Robin Cook - Fatal Cure

"It's been a nightmare," Angela admitted.

Robert picked up the list. "Twenty-five names will yield a lot of data," he said. "I hope you're prepared. Did you come in a U-Haul?"

"We're particularly interested in these five," Angela said. She pointed to the people who worked in the hospital and explained why.

"This sounds like fun," Robert said. "The quickest information to get will be financial since there are quite a few databases we can tap with ease. So we'll soon have information on credit cards, bank accounts, money transfers, and debt. From then on it gets more difficult."

"What would the next step be?" Angela asked.

"I suppose the easiest would be social security," Robert said. "But hacking into their data banks is a bit trickier. But it's not impossible, especially since I have a friend here at MIT who is conveniently working on database security for various government agencies."

"Do you think he'd help?" Angela asked.

"Peter Fong? Of course he'll help if I ask him. When do you want this stuff?"

"Yesterday," Angela said with a smile.

"That's one of the things I always liked about you," Robert said. "Always so eager. Come on, let's go see Peter Fong."

Peter's office was hidden away at the rear of the fourth floor of a cream-colored stuccoed building in the middle of the MIT campus.

It looked less like an office than an electronics laboratory. It was filled with computers, cathode ray tubes, liquid crystal displays, wires, tape machines, and other electronic paraphernalia Angela couldn't identify.

Peter Fong was an energetic Asian-American with eyes even darker than Robert's. It was immediately obvious to Angela that he and Robert were the best of friends.

Robert handed Peter the list and told him what they wanted. Peter scratched his head and pondered the request.

"I agree social security would be the best place to start," Peter said. "But an FBI database search would also be a good idea."

"Is that possible?" Angela asked. The world of computer information was new to her.

"No problem," Peter said. "I've got a colleague in Washington. Her name is Gloria Ramirez. I've been working with her on this database security project. She's on line with both organizations."

Peter used a word processor to type out what he wanted. Then he slipped it into his fax. "We usually communicate by fax but for this she'll respond by computer. With that amount of data it will be faster."

Within minutes, data was pouring directly into his hard disk drive. Peter pulled some of the material up onto his screen.

Angela looked over Peter's shoulder and scanned the screen. It was a portion of the social security record on Joe Forbs, indicating the recent jobs he'd held along with his payments into the social security pool. Angela was impressed. She was also dismayed at how easy it was to get such information.

Peter activated his laser printer. It began spewing forth page after page of data. Robert walked over and picked up a sheet. Angela joined him. It was the social security file on Werner Van Slyke.

"Interesting," Angela said. "He was in the navy. That's probably where he got his tattoo."

"A lot of the enlisted men think of a tattoo as a rite of passage," Robert said.

Angela was even more surprised later when the criminal records began coming in on another printer. Peter had to activate a second machine since the first was still busy with the social security material.

Angela hadn't expected much criminal information since Bartlet was such a small, quiet town. But like so much else about Bartlet, her assumption was wrong. The most significant item, as far as she was concerned, was the discovery that Clyde Devonshire had been arrested and convicted of rape six years earlier. The incident had taken place in Norfolk, Virginia, and he had served two years in the state penitentiary.

"Sounds like a charming fellow to have in a small town," Robert said sarcastically.

"He works in the ER at the hospital," Angela said. "I wonder if anyone knew of his record."

Robert went back to the other printer and rummaged through the data until he found Clyde Devonshire's information.

"He was in the navy too," Robert called over to Angela, who was transfixed by the criminal material still coming out. "In fact, the dates seem to indicate that he was in the navy when he was arrested for rape."

Angela stepped over to Robert to look over his shoulder.

"Look at this," Robert said as he pointed to the sequence of dates. "There are a number of gaps in the social security history after Mr. Devonshire got out of prison. I've seen records like this before. Such gaps suggest that he either did more time or was using aliases."

"Good Lord!" Angela said. "Phil Calhoun said we'd be surprised by what turned up. He certainly was right."

Half an hour later, Angela and Robert walked out of Peter's office with several boxes full of computer paper. They headed for Robert's office.

Robert's work space looked much the same as Peter's as far as equipment was concerned. The one significant difference was that Robert had a window overlooking the Charles River.

"Let's get you some financial information," Robert said as he sat down at one of his terminals. Before long, material started coming back across his screen as if a hole had been poked in a dam.

As Robert's printers snapped into operation, pages flew into the collection trays with surprising rapidity.

"I'm overwhelmed," Angela admitted. "I've never thought such reams of personal information could be obtained with such ease."

"For fun, let's see what we can get on you," Robert said. "What's your social security number?"

"No, thank you," Angela said. "Knowing the amount of debt I have, it would be too depressing."

"I'll try to get more material on your suspects tonight," Robert said. "Sometimes it's easier at night when there's less electronic traffic."

"Thank you so much," Angela said as she tried to pick up the two boxes of material.

"I think I'd better give you a hand with all that," Robert said.

Once the material was stored in the trunk, Angela gave Robert a long hug.

"Thanks again," she said. She gave him an extra squeeze. "It's been good to see you."

Robert waved as Angela drove away. She watched his figure recede in her rearview mirror. It had been nice to see him, except for the brief moment of discomfort when she'd first arrived. Now she was looking forward to showing David and Calhoun all this material.

"I'm home!" Angela shouted as she entered through the back door. Hearing no response, she went back for the second box of information herself. When she returned, the house was still silent. With a growing sense of unease, Angela passed through the kitchen and dining room on her way to the stairs. She was startled to find David reading in the family room.

"Why didn't you answer me?" Angela asked.

"You said you were home," David said. "I didn't feel that required a response."

"What's the matter?" Angela asked.

"Nothing at all," David said. "How was your day with your old boyfriend?"

"Oh, is that what this is about?" Angela said.

David shrugged. "It seems strange to me that you've kept quiet about this man from your past for the four years we lived in Boston."

"David!" Angela said with a touch of exasperation. She walked over and threw herself into David's lap, wrapping her arms around his neck. "I didn't mean to keep Robert secret. If I'd meant to keep him a secret, do you think I would have named him now? Don't you know I love you and no one else." She kissed him on the nose.

"Promise?" David asked.

"Promise," Angela said. "How's Nikki?"

"She's fine," David said. "She's napping. She's still terribly upset about Caroline. But physically she's doing great. How did you do?"