toward the truck.

The man looked at Adam as if he were crazy. Then he made a waving motion of

dismissal with the pistol and started to close the door.

"Por favor," pleaded Adam. Then, in a combination of Spanish and English,

he rapidly tried to explain how he'd been lost at sea on a sailboat with a

sick friend and that they had to get to the airport immediately. Pulling

out his wallet, he began counting out soggy bills. That finally perked the

man's interest. He put the gun into his pocket and allowed Adam to lead him

down to the beach.

in the midst of his frantic attempts to capture the man's interest, Adam

had had an idea. When he got to the beach, he picked up the bowline of the

Hobie Cat and put it into the Puerto Rican's hand. At the same time he

struggled to explain to the man that the boat was his if he took them to

the airport.

The Puerto Rican finally seemed to comprehend. A broad smile appeared on

his face. Gleefully, he pulled the boat higher on the beach and lashed it

to one of the coconut palms. Then he went back to the house, presumably to

dress.

Adam lost no time in getting Alan into the cab of the truck. Almost

immediately the Puerto Rican reappeared, swinging his keys. He started up

the truck, glancing warily at Alan, who was slumped in his seat, and at the

point of drifting off to sleep again. Adam tried to explain that his friend

was

MINDBEND 331

sick, but he soon gave up, deciding it was easier to pretend that he, too,

had fallen asleep. He sat with his eyes closed until they reached the

airport. Indicating that he wanted to be dropped at the Eastern departure

area, he began to worry how on earth he could explain Alan's and his

appearance to the ticket clerk.

The truck came to a stop, and Adam touched Alan's shoulder. This time it

was easier to wake him up.

"Muchas gracias," Adam said as they got out.

"De nada," called the driver, and roared away.

"OK," said Adam, taking Alan by the arm. "This is the last lap." He walked

into the almost empty terminal. A few taxis and an ambulance idled by the

entrance, but it was too early for many departing tourists. Adam surveyed

the old-fashioned building and seated Alan at an empty shoeshine stand.

Then he went over to the ticket counter.

Looking up at the schedule, he saw that the next Easternnight to Miami was

in two hours. A small sign said "For After Hours, Use Phone." Adam picked

up the receiver next to the sign. When the agent answered, he told Adam

that he'd be right out. Sure enough, by the time Adam hung up, a man in a

clean and pressed brown uniform emerged from a door behind the counter.

When he saw Adam, his smile faltered.

Adam was acutely conscious of his ragged appearance. The ride in the truck

had almost dried his clothes, but seeing the agent's reaction, he decided

he'd better come up with a good story. Hesitating only a moment, he

launched into a long explanation that featured an end-of-vacation party

with lots of booze and a last-minute sail. He and his friend had washed up

on a beach miles from their

332 ROBIN COOK

hotel and then had hitched a ride to the airport. Adam said they had to be

at work the next day and that their luggage would follow when the rest of

their group flew back.

"It's been a hell of a vacation," he added.

The agent nodded as if he understood and said there was plenty of space

available. Adam asked if there were any earlier flights to the States and

was told that Delta had a flight to Atlanta in an hour.

As far as Adam was concerned, the sooner they got off the island the

better. He asked for directions to Delta and was told to go to the next

building. Deciding Alan was best off where he was, Adam hurried to the next

terminal, where there were a number of travelers waiting to check in.

Adam joined the end of the line. When he got to the counter, the agent eyed

him uneasily, but Adam repeated his now practiced story. Again, the agent

seemed to believe him.

"First-class or coach?" he asked.

Adam looked at the man, wondering if he were trying to be funny. But then,

remembering that Arolen paid his Visa card charges, he said, "Firstclass,

of course."

Adam scanned the terminal nervously as the man wrote up the tickets, but he

didn't spot anyone who appeared to have been sent by MTIC.

When the agent had finished, Adam said, "We could use a wheelchair. My

friend really got banged up when we tipped over in the surf."

"Oh my gosh," said the agent. "I'll see what I can do."

In less than five minutes he was back with the wheelchair.

Adam thanked him and set off for the other building to get Alan.

MINDBEND 333

From a vantage point on the mezzanine overlooking the Delta ticket

counter, two ambulance attendants dressed in white uniforms watched as

Adam disappeared from sight. The fact that he was pushing a wheelchair

suggested that Iseman could not be far away.

