Robin Cook (31 page)

“No hablo much español,” said Adam, trying to smile. The man did not smile back.

“Me puede dar un ride al aeropuerto,” said Adam, turning slightly and pointing toward the truck.

The man looked at Adam as if he were crazy. Then he made a waving motion of dismissal with the pistol and started to close the door.

“Por favor,” pleaded Adam. Then, in a combination of Spanish and English, he rapidly tried to explain how he'd been lost at sea on a sailboat with a sick friend and that they had to get to the airport immediately. Pulling out his wallet, he began counting out soggy bills. That finally perked the man's interest. He put the gun into his pocket and allowed Adam to lead him down to the beach.

In the midst of his frantic attempts to capture the man's interest, Adam had had an idea. When he got to the beach, he picked up the bowline of the Hobie Cat and put it into the Puerto Rican's hand. At the same time he struggled to explain to the man that the boat was his if he took them to the airport.

The Puerto Rican finally seemed to comprehend. A broad smile appeared on his face. Gleefully, he pulled the boat higher on the beach and lashed it to one of the coconut palms. Then he went back to the house, presumably to dress.

Adam lost no time in getting Alan into the cab of the truck. Almost immediately the Puerto Rican reappeared, swinging his keys. He started up the truck, glancing warily at Alan, who was slumped in his seat, and at the point of drifting off to sleep again. Adam tried to explain that his friend was
sick, but he soon gave up, deciding it was easier to pretend that he, too, had fallen asleep. He sat with his eyes closed until they reached the airport. Indicating that he wanted to be dropped at the Eastern departure area, he began to worry how on earth he could explain Alan's and his appearance to the ticket clerk.

The truck came to a stop, and Adam touched Alan's shoulder. This time it was easier to wake him up.

“Muchas gracias,” Adam said as they got out.

“De nada,” called the driver, and roared away.

“OK,” said Adam, taking Alan by the arm. “This is the last lap.” He walked into the almost empty terminal. A few taxis and an ambulance idled by the entrance, but it was too early for many departing tourists. Adam surveyed the old-fashioned building and seated Alan at an empty shoeshine stand. Then he went over to the ticket counter.

Looking up at the schedule, he saw that the next Eastern flight to Miami was in two hours. A small sign said “For After Hours, Use Phone.” Adam picked up the receiver next to the sign. When the agent answered, he told Adam that he'd be right out. Sure enough, by the time Adam hung up, a man in a clean and pressed brown uniform emerged from a door behind the counter. When he saw Adam, his smile faltered.

Adam was acutely conscious of his ragged appearance. The ride in the truck had almost dried his clothes, but seeing the agent's reaction, he decided he'd better come up with a good story. Hesitating only a moment, he launched into a long explanation that featured an end-of-vacation party with lots of booze and a last-minute sail. He and his friend had washed up on a beach miles from their
hotel and then had hitched a ride to the airport. Adam said they had to be at work the next day and that their luggage would follow when the rest of their group flew back.

“It's been a hell of a vacation,” he added.

The agent nodded as if he understood and said there was plenty of space available. Adam asked if there were any earlier flights to the States and was told that Delta had a flight to Atlanta in an hour.

As far as Adam was concerned, the sooner they got off the island the better. He asked for directions to Delta and was told to go to the next building. Deciding Alan was best off where he was, Adam hurried to the next terminal, where there were a number of travelers waiting to check in.

Adam joined the end of the line. When he got to the counter, the agent eyed him uneasily, but Adam repeated his now practiced story. Again, the agent seemed to believe him.

“First-class or coach?” he asked.

Adam looked at the man, wondering if he were trying to be funny. But then, remembering that Arolen paid his Visa card charges, he said, “First-class, of course.”

Adam scanned the terminal nervously as the man wrote up the tickets, but he didn't spot anyone who appeared to have been sent by MTIC.

When the agent had finished, Adam said, “We could use a wheelchair. My friend really got banged up when we tipped over in the surf.”

“Oh my gosh,” said the agent. “I'll see what I can do.”

In less than five minutes he was back with the wheelchair.

Adam thanked him and set off for the other building to get Alan.

• • •

From a vantage point on the mezzanine overlooking the Delta ticket counter, two ambulance attendants dressed in white uniforms watched as Adam disappeared from sight. The fact that he was pushing a wheelchair suggested that Iseman could not be far away.

