Robin Cook - Vector

Paul wagged his finger at Jack’s face the way he had with Laurie. “You’re going to hear from me about this,” he snarled. “Mark my words!”

“I’ll look forward to it,” Jack said.

“Paul, why don’t you just leave?” Laurie said. “Unless you want to be arrested, please go! I’ve called security.”

Paul straightened his tie and tucked his matching pocket square back into his breast pocket. The whole time, he kept his eyes glued to Jack. “You’ve not seen the last of me,” he spat. Then turning to Laurie he said with equivalent venom, “And I’ll talk to you later.” After squaring his shoulders he started down the hallway toward the elevator.

Jack, Laurie, and Chet watched him go.

“What was this all about?” Chet asked.

Neither Jack nor Laurie responded.

“Did you really call security?” Jack asked.

“No,” Laurie said. “I was about to when I heard Chet’s yell. It’s better this way.”

“Thanks for coming when you did, Chet,” Jack said.

“Glad to help,” Chet said. “Anybody want a potato chip?” He held the bag out for Jack and Laurie. Both shook their heads.

“Would you like to talk?” Jack asked Laurie.

Laurie nodded. “I would, actually.”

“Chet, old sport,” Jack said, giving Chet a pat on the back. “Thanks for being the cavalry, and I’ll see you back at the orifice in a few minutes.” “Orifice” was a comical malapropism for “office” that Jack and Chet frequently used when speaking with each other.

“I can sense when three’s a crowd,” Chet said. He set off, happily munching his snack.

Laurie led the way back into her office. She closed the door behind Jack. “I hope you don’t mind me shutting you in here like this.”

“I can think of worse fates,” Jack said.

Laurie enveloped Jack in a sustained hug. Jack hugged her back.

“Thanks for being a friend once again,” she said after a full minute of silence. She released her grip, gave Jack a crooked smile, and then sat down. She got a tissue out of one of her drawers and dabbed at her eyes. She shook her head. “I hate it when I cry,” she said.

“It seems to me to be rather an appropriate response after having to put up with that kind of behavior.”

Laurie shook her head in dismay. “I can’t believe it. I’m flabbergasted. Just three days ago it was sheer bliss.”

“What happened?” Jack asked. He leaned against Laurie’s desk.

“Last night at dinner I tried to have a conversation with him about what you and Lou told me,” Laurie said. “It didn’t work. It immediately became confrontational.”

“That’s not a good sign,” Jack said.

“Don’t I know,” Laurie said. She dabbed at her eyes again. “It made me feel he was hiding something, and that idea was bolstered by his behavior today. I shouldn’t have let him in, but he called up from downstairs saying he wanted to apologize. Some apology!”

“What do you think he’s hiding?” Jack asked.

“I’m not sure,” Laurie admitted. “But I think he might be selling illegal Bulgarian AK-47 assault rifles.”

Jack whistled. “That’s bad news!”

“That’s an understatement,” Laurie said. She shook her head. “I suppose I could deal with his being an arms dealer if I understood it had some legitimate purpose for national defense. I certainly could forgive a past run-in with the law about cocaine possession, provided he wasn’t still using the stuff. But I’d never tolerate his selling illegal assault rifles or guns of any sort to private people, particularly kids. It turns out that skinhead, Brad Cassidy, who I posted on Monday, had also been involved as some sort of middleman with those Bulgarian guns.”

“My word, what a coincidence,” Jack said.

“And you know my feelings about gun control,” Laurie added.

“Indeed,” Jack said. “So what does all this mean for Laurie Montgomery?”

“I don’t know exactly,” Laurie said with a sigh. “I suppose I’ll let things slide with Paul and try to talk to him again in a week or so. Meanwhile, like I said this morning, I’ll dive into my work. It’ll take my mind off my disastrous personal life.”

“I hope he leaves you alone,” Jack said. “He strikes me as a rather persistent sort.”

“I know what you mean,” Laurie said. “Which brings me to the matter of asking you for a favor.”

“Sure, what do you need?”

“I don’t want to be sitting by the phone tonight, or tomorrow night for that matter. I’d like to be with friends. Do you think there’s any chance you and I could go with Chet and Colleen to that Monet show Chet mentioned yesterday?”

“I’d have to check with Chet,” Jack said. “But I’d be happy to go.”

“Wonderful,” Laurie said. “And as for tonight, what do you think about going out for a bite with me and Lou. I think I owe you guys something for my behavior last night, so it will be my treat.”

“You don’t owe anybody anything,” Jack said. “I can’t speak for Lou, but as for me, I’d be delighted to eat with you tonight. It will give me a chance to fill you in on what brought me here to your office a few minutes ago.”

“And what was that?”

“Your suggestion about Connie Davydov was right on the money,” Jack said. “She died of botulinum toxin.”

“No kidding!” Laurie said. Her flushed face lit up with a smile.

“Scout’s honor,” Jack said. “Peter confirmed it this morning.”

“Good grief!” Laurie exclaimed. “So what happened? Did you call Randolph Sanders?”

Jack pushed off from the desk. “I’ll tell you all about it tonight. When and where shall it be for dinner?”

“Would eight be a good time?”

“Sounds fine,” Jack said. “Where?”

“How about Lou’s favorite restaurant in Little Italy?” Laurie said. “I haven’t been there in ages.”

“What’s the name?”

“It doesn’t have a name,” Laurie explained.

“Okay, what’s the address?”

“I can’t remember.”

“Wonderful!” Jack commented sarcastically.

“Pick me up on your way downtown,” Laurie said. “I’ll be able to find it. It’s on a little street off Mulberry. But come in a cab, not on your bike.”

After a halfhearted promise not to bicycle to her apartment that evening, Jack went back to his office. As he walked in, Chet looked up from his microscope.

“So,” Chet said. “What was that all about?”

“It’s all very complicated,” Jack replied plopping himself down in his chair. Between the excitement with Paul and the long bike ride, he was suddenly feeling tired. “But one result is that Laurie has changed her mind about tomorrow night. So if you and Colleen still want some company, we’re available.”

“Great!” Chet said. He reached for his phone. “I’ll give Colleen a call to see if she can get any more tickets.”

“Wait a second,” Jack said. “What about the veterinarian epidemiologists? Were you able to get ahold of any of them?”

“I did,” Chet said. “I talked with a Dr. Clark Simsarian who chaired the seminar. I asked him if they’d come up with a diagnosis for the rats, but they haven’t. They’ve also not come across any more anthrax ulcers.”

“I’ve got a suggestion for them,” Jack said. “Call Dr. Simsarian back and suggest they check for botulinum toxin.”

“Botulinum toxin!” Chet said. “Is that what Connie Davydov died of?”

“Apparently,” Jack said. “At least according to Peter Letterman.”

“And you still think the rats and Connie might be related?” Chet questioned.

“It’s a long shot,” Jack agreed. “But since the vets haven’t come up with anything else, they might as well give it a try. I stopped by a veterinarian’s office out in Brighton Beach today. He said that even some local cats have been dying mysteriously.”