The two men quickly descended to the terminal floor and hurried outside

to the ambulance, where they told the driver to radio Mr. Burkett that

the subjects had been spotted. The taller of the attendants, a burly man

with a blond crew cut, pulled two collapsible gurneys from the back of

the ambulance, while his partner stuffed a number of syringes into a

medical bag.

Back in the terminal, they checked the gate number for the Delta flight

to Atlanta and set out for Concourse B.

When Adam got back to the shoeshine stand, he was horrified to find the

bench empty. Frantically, he ran the wheelchair back toward the Eastern

counter, where he spotted Alan trying to talk to the agent, who was

telling him that he was in Puerto Rico, not Miami, but that he could give

him a reservation to Miami if he wanted one.

"He's with me," explained Adam, helping Alan into the chair.

"The man thinks he's in Miami," said the agent.

"He's been through a lot," said Adam. "You know, the shipwreck . . ." He

let his voice trail off and started back to Delta.

"What am I doing in Puerto Rico?" asked Alan. Although his diction was

still slurred, he was the most alert he'd been since Adam had talked to

him at the Fjord departure terminal.

334 ROBIN COOK

With only twenty minutes before flight time, Adam pushed Alan at a rapid

pace. A tour group with gaudy shirts was noisily assembled in front of the

Delta counter. Having the people around gave Adam a sense of safety. Going

through security before boarding the plane, Adam helped Alan out of the

wheelchair so he could go through the metal detector. The guard eyed them

suspiciously but didn't say a word. Once they were through and on their way

to the gate, Adam felt a growing sense of excitement. He'd done it. In a

few hours they'd be landing in the States.

The floor of the concourse angled downward and Adam now had to restrain the

wheelchair from rolling forward on its own accord. Ahead was a water

fountain and rest rooms, and Adam considered stopping; they had nearly

twenty minutes to spare. He noticed a small sign on the floor next to the

men's room door, indicating that the rest rooms were being cleaned. Adam

decided to do his drinking and peeing on the plane.

He had slowed to a normal walk and was about to continue on when out of the

corner of his eye he caught a sudden movement. Just as he began to turn his

head, someone grabbed him from behind, crushing his arms against his torso.

Before Adam could respond, he was lifted off the floor.

Adam tried to twist as he cried out, but he was rammed directly against the

closed door of the men's room, hitting it with his chest and forehead. The

impact threw open the door, and both Adam and his attacker fell headfirst

onto the tile floor.

The force of the fall released the man's stranglehold on Adam. Although

dazed, Adam got his arms free and scrambled to his feet, only to be tripped

again when the man grabbed him around the an-

MINDBEND 335

kles. Again Adam fell, his head narrowly missing the edge of the sink, but

this time his hands were free to cushion the fall.

Behind him, Adam was dimly aware of Alan in the wheelchair being

propelled by a second man in white. Alan had been pushed against the

men's room door as Adam had, his head snapping forward on impact. When

the door had opened, he was forcibly shoved forward, his head

hyperextending. The unguided wheelchair now sped through, arcing to the

left and then colliding with the bank of urinals, spilling Alan out of

the chair.

The second man turned and locked the door behind him, then came to the

aid of his partner. Together, the two men bore down on Adam, quickly

overwhelming him and pinning him to the floor.

Marshaling his strength, Adam gave a powerful kick with his legs and

succeeded in getting one arm free. Swinging widely, he connected with the

lower jaw of the larger of his two attackers. The man cried out. His

partner snapped back and, in a fit of anger, punched Adam solidly in the

stomach.

Adam's breath left him with an audible whoosh, making him gag and leaving

him momentarily helpless. The two men held Adam on the floor with their

combined weight. The smaller medic pulled a syringe from his pocket.

Using his teeth, he removed the plastic cover from the needle. With one

hand he smoothed out the cloth covering Adam's thigh and then plunged the

needle into Adam's flesh, all the way to the hilt.

Adam tried to move but without success. The medic pulled back on the

plunger to make certain that the needle was not in a blood vessel, then,

regrasping the syringe, prepared to inject.

Suddenly, a fearsome shriek reverberated around

336 ROBIN COOK

the tiled room. The unworldly sound momentarily paralyzed the two men

holding Adam to the floor.

Alan grabbed his head as he'd done on the Hobie Cat and leapt to his feet.

His eyes snapped open and his lips rolled back to expose his teeth. With a

ripping sound, his hands came away from his head, clutching tufts of hair

from his scalp. Like a rabid animal, he sprang from the urinals toward the

threesome sprawled on the floor. He grasped his hands together to form a

club and after swinging them in a great arc, pounded the man who had just

inserted the syringe into Adam. The blow caught the man on the side of the

head with such force that he was propelled from astride Adam into the mouth

of an open toilet stall, ramming into the divider with a sickening crunch.

