Robin Cook - Outbreak

Obviously, Ralph was a member of PAC. Of course he was a supporter of Markham. And it was Ralph, not Tad, who had always known where she was. Serving the eggs, Marissa thought that even if she could escape there was no one to go to. She certainly couldn’t use a lawyer Ralph recommended. In fact, now that she knew Ralph was implicated, she remembered why the name of the law firm he’d suggested had sounded familiar: Cooper, Hodges, McQuinllin and Hanks had been listed as the service agent of PAC.

Marissa felt trapped. The men pursuing her had powerful connections. She had no idea how deeply they had penetrated the CDC. Certainly the conspiracy involved the congressman who exerted control over the CDC budget.

Marissa’s mind reeled. She was terrified no one would believe her, and she was acutely aware that the only piece of hard evidence she had—the vaccination gun—was resting somewhere in the maximum containment lab, to which she knew from painful experience her pursuers had access. The only thing that was crystal clear was that she had to get away from Ralph before Jackson and maybe more thugs arrived.

Picking up her fork, she had a sudden vision of the blond man hurling himself through the bathroom door in San Francisco. She dropped the fork, again afraid she was about to faint.

Ralph grabbed her elbow and helped her to the kitchen table. He put the food on a plate and placed it in front of her and urged her to eat.

“You were doing so well a minute ago,” he said. “You’ll feel better if you get something in your stomach.” He picked up the fork she’d dropped and tossed it into the sink, then got another from the silver drawer.

Marissa dropped her head into her hands. She had to get herself under control. Valuable time was ticking away.

“Not hungry after all?” asked Ralph.

“Not very,” admitted Marissa. The very smell of the eggs was enough to make her sick. She shuddered.

“Maybe you should take a tranquilizer. I’ve got some upstairs. What do you think?”

“Okay,” said Marissa.

“Be right back,” said Ralph, squeezing her shoulder.

This was the chance she had prayed for. As soon as he was out of the room, Marissa was on her feet, snatching the phone off its hook. But there was no dial tone. Ralph must have disconnected it somehow! So much for the police. Replacing the phone, she rushed around the kitchen searching for Ralph’s car keys. Nothing. Next she tried the adjoining family room. There was a tiny marble urn on the room divider with a few keys, but none for a car. Going back through the kitchen, Marissa went to the small foyer by the back door. There was a cork bulletin board, an antique school desk and an old bureau. There was also a door that led to the bathroom.

Trying the desk first, she lifted its cover and rummaged through its contents. There were some odd-shaped house keys, but that was all. Turning to the small bureau, she began opening drawers, finding a jumble of gloves, scarves and rain gear.

“What do you need?” asked Ralph, suddenly appearing behind her. Guiltily she straightened up, searching for an alibi. Ralph waited, looking at her expectantly. His right hand was closed. His left hand held a glass of water.

“I thought maybe I could find a sweater,” said Marissa.

Ralph eyed her curiously. If anything, the house was too warm. After all, it was almost June.

“I’ll turn the heat on in the kitchen,” he said, guiding her back to her chair. He extended his right hand. “Here, take this.” He dropped a capsule into Marissa’s palm. It was red and ivory in color.

“Dalmane?” questioned Marissa. “I thought you were getting me a tranquilizer.”

“It will relax you and give you a good night’s sleep,” explained Ralph.

Shaking her head and handing the capsule back to Ralph, Marissa said, “I’d prefer a tranquilizer.”

“What about Valium?”

“Fine,” said Marissa.

As soon as she heard him climbing the back stairs, Marissa ran to the front foyer. There were no keys on the elaborate marble half-table or in the one central drawer. Opening the closet, Marissa rapidly patted jacket pockets. Nothing.

She was back in the kitchen just in time to hear Ralph start down the back stairs.

“There you go,” he said, dropping a blue tablet into Marissa’s hand.

“What dose is this?”

“Ten milligrams.”

“Don’t you think that’s a little much?”

“You’re so upset. It won’t affect you as it would normally,” said Ralph, handing her a glass of water. She took it from him, then pretended to take the Valium, but dropped it into the pocket of her jacket instead.

“Now let’s try the food again,” said Ralph.

Marissa forced herself to eat a little as she tried to figure out a way to escape before Jackson arrived. The food tasted awful, and she put down her fork after a few bites.

“Still not hungry?” said Ralph.

Marissa shook her head.

“Well, let’s go into the living room.”

She was glad to leave the cooking smells, but the moment they were seated, Ralph urged her to have a fresh drink.

“I don’t think I should after the Valium.”

“A little won’t hurt.”

“Are you sure you’re not trying to get me drunk?” said Marissa. She forced a laugh. “Maybe you’d better let me fix the drinks.”

“Fine by me,” said Ralph, lifting his feet to the coffee table. “Make mine scotch.”

Marissa went directly to the bar and poured Ralph a good four fingers of scotch. Then, checking to see that he was absorbed, she took out the Valium tablet, broke it in half and dropped the pieces into the alcohol. Unfortunately, they did not dissolve. Fishing the pieces out, she pulverized them with the scotch bottle and swept the powder into the drink.

“You need any help?” called Ralph.

“No,” she said, pouring a little brandy into her own glass. “Here you go.”

Ralph took his drink and settled back on the couch.

Sitting down beside him, Marissa racked her brains to figure out where he might have put his car keys. She wondered what he would say if she suddenly demanded them, but decided it was too great a risk. If he realized she knew about him, he might forcibly restrain her. This way, she still had a chance, if she could just find the keys.

A horrible thought occurred to her: he probably had just put them in his pants pocket. As distasteful as it was, Marissa forced herself to snuggle against him. Provocatively, she placed her hand on his hip. Sure enough, she could feel the keys through the light gabardine. Now, how on earth was she going to get them?

Gritting her teeth, she tilted her face to his, encouraging him to kiss her. As his arms circled her waist, she let her fingers slide into his pocket. Scarcely breathing she felt the edge of the ring and pulled. The keys jangled a little and she began frantically kissing him. Sensing his response she decided she had to take the chance. Please God, please God, she prayed and pulled out the keys and hid them in her own pocket.

Ralph had obviously forgotten Jackson was coming, or he’d decided sex was the best way to keep Marissa quiet. In any case, it was time to stop him.

“Darling,” she said. “I hate to do this to you, but that pill is getting to me. I think I’m going to have to go to sleep.”

“Just rest here. I’ll hold you.”

“I’d love to, but then you’d have to carry me upstairs.” She pulled herself out of his embrace, and he solicitously helped her up the stairs to the guest bedroom.

“Don’t you want me to stay with you?” he asked.

“I’m sorry, Ralph. I’m about to pass out. Just let me sleep.” She forced a smile. “We can always continue when the Valium wears off.” As if to end any further conversation, she lay on the bed fully clothed.