Robin Cook - Terminal

“The first floor of the building has auditoriums, library, and security,” Claire droned as they entered the sixth floor. Sean followed Claire down a long central corridor with labs off either side. “This is the main research floor. Most of the major equipment is housed here.”

Sean poked his head into various labs. He was soon disappointed. He’d been expecting a futuristic lab, superbly designed and filled with state-of-the-art technology. Instead he saw basic rooms with the usual equipment. Claire introduced him to the four people they came upon in one of the labs: David Lowenstein, Arnold Harper, Nancy Sprague, and Hiroshi Gyuhama. Of these people only Hiroshi expressed any more than a passing interest in Sean. Hiroshi bowed deeply when introduced. He seemed genuinely impressed when Claire mentioned that Sean was from Harvard.

“Harvard is a very good school,” Hiroshi said in heavily accented English.

As they continued down the corridor, Sean began to notice that most of the rooms were empty.

“Where is everybody?” he asked.

“You’ve met pretty much the whole research staff,” Claire said. “We have a tech named Mark Halpern, but I don’t see him at the moment. We don’t have many personnel presently, although word has it that we are about to start expanding. Like all businesses, we’ve been through some lean times.”

Sean nodded, but the explanation did little to allay his disappointment. With the impressive results of the medulloblastoma work, he’d envisioned a large group of researchers working at a dynamic pace. Instead, the place seemed relatively deserted, which reminded Sean of Ramirez’s unsettling remark.

“Down in security they told me some of the researchers had disappeared. Do you know anything about that?”

“Not a lot,” Claire admitted. “It was last year and it caused a flap.”

“What happened?”

“They disappeared all right,” Claire said. “They left everything: their apartments, their cars, even their girlfriends.”

“And they were never found?” Sean asked.

“They turned up,” Claire said. “The administration doesn’t like to talk about it, but apparently they are working for some company in Japan.”

“Sushita Industries?” Sean asked.

“That I don’t know,” Claire said.

Sean had heard about companies luring away personnel, but never so secretly. And never to Japan. He realized it was probably just another indication that times were changing in the arena of biotechnology.

Claire brought them to a thick opaque glass door barring further progress down the corridor. In block letters were the words: No Entry. Sean glanced at Claire for an explanation.

“The maximum containment facility is in there,” she said.

“Can we see it?” Sean asked. He cupped his hands and peered through the door. All he could see were doors leading off the main corridor.

Claire shook her head. “Off limits,” she said. “Dr. Levy’ does most of her work in there. At least when she’s in Miami. She splits her time between here and our Basic Diagnostic lab in Key West.”

“What’s that?” Sean asked.

Claire winked and covered her mouth as if she were telling a secret. “It’s a minor entrepreneurial spin-off for Forbes,” she said. “It does basic diagnostic work for our hospital as well as for several hospitals in the Keys. It’s a way of generating some additional income. The trouble is the Florida legislature is giving us some trouble about self-referral.”

“How come we can’t go in there?” Sean asked, pointing through the glass door.

“Dr. Levy says there is some kind of risk, but I don’t know what it is. Frankly, I’m happy to stay out. But ask her. She’ll probably take you in.”

Sean wasn’t sure Dr. Levy would do him any favors after their initial meeting. He reached out and pulled the door open a crack. There was a slight hiss as the seal was broken.

Claire grabbed his arm. “What are you doing?” She was aghast.

“Just curious to see if it was locked,” Sean said. He let the door swing shut.

“You are a trip,” she said.

They retraced their route and descended another floor. The fifth floor was dominated by a large lab on one side of the corridor and small offices on the other. Claire took Sean into the large lab.

“I was told that you would have this lab for your use,” Claire said. She switched on the overhead lights. It was an enormous room by the standards of the labs Sean was accustomed to work in at both Harvard and MIT where fights for space among researchers were legendary for their acrimony. In the center was a glass-enclosed office with a desk, a telephone, and a computer terminal.

Sean walked around, fingering the equipment. It was basic but serviceable. The most impressive items were a luminescence-spectrophotometer and a binocular microscope to detect fluorescence. Sean thought he could have some fun with those instruments under the right circumstances, but he didn’t know if the Forbes provided the right environment. For one thing, Sean realized that he’d probably be working in this large room alone.

“Where are all the reagents and things?” he asked.

Claire motioned for Sean to follow, and they descended another floor where Claire showed him the supply room. As far as Sean was concerned, this was the most impressive area he’d seen so far. The supply room was filled with everything a molecular biological lab would need. There was even a generous selection of various cell lines from the NIH.

After cursorily touring through the rest of the lab space, Claire led Sean down to the basement. Scrunching up her nose, she took him into the animal room. Dogs barked, monkeys glared, and mice and rats skittered about their cages. The air was moist and pungent. Claire introduced Sean to Roger Calvet, the animal keeper. He was a small man with a severe hunchback.

They only stayed a minute and as the doors closed behind them, Claire made a gesture of relief. “My least favorite part of the whole tour,” she confided. “I’m not sure where I stand on the animal-rights issue.”

“It’s tough,” Sean admitted. “But we definitely need them. For some reason mice and rats don’t bother me as much as dogs or monkeys.”

“I’m supposed to show you the hospital too,” Claire said. “Are you game?”

“Why not?” Sean said. He was enjoying Claire.

They took the elevator back to the second floor and crossed to the clinic by way of the pedestrian bridge. The towers were some fifty feet apart.

The second floor of the hospital housed the diagnostic and treatment areas as well as the ICU and the surgical suites. The chemistry lab and radiology were also there along with medical records. Claire took Sean in to meet her mother, who was one of the medical librarians.

“If I can be of any assistance,” Mrs. Barington said, “just give me a call.”

Sean thanked her and moved to leave, but Mrs. Barington insisted she show him around the department. Sean tried to be interested as he was shown the Center’s computer capabilities, the laser printers, the hoist they used to bring charts up from the basement storage vault, and the view they had over the sleepy Miami River.

When Claire and Sean got back to the corridor, she apologized.

“She’s never done that,” she added. “She must have liked you.”

“That’s just my luck,” Sean said. “The older set and the prepubescent are taken by me. It’s the women in between I have trouble with.”

“I’m sure you expect me to believe that,” Claire said sarcastically.

Sean was next treated to a rapid walk through the modern eighty-bed hospital. It was clean, well designed, and apparently well staffed. With its tropical colors and fresh flowers, it was even cheerful despite the gravity of many of the patients’ illnesses. On this leg of the tour, Sean learned that the Forbes Cancer Center had teamed up with the NIH to treat advanced melanoma. With the powerful sunshine, there was a lot of melanoma in Florida.