The smaller medic stood up in shock, his eyes reflecting the horror of

having witnessed the materialization of a monster. He took a step backward

and raised his hands, but Alan was on him in a flash, biting off most of

the man's ear with a snap of his jaws. The medic's terror made it im-

possible for him to defend himself. Alan grabbed his head and began to beat

it against one of the mirrors above the sinks, whipping frothy spirals of

blood onto the glass in graceful arcs. The mirror cracked, splintered, and

then shattered in a cascade of shards.

Adam had also been initially transfixed by the unexpected transformation of

Alan, but having seen it once before, he was better able to recover. He

yanked the syringe from his thigh and, scrambling to his feet, quickly

assessed the chances of being able to pass Alan, who continued to smash the

medic's head against the mirror. Unfortunately, at that moment the medic's

body went limp and he

MINDBEND 337

fell to the floor. Alan immediately lost interest in him. Throwing his head

back and shrieking again, Alan now came after Adam.

Adam's only recourse was to dash into a toilet stall and try to close the

door behind him. Alan got his hand around the edge of the door though, and

began to prevail in the shoving match that ensued. As Adam sensed that he

was losing the test of strength, he lifted his legs against the door. With

his back against the wall, he thrust the door closed, catching Alan's

fingers in the jamb. Alan shrieked anew and pulled his hand free.

Adam latched the door and backed against the wall, the toilet between his

legs, His mind raced as to what he could do next.

Alan began to throw his body against the door repeatedly. Each time the

latch bent a little more. Finally it snapped, and the door burst open.

Adam screamed Alan's name, but Alan came at him like a locomotive, his

pupils pinpoints and his eyes crazed. More out of pure defense than

thought, Adam held out the syringe which he had been clutching. Alan ran

directly onto the needle, which pierced his abdomen. The force of his

charge depressed the plunger, sending the contents into his flesh.

Alan did not even feel the needle. He grabbed Adam's head with seemingly

superhuman strength and practically lifted Adam off the floor. But then, as

Adam watched, his crazed eyes fluttered and his pupils dilated. His right

eye wandered like a child's lazy eye, and his left one assumed a ques-

tioning look. His grip relaxed and he slowly sagged to his knees. Finally,

he collapsed backward and flopped out of t ' he stall onto the floor in

front of one of the sinks.

338 ROBIN COOK

For a moment Adam could not move. He felt he'd come close to death.

Slowly he lowered his eves to look at the tip of the needle that was

still in his hand. A drop of fluid had collected there and now dropped

off. Adam let go of the syringe, and it clattered to the floor.

Stepping out of the stall and pushing aside two gurneys that were at the

back of the room, Adam knelt beside Alan and felt his pulse. It was

strong and normal. To Adam's surprise, the man's eyes fluttered open. In

a very slurred voice he complained that his hands hurt.

"At that level of energy, there is no doubt that our patient's electrodes

were stimulated to maximum," said Hofstra. "The result has to have been

devastating."

"But now we may have a new problem," said Dr. Nachman. "If the patient

is dead, no one can examine the body. We can't let anyone find the

implants. We must find him at once."

The phone rang, and Dr. Mitchell answered. After listening and saying

"good" several times, he turned to Nachman with a thumbs-up sign.

"Your idea of covering the airport was a good one," he said. "Burkett

says the patient and Mr. Schonberg were sighted and are being picked up

by the ambulance medics."

"What if' they were already in the ambulance when the stimulus was

given?" asked Nachman.

"It could have been big trouble. I think we'd better search the road

between here and the airport."

Dr. Nachman threw up his hands. "When is this going to end?"

MINDBEND 339

0 00

Adam had no doubt that Alan's psychotic episodes were due to remote

stimulation, and he prayed that once they were airborne Alan would be out

of range. Their one hope was to get aboard, but Adam was now afraid they

both looked so bad that the Delta agents might turn them away. There were

only five more minutes until their flight was due to take off.

Adam washed his face quickly and tried to wipe Alan's hands, which were

coated with blood. Worse still, there were several raw patches on his head,

where Alan had torn out clumps of his hair. Adam mopped at them with little

result. Well, there was nothing more he could do. He lifted Alan onto the

wheelchair and was about to push him out the door when he spotted a full

hypodermic lying on the floor. He picked it up, deciding it would be useful

if Alan had another fit.

