Robin Cook: Host

It was Leanne who answered. After apologizing for the hour, Lynn asked to speak to her husband, explaining that it was important. When Markus came on the line, Lynn didn’t waste time. At the moment, her main concern was Michael.

“Sidereal Pharmaceuticals is not doing unauthorized drug testing on patients,” she said in a rush. “It is much, much worse. They are using the patients to make drugs and causing them illness and even death in the process.”

“Okay, slow down!” Markus said, trying to wrap his sleepy mind around what Lynn had said. “Come again?”

Somewhat slower but with even more conviction and passion, Lynn repeated herself.

“How do you know this?” Markus demanded. Lynn could hear the sudden seriousness in his voice.

“Michael Pender and I broke into the Shapiro Institute tonight,” Lynn said. “You are aware that it is run a bit like Fort Knox.”

“Of course,” Markus said. “It is for the benefit of the patients, keeping them from various diseases.”

“That might be true to an extent. But from what we have found, we think it is more a cover for what they are really doing, and that is putting the patients at risk to produce monoclonal antibody drugs. And it is not just the inmates of the Shapiro. They are doing it with many ambulatory patients hospitalized in Middleton Healthcare hospitals. It is a massive conspiracy between Sidereal and Middleton. We are sure, as sure as we can be. And there’s more. This is the worst part, especially for you and your wife and me personally. Carl’s condition was deliberately caused so that he would be moved into the Shapiro to produce a specific drug. It wasn’t an accident! It was a recruitment.”

For a moment there was silence. Lynn thought that perhaps they had been disconnected. “Markus, are you still there?” she asked.

“I’m here,” Markus said. “I’m trying to process all this. It is overwhelming.”

“I know it is horrendous,” Lynn admitted. “And there have to be a lot of top people involved. Otherwise it couldn’t happen. I think they are making billions.”

“Are you and Michael still in the Shapiro?”

“I’m not. We were discovered in there and chased. I got out through the HVAC system. Michael covered my tracks and is still in there. I have to assume they caught him and are still looking for me. Something has to be done, and done immediately! They could kill him.”

“Okay!” Markus said. “I will immediately call the federal authorities, the FBI specifically. Where are you at the moment? Are you safe?”

“I’m in the women’s surgical lounge in the main hospital.”

“Have you spoken with anyone else?”

“No one. I don’t know whom to trust.”

“Smart! Maybe you should just leave. Get away from there.”

“I still have Carl’s car.”

“Drive it away. Come here!”

“Okay,” Lynn said. “But Michael? What’s going to happen?”

“We will put it in the hands of the federal authorities. Perhaps a state SWAT team can be immediately mustered. For the moment I would prefer to keep the local police out of it, just in case.”

“I agree,” Lynn said.

“All right, get yourself over here. By the time you’re here I’ll know more.”

Thursday, April 9, 5:11 A.M.

After pocketing her phone and taking a deep breath, Lynn looked at herself in the mirror over the sink. She was glad she hadn’t run into anyone since climbing out of the air-conditioning duct. Despite having rinsed her face, Lynn saw it was still streaked with dirt, which made her look somewhat like a raccoon. Recognizing that she would undoubtedly run into people, she knew she had to make herself appear more presentable. With a bit more effort and a little soap, she was able to improve her appearance dramatically. She even straightened her hair, using her fingers as a comb. Accepting that she wouldn’t be able to marshal much more of an improvement, she at last gave up.

Her plan was to try to avoid everybody as much as possible. If approached or questioned, she’d be pleasant but self-contained. The place she was most concerned about was the parking garage, as it was patrolled by hospital security after a recent episode with a nurse being confronted in the wee hours of the morning. She wanted to steer clear of all security people.

Coming out through the door of the women’s lounge, she noticed that a nurse had appeared and was helping herself to coffee. Lynn started for the exit to the main hall feeling like a cat with its ears back. She avoided so much as glancing at the nurse, hoping to elude attention. Instead she looked off to the side, and because of this, her eye happened to catch a glimpse of the monitor on the wall, which indicated there was a neurosurgical case in progress in OR 12. The surgeon was Norman Phillips. It was what explained the paucity of people in the surgical lounge.

Lynn did a double take and stopped dead in her tracks. She blinked, hoping her eyes were playing tricks on her. The patient’s name was Michael Pender! The diagnosis was subdural hematoma, and the planned procedure was an emergency craniotomy.

A short, involuntary cry — more like something a tortured animal might make — escaped from Lynn’s lips. Frantically, she looked to see what the timing was. The case had started only a few minutes before, at 4:58 A.M.! “No!” she cried with enough volume to shock the three people in the surgical lounge.

Lynn spun around, her eyes stretched open to their limits. “No! No! Not again!” she yelled to no one in particular. The people in the room stared at her and didn’t move. They were frozen in place, gaping at her unblinkingly, fearing she was mentally unbalanced.

A second later, Lynn was out the door in a headlong rush toward the paired swinging doors leading to the OR proper. As she ran, she pulled out her phone. Just inside the OR’s doors, she paused briefly to bring up onto the screen her last call. Quickly she reconnected it, holding the phone to her ear as she began to run again. Behind her she heard the nurse from the surgical lounge yell for her to stop, saying she was not allowed in the OR. The nurse had burst through the swinging doors right after Lynn and was now chasing after her.

Coming to a halt outside of OR 12, Lynn was relieved to hear Markus’s voice. Breathlessly she told him Michael was in surgery. “This has to be stopped. It can’t be allowed!” Lynn cried. “He’s not going to wake up. I know it! The same thing that happened to Carl is going to happen to Michael!”

The nurse who had chased Lynn ran up to her. “What the hell are you doing?” she demanded shrilly.

Lynn ignored her, concentrating on talking with Markus. “You have to get someone here now! The police, the FBI, anybody! Please! He is in OR Twelve! You have to stop this!”

“Hello?!” the nurse yelled, extending the word in the form of a question while she tried to get the phone out of Lynn’s hands. “You can’t be in here!”

Lynn disconnected from Markus and roughly pulled the phone away from the nurse’s grasp. For a brief instant she eyed the nurse, who was looking at her as if she were a crazy person.

“Let’s not cause trouble,” the nurse said, trying to speak as calmly as possible. She reached out to grab Lynn’s arm to lead her back out of the OR.

With a blow as forceful as a karate punch, Lynn knocked the nurse’s hand away. Spinning on her heels, Lynn pushed through into the operating room. Inside, there were five people: anesthetized the patient; the gowned and gloved surgeon; a similarly attired operating nurse; the anesthesiologist; and a circulating nurse. Initially, no one looked in Lynn’s direction, and everyone continued their banter. Benton, functioning as the anesthesiologist, and Norman, the neurosurgeon, were talking about golf while Norman operated. The scrub nurse and the circulating nurse were discussing scheduling. It wasn’t until the second nurse burst in behind Lynn and loudly ordered her out of the operating room that activity and conversation in the room stopped, and everyone’s attention galvanized on Lynn’s sudden presence.