Jack Kilborn - Disturb

“Something to do with the drug?”

“No, nothing like that. It was a personal matter. The N-Som worked fine.” Theena smiled. “I hope you aren’t ignoring Mrs. May to be sitting here with me.”

Bill automatically looked at his wedding band.

“She… died last year.”

“I’m so sorry. Was it sudden?”

Bill almost blurted out a yes. He caught himself in time.

“She was sick for a long time.” The image of Kristen, lying in the hospital bed, filled his mind. “And you? Is Mr. Boone off mingling?”

Theena wiggled her large diamond ring. It caught the light and winked.

“Last I heard he was in Texas. I kept the name because anything is preferable to Stefanopolous. So, how does one get a job at the FDA?”

Bill thought about the long, boring version. After completing his studies at the University of Chicago and his internship at Rush-Presbyterian, Bill was undecided between a residency or private practice. He’d known from a young age that he’d be an M.D., but when the day finally came he realized that he enjoyed learning about medicine more than actually practicing it.

Congress made the decision for him. The year was 1992, and they’d just passed PDUFA-the Prescription Drug User Fee Act, which authorized the FDA to charge drug sponsors for their services, expediting the approval process. Suddenly CDER, which had been impossible to break into, had hundreds of openings for reviewers. Bill had leapt at the chance.

“I was just in the right place at the right time. How about you? You’re a chemist, right?”

“Actually, I’m a pathologist, like my father. Specializing in neuropathology, of course.”

Bill’s confidence slipped another notch. Beautiful, and a brain surgeon.

“Exciting work?”

Theena laughed, a rich, warm sound.

“I think I’ve developed a permanent squint from looking in the microscope so often. No, it’s not what I would call exciting. But it’s not without rewards, either. What time shall we expect you at DruTech tomorrow?”

“Whenever is convenient.”

“Anytime is fine. Research continues around the clock. Your predecessor preferred to work during the night shift.”

Bill raised an eyebrow. “My predecessor?”

“The prior CDER agent. Did you ever find out what happened to him?” Theena studied Bill’s face. “You have no idea what I’m talking about, do you? He was sent by the FDA last month to review some preliminary research, worked with us for a week, and then left without a word. A Dr. Bitner?”

Bill knew Michael Bitner. They’d golfed on several occasions. He’d have to give him a call, find out what had happened.

“Someone call the police!”

The cry came from the other side of the banquet room, followed by shouts for a doctor. Bill hurried through the crowd, Theena on his heels. The activity was centered around the Men’s Room. Bill had to shove gawkers out of his way to get in.

“I’m a doctor! Give me some room!”

At first, all Bill saw was blood. It took his brain a second to register that under all that blood was Dr. Nikos.

Theena screamed.

Bill knelt down, soaking his pants leg. He automatically reached for the carotid artery, then stopped his hand when he saw the gash in the doctor’s throat, deep enough to expose the esophagus. Dr. Nikos was gone, long beyond anyone’s help.

“Over here! There’s another!”

Bill was ushered over to a second pool of blood. In the center of it was Manny. His tuxedo shirt was shredded, over half a dozen wounds covering his abdomen and chest. A scalpel handle protruded from his sternum.

“Tried… tried to save… da…”

Manny coughed, spitting red. Bill tilted Manny’s face to the side so the blood didn’t run down his throat. His pulse was strong, but when Bill tore off Manny’s shirt he didn’t hold out much hope. The guy looked like a lasagna.

Bill left the scalpel embedded, concerned that removal would cause more bleeding. He enlisted four guys with cloth napkins to keep pressure on Manny’s many wounds. He also put Manny’s feet up on a chair to stave off shock.

The paramedics arrived shortly thereafter, intubing Manny and carting him away.

Bill looked around the room, trying to spot Theena. He went back into the banquet hall, the crowd parting for him when they noticed his bloody clothing. He checked her table, the hotel lobby, and finally the parking lot.

She was gone.

Jack Kilborn

Disturb

Bill was in the shower when the phone rang. He let the machine pick it up, holding the curtain partially open to hear who it was.

“Bill, this is Theena Boone…”

Bill grabbed a towel and hurried out of the bathroom. The fact that Theena was attractive and single wasn’t lost on him, but Bill tried to rise above that and convince himself his concern was professional. She’d just lost her father.

“Theena?”

“Bill. Hello. I… was wondering what time you were stopping by DruTech today.”

The question caught him completely by surprise.

“I wasn’t planning to, actually. I figured, because of yesterday-how are you holding up?”

“I’m strong, Bill. Dad raised me that way. He also wouldn’t want this to interfere with our work. N-Som was his dream. Now that he’s gone, it’s even more important that I finish what he began.”

Tough lady. Bill wondered how much of it was genuine, and how much was bravado.

“How’s Manny?”

“Surprisingly well, for fifteen stab wounds. Collapsed lung, perforated small intestine, internal bleeding. He needed over sixty stitches, but is listed as stable.”

“Have the police found anything?”

“Manny said there were two attackers, both with ski masks on. No leads yet. Are you coming?”

Bill glanced at the clock on the nightstand. “I can be there by ten, if that’s okay.”

“That’s fine. I’ll meet you in the lobby.”

Theena hung up. Bill dried off and went into the bedroom. He noticed a spring in his step that hadn’t been there a few minutes ago. Being honest with himself was a trait Bill nurtured, and he knew he was excited to be seeing Theena again so soon.

Admitting it brought guilt. He glanced at his wife’s side of the closet, full of clothes. Kristen’s presence was still there; her plants that Bill carefully maintained, their wedding pictures on the walls, the Hummel figurines she collected. The casual observer couldn’t have guessed that the condo had been occupied by a single man for more than a year.

Bill dressed in his best suit, a dark blue Armani pinstripe. He could tie a Windsor knot with one hand in complete darkness, but he still preferred the solace of a mirror. There was a tinge of red in his blue eyes; something he hadn’t been able to get rid of since Kristen got ill. He used some Visine, then combed his light brown hair and noted that he’d need a trim soon. After a quick electric shave he was in his Audi and on the way to DruTech Industries.

The weather was unusually tame by Chicago standards, especially this late in the fall. At every crosswalk there was at least one person in shorts, and the few jackets Bill saw were draped over shoulders rather than being worn. The sun felt good on his face for a while, but he eventually pulled down the visor when the glare became too much.

He played stop and go, eventually reaching I-90 and the path to the suburbs. Traffic was hellish, made even worse by the omnipresent construction, which had closed one lane off with orange cones. Bill had lived in the Windy City his entire life, and he’d never been on the Kennedy Expressway without suffering some kind of delay. The trip took seventy minutes, ten of which were spent on the off ramp to Schaumburg.

DruTech occupied an impressive five story building off a frontage road parallel to the expressway. It was sandwiched between a water reclamation plant and an AM radio station. Bill parked in a lot that was nearly empty. The front entrance was located between two water sculptures, marble and cascading, vaguely Roman in theme.