Robin Cook - Contagion

The man took the pen but hesitated and eyed the box.

“This is the right address, isn’t it?” Jack asked.

“I reckon,” the man said. He stroked his mustache and looked up at Jack. “What’s the rush?”

“I was told there was dry ice in there,” Jack said. Then he leaned forward as if to tell a secret. “My supervisor thinks it’s a shipment of live bacteria. You know, for research and all.”

The man nodded.

“I was surprised I wasn’t delivering this directly to the lab,” Jack said. “It can’t sit around. I mean, I don’t think it will leak out or anything; at least I don’t think so. But it might die and then it will be useless. I assume you have a way of getting in touch with your customers?”

“I reckon,” the man repeated.

“I’d advise you to do that,” Jack said. “Now sign and I’ll be on my way.”

The man signed his name. Reading upside down, Jack made out “Tex Hartmann.” Tex pushed the clipboard back toward Jack, and Jack slipped it under his arm. “I’m sure glad to get that thing off my truck,” Jack said. “I’ve never been much of a fan of bacteria and viruses. Did you hear about those cases of plague that were here in New York last week? They scared me to death.”

The man nodded again.

“Take care,” Jack said with a wave. He walked out of the store and climbed into his truck. He wished that Tex had been a bit more talkative. Jack wasn’t sure if he would be calling Frazer Labs or not. But just as Jack was releasing the emergency brake he could see Tex through the window dialing his phone.

Pleased with himself, Jack drove several blocks down Broome Street, then circled the block. He parked about a half block from the pawn shop and turned off the motor. After locking the doors, he broke out the deli food. Whether he was hungry or not, he was going to make himself eat something.

“Are you sure we should be doing this?” BJ questioned.

“Yeah, man, I’m sure,” Twin said. He was maneuvering his Cadillac around Washington Square Park looking for someplace to park. It wasn’t looking good. The park was crammed full of people entertaining themselves in a bewildering variety of ways. There was skateboarding, in-line skating, Frisbee throwing, break dancing, chess playing, and drug dealing. Baby carriages dotted the park. It was a carnival-like atmosphere, which was exactly why Twin had suggested the park for the upcoming meeting.

“Shit, man, I feel naked without some kind of ordnance. It’s not right.”

“Shut your mouth, BJ, and look for a spot for this ride of mine,” Twin said. “This is going to be a meeting of the brothers. There’s no need for any firepower.”

“What if they bring some?” BJ asked.

“Hey, man, don’t you trust nobody?” Twin asked. At that moment he saw a delivery van pulling away from the curb. “What do you know, we’re in luck.”

Twin expertly guided his car into the spot and pushed on the emergency brake.

“It says for commercial vehicles only,” BJ said. He had his face pressed up against the window to see the parking sign.

“With all the crack we’ve moved this year I think we qualify,” Twin said with a laugh. “Come on, get your black ass in gear.”

They got out of the car and crossed the street to enter the park. Twin checked his watch. They were a little early despite the trouble parking. That was how Twin liked it for this kind of meeting. He wanted a chance to scope the place out. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust the other brothers, it was just that he liked to be careful.

But Twin was in for a surprise. When his eyes swept the area for the agreed-upon meeting he found himself transfixed by the stare of one of the more physically imposing men he’d seen in some time.

“Uh-oh,” Twin said under his breath.

“What’s the matter?” BJ demanded, instantly alert.

“The brothers have gotten here before us,” Twin said.

“What do you want me to do?” BJ asked. His own eyes raced around the park until they, too, settled on the same man Twin had spotted.

“Nothing,” Twin said. “Just keep walking.”

“He looks so goddamn relaxed,” BJ said. “It makes me worried.”

“Shut up!” Twin commanded.

Twin walked right up to the man whose piercing eyes had never left his. Twin formed his right hand into the form of a gun, pointed at the man, and said: “Warren!”

“You got it,” Warren said. “How’s it going?”

“Not bad,” Twin said. He then ritualistically raised his right hand to head height. Warren did the same and they high-fived. It was a perfunctory gesture, akin to a couple of rival investment bankers shaking hands.

“This here’s David,” Warren said, motioning toward his companion.

“And this here’s BJ,” Twin said, mimicking Warren.

David and BJ eyed each other but didn’t move or speak.

“Listen, man,” Twin said. “Let me say one thing right off. We didn’t know the doc was living in your hood. I mean, maybe we should have known, but we didn’t think about it with him being white.”

“What kind of a relationship did you have with the doc?” Warren asked.

“Relationship?” Twin questioned. “We didn’t have no relationship.”

“How come you’ve been trying to ice him?” Warren asked.

“Just for some small change,” Twin said. “A white dude who lives down our way came to us and offered us some cash to warn the doc about something he was doing. Then, when the doc didn’t take our advice, the dude offered us more to take him out.”

“So you’re telling me the doc hasn’t been dealing with you people?” Warren asked.

“Shit no,” Twin said with a derisive laugh. “We don’t need no honky doctor for our operation, no way.”

“You should have come to us first,” Warren said. “We would have set you right about the doc. He’s been running with us on the b-ball court for four or five months. He’s not half bad neither. So I’m sorry about Reginald. I mean, it wouldn’t have happened if we’d talked.”

“I’m sorry about the kid,” Twin said. “That shouldn’t have happened neither. Trouble was, we were so pissed about Reginald. We couldn’t believe a brother would get shot over a honky doctor.”

“That makes us even,” Warren said. “That’s not counting what happened last night, but that didn’t involve us.”

“I know,” Twin said. “Can you imagine that doc? He’s like a cat with nine lives. How the hell did that cop react so fast? And why was he in there? He must think he’s Wyatt Earp or something.”

“The point is that we have a truce,” Warren said.

“Damn straight,” Twin said. “No more brother shooting brother. We’ve got enough trouble without that.”

“But a truce means you lay off the doc too,” Warren said.

“You care what happens to that dude?” Twin asked.

“Yeah, I do,” Warren said.

“Hey, then it’s your call, man,” Twin said. “It wasn’t like the money was that good anyway.”

Warren stuck out his hand palm up. Twin slapped it. Then Warren slapped Twin’s.

“Be good,” Warren said.

“You too, man,” Twin said.

Warren motioned to David that they were leaving. They walked back toward the Washington Arch at the base of Fifth Avenue.

“That wasn’t half bad,” David said.

Warren shrugged.

“You believe him?” David asked.

“Yeah, I do,” Warren said. “He might deal in drugs, but he’s not stupid. If this thing goes on, we all lose.”

Jack felt uncomfortable. Among other problems he was stiff and now all his muscles ached. He’d been sitting in the van for more hours than he cared to count, watching customers going in and out of the pawnshop. There’d never been a crowd, but it was steady. Most of the people looked seedy. It occurred to Jack that the shop was trafficking in illicit activities like gambling or drugs.