Robin Cook - Shock

"I couldn't think of anything more inappropriate at an infertility clinic."

"I suppose you're right," Deborah agreed.

Emerging from the tunnel and rounding a copse of evergreens the women got their first unobstructed view of the Cabot. It was an immense red brick structure, four stories tall with a steeply peaked slate roof behind a crenellated cornice, small barred windows, and a soaring central tower. The tower had larger, multi-paned windows without bars.

Deborah slowed. "What a shock to see such a huge building sitting out here in the woods by itself. Curious design, too. Seeing the tower up close, I'd wager it's a deliberate copy of the Uffizi's. It's so similar, it can't have been by accident. If my memory serves me, it's even got the same style clock, although the one in the Uffizi works."

"I've seen other Victorian buildings like this around Massachusetts," Joanna said. "There's one out in Worcester that's stone, not brick, and almost as big. The difference is that it's deserted. At least this one is being used."

"The Wingate Clinic must be awfully busy to use this much square footage."

Joanna nodded.

Following the driveway around the right side of the building, Deborah drove into a parking lot with a surprisingly large number of cars in it. Both women were quick to notice that a number of the vehicles were not the usual Honda Civics or Chevy Caprices. One car stood out particularly among the Mercedes, Porches, and Lexuses. It was a burgundy Bentley convertible.

"Good grief," Joanna commented. "Do you see that Bentley?"

"Like with the guard's gun, it would be hard to miss." Its metallic paint was gleaming in the early morning sunlight.

"Do you have any idea how much that car costs?" Joanna asked.

"Not in the slightest."

"Over three hundred thousand dollars."

"Gadzooks! That's obscene, especially at a medical establishment."

Deborah parked in a plainly marked visitor's spot. As the women climbed from the car, a porticoed door facing the parking lot opened. A tall, chestnut-haired, white-coated female figure appeared. She waved.

"Now this greeting is the opposite extreme from what we experienced at the guardhouse," Deborah said. She waved back as she and Joanna started toward the door some fifty yards away.

"It looks like Dr. Donaldson."

"I think you're right," Deborah said.

"I hope we don't regret this," Joanna said suddenly. She was walking with her head down to watch where her feet were going. "I have an uncomfortable feeling we're making a big mistake."

Deborah grasped her friend around her upper arm and pulled her to a halt. "What are you saying? You don't want to go through with this? If that's the case, we should just turn around and drive back to Boston. I don't want you to think I'm putting any pressure on you, because I'm not."

Joanna squinted in the early morning sunlight at the slender doctor standing at the clinic's door. They were close enough now to be sure it was Dr. Donaldson, and they could tell the doctor was glad to see them. A broad, welcoming smile was fixed on her thin face.

"Talk to me, girl?" Deborah demanded, giving Joanna's arm an additional squeeze.

Joanna brought her attention around to Deborah. "Can you look me in the eye and say you're confident everything will be all right?"

"Absolutely," Deborah said. "Like I've said ten times: For us it's a win-win situation."

"I'm talking about these procedures," Joanna said.

"Oh, for goodness' sake. These retrievals are small potatoes. Women undergoing infertility treatment go through it multiple times on top of enduring tons of hormones. For us it's no big deal."

Joanna hesitated. Her green eyes moved back and forth between Deborah and Dr. Donaldson as she mulled her embarrassing medical squeamishness. She didn't even like getting a flu shot. After a sigh she cleared her throat and managed a smile. "All right, let's do it."

"Are you sure? I mean, you don't feel like you're being forced, do you?"

Joanna shook her head. "I'm all right. Let's get it over with."

The women started walking again.

"For a minute you had me scared," Deborah said.

"I scare myself sometimes," Joanna commented.

I TRUST YOUR RIDE OUT FROM Boston was without incident," Dr. Donaldson said as she closed the clinic door behind the women.

"It was fine," Deborah said as she eyed a large, unoccupied waiting room. The furniture appeared to be expensive modern Scandinavian, which stood in sharp contrast to the period Victorian architectural details. A large U-shaped receptionist's desk stood empty in the center of the room. Leather upholstered chairs and couches lined the walls. A generous display of current magazines were sprinkled around on coffee and side tables.

"I realized this morning that I'd failed to give you directions," Dr. Donaldson said. "I apologize."

"No need to apologize," Deborah said. "I should have asked.

But we had no trouble. We stopped at the local pharmacy and asked."

"Very smart," Dr. Donaldson said. She clasped her hands. "Now, first things first. I trust that neither of you have had anything to eat since midnight."

Deborah and Joanna nodded.

"Excellent!" Dr. Donaldson said. "Let me give Dr. Smith, our anesthesiologist, a call. He'd like to speak with you. Meanwhile, if you'd like to take off your coats and make yourselves comfortable, we'll get things started."

While Dr. Donaldson used the receptionist's phone, Deborah and Joanna removed their coats and hung them in a cloakroom.

"Are you all right?" Deborah whispered to Joanna. In the background they could hear Dr. Donaldson on the phone.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Joanna answered. "Why do you ask?"

"You're so quiet. You're not changing your mind again, are you?"

"No! I'm just unnerved by this place," Joanna said. "Lots of little surprises like armed guards. Even that furniture out there in the waiting room bothers me."

"I know what you mean," Deborah agreed. "It looks like it cost a fortune but looks terrible in the environment."

"It's weird. Things like that usually don't bother me. I'm sorry I'm such a basket case."

"Just try to relax and think about having coffee in Piazza San Marco."

Returning to the main room, they allowed Dr. Donaldson to guide them over to a couch. Once seated, she informed them that Dr. Carl Smith was on his way down. She then asked if they had any questions.

"How long do you suppose this will take?" Joanna asked.

"A retrieval only takes forty minutes or so," Dr. Donaldson said. "Then we'll have you relax for a few hours to make sure the anesthesia has completely worn off. You'll be on your way before you know it."

"Will we be having the procedure at the same time?" Joanna asked.

"No," Dr. Donaldson said. "Miss Meissner, you'll be first since you'll be having the light general anesthesia. Of course, if Miss Cochrane would like to switch to general anesthesia, then you two could decide whom you would prefer to be first."

"I'm happy with the local anesthesia,' Deborah said.

"Whatever you prefer," Dr. Donaldson said. She looked from one woman to the other. "Any other questions for the moment?"

"Does the clinic occupy this whole building?" Deborah asked.

"Heavens no. This building is huge. It used to house a large mental institution as well as a TB sanitarium."

"So we heard," Deborah said.

"The infertility clinic takes up two floors in this wing only," Dr. Donaldson explained. "We also have a few of the offices in the tower. The rest of the facility is empty except for the old beds and a lot of the old equipment. It's almost like a museum."

"How many people work here?" Joanna asked.

"We have about forty employees presently, but the number has been steadily increasing. For the exact count, I'd have to check with Helen Masterson, the acting head of personnel."