Robin Cook - Foreign Body

“You’re welcome,” she said. “We really do have to find out what made her suspicious. I’m not going through all this again.”

“Alright, here’s how we’re going to do this,” Cal said. He, Durell, and Veena had walked to the garage from the house. “First, I’m going to put in the electrical fuses. Then we’re all going to walk down the stairs, with me in the lead. I’ll unlock the door, and Veena, you step in and call out her name. If she doesn’t respond, like last time, say you’ll be back when she feels more like talking. Apologize for having to turn out the light again, but say it’s the nasty men who insist. And then leave. We might have to do this a few times. We think she has the potential to be violent.” Cal shared a glance with Durell, who merely raised his eyebrows and offered a slight nod in agreement.

Everything went as planned. After Cal had opened the door, Veena stepped in and was about to call Jennifer’s name when she saw her sitting on the couch. Veena grabbed the door and closed it in Cal’s face. She then walked over to Jennifer and sat down next to her.

Neither spoke; they just warily eyed each other. Despite her squinting eyes, Jennifer’s face had registered surprised recognition almost from the moment Veena had stepped into the room.

“I believe you understand that there is something specific we have to know,” Veena began. She held herself stiffly.

“I understand there is something you would like to know,” Jennifer said. “Get me back to my hotel and I’ll tell you.”

“The deal is you go back to your hotel after you tell us. Otherwise, you have no reason to be cooperative.”

“Sorry. You’ll just have to trust me.”

“I think it is to your advantage to deal with me instead of the two men who run this show.”

“You are probably correct, but the fact of the matter is that I don’t know any of you people. But I can tell you this, I’m shocked you’re involved.”

“So that is your position. You refuse to tell me what made you suspicious that your grandmother’s death might possibly not have been natural.”

“I don’t refuse. I offered to tell you but in neutral territory. I don’t like being locked up in this bunker.”

Veena got to her feet. “I guess you’ll just have to wait until morning. I have a strong sense that if you think about it overnight, you will see the benefit of dealing with me and not the others.”

“I wouldn’t count on it, Nurse Chandra,” Jennifer said without moving.

Veena walked back to the door and suddenly wrested it open. Cal almost tumbled into the room from having his ear pressed against it.

“I think she needs some more darkness,” Veena said. She pushed by the two men and climbed the stairs.

Cal grabbed the heavy door, and after giving Jennifer a quick glance, pulled it shut, locked it, and followed Durell up the stairs. After locking the upper door, he walked over to where Durell and Veena were chatting.

“That was mighty fast,” Cal commented. “Didn’t you try to convince her?”

“Not a whole lot. Couldn’t you hear through the door?”

“Not very well.”

“She’s very adamant. At the moment, trying to convince her of anything is a waste of time. My sense is she’ll feel differently in the morning, and I told her as much. Another fifteen or sixteen hours in absolute darkness and isolation will do wonders. I don’t have to go to the hospital tomorrow, as it is Saturday. I told her what the conditions are, and I told her I’d be back.”

The two men looked at each other and nodded. “Sounds good,” Cal said, but with a tone that suggested he wasn’t convinced.

They walked back to the bungalow. “Are we watching a movie tonight?” Veena asked.

“Yeah, we got a good one,” Durell said. “Clint Eastwood, Unforgiven.”

“I need distraction,” Veena said. “I’m still tense from worrying about Maria Hernandez having an autopsy. I can’t get it out of my mind.”

When they got to the bungalow, Veena headed toward her room. “See you guys at dinner.”

Cal and Durell watched her walk away.

“She’s really smart,” Durell said. “I think she’s absolutely correct about the Hernandez woman.”

“She smart alright, but now I’m bothered by her sudden flat affect. That’s the way she was when she went off and ODed. We should stop by her room every couple of hours and make sure she’s okay. And whoever sees Petra and Santana first, tell them to do the same.”

October 19, 2007

Friday, 4:40 p.m.

New Delhi, India

A football was just millimeters beyond the grasp of its intended target’s fingertips. As a bullet pass from a former college quarterback, it was traveling fast and in a tight spiral when it ricocheted off the surface of the pool. When it touched down to earth the second time, it collided with Neil’s butt. Just before the collision Neil was fast asleep, but not after.

Leaping off the poolside lounge chair, Neil was ready to take on the opposing army. The fellow in the pool who’d missed the pass was yelling for Neil to toss him the ball while the ex-quarterback on the other side of the pool was cracking up. In a moment of fury, Neil got the ball and booted it as hard as he could in the direction of the laughing quarterback, but it sailed way over his head and deep into the trees that lined the property.

“Thanks, man,” said the none-too-pleased fellow in the pool.

“Don’t mention it,” Neil replied. He’d recovered enough to feel some degree of guilt. He fumbled for his watch. He’d fallen asleep somewhere around three, after expecting Jennifer to appear at any moment. He’d left several messages on her room’s voicemail. The fact that she’d not shown up was beginning to scare him.

“Four-forty,” he said out loud. He was shocked. He grabbed his stuff, put on his robe, and headed indoors. As he passed the workout room, he took a look: no Jennifer. When he got on the regular hotel elevator he asked for floor nine. He wanted to check her room before changing out of his bathing suit.

When he arrived at room 912, he rang the bell, pounded on the door, and shook the doorknob without waiting for a response. He put his head to the door. “That’s it,” he said out loud when he heard nothing.

Descending to his own room, Neil threw on his clothes. When he was fully dressed, he headed for the front desk and asked to see a manager. Typical of the Amal Palace Hotel service, a manager appeared almost by magic. “Good afternoon, sir. I am a guest service officer. My name is Sidharth Mishra. How can I be of assistance?”

“My girlfriend, Jennifer Hernandez, in room nine twelve, was supposed to sleep in today,” Neil said urgently, “but this is ridiculous. It’s now after five, and she doesn’t respond to my calling or pounding on her door.”

“I’m very sorry, sir. Let us try to call.” Sidharth snapped his fingers at a woman sitting at one of the check-in desks. “Damini, would you mind seeing if you get a response in nine twelve.”

“Has she ever done anything like this in the past?” Sidharth questioned Neil, while Damini called.

“Not to me she hasn’t,” Neil said.

“If there’s no answer, we’ll head right up there.”

“I appreciate it,” Neil said.

“There’s been no answer,” Damini said. “Voicemail has picked up.”

“Let’s go, then,” Sidharth said. He also asked Damini to accompany them.

As they rode up in the elevator, Neil began to wonder nervously if he’d given Jennifer good advice about not getting involved with the police the day before. He knew that in a similar situation back in the United States there would be consequences for leaving the scene of a crime.