Robin Cook - Shock

"We're not going to a fashion show! Come on, Deborah! Have you gotten what you wanted here? If so, let's get on the road."

"I suppose," Deborah said. She was holding several flashlights, batteries, and a disposable camera. "Help me! Is there anything else we should take? I can't think."

"If they sold some common sense, perhaps we should take whatever they have."

"Very funny," Deborah said. "You're being a brat, you know. All right, let's go."

At the checkout register, Deborah grabbed a pack of gum and a few candy bars when she paid for her items. Soon they were back in the car and on their way out of town.

Having spent themselves arguing for the previous half hour, they drove mostly in silence. With no traffic, they made the trip in slightly less than half the time that it had taken previously. Book-ford appeared deserted as they drove up Main Street. The only people they saw were two couples outside the pizza place. The only other sign of activity was the floodlights over the Little League field behind the municipal building.

"I'm kinda hoping our cards will no longer work," Joanna said as they neared the turnoff.

"Such a pessimist," Deborah responded.

They drove up to the gatehouse which looked as dark and unwelcoming as it had the night before.

"Which card should we use?" Joanna asked. "One of ours or Spencer's?"

"I'll try mine," Deborah said. She eased the car up to the card swipe and ran her card through. The gate opened immediately. "Just as I suspected: no problem with the access cards. The ironic thing is that I never thought I'd be appreciative of bureaucratic inefficiency."

Joanna was not appreciative in the slightest. After they'd driven onto the Wingate grounds and started up the driveway, she turned around and forlornly caught a glimpse of the gate closing. Now they were locked in, and she couldn't shake the feeling they were making a big mistake.

WHEN HIS CELL PHONE RANG, KURT HAD BEEN ENGROSSED in his thoughts, and the sound startled him. He'd involuntarily jerked the van's steering wheel and for a brief moment had to struggle to get the vehicle straightened out. He was traveling close to eighty miles an hour, heading northwest on Route 2 and closing in on the turnoff to Bookford.

With the van under control, he fumbled unsuccessfully for his phone in his jacket pocket while its insistent ring continued. Hastily he undid his seat belt. At that point he was able to get the phone out and establish a connection.

"We have a contact," a voice said.

Kurt recognized the voice. It was Bruno Debianco, Kurt's number-two man who served as the evening-shift security supervisor. He'd been in the Special Forces at the same time as Kurt and, like Kurt, had been discharged under less-than-honorable circumstances.

"I'm listening," Kurt responded.

"The Chevy Malibu with the two women just came through the gate."

A shiver of excitement passed down Kurt's spine. The mild despondency he was feeling at having been ordered back to the compound to deal with Spencer Wingate vanished in a split second. Having the women on the grounds would make apprehending them as easy as a turkey shoot.

"Do you copy?" Bruno questioned when Kurt hadn't immediately responded.

"I copy," Kurt said matter-of-factly to cover his excitement. "Follow them, but do not make contact. I want the pleasure. Do I make myself clear?"

"Ten-four," Bruno answered.

"There's one proviso," Kurt said as an afterthought. "If they try to meet up with Wingate, detain them and keep it from happening. Is that understood?"

"Perfectly," Bruno said.

"I should be there in another twenty minutes," Kurt added.

"Ten-four," Bruno said.

Kurt disconnected. A smile spread across his face. The evening that had started out so promising but had turned bleak had become rosy again. Now it was a given that within the hour both women would be locked in the holding cell he'd had constructed in the basement of his living quarters, and they would be tantalizingly at his disposal.

Keeping one hand on the steering wheel, Kurt used his speed dial to call Paul.

"Good news,' Kurt said when Paul came on the line. "The women have returned to base on their own accord." "Excellent!" Paul said. "Good work!"

"Thank you, sir," Kurt said. He was willing to take credit if Paul was willing to offer it.

"Handle the women, then we'll face the Wingate problem,' Paul said. "Call me when you are free!"

"Yes, sir,' Kurt said. Like a conditioned Pavlov dog Kurt felt the almost irresistible urge to salute.

THIS IS NOT WHAT I SUSPECTED, DEBORAH SAID.

"I didn't know what to suspect," Joanna said.

The women were sitting in the car in the Wingate Clinic's parking area. The vehicle was pointing toward the butt end of the building's south wing with its engine still running. The parking spot was slightly east, affording a view along the building's rear. All the second-story windows of the rear of the wing were ablaze with light.

"The whole lab is lit up," Deborah said. "I thought the place would be like a graveyard after hours. I wonder if they are working around the clock."

"In a way it makes sense," Joanna said. "If things are going on out here they don't want people to know about, it would be best for them to be happening when the crowds of clinic patients aren't here."

"I guess,' Deborah said.

"Well, what are we going to do?"

Before Deborah could respond, both women saw car lights appear at the base of the driveway and start up.

"Uh-oh," Deborah said. "Here comes company!"

"What should we do?" Joanna demanded in a minor panic.

"Stay calm for one thing!" Deborah said. "I don't think we should do anything for the moment other than scrunch down as best we can."

BRUNO SAW THE CAR HE KNEW TO BE THE WOMEN'S EVEN before he could tell it was a Chevy Malibu. It was parked in a spot pointing toward the clinic entrance. What had caught his attention was that although the front lights were out, the brake lights were still on. Someone was sitting in the car with their foot on the brake.

As Bruno's black security van crested the lip of the parking area and his headlights strafed the car in question, he was able to make out the tops of two heads in the front seat. Bruno didn't even slow, much less stop. He continued across the parking area and descended the road on the other side as if he were on his way to the living quarters of the compound.

As soon as he knew he was out of sight, Bruno pulled to the side of the road, killed the headlights, turned off the engine, and jumped out. Dressed in black like Kurt, he was invisible in the darkness. He sprinted back up the road, then skirted the edge of the parking area. Within only a few minutes he had the Chevy Malibu in sight, and he could make out that the two women were still in the front seat.

"I'M A NERVOUS WRECK," JOANNA ADMITTED. "WHY DON'T we just leave? You admitted yourself that you didn't expect this place to be in operation like it is. Now we're bound to run into people if we go in there. What are we going to say?"

"Calm down!" Deborah ordered. "You're the one who insisted on coming along. That was only a van that passed by. It didn't stop; it didn't even slow down. Everything's cool."

"It's not cool,' Joanna said. "Now we're trespassing to add to our list of offenses. I think we should go."

"I'm not leaving until I have something concrete on this place,' Deborah said. "You can stay in the car if you want, but I'm going in, although first I'm putting on my sneakers."

Deborah opened the door and stepped out into the crisp night air. She went around to the trunk, got out her workout shoes, then returned inside the car.

"I just saw someone at one of the second-story windows," Joanna said nervously.

"Big deal," Deborah said. She pulled on her sneakers and laced them up. "This is going to look hilarious with this short skirt, but who cares?"