Robin Cook - Terminal

March 6

Saturday, 4:45 A.M.

As soon as Sean’s eyes fluttered open, he was instantly awake. He couldn’t wait to get to the lab to unravel more of the medulloblastoma mystery cure. The little work that he’d been able to do the night before had merely whetted his appetite. Despite the early hour, he slipped out of bed, showered, and dressed.

When Sean was ready to leave for the lab he tiptoed back into the dark bedroom and gently nudged Janet. He knew she’d want to sleep until the last possible moment but there was something he wanted to tell her.

Janet rolled over and groaned: “Is it time to get up already?”

“No,” Sean whispered. “I’m off to the lab. You can go back to sleep for a few minutes. But I wanted to remind you to pack some things for our overnight trip to Naples. I want to leave this afternoon when you get off work.”

“Why do I have the feeling you have some ulterior motive in this?” Janet asked, rubbing her eyes. “What’s with Naples?”

“I’ll tell you on our way there,” Sean said. “If we leave from the Forbes we’ll beat the traffic out of Miami. Don’t pack a lot of stuff. All you’ll need is something for dinner tonight, a bathing suit, and jeans. One other thing,” Sean added, leaning over her.

Janet looked into his eyes.

“I want you to get some of Louis Martin’s medicine this morning,” he said.

Janet sat up. “Great!” she exclaimed sarcastically. “How do you expect me to do that? I told you how hard it was to get Helen’s samples.”

“Calm down,” Sean said. “Just give it a try. It could be important. You said that you thought the medicine all came from a single batch. I want to prove it’s impossible. I don’t need a lot, and just some from the larger vial. Even a few cc’s will do.”

“They control the medicine more carefully than a narcotic,” Janet complained.

“What about diluting it with saline?” Sean suggested. “You know, the old trick of putting water in your parents’ liquor bottles. They’re not going to know the concentration changed.”

Janet thought about the suggestion. “You think it could hurt the patient?”

“I can’t see how,” Sean said. “More than likely it’s designed with a wide safety margin.”

“All right, I’ll try,” Janet said with reluctance. She hated being deceptive and devious with Marjorie.

“That’s all I can ask,” Sean said. He kissed her on the forehead.

“Now I can’t get back to sleep,” she complained as Sean headed for the door.

“We’ll be sure to get lots of sleep over the weekend,” he promised.

As Sean made his way out to his 4 x 4 there was only a slight hint of dawn in the eastern sky. To the west the stars twinkled as if it were still the middle of the night.

Pulling away from the curb, he was already preoccupied with the work ahead in the lab and oblivious to his surroundings. Once again he failed to notice the dark green Mercedes as it too pulled out into the light traffic several cars behind.

Inside the Mercedes Wayne Edwards was dialing his car phone, calling Sterling Rombauer at the Grand Bay Hotel in Coconut Grove.

A sleepy Sterling picked up on the third ring.

“He’s left the lair and is heading west,” Wayne said. “Presumably to Forbes.”

“Okay,” Sterling said. “Stay with him. I’ll join you. I was just informed a half an hour ago that the Sushita jet is winging south at this very moment.”

“Sounds like game time,” Wayne said.

“That’s my assumption,” Sterling said.

Anne Murphy was depressed again. Charles had come home, but he’d only stayed one night. And now that he was gone, the apartment seemed so lonely. He was such a pleasure to be with, so calm and so close to God. She was still in bed, wondering if she should get up, when the front door buzzer sounded.

Anne reached for her plaid robe and headed for the kitchen. She wasn’t expecting anyone, but then she hadn’t been expecting the two callers inquiring about Sean, either. She remembered her promise not to talk to any strangers about Sean or Oncogen.

“Who is it?” Anne asked, pressing the talk button of her intercom.

“Boston police,” a voice replied.

A shiver went down Anne’s spine as she buzzed the door open. She was sure this visit meant Sean had reverted to his old ways. After quickly brushing out her hair, she went to the door. A man and a woman were standing there, dressed in Boston police uniforms. Anne had never seen either of them before.

“Sorry to bother you, ma’am,” the female officer said. She held up her identification. “I’m Officer Hallihan and this is Officer Mercer.”

Anne was clutching the lapels of her robe, holding it closed. The police had come to the door a number of times when Sean had been a teenager. This visit brought back bad memories.

“What’s the problem?” Anne asked.

“Are you Anne Murphy, mother of Sean Murphy?” Officer Hallihan asked.

Anne nodded.

“We’re here at the request of the Miami police,” Officer Mercer said. “Do you know where your son Sean Murphy is currently?”

“He’s at the Forbes Cancer Center in Miami,” Anne said. “What’s happened?”

“We don’t know that,” Officer Hallihan said.

“Is he in trouble?” Anne asked, afraid to hear the answer.

“We really have no information,” Officer Hallihan said. “Do you have an address for him there?”

Anne went to the telephone table in the hall, copied down the address of the Forbes residence, and gave it to the police.

“Thank you, ma’am,” Hallihan said. “We appreciate your cooperation.”

Anne closed the door and leaned against it. In her heart, she knew that what she’d feared had happened: Miami had been the bad influence she’d suspected; Sean was in trouble again.

As soon as she thought she was composed enough, Anne called Brian at home.

“Sean’s in trouble again,” she blurted when Brian answered. Tears came as soon as she got the words out.

“Mom, try to control yourself,” Brian said.

“You have to do something,” Anne said between sobs.

Brian got his mother to calm down enough to tell him what had happened and what the police had said.

“It’s probably some traffic violation,” Brian said. “He probably drove over someone’s lawn, something like that.”

“I think it’s worse,” Anne sniffled. “I know it is. I can feel it. That boy will be the death of me.”

“How about if I come over?” Brian said. “I’ll make some calls in the meantime and check it out. I bet it’s something minor.”

“I hope so,” Anne said as she blew her nose.

While Anne waited for Brian to drive over from Marlborough Street, she dressed and began putting her hair up. Brian lived across the Charles River in Back Bay, and since it was Saturday with no traffic, he was there in half an hour. When he buzzed to let her know he was on his way up, Anne was putting in the last of her hairpins.

“Before I left my apartment I put in a call to a lawyer colleague in Miami by the name of Kevin Porter,” Brian told his mother. “He works for a firm we do business with in the Miami area. I told him what had happened, and he said he had an in with the police and could find out what’s going on.”

“I know it’s bad,” Anne said.

“You don’t know it’s bad!” Brian said. “Now don’t get yourself all worked up. Remember last time you ended up in the hospital.”

The call from Kevin Porter came within minutes of Brian’s arrival.

“I’m afraid I don’t have great news for you,” Kevin said. “A liquor store owner got your brother’s tag leaving the scene of a burglary.”