Robin Cook (19 page)

The blast of a horn made Adam jump. Then he heard the engines start. He decided to go on deck to watch.

Hanging up his seersucker jacket and removing his tie, Adam stepped into the corridor. He paused outside of room 409, realizing that although they shared a common wall, he'd heard nothing from Alan. Adam rapped on the door and waited, but there was no answer. Another steward came past, and Adam had to flatten himself against the wall. Then he knocked again. He was about to leave when he heard a thump from inside the room. With the heel of his hand, he pounded on the door, thinking perhaps Alan was in the bathroom. Still there was no answer. Reaching down, Adam tried
the latch. The door was unlocked and swung inward.

Alan was sitting on the edge of the bed. At his feet was a water glass that had apparently just fallen to the floor.

“I beg your pardon,” said Adam, embarrassed. Alan mumbled that it didn't matter, but Adam saw that he must have been asleep.

“Sorry to have disturbed you,” said Adam. “I was going to watch the departure and thought that maybe you . . .” Adam didn't finish his sentence. Alan was slowly falling forward. Entering the room, Adam grabbed him before he hit the floor and eased him back onto the bed.

“Hey, are you OK?” asked Adam.

Sleepily, Alan nodded. “I'm just tired.”

“I think you'd better have a snooze,” laughed Adam, glancing around at the night table, suspecting that Alan might have taken a drink or two. But there was no liquor in evidence. He debated if he should cover the man, but since Alan was fully dressed, he just left him on top of the spread.

Back at the reception area there were still a few people waiting for room assignments. The gangplank, however, had been raised. Adam continued up two levels to what was called the promenade deck and went outside.

The change from air-conditioned coolness to the torpid Miami heat was a shock. Adam went to the railing and looked down at the quay. Stevedores were busy casting off the lines, freeing the ship from its mooring. The vibrations of the engines increased, and side thrusters moved the ship slowly away from the pier. From the stern Adam heard a cheer and then the noise of a Dixieland band.

Walking forward, Adam soon came to a teak
barrier with a door leading to the bow. A sign cautioned: “Crew Only. Passengers Not Permitted Forward.” Adam tried the door. It was unlocked, but he decided not to test his luck by going through.

The horn blared again and at the same time the vibration of the ship changed. Adam guessed that the main screws had started to turn. Slowly, the ship began to move forward.

Adam met other passengers exploring the ship. Everyone was friendly and outgoing. A vacation mood prevailed.

Adam descended a deck and found himself surrounded by conference rooms of all sizes, ranging from a full-fledged theater to seminar rooms for less than a dozen people. Almost all the rooms were equipped with blackboards and slide projectors.

Amidships, Adam came to a door marked “Library.” He wanted to go in and look for a
PDR,
but the door was locked. Assuming that it would be open in the morning, he continued forward. Soon the central corridor ended at a locked door, which Adam guessed led to the crew's quarters.

Descending another level, Adam came out on the main deck. He wandered past the store and the reception area and stopped to look into the main dining room. It was huge, with crystal chandeliers and large picture windows. At one end was a raised platform with a podium for speakers. On either side of the platform were swinging doors which apparently led to the kitchen. Stewards busy laying the tables were going in and out of the doors with their trays. A sign near the entrance stated that dinner would be served at nine o'clock.

Adam descended another level to the A deck where his stateroom was located. A number of
cabin doors were open, and Adam could see the doctors unpacking and going in and out of each other's rooms.

Walking down still another level, Adam found more conference rooms, a small gym, the ship's doctor's office, and an indoor swimming pool. Deciding he had explored the ship as much as he could, Adam made his way back to the promenade deck, where a noisy cocktail party was well under way.

Ned Janson spotted him and rushed him over to a group next to the pool. There was no way Adam could refuse, and soon he found himself drinking an ice-cold Heineken.

“Where the hell is Alan?” asked Ned over the babble of voices.

“In his room, sleeping,” said Adam.

Ned nodded as if it were expected and then started slapping his thigh as the band struck up “When the Saints Come Marchin' In.”

Adam smiled across the table at Clair, who seemed to be enjoying herself, and then glanced around the party. It seemed a typical gathering of MDs. It was boisterous, physical—with lots of back-slapping, jokes, and booze. The minute Adam finished his beer, Ned thrust another into his hand.

Rather suddenly the ship began to pitch. Adam looked back and saw that the lights of Miami had vanished. The ship was now out into the Atlantic. His stomach did a flip-flop, and he hastily put down the beer.

The other doctors at the table seemed oblivious to the ship's motion, and Adam wished he'd been able to find an anti-nauseant. Once again he wondered if the yellow capsule were for seasickness.
He was tempted to ask but then decided he couldn't stay in the loud, laughing group a minute longer.

He excused himself and quickly walked forward to a quiet spot by the rail. After a few minutes he felt better but decided to lie down for a while in his cabin. Closing his eyes, he felt OK, although the beer was still sloshing around in his stomach.

• • •

Jennifer and her father had gone for a walk in the field behind their house. She knew he wanted to discuss her pregnancy, and for the last half hour she had held him off with a barrage of chatter. Finally, turning back to the house, Jennifer decided it was time to face the subject.

“What do you think I should do, Father?”

Mr. Carson put his arm around her. “Whatever you think is right.”

“But what is your opinion?” asked Jennifer.

“That's a different question,” said Mr. Carson. “Your mother really trusts this Dr. Vandermer. The mix-up with the amniocentesis samples was unfortunate, but I like the way he handled it. My feeling is that you should follow his recommendations.”

“Dr. Vandermer wants me to repeat the amniocentesis immediately,” said Jennifer.

