Robin Cook - Blindsight

“And what about Dr. Harold Bingham? What has he done?”

“Nothing so far,” Laurie said. “My guess is he wants to steer clear of such a potential hot potato. Duncan Andrews’ father’s running for office; his people have really been leaning on the mayor, who’s been leaning on Bingham. He did say he’d talk to the commissioner of health about it.”

“If these are homicides, then we’re talking about some new kind of serial killer,” Bob said. “This is hot stuff!”

“I think it’s important for the public to be warned. If this can save one life, it’s worth it. That’s why I called you. We’ve got to put the word out about the contaminant in this drug.”

“Is that it then?” Bob asked.

“I think so,” Laurie said. “If I think of anything I forgot to mention, I’ll call you.”

“Great!” Bob said, getting to his feet. “Sorry to run, but if I’m going to get this into tomorrow morning’s paper, I’ve got to go directly to my editor.”

Laurie watched Bob weave through the crowd of people waiting for tables. Looking down at her veal swimming in a pool of oil, she decided she wasn’t hungry herself.

She was about to get up when their Irish waiter reappeared with the bill.

Laurie looked after Bob, but he was long gone. So much for his offer to pick up the tab.

“What time is it?” Angelo asked.

“Seven-thirty,” Tony said, checking the Rolex he’d picked up at the Goldburg place.

They were parked on Fifth Avenue just north of the Seventy-second Street entrance to Central Park’s East Drive. They were on the park side of the avenue but had a good view of the entrance to the apartment house they were interested in.

“Must take this Kendall Fletcher a long time to put on his jogging shorts,” Angelo said.

“He told me he was going jogging,” Tony said defensively. “You should have called him yourself if you weren’t going to believe me.”

“Here comes somebody,” Angelo said. “What do you think? Could that be Kendall Fletcher, banker?”

“He doesn’t look like a banker in that getup,” Tony said. “I don’t understand this jogging stuff. Who’d want to dress up in Peter Pan tights and run around the park at night? It’s like asking to be mugged.”

“I think it’s him,” Angelo said. “Looks like the right age. How old did you say Kendall was?”

Tony took a typed sheet of paper out of the glove compartment. Using the map light, he searched for the Kendall Fletcher entry, then read: “Kendall Fletcher, age thirty-four, Vice President Citicorp.”

“That must be him,” Angelo said. He started the car. Tony put the list back in the glove compartment.

Kendall Fletcher had come out of his apartment building dressed to run. He crossed Fifth Avenue at Seventy-second Street and began jogging as soon as he reached the park.

Angelo headed for the East Drive. He and Tony kept their eyes glued to Kendall as he made his way down the Seventy-second Street transverse to the drive, where he turned north into the jogging lane.

Angelo motored about a hundred yards past the man, then pulled over to the side of the road. With the blinkers on, he and Tony got out.

Kendall wasn’t the only runner out on the drive. As Angelo and Tony watched him approach, a half dozen other runners passed by.

“I just don’t get these people,” Tony said with wonderment.

Just before Kendall reached them, Angelo and Tony stepped into the jogging lane.

“Kendall Fletcher?” Angelo asked.

Kendall came to a stop. “Yes?” he said.

“Police,” Angelo said. He flashed his Ozone Park police badge. Tony flashed his. “Hate to bother you while you’re running,” Angelo continued, “but we want to talk to you downtown. We’re involved with a Citicorp investigation.”

“This is not a good time,” Kendall said. His voice was firm but his eyes gave him away. He was definitely nervous.

“I don’t think you want to make a scene,” Angelo said. “We won’t take much of your time. We wanted to talk with the vice presidents before we convened a grand jury.”

“I’m in my jogging shorts,” Kendall said.

“No problem,” Angelo said. “We’ll be happy to give you a lift home and let you change. You can be out jogging in another hour if you cooperate.”

Kendall appeared wary but finally agreed. He climbed into Angelo’s car and they drove back to his building on Fifth Avenue.

Leaving a card on the dash, Angelo and Tony got out of the car with Kendall and followed him into the building. Tony was carrying the old black leather doctor’s bag. They walked as a group past the doorman, who ignored them, got on the elevator, and went up to the twenty-fifth floor.

No one spoke as Kendall opened his apartment door, went in, and held the door for Angelo and Tony.

Tony nodded several times as he viewed the apartment. “Nice layout,” he said. He put down his doctor’s bag on the coffee table.

“Can I get you men anything while I change?” Kendall asked. He motioned toward the bar.

“Nah,” Tony said. “You understand, we’re on duty. We don’t drink while we work.”

Angelo checked out the apartment quickly while Tony watched Kendall. Kendall in turn watched Angelo with confused curiosity.

“What are you looking for?” Kendall called after Angelo.

“Make sure there aren’t any other people up here,” Angelo said as he returned from glancing into the kitchen. He then disappeared back toward the master suite.

“Hey!” Kendall called. “You can’t search my apartment!” He turned to Tony. “You have to have a warrant for this.”

“A warrant?” Tony questioned. “Oh, yeah, the warrant. We always forget the warrant.”

Angelo returned.

“I’d like to see your identification again,” Kendall said. “This is an outrage.”

Angelo reached into his Brioni jacket and withdrew his Walther pistol. “Here’s mine,” he said. He motioned for Kendall to sit down. Tony snapped open the latches on his doctor’s bag.

“What is this, a robbery?” Kendall asked, staring at the gun. He sat down. “Help yourself! Take what you want.”

“I’m the candy man,” Tony said. He lifted a long, clear plastic bag and a small cylinder out of the bag.

Angelo moved behind Kendall, gun in hand. Kendall watched nervously as Tony used the cylinder to inflate the plastic bag with a gas that was obviously lighter than air. Once the bag was completely full, he occluded the end and put the cylinder back in the doctor’s bag. With the plastic bag in hand, he approached Kendall.

“What’s going on?” Kendall demanded.

“We’re here to offer you a wild trip,” Tony said with a smile.

“I’m not interested in any trip,” Kendall said. “Take what you want and get out of here.”

Tony opened the base of the plastic bag so that it looked more like a miniature transparent hot air balloon. Then, holding two sides of the base, he crammed it down over the top of Kendall’s head.

The unexpectedness of the move caught Kendall by surprise. He reached up and grabbed Tony’s forearms and halted the bag at his shoulders. As he tried to stand up, Angelo threw the arm with the gun around his neck. Angelo’s other hand grabbed Kendall’s right wrist in an attempt to free its grip on Tony’s forearm.

For a second the three people struggled against one another. Kendall, terrified at this point, opened his mouth and bit Angelo’s forearm through the plastic bag.

“Ahhhh!” Angelo cried, feeling Kendall’s incisors break his skin. Angelo let go of Kendall’s arm and was about to punch Kendall in the face inside the plastic bag when he saw it wasn’t necessary.

After having taken only a few breaths in the plastic bag, Kendall’s eyelids sagged and his whole body, including his jaws, went limp. While Tony followed Kendall to the floor, maintaining the plastic bag in position, Angelo got his arm back.