Robin Cook - Host

“That would be terrific,” Lynn said.

“What plans would you like besides the floor plans?”

Quickly Lynn took another quick glance at the electrical, plumbing, and HVAC plans. She pulled the HVAC ones free of the others. “Maybe these,” she said. All at once a contingency plan sprang into her mind. She didn’t know if she was going to be able to get into the Shapiro, or exactly what she would find, but she was enough of a realist to know the risks, and the idea of having some sort of backup appealed to her.

“I’ll be right back,” George said with another wink.

This time Lynn didn’t mind.

Wednesday, April 8, 12:00 P.M.

The door to the Clinical Engineering Department opened, and Misha Zotov looked up. He always insisted on occupying the workbench closest to the entrance. It gave him an opportunity to monitor who and what came in and out. Although Fyodor Rozovsky was nominally the department head, Misha was responsible for its day-to-day operations, making sure all the computer-driven hospital equipment was running smoothly. Misha knew that Fyodor’s attention was often elsewhere, since he also was the behind-the-scenes coordinator of hospital security.

Misha put down his soldering iron when he saw who had entered. It was Darko Lebedev, who appeared mildly indisposed, with red-rimmed eyes. He was dressed as usual in a hospital security uniform, as he had been advised to wear on the rare occasions he came calling. Misha made a point of staring at his watch for a beat before speaking in Russian: “Where the hell have you been? I’ve been trying to contact you all fucking morning.”

Darko lowered himself onto a workbench stool next to Misha, wincing, as if he had a headache or a sore back. Like Misha, he spoke in Russian. “It was a late night and a lot of vodka at the Vendue. Leonid and I met up with those Russian babes you people brought over to keep tabs on the two male anesthesiologists. They have been complaining about their charges, claiming they are boring boneheads. Leonid and I felt it was our patriotic duty to show them a proper good time, and a good time it was.”

“According to Sergei Polushin you and Leonid are supposed to be available twenty-four/seven. It is not that we have been overworking you two.”

“I’m here now,” Darko said sardonically. Confident of his reputation and of the demand for his services, he was not about to be intimidated by the likes of Misha. Darko considered the guy a mere apparatchik programmer who sucked up to Fyodor.

“How did it go last night?” Misha demanded. “Needless to say, we need to know.”

“Taking out the anesthesiologist went like a dream. No problems whatsoever.”

“I know about the anesthesiogist,” Misha snapped. “I’m referring to the damn medical students. I talked with Timur Kortnev, and he filled me in about their strange activities last night and that she ended up in Vandermeer’s house. I need to know if you think what you did was adequate so I can tell Fyodor, who wants to brief the hospital CEO.”

“I suppose I’d have to say it went reasonably,” Darko said.

“ Reasonably doesn’t sound adequate, my friend, especially coming from you. Did she get the message?”

“I warned her. I even slapped her around a bit, but I never got to scare her as much as I planned.”

“Why the hell not?”

“Her friend showed up in the middle of things and got the jump on me. To make matters worse, she got ahold of the gun, and I had to get the hell out of there before I had the chance to do her.”

Misha stared at Darko with his mouth agape.

“I didn’t have any choice. If I had stayed, I would have had to kill at least one of them, if not both. I left for the good of the program.”

“Maybe it would have been better if you had killed them.”

“I wasn’t going to do that unless I knew that was what Sergei or Fyodor would have wanted. Anyway, we know she got the message.”

“How do we know?”

“Because they didn’t call the police. I told her we’d do her sisters and mother if she did, and obviously she didn’t. We would have heard.”

“Do you have any idea why she was at Vandermeer’s house?”

“She and Vandermeer were lovers.”

“Shit!” Misha snapped. “Security should have found that out before we chose him as a test subject. Getting one of our goddamned medical students involved is a fucking big-ass mistake. Now she and her friend may have to be eliminated like Wykoff to clean this up.”

“No problem, if that’s what you and Fyodor want.”

“The trouble is that eliminating a couple of socially connected medical students will ignite a hell of an investigation, something we don’t want or need.”

“That’s why I didn’t kill them last night,” Darko said.

“I’ll talk it over with Fyodor,” Misha said irritably. “But for now we will just need to keep a close eye on them. I’ll leave it up to you and Timur. She will not recognize you, will she?”

“What do you think I am, a fucking amateur?”

Wednesday, April 8, 12:38 P.M.

There’s a bunch of free tables back against the far wall,” Michael said, nodding his head in the general direction. He and Lynn had just met up in the cafeteria after she had texted him to meet there. She had just come from parking Carl’s Cherokee in the garage. He had come from the ophthalmology clinic. Once again he could tell she was juiced about something.

“I see it,” Lynn said. “Let’s take it! We’ll have some privacy.” She was carrying a large manila folder under her arm while holding on to her cafeteria tray with both hands. The cafeteria was in full swing with the usual lunchtime crowd. Just getting through the cafeteria line had taken almost a quarter of an hour. Surrounded by people, some of whom they knew, they hadn’t talked about anything serious. Lynn had had to bite her tongue to keep from telling him what she had done.

Just as Michael and Lynn were sitting down, Ronald Metzner appeared out of nowhere, having spied them from the checkout. “Hey, guys,” he said, sliding his tray onto the table. It was a four-top. “You are both in luck. Wait until you hear the joke of the day. Did you ever hear the one about...?”

“Ronald,” Lynn said, interrupting. “I know this is going to come as a surprise to you, but maybe later for the joke. Michael and I have something private to discuss. Would you mind?”

“It’s a quickie,” Ronald said, almost pleading. “It’s really funny.”

“Please,” Lynn persisted.

“Okay, okay,” Ronald said. He hoisted his tray back up and scanned the room for a more receptive audience. “Catch you later,” he added, and walked off.

“I hated doing that,” Lynn confessed, watching Ronald head to the sitting area outside. “There is something forlorn about Ron.”

“I know what you’re saying,” Michael offered.

“Anyway, I want to show you what I got.” Lynn slipped the copies of the building plans out of the folder. They had been reduced to standard paper size, eight and a half by eleven inches. “I went down to the Charleston Building Commission to see if I could find plans of the Shapiro. I hit pay dirt.”

Michael took the sheaf of printouts, which was stapled in the upper left-hand corner. He glanced at the first page. “My God, you need a damn magnifying glass.”

“It’s small but legible,” Lynn said. “You have to hold it close. They couldn’t copy them without reducing them.”

Michael did as Lynn suggested. “Okay, what am I looking at?”

“The first six pages are the floor plans of the Shapiro. From the outside the building looks like it’s a bit more than two stories tall, but actually it is six, with four floors under grade. The floor you went in on and the one connected to the hospital is actually the fifth floor.”