Robin Cook - Toxin

Kim swallowed hard, but his voice came out in a hoarse whisper. "I think we'd better sit down."

Kim urged Tracy forward while he berated himself for not having checked the house when they'd arrived. He'd made the effort that morning to be able to tell if anyone had come in while they were away, but then after the death of Carlos, he'd not even thought of it.

Tracy sat down first. Kim took a seat next to her. They were on the couch diagonally opposite the wing chair.

Derek calmly replaced his gun on the coffee table and leaned back. His hands returned to the upholstered arms of the chair with his fingers slightly curled like a gunfighter ready to draw. It was as if he were daring the people in the room to try to flee or take the gun, thereby giving him an excuse to shoot them.

"Who are you?" Tracy repeated. "What are you doing in my house?"

"My name is immaterial," Derek said. "Why I'm here is another matter. I was brought to this city to kill the doctor."

Both Kim and Tracy swayed slightly. Derek's frightening revelation made them momentarily dizzy. They were speechless in their terror. The man was a hired killer.

"But something went wrong," Derek said. "They brought me all the way to this godforsaken city and then withdrew the contract without any real explanation other than to say they had someone else who was going to do the job. They even had the gall to ask for the down payment back after I flew all the way out here."

Derek leaned forward and his eyes blazed. "So not only am I not going to kill you, Dr. Reggis, I'm going to do you a favor. Now, I cannot figure out why these beef people want you dead."

"I can tell you," Kim offered anxiously. He was more than willing to cooperate.

Derek raised his hand. "There's no need for me to know the details at this point," he said. "I tried to find out, but I gave up. It's your business. What you should know is that these people want you dead enough to hire me or someone like me. My way of getting back at them for taking advantage of me is to tell you that you are in grave danger. What you do with the information is entirely up to you. Am I making myself clear?"

"Perfectly," Kim said. "Thank you."

"No reason to thank me," Derek said. "I'm not doing this for altruistic reasons."

Derek stood up. "The only thing I ask in return is that you keep this conversation just between us. Otherwise I might have to come back and visit either one of you again, and I hope that's just as clear. I should warn you that I am very good at what I do."

"Don't worry," Kim said. "We won't discuss this with anyone."

"Excellent," Derek said. "Now, if you will excuse me, I am going to try to get home."

Kim made a move to get up from the couch.

"Don't bother," Derek said, motioning Kim to stay put. "I saw myself in, I'll see myself out."

Kim and Tracy watched dumbfounded as Derek slipped on his camel-hair coat. He picked up his handgun and slipped it into his pocket. Then he picked up his briefcase.

"I wouldn't have been quite so rude if you'd gotten home at a decent hour," Derek said. "Good night."

"Good night," Kim said.

Derek walked out of the living room.

Kim and Tracy heard the door open and then slam closed.

For several minutes neither spoke.

"This is all so incredible. It's as if I'm in a nightmare and just can't wake up," Tracy said.

"It's a nightmare that keeps on going," Kim agreed. "But we have to do what we can to end it."

"Do you still think we should go to a foreign country?" Tracy asked.

Kim nodded. "At least I should. It seems I'm a marked man. In fact, let's not even stay here tonight."

"Where will we go?" Tracy asked.

"Hotel, motel, what does it matter?" Kim asked.

Tuesday, January 27th

As soon as early-morning daylight began to creep around the edges of the cheap curtains, Kim gave up trying to fall back asleep. He eased out of bed to avoid disturbing Tracy, gathered up his clothes, and padded silently into the Sleeprite Motel's bathroom. He closed the door as quietly as possible, then turned on the light.

Kim looked at himself in the mirror and cringed. Between his ridiculous blond hair and sutured laceration framing sunken, red eyes, he hardly recognized himself. Despite his exhaustion, he'd slept fitfully and had awakened for the final time just after five. All night he'd reviewed the previous days' horrific events, agonizing over what to do. The idea of being pursued by hired killers was almost too much to comprehend.

Kim shaved and showered, thankful for simple tasks to divert his mind for a few moments. Brushing his hair down flat, he thought he appeared significantly more presentable.

After pulling on his clothes, Kim cracked the door. He was glad to see that Tracy had not budged. He knew she'd slept equally poorly and was pleased that she was now getting some real sleep. Kim was thankful for her presence but ambivalent about allowing her to share the current risk.

Kim went to the desk and used the pad by the phone to scribble a short note to tell Tracy that he'd gone to bring back some breakfast. He put the note on the blanket on his side of the bed. Then he picked up the car keys.

It was more difficult to get the entrance door open silently than it bad been with the bathroom door because the entrance door was metal, and it had a chain-lock and a throw-bolt in addition to its regular lock.

Once outside, Kim reminded himself that he was being pursued by hired killers. The thought made him acutely paranoid despite being relatively certain he was safe for the moment. He and Tracy had used assumed names when they had checked in at the motel and had paid in cash.

Kim went to the car and climbed in. He started the engine but didn't pull out immediately. He watched the man who'd checked them in six hours earlier. He'd seen Kim come out of the room but had gone back to his chores. He was busy sweeping in front of the office. Kim wanted to make sure the man didn't do anything suspicious before he left Tracy alone, like suddenly run back inside the office to use the phone.

Recognizing his paranoia, Kim chided himself. He knew he was going to have to pull himself together or risk making the wrong decisions. Putting the car in gear, he backed up before driving out of the parking lot.

A few miles down the road was a donut shop where Kim ordered two coffees, two orange juices, and an assortment of donuts. The place was nearly full of truckers and construction men. While Kim stood in line at the cash register, many of them eyed him skeptically. From their point of view, no doubt he was quite a sight.

Kim was happy to leave. As he stepped off the curb on his way to his car his eye saw the headlines of the paper placed behind the window of the dispenser. It said in bold, capital letters: "BERSERK DOCTOR SEEKS REVENGE BY MURDER!" Then along the bottom of the page in smaller print was: "THE ONCE RESPECTED PROFESSIONAL NOW A FUGITIVE FROM JUSTICE."

A shiver of fear descended down Kim's spine. He quickly went to the car and deposited the food and drink. Heading back to the dispenser he sought the proper coins from his pocket. With a trembling hand he got out one of the papers. The door to the dispenser clattered shut.

Any lingering hope the story did not concern him was dashed when Kim saw a photo of himself below the headlines. It was several years old with his normal shock of dark hair.

Ducking back into the car, Kim turned back the front page of the newspaper. The story was on page two:

EXCLUSIVE TO THE MORNING SUN TIMES :

Dr. Kim Reggis, a respected cardiac surgeon and the former head of the department at the Samaritan Hospital and now on staff at the University Medical Center, has taken the law into his own hands vigilante style. In response to the tragic death of his daughter on Saturday, he allegedly disguised himself with blond hair color, got a job at Higgins and Hancock under a false name, and then brutally murdered another worker by the name of Carlos Mateo. It is thought that the motive for this unprovoked killing is that Dr. Reggis believed his daughter died of meat slaughtered at Higgins and Hancock.