Robin Cook - Contagion

To be a hundred percent certain he was safe, Jack stood within the entrance of a shoe store for another five minutes. The vehicular traffic on Madison Avenue was moderate, as was the number of pedestrians. In contrast to the area around the morgue, everyone was dressed nattily. Jack saw no one he would have thought was a gang member.

Feeling confident and patting himself on the back for his ingenuity, Jack set out for the restaurant. What he didn’t know was that two men sat waiting inside a shiny black Cadillac that had recently parked between the shoe store and Positano. As Jack walked past he couldn’t see inside because the windows were tinted dark enough to make them appear like mirrors.

Jack opened the door to the restaurant and entered a canvas tent of sorts designed to keep the winter chill away from the people seated near the entrance.

Pulling a canvas flap aside, Jack found himself in a warm, comfortable environment. To his left was a small mahogany bar. The dining tables were grouped to the right and they extended back into the depths of the restaurant. The walls and ceiling were covered with white lattice into which was woven silk ivy that looked astonishingly real. It was as if Jack had suddenly walked into a garden restaurant in Italy.

From the savory aroma that informed the place, Jack could tell that the chef had the same respect for garlic that he had. Earlier Jack had felt he wasn’t hungry. Now he was famished.

The restaurant was crowded but without the frenzied atmosphere of many New York restaurants. With the lattice on the ceiling the sounds of the patrons’ conversations and the clink of the china were muted. Jack assumed that the peacefulness of the place was what Terese had meant when she said it was un-New-Yorkish.

The maître d’ greeted Jack and asked if he could be of assistance. Jack said he was to meet a Ms. Hagen. The waiter bowed and gestured for Jack to follow him. He showed Jack to a table against the wall just beyond the bar.

Terese rose to give Jack a hug. When she saw his face, she paused.

“Oh, my!” she said. “Your face looks painful.”

“People have been saying that my whole life,” Jack quipped.

“Jack, please,” Terese said. “Don’t joke. I’m being serious. Are you really okay?”

“To tell you the honest truth,” Jack said. “I’d totally forgotten about my face.”

“It looks like it would be so tender,” Terese said. “I’d like to give you a kiss, but I’m afraid.”

“Nothing wrong with my lips,” Jack said.

Terese shook her head, smiled, and waved her hand at him. “You are too much,” she said. “I considered myself adept at repartee until I met you.”

They sat down.

“What do you think of the restaurant?” Terese asked as she repositioned her napkin and moved her work aside.

“I liked it immediately,” Jack said. “It’s cozy, and you can’t say that about too many restaurants in this city. I never would have known it was here. The sign outside is so subtle.”

“It’s one of my favorite places,” Terese said.

“Thanks for insisting I come out,” Jack said. “I hate to admit you were right, but you were. I’m starved.”

Over the next fifteen minutes they studied their respective menus, listened to a remarkably long list of special entrées from their waiter, and placed their orders.

“How about some wine?” Terese asked.

“Why not,” Jack said.

“Do you want to pick?” Terese asked, extending the wine list in his direction.

“I have a suspicion that you’ll know better than I what to order,” Jack said.

“Red or white?” Terese asked.

“I can go either way,” Jack said.

With the wine opened and two glasses poured, both Terese and Jack leaned back and tried to relax. Both were tense. In fact, Jack wondered if Terese wasn’t more tense than he. He caught her furtively glancing at her watch.

“I saw that,” Jack said.

“Saw what?” Terese asked innocently.

“I saw you looking at your watch,” Jack said. “I thought we were supposed to be relaxing. That’s why I’ve been purposefully avoiding asking about your day or telling you about mine.”

“I’m sorry,” Terese said. “You’re right. I shouldn’t be doing it. It’s just reflex. I know Colleen and the crew are still in the studio working, and I suppose I feel guilty being out here enjoying myself.”

“Should I ask how the campaign is going?” Jack asked.

“It’s going fine,” Terese said. “In fact, I got nervous today and called my contact over at National Health and had lunch with her. When I told her about the new campaign she was so excited she begged me to allow her to leak it to her CEO. She called back this afternoon to say that he liked it so much that he’s thinking of upping the advertising budget by another twenty percent.”

Jack made a mental calculation of what a twenty percent increase meant. It was millions, and it made him ill since he knew the money would essentially be coming from patient-care funds. But not wishing to spoil their evening, he did not let Terese know his thoughts. Instead, he congratulated her.

“Thank you,” she said.

“It hardly sounds like you had a bad day,” Jack commented.

“Well, hearing that the client likes the concept is just the beginning,” Terese said. “Now there is the reality of actually putting the presentation together and then actually doing the campaign itself. You have no idea of the problems that arise making a thirty-second TV spot.”

Terese took a sip of her wine. As she set her glass back on the table she again glanced at her watch.

“Terese!” Jack said with mock anger. “You did it again!”

“You’re right!” Terese said, slapping a hand to her forehead. “What am I going to do with myself. I’m an impossible workaholic. I admit it. But wait! I do know what I can do. I can take the damn thing off!” She unbuckled her wristwatch and slipped it into her purse. “How’s that?” she asked.

“Much better,” Jack said.

“The trouble is this dude is probably thinking he’s some kind of superman or something,” Twin said. “He’s probably saying those brothers don’t know what the hell they are doing. I mean, it’s all pissing me off. You know what I’m saying?”

“So why don’t you do this yourself?” Phil asked. “Why me?” Dots of perspiration stood out like cabochon diamonds along his hairline.

Twin was draped over the steering wheel of his Cadillac. Slowly he turned his head to regard his heir apparent in the half-light of the car’s interior. Headlights of the passing vehicles alternately illuminated Phil’s face.

“Be cool,” Twin warned. “You know I can’t walk in there. The doc would recognize me right off and the game would be over. The element of surprise is important.”

“But I was there in the doc’s apartment too,” Phil complained.

“But the mother wasn’t looking you in the eye,” Twin said. “Nor did you tag him with a sucker punch. He won’t remember you. Trust me.”

“But why me,” Phil whined. “BJ wanted to do it, especially after things got screwed up in the drugstore. He wants another chance.”

“After the drugstore the doc might recognize BJ,” Twin said. “Besides, it’s an opportunity for you. Some of the brothers have been complaining that you’ve never done anything like this and that you shouldn’t be next in line in the gang. Trust me, I know what I’m doing.”

“But I’m not good at this stuff,” Phil complained. “I’ve never shot anyone.”

“Hey, it’s easy,” Twin said. “First time maybe you wonder, but it’s easy. Pop! It’s over. In a way it’s kinda a letdown, because you get yourself all keyed up.”