As he approached the gate, Adam saw the plane was in the final boarding

process.

"Hold it," he yelled. Two Delta agents eved him curiouslv. Then one of them

said, "Are you the two who were stranded on the sailboat?"

"That's right," said Adam, handing over the tickets.

"The agent at the ticket counter said to expect you. We thought that

perhaps you'd changed your minds."

"Heavens, no," said Adam. "It's just been hard getting my friend

motivated."

The agent looked at Alan, whose head was lolling sideways. "He's not drunk,

is he?"

"Hell, no," said Adam. "He got pretty scraped up when we capsized. They had

to give him a painkillcr, and it seems to have knocked him out."

340 ROBIN COOK

"Oh, I see," said the agent, handing Adam the boarding cards. "Seats 2A

and 2B. Will you need a wheelchair in Atlanta?"

"That would be nice," said Adam. "Actually, we'll be going on to

Washington. Could you make those arrangements for us?"

"Absolutely," said the agent.

Adam wheeled Alan down the jetway with a sense of relief. The

stewardesses were less than enthusiastic when they saw the pair board,

but they helped Alan out of the wheelchair and listened politely as Adam

ran through his shipwreck story one more time. The plane was only half

full, and most of the other passengers were asleep. Adam decided to close

his eyes too and slept all the way to Atlanta except for the few minutes

when he woke to wolf down breakfast.

Adam dreaded the transfer, thinking that there might be trouble. But a

Delta agent had a wheelchair waiting and ticketed them straight through

to Washington. The layover was only forty minutes, but it gave Adam a

chance to call Jennifer. Luckily, she answered herself.

"Jennifer, everything is going to be all right. I can explain

everything."

"Oh," she said vaguely.

"Just promise me you won't have the abortion until I get there."

"The hearing is this morning," said Jennifer, and I won't do anything

today, but if you're not here by tomorrow . . ." Her voice trailed off.

I 'Jennifer, I love you. I have to get to the plane now. We're just

taking offfrorn Atlanta."

"Atlanta?" said Jennifer, completely confused. "And who's'we'?"

MINDBEND 341

* 00

"Adam?" asked Margaret Weintrob, her nimble fingers coming to an abrupt

halt on her typewriter. "Is that you?"

Arm in arm, like drunken buddies, Adam and Alan staggered past the startled

secretary's desk.

"Adam!" shouted Mrs. Weintrob, starting to rise. "You can't go in your

father's office. He has .

But Adam had already opened the door.

The two well-dressed men sitting across from Dr. Schonberg turned in

surprise. Momentarily speechless, Dr. Schonberg sat helplessly as Adam

asked the two men to wait outside.

"Adam," said Dr. Schonberg finally, "what on earth is the meaning of this?"

"Did vou take any action on the charges we discussed the last time I was

here?" asked Adam.

"No, not yet."

"I'm not surprised," said Adam. "You said that you needed more evidence.

Well, I've brought all the proof you'll ever want. Come over here and meet

Dr. Alan Jackson of the University of California. He has just come from one

of the famous Arolen cruises. And made a short stop at the research center

in Puerto Rico."

"Is the man drunk?" asked Dr. Schonberg.

"No," said Adam. "Drugged and a victim of psychosurgery. Come over here.

I'll show you."

Dr. Schonberg approached Alan cautiously, as if he expected the man to leap

suddenly out of his chair.

Adam gently tilted Alan's head so his father could see the small incisions

where the electrodes had been implanted.

"They implanted some kind of remote-control

342 ROBIN COOK

device there," said Adam, his voice softer and shaded with compassion.

"But I got Alan out before they 'conditioned' him. As soon as his drug

wears off, he'll be able to tell you at least some of what happened. And

I know he will agree to have the electrodes removed and examined."

Dr, Schonberg looked up at his son after examining the incisions on the

sides of Alan's head. He was silent for a moment and then turned on the

intercom and said, "Margaret, I want you to call Bernard Niepold at the

Justice Department. Tell him it is urgent that I see him immediately. And

call the Bethesda Naval Hospital and tell them to expect a confidential

patient under my signature. And I want a twenty-four-hour guard."

EPILOGUE

Jennifer was exhausted. Despite all of the childbirth classes she'd

attended, she'd not been prepared for the real thing. Giving birth was

both better and worse than she'd expected. No amount of reading or hearing

about other women I s experiences could have readied her for this unique

and passionate event.

