Robin Cook - Fatal Cure

"I wanted to ask you a question," he said after the usual pleasantries. "Are you familiar with a gentleman by the name of Phil Calhoun?"

"Not that I recall," Clara said. "Why do you ask?"

"He was just in my office," Traynor explained. "He's a private investigator. He was here to ask questions about Dennis. He implied that he'd been retained by the family."

"I certainly haven't hired any private investigator," Clara said. "And I cannot imagine anyone else in the family doing so either, especially without my knowing about it."

"I was afraid of that. If you hear anything more about this guy, please let me know."

"I certainly will," Clara said.

Traynor hung up the phone and sighed. He had the unpleasant feeling that more trouble was corning. Even beyond the grave, Hodges was a curse.

"You've got one more patient," Susan said as she handed David the chart. "I told her to come right in. She's one of the nurses from the second floor."

David took the chart and pushed into the examining room. The nurse was Beverly Hopkins. David knew her vaguely; she was on nights.

"What's the problem?" David asked with a smile.

Beverly was sitting on the examining table. She was a tall, slender woman with light brown hair. She was holding a kidney dish Susan had given her for nausea. Her face was pale.

"I'm sorry to bother you, Dr. Wilson," Beverly said. "I think it's the flu. I would have just stayed home in bed, but as you know, we're encouraged to come and see you if we're going to take time off."

"No problem," David said. "That's what I'm here for. What are your symptoms?"

The symptoms were similar to those of the other four nurses: general malaise, mild GI complaints, and low-grade fever. David agreed with Beverly's assessment. He sent her home for bed rest, telling her to drink plenty of fluids and take aspirin as needed.

After finishing up at the office, David headed over to the hospital to see his patients. As he walked, he began to mull over the fact that the only people he'd seen with the flu so far were nurses, and all five had been from the second floor.

David stopped in his tracks. He wondered if it were a coincidence that the nurses were all from the same floor, the same floor where all his mortally ill patients had been. Of course, ninety percent of the patients went to the second floor. But David thought it strange that no nurses from the OR or the emergency room were coming down with this flu.

David recommenced walking, and as he did so his thoughts returned to the possibility that his patients had died from an infectious disease contracted in the hospital. The flu-like symptoms the nurses were experiencing could be related. Using a dialectic approach, David posed himself a question: what if the nurses who were generally healthy got a mild illness when exposed to the mysterious disease, but patients who'd had chemotherapy and, as a result, had mildly compromised immune systems, got a fulminating and fatal illness?

David thought his reasoning was valid, but when he tried to think of some known illness that fit this bill, he couldn't come up with any. The disease would have to affect the GI system, the central nervous system, and the blood, yet be difficult to diagnose even for an expert in the field like Dr. Martin Hasselbaum.

What about an environmental poison, David wondered. He remembered Jonathan's symptom of excessive salivation. The complaint had made David think of mercury. Even so, the idea of some poison being involved seemed farfetched. How would it be spread? If it were airborne, then many more people would have come down with symptoms than four patients and five nurses. But still, a poison was a possibility. David decided to reserve judgment until he received the toxicology results on Mary Ann.

Quickening his pace, David climbed to the second floor. What patients he had left were doing well. Even Donald didn't require much attention although David did adjust his insulin dosage again.

When he was finished with his rounds, David went down to the first floor to search the lab for Angela. He found her in the chemistry area trying to solve a problem with one of the multi-track analyzers.

"Are you finished already?" Angela asked, catching sight of David.

"For a change," David said.

"How's Eakins?" Angela asked.

"I'll tell you later," David said.

Angela looked at him closely. "Is everything all right?"

"Hardly," David said. "But I don't want to talk about it now."

Angela excused herself from the laboratory tech with whom she was working and took David aside.

"I had a little surprise when I got in here this morning," she said. "Wadley hit the ceiling about my doing the autopsy."

"I'm sorry," David said.

"It's not your fault," Angela said. "Wadley is just being an ass. His ego has been bruised. But the problem is, he's refused to allow any of the specimens to be processed."

"Damn," David said. "I really wanted the toxicology done."

"No need to worry," Angela said. "I sent the toxicology and cultures to Boston. I'm going to do the slides. In fact, I'll stay tonight to do them. Will you make dinner for you and Nikki?"

David told her he'd be happy to.

David was relieved to get out of the hospital. It was exhilarating to ride his bike through the crisp New England air. He felt disappointed the trip was over as he peddled up the driveway.

After sending Alice home, David enjoyed spending time with Nikki. The two of them worked out in the yard until darkness drove them inside. While Nikki did her homework, David made a simple meal of steak and salad.

After dinner David broke the news about Caroline.

"Is she real sick?" Nikki asked.

"She looked very uncomfortable when I saw her," David said.

"I want to go visit her tomorrow," Nikki said.

"I'm sure you do," David said. "But remember, you were a little congested yourself last night. I think we better wait until we know for sure what Caroline has. Okay?"

Nikki nodded, but she wasn't happy.

To be on the safe side, David insisted Nikki do her postural drainage even though she usually only did it in the morning unless she wasn't feeling well. Nikki didn't complain.

After Nikki went to bed, David began to peruse the infectious disease section of one of his medical textbooks. He wasn't looking for anything in particular. He thought there was a chance he might discover something along the lines of the infection he'd envisioned earlier in the day, but nothing jumped out at him.

Before he knew it, David was waking up with his heavy textbook of medicine open on his lap. Shades of medical school, he thought with a chuckle. It had been a while since he'd fallen asleep over one of his books. Checking the clock over the fireplace he was surprised to see it was after eleven. Angela still wasn't home.

Feeling mildly anxious, David called the hospital. The operator put him through to the lab.

"What's going on?" he asked when he heard Angela's voice.

"It's just taking me longer than I thought," Angela said. "The staining takes time. Makes me appreciate the techs who normally do it. I should have called you, but I'm almost finished. I'll be home within the hour."

"I'll be waiting," David said.

It was more than an hour by the time Angela was completely finished. She took a selection of slides and loaded them in a metal briefcase. She thought David might want to take a peek at them. Angela's own microscope was at home so he could easily have a look if he were interested.

She said goodnight to the night-shift techs, then headed out to the parking lot.

She didn't see her old Volvo in the reserved parking area. For a moment, she thought the car had been stolen, then she remembered she'd been forced to park in the far reaches of the upper lot.