Robin Cook: Terminal

The policeman raised the tape without saying a word. He merely gestured for Sean to enter. Then he went back to his nails.

Sean kept clear of Deborah Levy and Robert Harris, who he spotted near one of the squad cars. Fortunately they weren’t looking in his direction. He also steered away from one of the men he’d locked in the closet in Key West, the same man who’d been waiting on the Sushita jet in Naples, whom he saw near the card table.

Sean went directly to his brother, coming up behind him. He caught bits and pieces of the argument which dealt with the issue of storming the building. It was obvious they held contrary views.

Sean tapped Brian on the shoulder, but Brian shrugged the intrusion off with a disinterested shrug. He was busy making a point by pounding a fist into an open palm. He continued his emotional monologue until Sean drifted around into the corner of his vision. Brian stopped in midsentence, his mouth agape.

George Loring followed the line of Brian’s gaze, sized Sean up as a homeless person, then looked back at Brian. “You know this guy?” he asked.

“We’re brothers,” Sean said as he nudged the shocked Brian aside.

“What the hell...?” Brian exclaimed.

“Don’t make a scene!” Sean warned, pulling his brother further away. “If you’re still mad about me tagging you, I’m sorry. I didn’t want to hit you, but you left me with little choice. It was an inconvenient moment for you to pop up.”

Brian threw a quick but concerned glance toward the command post a mere forty feet away. Redirecting his attention to Sean, he said: “What are you doing here?”

“I want you to take this cooler,” Sean said, handing it over. “Plus these chart copies. But it’s the cooler that’s most important.”

Brian adjusted his posture to deal with the weight of the charts. “How on earth did you get out of there? They assured me the place had been sealed off: that no one could go in or out.”

“I’ll tell you in a few minutes,” Sean said. “But first about this cooler: it’s got a brain in it. Not a very pretty brain, but an important one.”

“Is this the brain you stole?” Brian asked. “If it is, it’s stolen property.”

“Hold your legal blarney,” Sean said.

“Whose brain is it?”

“A patient’s,” Sean said. “And we’ll need it to indict a number of people here at Forbes Cancer Center.”

“You mean it’s evidence?” Brian asked.

“It’s going to blow a lot of people’s minds,” Sean promised.

“But there’s no appropriate chain of custody,” Brian complained.

“The DNA will solve that,” Sean said. “Just don’t let anybody have it. And the chart copies are important too.”

“But they’re no good as evidence,” Brian said. “They’re not authenticated copies.”

“For crissake, Brian!” Sean snapped. “I know it was thoughtless of me not to have had the foresight to have a notary with me when I copied them, but we can use them for the grand jury. Besides, the copies will show us what we need to subpoena, and we can use them to be sure they don’t change any of the originals.” Sean lowered his voice. “Now, what do we do to end this carnival with no loss of life, particularly mine? These idle SWAT team guys give me the willies.”

Brian glanced around again. “I don’t know,” he said. “Let me think. You’re always throwing me off balance. Being your brother is a full-time job for several lawyers. I wish I could trade you in for a nice sister.”

“That’s not how you felt when we sold the stock in Immunotherapy,” Sean reminded him.

“I suppose we could just walk away from here,” Brian said.

“Whatever is best,” Sean said agreeably.

“But then they could charge me as an accessory after the fact,” Brian mused.

“Whatever you say,” Sean said. “But I should tell you that Janet is upstairs.”

“Is she that rich girl you’ve been dating in Boston?” Brian asked.

“That’s the one,” Sean said. “She surprised me and showed up down here the same day I arrived.”

“Maybe it’s best if you just give yourself up right here,” Brian reasoned. “It will probably sit well with the judge. The more I think about it, the more I like it. Come on, I’ll introduce you to Lieutenant Hector Salazar. He’s running the show, and he seems like a decent guy.”

“Fine by me,” Sean said. “Let’s do it before one of these black-suited SWAT team members doing calisthenics pulls a groin muscle and I get sued for loss of consortium.”

“You’d better have one hell of an explanation for all of this,” Brian warned.

“It’ll blow your socks off,” Sean said. “Guaranteed.”

“Let me do the talking,” Brian said. They started toward the card table.

“I wouldn’t think of interfering,” Sean said. “It’s the one thing you do well.”

As they approached the card table Sean eyed Sterling Rombauer and Robert Harris, who were arguing off to the side. Sean tried to turn away from them and walk sideways lest they recognize him and cause some kind of panic. But he needn’t have been concerned. They were too engrossed in their conversation to notice him.

Coming up behind Hector Salazar’s bulk, Brian cleared his throat to get the policeman’s attention, but to no avail. Hector had taken over where Brian had left off with George Loring. George was eager to get the nod for action. Hector was advocating patience.

“Lieutenant!” Brian called.

“Goddamn it,” Hector bellowed. “Anderson, did you call complaints about that TV chopper? Here it comes again.”

All conversation had to halt as the Channel 4 helicopter flew low overhead and banked around the parking area. Hector flipped the cameraman a finger which he’d later regret when he had to watch it replay again and again on TV.

Once the helicopter disappeared, Brian got Hector’s attention.

“Lieutenant,” Brian said buoyantly. “I’d like you to meet my brother Sean Murphy.”

“Another brother!” Hector said, not making the proper connection. “What is this, a family reunion?” Then to Sean he said: “Do you think you might have some influence on that nutty brother of yours up in the lab? We have to get him to start talking to our negotiating team.”

“This is Sean!” Brian said. “He’s the one who was up there. But he’s out now, and he wants to apologize for all this trouble.”

Hector looked back and forth between the two brothers as his mind tried to make sense of this sudden, mind-boggling turn of events.

Sean stuck his hand out. Hector took it automatically, still too stunned to speak. The two men shook hands as if they’d just been introduced at a cocktail party.

“Hi!” Sean said, giving Hector one of his best smiles. “I want to personally thank you for all your effort. It really saved the day.”

Sean preceded Brian through the swinging doors of the Dade County Courthouse and let the sun and cool fresh air wash over him while he waited for Brian to emerge. Sean had been in the lockup overnight after having been arrested and booked the previous evening.

“That was worse than medical school,” Sean said, referring to the night in jail, as he and Brian descended the broad, sun-drenched steps.

“You’re eyeball to eyeball with a long prison sentence if this case doesn’t go perfectly smoothly,” Brian said.

Sean stopped. “You’re not serious, are you?” he asked with alarm. “Not after what I’ve told you these Forbes people have been up to.”

“It’s now in the hands of the judicial system,” Brian said with a shrug. “Once it goes to a jury, it’s a crap shoot. And you heard that judge in there at your arraignment. He was none too happy with you despite your giving yourself up and despite the nitroglycerin’s not being nitroglycerin. As long as your captives thought it was nitroglycerin, it makes no difference what it was. You’d better thank me that I took the time and trouble to get your juvenile record sealed. If I hadn’t you probably wouldn’t have gotten out on bail.”