Robin Cook - Terminal

“We’re not open yet,” she said with the hint of a French accent.

“How about a couple of those croissants?” Sean suggested.

The woman cocked her head while she gave the idea some thought. “I suppose,” she said. “I could offer you some café au lait that I’ve made for myself. The espresso machine hasn’t been turned on yet.”

Sitting under one of the umbrellas on the deserted terrace, Sean and Janet savored the oven-fresh pastries. The coffee revived them.

“Now that we’re here,” Janet said, “what’s the plan?”

Sean stroked his heavily whiskered chin. “I’ll see if they have a phone book,” he said. “That will give me the address of the lab.”

“While you do that, I think I’ll use the ladies’ room,” Janet said. “I feel like something the cat dragged in.”

“A cat would be afraid to go near you,” Sean said. He ducked when Janet threw her crumpled napkin at him.

By the time Janet returned, looking much fresher, Sean had not only gotten the address, he’d gotten directions from the red-haired woman.

“It’s kinda far,” he said. “We’ll need a ride.”

“And of course that will be easy,” Janet said. “We can either hitchhike or just take one of the many cabs streaming by.” They hadn’t seen a single car since they’d arrived.

“I was thinking about something else,” Sean said as he left a generous tip for their hostess. He stood up.

Janet looked at him questioningly for a moment before realizing what he had in mind. “Oh, no!” she said. “We’re not stealing another car.”

“Borrow,” Sean corrected her. “I’d forgotten how easy it is.”

Janet refused to have anything to do with “borrowing” a car, but Sean proceeded undeterred.

“I don’t want to break anything,” he said, going from car to car on a side street, trying all the doors. Every one was locked. “Must be a lot of suspicious people around here.” Then he stopped, staring across the street. “I just changed my mind. I don’t want a car.”

Crossing over to a large motorcycle teetering on its kickstand, Sean got the engine going almost as quickly as he would have if he’d had the ignition key. Straddling the bike and kicking back the kickstand, he motioned for Janet to join him.

Janet studied Sean with his unshaven face and rumpled clothes as he revved the motorcycle’s engine. How could she have fallen in love with a guy like this? she asked herself. Reluctantly, she threw a leg over the machine and threw her arms around Sean’s waist. Sean hit the gas and they sped off, shattering the early morning silence.

They traveled back down Duval Street in the direction from which they’d come, then turned north at the Conch Train kiosk and followed the shoreline. Eventually they came to an old wharf. Basic Diagnostics occupied a two-story brick warehouse that had been nicely refurbished. Sean drove around to the back of the building and parked the bike behind a shed. Once the motorcycle engine was off the only sound they could hear was the cry of distant sea gulls. Not a soul was around.

“I think we’re out of luck,” Janet said. “It doesn’t look open.”

“Let’s check it out,” Sean said.

They mounted some back stairs and peered in the rear door. There were no lights on inside. A platform ran along the north side of the building. They tried the doors along the platform, including a large overhead door, but everything was locked tight. In the front of the building there was a sign on the double-door entry that announced that the lab was open from twelve noon to five P.M. on Sundays and holidays. There was a small metal drop door for leaving samples during off hours.

“Guess we’ll have to come back,” Janet said.

Sean didn’t respond. He cupped his hands and peered through the front windows. Rounding the corner, he did the same at another window. Janet followed him as he went from window to window working his way back the way they’d come.

“I hope you’re not getting any ideas,” Janet said. “Let’s find someplace where we can sleep for a few hours. Then we can return after noon.”

Sean didn’t answer. Instead he stepped away from the last window he’d been peering through. Without warning he gave the glass a sudden karate-like chop with the side of his hand. The window imploded, shattering on the floor within. Janet leapt back, then quickly looked over her shoulder to see if there were any witnesses. Then, looking back at Sean, she said: “Let’s not do this. The police are already looking for us from the episode in Miami.”

Sean was busy removing a few of the larger shards. “No shatter alarm,” he said.

He quickly climbed through the window, then turned around to inspect it carefully. “No alarm at all,” he said. Unlocking the sash, he pulled it up. Then he extended a hand toward Janet.

Janet held back. “I don’t want to be part of this,” she said.

“Come on,” he insisted. “I wouldn’t be breaking in here unless I thought it was mighty important. Something bizarre is going on, and there might be some answers here. Trust me.”

“What if someone comes?” Janet asked. She gave another nervous glance over her shoulder.

“No one is going to come,” Sean said. “It’s seven-thirty Sunday morning. Besides, I’m only going to look around. We’ll be out of here in fifteen minutes, I promise. And if it makes you feel any better, we’ll leave a ten-dollar bill for the window.”

After everything they’d been through, Janet figured there wasn’t much point in resisting now. She let Sean help her through the window.

They were standing in a men’s lavatory. There was the scented smell of disinfectant coming from an oval pink cake in the base of the urinal attached to the wall.

“Fifteen minutes!” Janet said as they cautiously opened the door.

Outside the men’s room was a hall running the length of the building. A cursory check of the floor revealed a large laboratory across from the men’s room that also ran the length of the building. On the same side as the men’s room were a ladies’ room, a storeroom, an office, and a stairwell.

Sean opened each door and peered inside. Janet looked over his shoulder. Entering the laboratory proper he walked down the central aisle, glancing from side to side. The floor was a gray vinyl, the cabinets a lighter gray plastic laminant, and the countertops stark white.

“Looks like a normal, garden-variety clinical lab,” he said. “All the usual equipment.” He paused in the microbiological section and looked into an incubator filled with petri dishes.

“Are you surprised?” Janet asked.

“No, but I expected more,” Sean said. “I don’t see a pathology section where they’d process biopsies. I was told the biopsies are sent here.”

Returning down the main hall, Sean went to the stairwell. He mounted the steps. At the top was a stout metal door. It was locked.

“Uh oh,” Sean said. “This might take more than fifteen minutes.”

“You promised,” Janet said.

“So I lied,” Sean said as he inspected the lock. “If I can find some appropriate tools it might be sixteen minutes.”

“It’s been fourteen already,” Janet said.

“Come on,” Sean said. “Let’s see if we can find something to act as a tension bar and some heavy wire to use as picks.” He retreated down the stairs. Janet followed.

Sterling’s chartered Sea King touched down with a squeal of rubber at seven-forty-five in the morning at the Key West airport and taxied over to general aviation. At the commercial terminal right next door an American Eagle commuter plane was in the final boarding process.

By the time Sterling had gotten a call back from the charter company it had been close to five A.M. After some persuasion which included a promise of extra money, the plane was supposed to have departed around six, but because of refueling problems it wasn’t ready to leave until six-forty-five.