Robin Cook - Acceptable Risk

After a pleasant lunch of salad and iced tea, Kim walked up to the castle for her afternoon of searching and organizing. Once inside the mansion she had her usual debate between spending the afternoon in the wine cellar or the attic. The attic won out because of the sunshine. She reasoned there would be plenty of gloomy, rainy days when the wine cellar would be a relief.

Moving all the way around to the distant point of the attic over the servants’ wing, Kim set to work on a series of black file cabinets. Using empty cardboard moving boxes that had brought Edward’s books to the cottage, Kim separated the documents as she’d been doing the previous weeks. The papers were mostly business-related from the early nineteenth century.

Kim had become adept at reading the handwritten pages and could file them in the proper box after a mere glance at the title page, if there was one, or at the first paragraph if there wasn’t. By late afternoon she’d come to the last file cabinet. She was in the next-to-last drawer, going through a collection of shipping contracts, when she found a letter addressed to Ronald Stewart.

After having gone so long without finding such a document, Kim was momentarily stunned. She looked at the letter as if her eyes were deceiving her. Finally, she reached into the drawer and lifted it out. She held it with just the tips of her fingers the way Mary Custland had handled the Mather letter. Looking at the signature, her hopes rose. It was another letter from Samuel Sewall.

8th January 1697

Boston My Dear Friend,

As you are undoubtedly aware the Honorable Lieu-tenant-Governor, Council, and Assembly of his Majesty’s Province of the Massachusetts Bay, in General Court did command and appoint Thursday the fourteenth of January next be observed as a day of fasting in repentance for any and all sins done against innocent people as perpetrated by Satan and his Familiars in Salem. In like manner I being sensible of my complicity serving with the late Commission of Oyer and Terminer wish to make public my blame and shame of it and shall do so in The Old South Church. But to you my friend I know not what to say to surcease your burden. That Elizabeth was involved with the Forces of Evil I have no doubt but be she possessed or in covenant I know not nor do I wish to conjecture in view of my past errors of judgement. As to your inquiry in regards to the records of the Court of Oyer and Terminer in general and to Elizabeth’s trial in particular, I can attest that they are in the possession of Reverend Cotton Mather who has sworn to me that they will never fall into the wrong hands to impugn the character of the justices and magistrates who served to the best of their ability albeit in error in many cases. I believe although I dared not ask nor do I wish to know that Reverend Mather intends to burn the aforesaid records. As for my opinion in regards to the offer Magistrate Jonathan Corwin made to give you all records of Elizabeth’s case including initial complaint, arrest warrant, mittimus, and preliminary hearing testimony, I think you should take them and dispose of them in like manner for then future generations of your family will not suffer public exposure of this tragedy in Salem brought on or abetted by Elizabeth’s actions.

Your Friend in Christ’s name, Samuel Sewall.

“For Godsake!” Edward snapped. “Sometimes you can be so blasted hard to find.”

Kim looked up from the Sewall letter to see Edward standing over her. She was partially hidden behind one of the black filing cabinets.

“Is something wrong?” Kim asked nervously.

“Yes, there is,” Edward said. “I’ve been looking for you for a half hour. I’d guessed you were up here in the castle, and I’d even come all the way up here to the attic and yelled. When you didn’t answer I went down and searched the wine cellar. When you weren’t there, I came back here. This is ridiculous. If you’re going to spend this much time up here at least put in a phone.”

Kim scrambled to her feet. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I never heard you.”

“That’s obvious,” Edward said. “Listen, there’s a problem. Stanton is up in arms again about money, and he’s on his way driving out here to Salem. We all hate to take the time out to meet with him, especially in the lab, where he’ll want explanations about what everybody is doing. And to make matters worse everyone is on edge from overwork. There’s a lot of bickering for stupid reasons like who has the most space and who’s closer to the goddamn water cooler. It’s gotten to the point I feel like a den mother for a bunch of bratty Cub Scouts and Brownies. Anyway, to make a long story short, I want to have the meeting in the cottage; it’ll be good to get everybody out of the hostile environment. To save time I thought we could eat as well. So could you throw something together for dinner?”

At first Kim thought Edward was joking, but when she realized he wasn’t, she glanced at her watch. “It’s after five,” she reminded him.

“It would have been four-thirty if you hadn’t effectively hidden yourself away,” Edward said.

“I can’t make dinner for eight people at this time in the afternoon,” Kim said.

“Why not?” Edward questioned. “It doesn’t have to be a feast, for chrissake. It can be take-out pizza for all I care. That’s what we’ve been living on anyway. Just something to fill their bellies. Please, Kim. I need your help. I’m going nuts.”

“All right,” Kim said against her better judgment. She could tell Edward was stressed. “I can do better than takeout pizza but it surely won’t be gourmet.” Kim gathered her things including the Sewall letter and followed Edward out of the attic.

As they were descending the stairs she handed the letter to him, explaining what it was. He handed it back.

“I don’t have time for Samuel Sewall at the moment.”

“It’s important,” Kim said. “It explains how Ronald was able to eliminate Elizabeth’s name from the historical record. He didn’t do it alone. He had help from Jonathan Corwin and Cotton Mather.”

“I’ll read the letter later,” Edward said.

“There’s a part that you might find interesting,” Kim said. They had reached the landing of the grand staircase. Edward paused beneath the stained glass rose window. The yellow light made him appear particularly pale. Kim thought he looked almost ill.

“All right,” Edward said impatiently. “Show me what you think I might find interesting.”

Kim gave him the letter and pointed to the very last sentence, where Sewall mentioned that the Salem tragedy was either brought on or abetted by Elizabeth’s actions.

Edward looked up at Kim after reading it. “So?” he questioned. “We already know that.”

“We do,” Kim agreed, “but did they? I mean, did they know about the mold?”

Edward looked back at the letter and read the sentence a second time. “They couldn’t have,” he said when he’d finished. “Scientifically it was impossible. They didn’t have the tools or the understanding.”

“Then how do you explain the sentence?” Kim said. “In the earlier part of the letter Sewall was admitting he made mistakes with the other convicted witches, but not with Elizabeth. They all knew something we don’t.”

“Then it comes back to the mysterious evidence,” Edward said. He handed her back the letter. “It’s interesting but not for my purposes, and truly I don’t have time for this stuff now.”

They continued down the stairs.

“I’m sorry I’m so preoccupied,” Edward said. “On top of all the other pressures I’m under, Stanton is turning out to be a royal pain in the ass, almost as bad as Harvard. Between the two of them I’m ready to be committed.”