Robin Cook - Mindbend

“Receptive to what?” called Adam.

“To instructions,” said the steward as he pulled the door closed.

Adam got up feeling unusually tired and weak. He’d had no idea that seasickness could be so debilitating. Forcing himself into the bathroom, he showered and dressed, still puzzling over the steward’s comment.

On his way to breakfast, he decided to see if Alan were up. This time, instead of knocking, he just turned the knob and the door swung open.

Alan was still stretched out on the bed, his eyes closed, his breathing deep and even.

“Alan,” called Adam. Slowly the man’s eyes fluttered open, only to close again. Adam bent down and gently lifted Alan’s eyelids. At first, all he saw was sclera, but then the corneas descended and seemed to focus.

“Wake up,” said Adam. He took his hands from Alan’s eyes and, grabbing his shoulders, pulled him into a sitting position.

“What’s the matter with you?” he asked.

“Nothing,” said Alan in a flat voice that reminded Adam of the steward’s. “I’m just tired. Let me sleep.” He started to sag backward, but Adam caught him.

“Tell me,” demanded Adam. “What is your name?”

“Alan Jackson.”

“Where are you?” asked Adam.

“I’m on an Arolen cruise.” Alan spoke with no inflection whatsoever.

“What month is this?”

“June,” said Alan.

“Raise your right hand,” said Adam.

Dutifully, Alan raised his right hand. He was like an automaton or a patient under heavy sedation. In fact, he reminded Adam of his patient with tardive dyskinesia. When the man had first come into the hospital, he’d been so heavily medicated that he’d slept around the clock, although if aroused he’d been oriented to time and place.

Adam allowed Alan to slump back onto his bed. After watching him for a moment or two, he returned to his own stateroom. Closing the door, Adam felt really afraid for the first time. Alan had been drugged. There was little doubt of that.

Obviously, the yellow pills were some kind of tranquilizer. All at once Adam recalled how drowsy he’d felt when the steward had awakened him. He had attributed his condition to the aftermath of seasickness, but maybe he, too, had been drugged. Yet how could that have happened? He hadn’t taken the yellow pills and what little dinner he’d eaten he’d vomited almost immediately. Maybe it was the water.

Adam went into the bathroom and filled his glass. It had no smell. Gingerly, he tasted it. It had a chemical flavor, but that could be from chlorination. Dumping it down the drain, Adam decided to go to breakfast.

The dining room held no trace of last night’s raucous party. A buffet had been set up in the center of the room with an impressive array of food. People were lined up, patiently awaiting their turn. Adam strolled among the tables and looked for Ned and Clair but didn’t see them.

His stomach not only felt better, he was actually hungry. The only trouble was, now that he had an appetite, he was terrified to eat. He eyed the buffet. There was the usual selection of scrambled eggs, bacon, sausage, and Danish. Then Adam saw something even better: a large bowl of fruit.

Thinking that unpeeled fruit had to be safe, he took several bananas, two oranges, and a grapefruit and made his way to an empty table. Just as he sat down, Ned and Clair appeared. Adam called out to them, and they came over to his table. They said they would join him.

Adam watched them go through the buffet line. They seemed tired, and when they came and sat down, Adam noticed that they hadn’t taken much food. He was puzzled. If the drug were in the food and water, why weren’t they and the other doctors in the room knocked out like Alan? Maybe it was the yellow pill. Maybe it was only given to guests on their second cruise. Maybe it was the combination of the capsule and whatever was put in the food…

“Quite an affair last night,” said Ned interrupting Adam’s thoughts.

Adam nodded.

“I’m exhausted,” said Clair. “I didn’t think I’d drunk as much as I must have. I slept like the dead.”

“Same with me,” said Ned. “Must be the salt air.”

Trying to sound casual, Adam said, “Have you people been given any yellow capsules for seasickness?”

“I haven’t,” said Ned, sipping his coffee. He looked at Clair.

“Nor have I,” she said. “Why do you ask?”

“Well, I’m looking for an anti-nauseant. I just wondered…” He let his voice trail off, not wanting to arouse their suspicion. If he mentioned anything about the doctors being drugged, they would think he was crazy. Ned and Clair drank their coffee in silence. Obviously, neither of them felt very well.

After breakfast Adam stopped at the ship’s store. It had a new supply of Dramamine and anti-motion patches. Adam bought some of the patches, and before he left he remembered to pick up ten dollars’ worth of Marlboros for José.

Back in his cabin he found another yellow capsule with a glass of water on his night table. This time he flushed both down the toilet.

The first lecture of the morning was scheduled for the large auditorium. Given by a Columbia pathologist, it was stultifyingly dull. Adam noticed that a number of the doctors were dozing and wondered whether it was because they were bored or drugged. The second lecture was given by Dr. Goddard and was far more interesting. Adam noticed a number of the doctors straightening up in their chairs. Goddard was summarizing a recent experiment that showed that fetal tissue that was injected into adults was not rejected. The guess was that the fetal tissue had not developed antigens strong enough to elicit an antibody response. The potential for the therapy was immense. Repopulating islet cells in the pancreases of diabetics was only one of the revolutionary possibilities.

At the coffee break, Adam went back to his stateroom, got the cartons of Marlboros, and headed up to the promenade deck. He waited until no one seemed to be around, then walked up to the barrier and stepped through the door. José was waiting. He had a canvas bag over his shoulder and the cartons disappeared into it in a flash. At least he’s not drugged, thought Adam, and he handed back José’s ten-dollar bill.

Confused, the sailor examined the bill, thinking something was wrong with it.

“I have a deal you can’t refuse,” said Adam. “I’ll get you cigarettes if you get me food and water.”

José raised his eyebrows. “What’s the matter with the food back there? I thought it was pretty fancy.”

“Part of the deal is no questions,” said Adam. “I won’t ask you what you do with so many cigarettes, and you don’t ask me what I do with the food.”

“Fine by me,” said José. “When do you want to meet again?”

“At four this afternoon, but I’d like some food now.”

José glanced over his shoulder, then told Adam to follow him. They walked forward to a bulkhead door, which José opened. Making sure they were alone, José led Adam down to his cabin in the bowels of the ship. It was like a jail cell. There was a shower and a toilet with no door and the air was heavy with the odor of sweat and stale cigarettes.

José told Adam to make himself comfortable, laughing at his own joke as he went out the door. Adam eyed the bunk and sat down on it.

Within five minutes José returned with a paper bag full of food, including bread, cheese, fruit and juice. He handed the parcel to Adam, who pointed at an empty container in the corner of the room which he asked José to fill at the sink.

“Do you have the same water as the rest of the ship?” asked Adam.

“I don’t know,” said José. “I’m not an engineer.” He opened the door and peered out. “We have to be careful. There are some people who wouldn’t like the fact that we are doing business.”