The pain of labor had been intense yet strangely thrilling, but as the

hours had gone by, she had felt progressively drained. She wondered if

she would find the strength. Then the pain came more often and for longer

periods until finally, from somewhere deep in her being, came a new burst

of energy. She felt an irresistible urge, half voluntary, half

involuntary, to push and bear down. A crescendo of pressure made her feel

she was stretched to her limit, yet still she pushed and held her breath.

Suddenly, there was an almost sensuous release, accompanied by a gush of

fluid and the thrilling squeal of a newborn infant exercising its vocal

cords for the first time.

343

344 ROBIN COOK

Opening her eyes, Jennifer gripped Adam's hand with what little strength

she had remaining. Looking up into his face, she could see that his

attention was directed down between her outstretched legs. With a

terrible feeling of dread, she watched him. No test had been able to

dispel the worry she had about the health and well-being of the child

within her. Doctors at University Hospital had repcated the amniocentesis

and had reported that the baby was normal, but with all that had hap-

pened, Jennifer had had trouble believing it.

She watched Adarn to see what glimpse of disaster would register on his

face. She wanted to know how their child was from him, not from seeing

for herself. As she expected, he didn't smile and didn't blink. After

what seemed too long a time, he lowered his eyes to meet hers, cradling

her head with his hands as he did so. He spoke softly, sensitive to her

feelings. First he told her he loved her!

Jennifer's heart seemed to stop. She held her breath, although the

physical pain had ceased, and waited for the inevitable, dreaded news.

In her heart she had known all along. She shouldn't have listened to

anyone, she told herself. She'd had a bad feeling ever since the mixup

at the Julian lab, never mind that it had been done on purpose.

Adam wetted his dry lips with the tip of his tongue. "We have a

beautiful, healthy boy, Jennifer. Luckily, he looks like you. 11

It took a moment for Adam's words to sink in. When she finally

comprehended, tears of happiness and thanksgiving welled in her eyes. She

tried to speak but couldn't.. She swallowed. Then she reached up and

pulled Adam down and hugged his head as hard as she could. His laugh gave

voice to

MINDBEND 345

the joy and relief in her heart. All she could think to do was thank God.

Adam collected himself, smoothed out his surgical scrub suit, and stepped

from the delivery area into University Hospital's obstetrical waiting room.

One glance was enough. It was hard to believe, but the message he'd gotten

during the last stages of Jennifer's labor had been correct. Sitting among

a group ofexpectant fathers was his own, Dr. David Schonbcrg.

Dr. Schonberg met his son as soon as he entered the room.

"Hello, Adam," he said in his usual coot manner.

11 Hello, father," said Adam.

Dr. Schonberg adjusted his glasses higher on his nose. "What's it like

being back in medical school?"

"Just line," said Adam. "I'm so glad to be back. I've hardly minded the

catch-up work."

"That's good to hear," said Dr. Schonberg. "How's Jennifer?"

Adam stared at his father. It was the first time the man had ever called

Jennifer by name.

"She's just fine," answered Adam.

"And what about the baby?"

"The baby's a healthy, beautiful boy," said Adam.

To Adam's utter astonishment he saw something he'd never seen before: tears

in his father's eyes. Before the shock could register, his father's arms

were around him, hugging him. Another first. Adam hugged back. Tears formed

in Adam's eyes as well, and the two men stood there, holding each other for

so long that some of the soon-to-be fathers began to stare.

346 ROBIN COOK

Finally, a somewhat embarrassed Dr. Schonberg pushed Adam back, but

lovingly held onto his arms. Each looked at the other's tears, then

both laughed. "I wasn't crying," said Dr. Schonberg. "Neither was I,"

said Adam. "You know what I think?" said Dr. Schonberg. "What?" asked

Adam. "I think we're both lousy liars." "I think I'd have to agree."

AUTHOR'S NOTE

Since I graduated from medical school in 1966, 1 have heard the term "crisis

in -medicine" so often that it conjures up the allegory of the shepherd boy

who cried wolf too many times. But until now the crises have all been voiced

by particular interest groups and were often contradictory: too few hospital

beds, too many hospital beds; not enough physicians, too many physicians. It

was enough to make anyone confused and apathetic.

But now I have come to believe that "crisis in medicine" is applicable in

a truly general sense. Unfortunately, because so many people have cried

wolf in the past, the media have only just begun to take note of this very

real crisis. What we are witnessing today is the gradual but quickening

pace of the intrusion of business into medicine. It must be understood that

the corporate mentality of the balance sheet is diametrically opposed to

the traditional aspects of altruism that have formed the foundation of the

practice of medicine, and this dichotomy augers disaster for the moral and

ethical foundations of the profession. Big Business

347

348 ROBIN COOK

views the medical field as a high-cash-flow, highprofit, low-risk, and

low-capital investment industry that is now particularly ripe for

takeover.

