Robin Cook - Shock

Randy tipped forward again. He decided he'd call the security chief but only after seeing if he could find anything in the system that had been changed. What first came to mind was a change in user levels. With rapid strokes and movement of the mouse, he accessed his Active Directory. After only a few minutes he had the answer. Dr. Wingate had added Prudence Heatherly to the access list for the Donor folder in the server's data drive.

Randy tipped back in his seat again. He asked himself why the founder of the clinic would add the name of a new employee to a secure file that even Dr. Wingate didn't have access to. It didn't make a lot of sense unless Prudence Heatherly was working for him in some undercover capacity.

"This is unreal," Randy said. In a way, he was enjoying himself. It was something like a computer game where he was trying to figure out his opponent's strategy. It wasn't as exciting as Unreal Tournament, but then again, little was. He sat and pondered for a number of minutes.

Without coming up with a plausible explanation, Randy reached for the phone. He wasn't looking forward to talking with Kurt again, but at least it was by phone, not in person. He also decided to tell the man just the facts and none of his supposition. While he dialed the extension he noted the time. It was two o'clock on the button.

JOANNA TRIED TO ACT NORMALLY despite a creepy feeling she was being watched as she descended the steps at the Wingate Clinic's entrance and started down the walkway toward the Chevy Malibu. Deborah was already in the car, and Joanna could see her head silhouetted in the driver's seat. Since the workday was hardly over, they had decided that it would attract less attention if they left separately than if they walked out together. So far it seemed to have worked. Deborah had apparently made it safely and no one had confronted Joanna. Joanna had her purse over her right shoulder. In her left hand she was carrying a thick envelope containing the bulky printout of the donor file. As she walked she had to fight against the urge to run. Once again she felt like a thief making her getaway, only this time she was carrying the stolen goods.

She got to the car without incident and went around to the passenger side. As quickly as she could she climbed in.

"Let's get the hell out of here!" Joanna proclaimed.

"Wouldn't this be a good time for the car not to start?" Deborah joked as she reached for the ignition.

Joanna swatted her playfully, giving vent to the tension she felt. "Don't even suggest it, you teasel Move it!"

Deborah leaned away from Joanna's slap, got the car going, and backed out of the parking space.

"Well, we did it, for whatever it was worth," Deborah said as she maneuvered the car to begin the descent of the long, curving drive. "I guess we should give ourselves credit for that, even if the payoff was a big disappointment."

"We didn't do it until we get out of the gate safely," Joanna said.

"I suppose that's technically true," Deborah said. She pulled up to the gate, stopping at the indicated white line.

Joanna held her breath during the short interval before the gate began its long, slow swing open.

A moment later Deborah powered the car through the tunnel beneath the gatehouse and into the clear beyond.

Joanna visibly relaxed, and Deborah noticed.

"Were you really worried there?" Deborah asked.

"I've been worried all day," Joanna admitted. She opened the envelope and extracted the heavy printout.

Deborah glanced at Joanna as she made the right turn onto Pierce Street to head into Bookford. "What are you going to do, a little pleasure reading on the way home?"

"Actually, I had an idea," Joanna said. "And a pretty good one as I'm sure you'll agree." She began shuffling through the pages, looking for two in particular while being careful to keep them all in order. It took her several minutes.

"Are you going to clue me in, or is this great idea of yours a secret?" Deborah asked finally. She was mildly miffed at Joanna's continuing silence.

Joanna inwardly smiled. She realized by not completing her thought she'd unconsciously subjected Deborah to the same irritating speech foible Deborah was forever pulling on her. Enjoying her revenge, Joanna didn't answer until she'd isolated the proper pages and put the rest of the file on the backseat.

"Voila!" Joanna said. She held the sheets up so Deborah could look at them.

Deborah took her eyes off the road long enough to see that the papers Joanna was holding were those giving the details about the two children that had supposedly been born from her eggs. "Okay, I see what you've got there. So what's the big idea?"

"Both these children would be about seven to eight months old," Joanna said. "That is, if they exist."

"Yeah, so?"

"We've got names here, addresses, and phone numbers," Joanna said. "I suggest we call them up and if they're willing, pay them a visit."

Deborah gave Joanna a fleeting glance with an expression of total disbelief. "You're joking," she said. "Tell me you are joking."

"I'm not joking," Joanna said. "It was your suggestion that this list was a fabrication. Let's check it out. At least one of these addresses is right here in Bookford."

Deborah pulled over to the side of the road. They were in sight of the public library at the corner of Pierce and Main. She put the car in park and turned to look at Joanna. "I hate to disappoint you, but I don't think visiting these people is a good idea at all. A call, okay, but not a visit."

"We'll call first,' Joanna said. "But if the children exist, I want to see them."

"That was never part of our plan," Deborah said. "We were just going to find out if children had resulted. We never talked about a visit. It's not healthy, nor do I think the parents would appreciate it."

"I'm not going to tell them I was the donor,' Joanna said. "If that's what you are worried about."

"I'm worried about you," Deborah said. "Knowing a child exists is one thing, seeing him in reality is another. I don't think you should put yourself through such a situation. It's asking for emotional heartache."

"It's not going to cause any emotional heartache," Joanna said. "It will be reassuring. It will make me feel good."

"That's what the addict said with the first dose of heroin," Deborah said. "If these children exist, and you see them, you'll want to see them again, and that's not fair to anyone."

"You're not going to talk me out of this," Joanna said. She took out her cellular phone and began punching in the number for Mr. and Mrs. Harold Sard. She looked at Deborah as the call went through. The fact that it was ringing meant it was a real number and not a made-up one.

"Hello, Mrs. Sard?" Joanna questioned when the phone was answered.

"Yes, who's this?"

"This is Prudence Heatherly from the Wingate Clinic," Joanna said. "How's the little one doing?"

"Jason is doing just fine," Mrs. Sard said. "We're quite excited. He's just starting to crawl."

Joanna raised her eye brows for Deborah's benefit. "He's starting to crawl already! That's terrific! Listen, Mrs. Sard, the reason I'm calling is that we'd like to do some follow-up on Jason. Would it be alright if myself and another Wingate Clinic employee came by for a brief visit with the boy?"

"Of course!" Mrs. Sard said. "If it weren't for the hard work you people do, we wouldn't have this bundle of joy. He's such a blessing. We've wanted a child for so long. When would you like to come by."

"Is the next half hour or so convenient?"

"That would be perfect. He's just awakened from his afternoon nap, so he should be in good spirits. Do you have the address?"

"I do, but I could use some directions," Joanna said.