Robin Cook - Mindbend

“They can call the toll-free MTIC number,” said Bill stiffly. “I was hoping you were going to tell me you’d decided to take the managerial training course.”

“Not just yet,” said Adam as Paul continued to knead his shoulders. “But I was wondering if you would consider sending me on one of the cruises. Do any of the sales reps go?”

“I’m afraid not,” said Bill, getting up and starting to dress. “There are a lot of people here who would like to go. Unfortunately, the Fjord is not that big a ship. Anyway, you’d find it boring. Since the purpose of the program is to supply continuing education to the practicing physician, most of the entertainment areas of the ship have been converted into lecture halls.”

“I’d still like to go.”

“I’m sorry,” said Bill, who was obviously losing interest in the subject. He went to a mirror to put on his tie. “I think it would be smart for you to concentrate on the work that you are supposed to be doing.”

Adam decided this was not the moment to ask about the doctors who had given up their practices after going on a cruise. It was obvious that Bill Shelly was becoming irritated by Adam’s questions. As he dressed and followed Bill to the elevator Adam was careful to answer questions, not ask them. But later, driving back to New York, Adam continued to ponder some of the strange occurrences he now associated with the Arolen cruise. Percy Harmon’s disappearance in particular was disturbing. When Adam had learned Percy had not gone to Puerto Rico, he’d tried calling him but no one ever answered. As he drove into the city through the Lincoln Tunnel, Adam decided to stop by Percy’s apartment. Maybe one of his neighbors knew where he was.

Percy lived in a rundown brownstone four doors in from Second Avenue. Adam found Percy Harmon’s name next to the button for 3C. He pushed it and waited.

Diagonally across the street, a man in a rumpled blue suit threw down a cigarette and ground it under the heel of his shoe. Looking in both directions, he started across to the brownstone, his hand moving toward his breast pocket.

Adam shifted his weight and pushed the button for the superintendent. Almost immediately the small foyer filled with a raucous buzz and Adam opened the door. The interior was dilapidated but much cleaner than in Adam’s building. On the floor below, Adam heard a door open. He walked to the head of the stairs and looked down. An unshaven man in a sleeveless undershirt was on his way up.

“Whaddaya want?” said the super.

“I’m looking for Percy Harmon,” said Adam.

“You and everybody else,” said the super, obviously unimpressed. “He ain’t here, and I haven’t seen him for more than a month.”

“Sorry to bother you,” said Adam as the super went back down. Turning to leave, Adam hesitated by the stairs. He heard the super’s door close and on a sudden impulse quietly climbed to the third floor. He knocked on 3C, but there was no answer. He tried the door, but it was locked. He was debating leaving a note when he noticed a window at the end of the corridor leading to the fire escape.

Although he had never done anything like this in his life, Adam opened the window and climbed out. He had an intuitive feeling something had happened to Percy. He wanted to look into Harmon’s apartment to see if there was any sign of how long he’d been away.

The fire escape was old and rusted, and Adam tried not to look down through the metal grate at the concrete courtyard below. After inching along with his hands pressed against the building, Adam finally reached Percy’s window. It was ajar about two inches. Hoping no one would see him and call the cops, Adam raised the window. Having come this far, he figured he had nothing to lose and climbed inside Percy’s musty bedroom.

Heart pounding, Adam walked around the unmade bed and opened the closet door. It was filled with clothes. Turning, he looked inside the bathroom. The water level in the toilet was low, suggesting that it had not been used for some time.

Adam walked back through the bedroom and into the living room. There was a newspaper on the coffee table with a seven-week-old date. Moving into the kitchen, Adam saw that the dishes in the sink were covered with a fuzzy black mold. Obviously, Percy Harmon had planned to return. And that was exactly what Adam had feared. Something unexpected must have happened to the man.

Adam decided to get out and call the police. Before he could leave the kitchen, a soft noise made him freeze. It was the distinctive sound of a door closing.

Adam waited. There was only silence. He peered out into the living room. The security chain on the front door was slowly swinging back and forth.

Adam almost passed out. If it had been Percy who’d come in, why was he hiding? Adam stayed glued to his spot in the kitchen, straining to hear additional noise. When the refrigerator kicked on next to him, he moaned with fright. Finally, deciding that at least ten minutes had passed, that maybe it was all his imagination, he walked into the living room and glanced into the bedroom. He could see the open window to the fire escape. The curtains were slowly billowing in the draft. Adam estimated that it would only take a second to cross the room and climb out.

He never made it. As he ran for the window, a figure appeared from the closet. Before Adam could respond, a fist slammed into his abdomen, sending him sprawling to the floor.

When Jennifer arrived at GYN Associates for her monthly checkup, she noticed there were fewer people waiting than on any of her previous visits. Sitting on one of the couches, which she had all to herself, she took out a magazine to read but couldn’t concentrate. Instead, she marveled that nothing untoward had happened to her or her unborn child while Dr. Vandermer had been out of town attending his convention. She’d been sure that she’d start bleeding while he was away, and even though she still was not reconciled to his gruff manner, she didn’t want to have to see a new doctor.

In less than fifteen minutes, Jennifer was taken to an examination room. As she took off her street clothes and put on the paper robe, she asked the nurse if Dr. Vandermer had enjoyed his vacation.

“I guess so,” said Nancy without enthusiasm. She handed Jennifer the urine container and motioned toward the lavatory door.

Something in her tone bothered Jennifer, but when she came out of the bathroom, Dr. Vandermer was waiting.

“I haven’t finished with Mrs. Schonberg,” said Nancy. “Please, give me another few minutes. I still have to draw her hematocrit and weigh her.”

“I just wanted to say hello.” His voice was unusually soft, without his normally brusque overtone. “How are you, Jennifer? You look well.”

“I’m fine,” said Jennifer, surprised.

“Well, I’ll be back as soon as Nancy ’s done.” He closed the door, and Nancy stood for a moment staring after him. “God!” she said. “If I didn’t know him better, I’d swear he was on something. Ever since he came back, he’s been weird. He’s much nicer to his patients, but he’s made my job ten times more difficult. Oh well…” Nancy turned back to Jennifer. “Let’s get your blood and weight.”

She had just finished when Dr. Vandermer returned. “I’ll take over,” he said in the same flat voice. “Your weight is fine. How have you been feeling in general?”

“I haven’t examined her yet,” interrupted Nancy.

“That’s all right,” said Dr. Vandermer. “Why don’t you run the hematocrit while I talk to Jennifer.”

With an audible sigh, Nancy took the hematocrit tubes and left the room.

“So how have you been feeling?” asked Dr. Vandermer again.