Evidence of this shift toward business interests in the medical field is

reflected in the newly interlocking ownership of proprietary (for profit)

hospitals and nursing home chains, medical suppliers, and a deluge of

other health-care organizations like dialysis centers., surgi-centers,

etc. Even research has gone in the direction of business as evidenced by

the new biotech companies.

Response to this activity has been surprisingly slight, despite the

insidious effect it has on the practice of medicine. Professional

journals have viewed the process with curious academic disinterest,

doctors have either joined the entrepreneurial bandwagon or ignored it,

the public has remained silent, and the media have only just begun to run

articles sounding the alarm. It is my hope that Mindbend will help focus

public attention. By couching the problem in an emotional framework, it

brings the process into personal perspective and allows the reader to

understand the implications of the situation through identification with

the main character, which I believe is one of the key values of fiction.

For me, the realization of the intrusion of business into medicine came

with a letter I received from a hospital, informing me that its census

was low and that I should admit more patients for surgery, as if I had

a group of people in the wings who were being denied appropriate

operations. That letter, more than any other experience, made me realize

that our medical system had inadvertently been constructed to depend upon

and reward

MINDBEND 349

overutilization of facilities and services, thereby fostering its own rising

costs. No wonder businessmen became interested.

For Mindbend I chose the drug industry as the focal point not because it

has been any worse than any other group, but because it has been around

longer than most businesses associated with medicine and it exerts a

powerful and growing influence. The important point is that the drug firms

are corporations which do not exist for the public weal, no matter how much

they try to convince the public otherwise. Their goal is to provide a

return on their investors' capital.

The overriding commercial interest of the drug firms is underlined by the

ungodly amount of money (billions of dollars per year) that they spend on

promotion of their products, primarily attempting to influence the

physician, who unfortunately is rather easy prey. There are very few

doctors who have not accepted some gift or service from the drug industry.

I still have the black bag given to me as a third-year medical student, and

I have attended a number of symposia sponsored by a drug company. The drug

industry currently spends more on promotion and advertising each year than

it does on research! According to Pills, Profits, and Politics, the amount

is also more than the total spent on all educational activities conducted

by all the medical schools in the United States to train medical students.

It would be unfair to suggest that the pharmaceutical industry has not

contributed to society. But this has been the by-product, not the goal. And

there have been cases in which the public good has been ignored. One need

only to mention the

350 ROBIN COOK

thalidomide disaster or the DES calamity to recognize that the record is

variegated and that commercial interests can have unfortunate conse-

quences. Drug companies have marketed products that they knew might be

dangerous or ineffective or both merely to turn a profit.

Medical practice as it has been known in this country for the last thirty

years or so is changing. The doctor-patient relationship used to be the

fulcrum, but it is losing ground to economic and business interests. The

American public has a right and an obligation to know what kind of system

is evolving.

For those people interested in pursuing the issue, I recommend the

following books:

Ainsworth, T. H., M.D., Live or Die (Macmillan, 1983). Written by a

physician who looks at the problem from the vantage point of having been

both a practitioner and a hospital medical director, this book is

particularly poignant in its appeal for physicians to recognize what is

happening to the profession and to reexert their leadership.

Silverman, Milton, et al., Pills, Profits, and Politics (University of

California Press, 1974). This book gives an overall view of the

pharmaceutical industry, and it makes for interesting reading. I'm confi-

dent it will arouse some unexpected emotions. Although it was written

over ten years ago, it is still strikingly relevant.

Starr, Paul, The Social Transformation of American Medicine (Basic Books,

1982). This book provides an impressive overview of the history of

medicine in America and gives one a realistic comprehension of how the

current situation has developed.

MINDBEND 351

Wohl, Stanley, M.D., The Medical Industrial Complex (Harmony Books,

1984). This readable, concise book discusses the issues with few

embellishments.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Dr. Robin Cook, a graduate of the Columbia University medical school,

finished his postgraduate medical training at Harvard. He has also been

a professional diver, and has served as an aquanaut for Sea Lab and as an

intern at Jacques Cousteau's oceanographic institute in the south of

France. Currently on leave from the Massachusetts Eye and Ear Infirmary,

he lives in Florida with his wife, Barbara.