“If he thinks there is a chance you might want to consider an abortion, then I think you should do it. Your mother and I don't believe that a severely defective child should be brought into this world. It's not fair to anyone, including the child. But that's just the way we feel.”

“I suppose I feel the same way,” said Jennifer. “It just makes me feel so bad.”

Mr. Carson gave his daughter a squeeze. “Of course, honey. And your husband isn't making things any easier. I don't like to make judgments, but I don't appreciate the way he is acting. He should be here helping make these decisions, not gallivanting off on some mysterious trip.”

They reached the screen door at the back of the house. They could hear Mrs. Carson in the kitchen, preparing dinner.

“You're probably right,” said Jennifer, opening the door. “I'll call Dr. Vandermer and have the amniocentesis repeated tomorrow.”

• • •

“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. Dinner is now being served.”

Adam woke from a sound sleep, and it took him several minutes to realize that the voice was coming from a small speaker in the wall of the cabin. He looked at his watch. It was nine o'clock.

Struggling to his feet, Adam felt the ship rolling as well as pitching. The idea of dinner wasn't all that appealing. He took a quick shower, trying to maintain his balance, then dressed and left the cabin. He paused a minute and knocked on Alan's door, but there was no answer. Either the man was still asleep or he had already gone to dinner. In either case, it wasn't any of Adam's business.

He noticed the ship's store was open and went in to buy Dramamine, but the man behind the counter said they were out and would have to wait until morning to get more from the storeroom. Disappointed, Adam made his way to the dining room, where a steward asked if he was an obstetrician or an orthopedist. Adam told him OB and the
steward led him to a table near the speaker's platform.

There were five other doctors already seated. Adam was so busy remembering that his name was Stuart, he only caught two of his companions' names during the introductions: Ted and Archibald.

The conversation was almost exclusively medical, although more about the profession's economics than its practice.

Adam said little, preoccupied with his queasy stomach. As soon as he could, he motioned for the steward to remove his plate, wondering how the others could ignore the rolling motion of the ship. After coffee was served, a tall, dark man mounted the speaker's platform.

“Hello, hello,” he said, testing the microphone. “My name is Raymond Powell, and I am your official MTIC host. Welcome to the Arolen Pharmaceuticals Medical Conference Cruise.”

Conversation ceased as people turned their attention to the podium. Powell gave a typical welcoming speech and then handed the microphone to Dr. Goddard, who was in charge of the actual medical program.

When Goddard finished speaking, Powell stepped back to the microphone and said, “And now we have a surprise. For your enjoyment, let me present the Caribbean Dancers.”

Doors on either side of the speaker's platform burst open and a dozen scantily clad dancers swept into the room. Adam noticed only two men. The rest were unusually pretty young girls. Behind the dancers was a rock group with electric guitars. This band quickly set up speakers on the plaform.

As the girls worked the audience, Adam saw that Powell and Goddard were standing to one side as
if trying to assess the effect of the dancers on the usually restrained medical group. After a few minutes Adam found his attention held by a particularly attractive brunette. She had narrow hips and firm, upstanding breasts. She caught Adam's eye for just a moment and he could have sworn that she winked at him. Unfortunately, Adam's stomach was not cooperative, and in the middle of the performance, Adam reluctantly decided that he'd better visit the deck.

Excusing himself, he fought his way through the boisterous crowd in more and more of a hurry to get away. He barely reached the rail of the promenade deck before his stomach turned over and he vomited violently over the side. After a minute he glanced around to check if anyone had seen him. Thankfully, the deck was deserted. Lowering his eyes, he inspected the front of his shirt. It was clean. Relieved, Adam wandered forward into the wind. He wasn't ready to go below yet.

After a few minutes he felt a little better, and when he reached the door forbidden to passengers, he simply opened it and walked through. The lights were scarcer in this part of the ship and the deck was a plain unvarnished gray. Adam walked all the way to the bow and looked down on a tangle of ropes and chains. The sea leaped and twisted on either side. The starry sky stretched out above him.

A hand suddenly fell on Adam's shoulder.

“This is an unauthorized area,” said a man with a Spanish accent.

“I'm sorry,” said Adam nervously, trying to make out the man's face. “This is my first cruise and I was just wandering around. Any chance of visiting
the bridge?” Adam remembered the adage that the best defense was offense.

“Are you stoned?” asked the man.

“Me?” said Adam, taken aback. “No. I'm fine.”

“No offense,” said the man, “but we've had some bad experiences with passengers in the past. The captain happens to be on the bridge. I'll see if he'll let you up.”

After asking for Adam's name, the man disappeared as silently as he'd arrived. A moment later a voice shouted down, inviting him up. There was a ladder to starboard.

Adam walked around the side and found a stairway. He guessed that on a ship a ladder and a stairway were the same thing. At the top, the man with the Spanish accent was holding open the door to the bridge.

Inside, Adam saw that the instruments were illuminated by red lights, giving the room a surrealistic air. The man at the wheel ignored Adam's presence, but another man stood up and introduced himself as Captain Eric Nordstrom. He seemed younger than Adam would have expected and, at first, seemed rather wary of his guest.

“José said this is your first cruise, Dr. Smyth.”

“That's right,” said Adam uneasily, remembering that Smyth had already been on an Arolen cruise. The captain made no comment, and Adam asked, “Who owns the ship?”

“I'm not sure,” said Nordstrom. “The crew works for a company called MTIC. Whether they own the ship or lease it, I don't really know.”

“Is MTIC a good employer?”

Captain Nordstrom shrugged. “We get our paychecks on time. It's a bit boring running the same
route over and over, and socializing with this crew has its limitations.”