Robin Cook - Vector

Parking in Little Italy was always problematic, except for Warren With his bottomless ash can, they took the spot in front of the hydrant closest to the restaurant. Spit was content to double-park because he wasn’t coming inside. As Warren described it, he was just going to “hang out.”

Jack was charmed the moment they entered. Not only was he attracted to the rich, herbed aroma of the spicy food, but he loved the kitschy decor with its black velvet paintings of Venice, the fake trellis with plastic vines and grapes, and the stereotypical red-and-white checkered tablecloths. He even liked the banal Chianti bottle with a candle stuck in the top that crowned each table.

“I hope we have a reservation,” Warren said as he surveyed the crowded room. There were about thirty tables jammed into the space. All appeared occupied.

“Lou was supposed to call,” Laurie said. She tried to get the attention of one of the harried waiters. She wanted to ask for Maria, the hostess. But Maria found her instead.

After having been enveloped by Maria in a bear hug, Laurie introduced Jack and Warren. Maria enthusiastically hugged them both.

“It’s too bad Lou couldn’t come,” Maria said. “He works too much. The crooks don’t deserve him.”

To Jack and Warren’s surprise an empty table seemed to appear miraculously. A few minutes later they were seated.

“Do you like the place?” Laurie asked Jack and Warren.

Both men nodded.

Laurie rubbed her hands eagerly. “Let’s get some wine. I think I need it.”

The dinner was a great success. The food was wonderful and the conversation captivating. Among other topics the three friends reminisced about their African trip two years previously. They even shared some of the stories with Maria, who joined them for a quarter of an hour.

By the time they were ready for dessert and coffee, Laurie asked Warren if he would mind if she and Jack talked shop for a few moments and discussed a case.

“Not at all,” Warren said.

“It’s one of Jack’s who died of botulinum poisoning.”

“It wasn’t really my case,” Jack interjected. “That’s an important distinction. Besides, Warren is already intimately aware of it.”

Laurie hit herself on the forehead with the heel of her hand. “Of course!” she exclaimed. “How could I forget?”

“She’s talking about Connie Davydov,” Jack said.

Warren nodded. “I guessed as much. Flash told me he was disappointed you think it was accidental.”

“So you already knew about the botulism?” Laurie asked Warren.

Warren nodded.

Laurie let out an embarrassed laugh. “I guess I was the last to know.”

“I called Warren this morning right after I found out about it,” Jack explained. “I needed Flash’s work number so I could call him.”

“Whatever,” Laurie said. “So what’s the follow-up?”

“Not a whole heck of a lot,” Jack said. “I’m afraid the case has gotten mired in bureaucratic red tape. By the time I called Sanders with the news about the botulism, the body had been cremated. That means there will be no autopsy, a fact that’s going to be very embarrassing for the Brooklyn office to explain unless the information is not released. Anyway, it’s going to be up to Bingham what to do.”

“So that means the Department of Health has yet to be notified,” Lou said.

“I imagine that’s true,” Jack said.

“Well, that’s terrible,” Laurie said.

“Why is it so terrible?” Warren questioned. “Connie’s already dead.”

“But no one knows where the botulinum toxin came from,” Laurie explained. “The real reason we medical examiners do what we do is to save lives. This situation with the botulism is a good example. There could be a source out there that’s going to kill other people.”

“Okay,” Warren said. “I see what you mean.”

“There’s another part of this that neither one of you knows,” Jack said. “In the same neighborhood where Connie lived there’s been a major die-off of sewer rats.”

“No kidding,” Laurie said. “Are you implying they died of botulism, too?”

“Exactly,” Jack said. “The cause was just confirmed a few hours ago.”

“That means the source of the toxin that killed Connie went down the drain,” Laurie said.

“Or somehow the rats infected Connie,” Jack said. “Connie lived in an old, ramshackle cottage in a curious, anachronistic warren of others. You guys should see this little community. I have no idea of the adequacy of the plumbing, but judging from the exteriors and the haphazard way the cottages have been remodeled, I can’t believe that the plumbing could be state-of-the-art.”

Laurie shook her head. “I doubt that the plumbing had anything to do with this. It had to be the other way around. The toxin came from Connie’s house. And it must have been a substantial amount of it to kill all those rats. I wonder if Connie did any home canning.” Laurie looked to Warren.

Warren raised his hands. “Don’t look at me. I never met the woman.”

“Well,” Laurie commented, “all this emphasizes that someone knowledgeable about epidemiology had better look around Connie’s place for a source. At a minimum, her husband should be warned. If the source is still around, he’s certainly at risk.”

“I thought the same thing,” Jack said. “In fact, I went out there today around noon to do just that.”

“You talked to Yuri Davydov?” Warren questioned. “Does Flash know?”

“I didn’t see the man,” Jack said. “He wasn’t home. I met a neighbor who said Yuri was out driving his taxi and wouldn’t be home until nine or ten.”

Laurie glanced at her watch. “That means he’d be home now.”

“That’s true,” Jack said. “What are you suggesting?”

“Do you know the phone number?” Laurie asked.

“Yes, but it’s no use,” Jack said. “Mr. Davydov apparently has his phone off the hook.”

“When was the last time you tried?”

“This morning,” Jack admitted.

“I think it might be worth trying again,” Laurie said. She picked up her purse and got out her cellular phone. “What’s the number?”

“I don’t have it here,” Jack said. “It’s in the office.”

“I’ll try information,” Laurie said. “How do you spell Davydov?”

Laurie had no trouble getting the number. She checked with Jack concerning the address to be absolutely sure it was correct. When she dialed the number, she got a busy signal.

“So now you believe me?” Jack asked.

“I believed you before,” Laurie said. “I just thought it reasonable to give it a try. So we can’t call. That means we should run out there.”

“Now?” Jack questioned.

“If we wait and the man dies, how would you feel then?” Laurie questioned.

“Guilty, I suppose,” Jack said. “Okay, I’ll go, but it’s going to take some time. It’s way out on the other side of Brooklyn.”

“It shouldn’t take that long now,” Laurie said. “We can take the Brooklyn Battery Tunnel and the Shore Parkway. With no traffic, we’ll be there before we know it.”

“I’m not going,” Warren said. “Flash told me the guy’s a turd. I’ll leave this up to you professionals. Spit and I will call it a night.”

“That’s fine,” Laurie said. “We can take a cab.”

“No need,” Warren said. “You two take my wheels. I’ll go home with Spit. Doc, you know where to park it.”

“Are you sure?” Laurie asked.

“Of course I’m sure,” Warren said. “You guys enjoy yourselves. And when you come back to the neighborhood, don’t be concerned. There’s going to be someone out there all night keeping an eye on things.”