Robin Cook - Vector

Yuri backed out of the room. He saw Connie absently take her first spoonful and swallow before he pulled the door partway closed. Retreating back to the sitting area he found that by positioning himself at the very end of the sofa, he could see into Connie’s room. It was only a narrow swath, but it included the foot of the bed and the tips of her toes.

Time dragged incredibly slowly for Yuri. He couldn’t be sure that Connie was eating the ice cream, although he would have been shocked if she didn’t once she’d started. The movie seemed to go on forever despite the numerous times the soundtrack seemed to come to a concluding crescendo. He was hoping that Connie would get up and go into the bathroom, giving him time to get the phone off her bedside table.

Finally, forty-five minutes later, Connie obliged him when the movie concluded.

Yuri moved quickly. He pushed open the door. The ice-cream container was on the floor next to the bed with the spoon sticking out the top. Unfortunately, the door to the bathroom was not completely closed. A commercial was playing on the television. It was the only source of light in the room.

With his pulse racing, Yuri stepped over to the bedside table. From that angle he could see a portion of the bathroom but no Connie. He picked up the phone and pulled the connecting wire taut to lead him to the wall plug. The trail led behind the table laden with dirty dishes and glasses.

As Yuri slipped his hand down the wire, he nudged the table. Several of the glasses toppled off and shattered on the floor. The noise was louder than the high-volume commercial on the TV.

Guessing that Connie would appear in an instant, Yuri yanked on the wire, tearing it out of the wall. The motion sent another glass smashing to the ground. Yuri bent down to retrieve the empty ice-cream container. As he feared, the bathroom door swung fully open, and Connie’s form filled the doorway. She was brushing her teeth.

“What was that crash?” she demanded, cupping her mouth for fear of drooling her toothpaste. The toothbrush was clenched in her large fist.

“I don’t know,” Yuri said, hoping for the best. “Maybe it was something on the television.” He was holding the phone behind his back with his left hand. His right hand had the ice cream container. He raised it to show her and said, “I just came in to get this.”

Connie was as bewildered at Yuri’s behavior as she’d been earlier. But she didn’t say anything. She stuck her toothbrush back into her mouth, recommenced brushing, and returned to the bathroom.

Relieved, Yuri stepped out of the room and hurried into the kitchen. The first thing he did was hide the phone under the sink. Then he washed out the ice-cream container before throwing it away. He did the same with the spoon, the bowl he’d used earlier, and the fork.

With a trembling hand, Yuri got out a highball glass and poured himself another healthy dollop of iced vodka. He was in dire need of its calming effect. In truth, he was disappointed to realize how nervous he was.

Retreating to the couch, Yuri sat down to wait. Unfortunately, he had no idea how long he would have to sit there. He wondered what would happen if Connie were to fall asleep before any symptoms appeared. He worried that maybe she’d just never wake up.

Yuri looked at his watch. The other thing that was bothering him was that it was two o’clock in the morning and there was still no pest control truck. Curt had promised. Yuri wondered what it meant for the future of Operation Wolverine.

Despite his anxieties, Yuri fell asleep again. When he awoke a half hour later, he knew immediately what had disturbed him. Connie was calling his name repeatedly but in a peculiar manner. She couldn’t seem to pronounce the letter “R.” She sounded drunk.

Yuri stood up and swayed. He had to lean on the arm of the couch to steady himself before walking toward his wife’s bedroom on rubbery legs. He pushed open the door. Connie was lying on the collapsed bed. But there was something different about the way she was looking at him. Instead of the usual angry defiance, Yuri could tell that she was afraid.

“What’s the matter?” Yuri questioned.

“Something’s wrong,” Connie managed. She was having difficulty articulating her words.

“What now?” Yuri asked. He pretended to be irritated.

“I got stomach cramps,” Connie said. “And I threw up. I don’t think the ice cream agreed with me.”

“If something made you sick it was probably the pizza,” Yuri said. “Personally, anchovies always do a number on my stomach.”

“But it’s not my stomach that concerns me.”

“What is it then?” Yuri questioned impatiently.

“I can’t watch the TV,” Connie said, having particular difficulty pronouncing the letter T. “I’m seeing double. There’re two TV sets.”

“Then turn it off,” Yuri said. “Go to sleep. It’s late.”

“I can’t sleep,” Connie said. “I’m all jazzed up for some reason and it scares me to see double.”

“Try covering your swollen eye,” Yuri suggested.

Connie reached up with her hand.

“What’s it like now?” Yuri asked.

“It’s better,” Connie agreed. “There’s only one TV set.”

“Call me if there are any more problems,” Yuri said. He began to back out the door.

“There is another problem,” Connie said, slurring her words. “I’m thirsty. My throat is as dry as a bone.”

“Well, get yourself some water,” Yuri said. He started to close the door.

“I’m afraid to get up!” Connie called. “When I got up earlier I was dizzy and weak. I almost fell over.”

“With all that fat it’s no wonder,” Yuri said.

“Please, get me some water.”

Yuri wondered if the thirst had anything to do with the toxin. He didn’t know. But he was certain the double vision did, and the difficulty in speaking. What was worrying him was the vomiting. It would be tragically ironic if she threw up most of the poison because he’d used too much. But then again, the nausea could be coming from a bolus of the toxin having been absorbed. Yuri didn’t know too much about botulism except with mice, rats, dogs, and monkeys.

“All right, I’ll get you some water.”

“Maybe I should go to the hospital,” Connie said without pronouncing the “H” at all.

“What? For some stomach cramps? Don’t be ridiculous!”

“I’m scared. I feel strange.”

“I’ll get the water,” Yuri said. He closed the door and walked into the kitchen. The whole affair was more nerve-racking than he’d anticipated. If a doctor saw her now they might make the diagnosis. While he was filling a glass under the faucet at the sink, a sudden, loud knocking reverberated against the front door. The unexpected sound made him jump from a type of fear only someone who’d been forced to live under a despotic, totalitarian government would understand. His own throat went dry. He took a quick sip of water, steadying the glass with both hands.

Trembling, he went over to the venetian blinds to peek out to see who could be there. He’d been so focused on Connie, he’d forgotten about Curt until he saw the man’s familiar features illuminated by the exterior light. Steve was standing behind in the semi-darkness with his hands thrust into his pockets.

At first Yuri was relieved. But as he unlocked the door, he cursed under his breath. This was the wrong time for them to be showing up.

“We got a present for you, partner,” Curt said. He motioned over his shoulder.

Yuri glanced into the alleyway. Behind Curt’s truck was a dark vehicle with “Wouton’s Pest Control” written in block letters on the driver’s side door.

“Does it have a sprayer?” Yuri asked.