Robin Cook - Mindbend

Leaning forward, Clarence picked up a computer printout and put it on Adam’s lap. “If you have any concern about not being busy enough, just take a quick glance at this list of your clients.”

The weight of the material in Adam’s lap was considerable. The front page said: “Upper East Side Manhattan MD Listing.” Under that was written: “Property of Arolen Pharmaceuticals, Montclair, New Jersey ”; and in the lower right-hand corner was the single word “Confidential.”

Adam flipped through the sheets and saw an alphabetical list of physicians followed by their addresses and phone numbers. The first name on the last page was Clark Vandermer, 67 East 36th Street.

As Adam considered what it would be like calling on Jennifer’s obstetrician, McGuire launched into a long description of the kinds of doctors Adam would be seeing.

“Any questions?” he said at last.

“Yes,” said Adam, remembering the one he’d forgotten to ask Shelly that morning. “Do you know what happened to Percy Harmon?”

Clarence shook his head. “I’d heard that he was to take the managerial course in Puerto Rico, but I don’t know if he actually did. I have no idea. Why do you ask?”

“No particular reason,” said Adam.

“Well, if you don’t have any other questions, you can be on your way. We’re always available if you need us, and don’t let me forget, here are the keys to your Arolen car. It’s a Buick Century.”

Adam took the keys.

“And here is the address of a parking garage. It’s as near to your apartment as my staff could arrange. We pick up the rent.”

Adam took the paper, again awed by his company’s generosity. A parking place in the city was worth as much as a car.

“And last but not least, here’s your computer access code, as was explained to you during the sales course. Your personal computer is in the trunk of the car. Good luck to you.”

Adam took the final envelope and shook hands once again with the district sales manager. He was now officially an Arolen detail man.

After tuning the radio to an FM rock station, Adam rolled down the window and jauntily stuck out an elbow. Traveling at fifty miles an hour, he felt unaccountably light-headed. Then he recalled his father’s sneering disbelief and his smile faded.

“We need the money!” he said out loud. “If you’d helped us, I’d still be in medical school.”

His mood did not improve when he reached the apartment only to find it empty, a short note taped to the refrigerator: “Gone home.” Adam tore it off and threw it across the room.

He pulled open the refrigerator door and looked inside. There was a little leftover roast chicken. He took it out along with a jar of mayonnaise and two pieces of rye. After making a sandwich, he went into the living room and set up his personal computer. Turning it on, he keyed in his access code. What doctor should he look up? Hesitating a moment, he keyed in Vandermer’s name. Then he took the telephone off the cradle and hooked it up to the modem. When everything was ready, he pushed the execute button, leaned back, and took a hefty bite from his sandwich. Small red lights appeared on the modem, indicating that he was attached to the Arolen mainframe.

The screen in front of Adam shimmered, then some text appeared. Adam stopped chewing for a moment and leaned forward to read.

CLARK VANDERMER, M.D., F.A.C.O.G.

____________________Biographical data

____________________Personal data

____________________Economic data

____________________Professional data

____________________Pharmaceutical usage data

(press space bar to select)

His interest aroused, Adam pressed the space bar until the cursor was next to “Personal data.” Then he pressed the execute key. Again he got an index:

PERSONAL DATA:

____________________Family history (past) includes parents and siblings

____________________Family history (present) includes wife and children

____________________Interests and hobbies

____________________Likes and dislikes

____________________Social history (includes education)

____________________Health history

____________________Personality profile

(press space bar to select)

My God, thought Adam, this is Orwell’s 1984. He moved the cursor to “Family history (present)” and again pushed the execute button. Immediately the screen filled with extensive text. For the next ten minutes Adam read about Clark Vandermer’s wife and children. It was mostly insignificant detail, but there were some important things as well. Adam learned that Vandermer’s wife had been hospitalized on three occasions for depression following the birth of their third child. He also discovered that his middle child, a female, was diagnosed as having anorexia nervosa.

Adam looked up from the screen, appalled. There was no reason for a drug firm like Arolen to have such a complete file on a doctor. He suspected everything they could use was summarized under the single category “Pharmaceutical usage data.” To prove his point, Adam called up that category and got what he expected, namely an analysis of Vandermer’s prescribing habits, including the amounts of each type of drug he prescribed each year.

Returning to the index, Adam asked the computer to print out on the high-speed dot-matrix printer a full report on Dr. Vandermer. The printer sprang to life, and Adam went back to the kitchen for a Coke.

It was thirty-two minutes before the printer fell silent. Adam tore off the last sheet and gathered the long train of paper that had formed behind the computer. There were almost fifty pages. Adam wondered if the good doctor had any idea of the amount of material Arolen had amassed on him.

The content of the report was dry and tediously complete. It even included Vandermer’s investments. Adam skimmed until he got to a description of Vandermer’s practice. He learned the doctor was a co-founder of GYN Associates along with Lawrence Foley! Lawrence Foley, the doctor who had committed suicide so unexpectedly. Adam wondered if Jennifer knew Foley had once been in partnership with her own doctor.

Reading on, Adam discovered that Vandermer’s current associates were Dr. John Stens and Dr. June Baumgarten.

His curiosity piqued, Adam decided that Dr. Vandermer would be his first customer. Remembering Percy Harmon’s advice that the way to the doctor was through his receptionist, Adam punched her up on the computer. Her name was Christine Morgan. She was twenty-seven, married to David Morgan, a painter, and had one male child, David Junior, nicknamed DJ.

Trying to conjure up Percy Harmon’s confident air, he dialed GYN Associates. When Christine answered, he explained that he was taking over for Harmon. He mentioned in passing that the rep had spoken so warmly of her handsome son. He must have done something right because Christine told him to come right down. She’d try and get him in.

Five minutes later Adam was heading north on Park Avenue, trying to remember which Arolen drugs he was supposed to push on OB-GYNs. He decided he’d concentrate on the generic line of vitamins that Arolen advertised for pregnancy.

In the neighborhood of Thirty-sixth Street and Park Avenue even unoccupied tow zones were hard to come by. Adam had to be content with a fire hydrant space between Park and Lexington. After locking the car, he went around the back and opened the trunk. It was outfitted with a full complement of Arolen samples, reprints, and other paraphernalia. There were a dozen Cross pens emblazoned with the Arolen insignia. Adam was to give them out at his discretion.

Adam selected an appropriate sample of the drugs and reprints and tossed them into his briefcase. He slipped one of the Cross pens into the side pocket of his jacket. Locking the trunk, he set off at a brisk pace for Vandermer’s office.