The two men quickly descended to the terminal floor and hurried outside to the ambulance, where they told the driver to radio Mr. Burkett that the subjects had been spotted. The taller of the attendants, a burly man with a blond crew cut, pulled two collapsible gurneys from the back of the ambulance, while his partner stuffed a number of syringes into a medical bag.

Back in the terminal, they checked the gate number for the Delta flight to Atlanta and set out for Concourse B.

When Adam got back to the shoeshine stand, he was horrified to find the bench empty. Frantically, he ran the wheelchair back toward the Eastern counter, where he spotted Alan trying to talk to the agent, who was telling him that he was in Puerto Rico, not Miami, but that he could give him a reservation to Miami if he wanted one.

“He's with me,” explained Adam, helping Alan into the chair.

“The man thinks he's in Miami,” said the agent.

“He's been through a lot,” said Adam. “You know, the shipwreck . . .” He let his voice trail off and started back to Delta.

“What am I doing in Puerto Rico?” asked Alan. Although his diction was still slurred, he was the most alert he'd been since Adam had talked to him at the
Fjord
departure terminal.

With only twenty minutes before flight time, Adam pushed Alan at a rapid pace. A tour group with gaudy shirts was noisily assembled in front of the Delta counter. Having the people around gave Adam a sense of safety. Going through security before boarding the plane, Adam helped Alan out of the wheelchair so he could go through the metal detector. The guard eyed them suspiciously but didn't say a word. Once they were through and on their way to the gate, Adam felt a growing sense of excitement. He'd done it. In a few hours they'd be landing in the States.

The floor of the concourse angled downward and Adam now had to restrain the wheelchair from rolling forward on its own accord. Ahead was a water fountain and rest rooms, and Adam considered stopping; they had nearly twenty minutes to spare. He noticed a small sign on the floor next to the men's room door, indicating that the rest rooms were being cleaned. Adam decided to do his drinking and peeing on the plane.

He had slowed to a normal walk and was about to continue on when out of the corner of his eye he caught a sudden movement. Just as he began to turn his head, someone grabbed him from behind, crushing his arms against his torso. Before Adam could respond, he was lifted off the floor.

Adam tried to twist as he cried out, but he was rammed directly against the closed door of the men's room, hitting it with his chest and forehead. The impact threw open the door, and both Adam and his attacker fell headfirst onto the tile floor.

The force of the fall released the man's stranglehold on Adam. Although dazed, Adam got his arms free and scrambled to his feet, only to be tripped again when the man grabbed him around the
ankles. Again Adam fell, his head narrowly missing the edge of the sink, but this time his hands were free to cushion the fall.

Behind him, Adam was dimly aware of Alan in the wheelchair being propelled by a second man in white. Alan had been pushed against the men's room door as Adam had, his head snapping forward on impact. When the door had opened, he was forcibly shoved forward, his head hyperextending. The unguided wheelchair now sped through, arcing to the left and then colliding with the bank of urinals, spilling Alan out of the chair.

The second man turned and locked the door behind him, then came to the aid of his partner. Together, the two men bore down on Adam, quickly overwhelming him and pinning him to the floor.

Marshaling his strength, Adam gave a powerful kick with his legs and succeeded in getting one arm free. Swinging widely, he connected with the lower jaw of the larger of his two attackers. The man cried out. His partner snapped back and, in a fit of anger, punched Adam solidly in the stomach.

Adam's breath left him with an audible whoosh, making him gag and leaving him momentarily helpless. The two men held Adam on the floor with their combined weight. The smaller medic pulled a syringe from his pocket. Using his teeth, he removed the plastic cover from the needle. With one hand he smoothed out the cloth covering Adam's thigh and then plunged the needle into Adam's flesh, all the way to the hilt.

Adam tried to move but without success. The medic pulled back on the plunger to make certain that the needle was not in a blood vessel, then, regrasping the syringe, prepared to inject.

Suddenly, a fearsome shriek reverberated around
the tiled room. The unworldly sound momentarily paralyzed the two men holding Adam to the floor.

Alan grabbed his head as he'd done on the Hobie Cat and leapt to his feet. His eyes snapped open and his lips rolled back to expose his teeth. With a ripping sound, his hands came away from his head, clutching tufts of hair from his scalp. Like a rabid animal, he sprang from the urinals toward the threesome sprawled on the floor. He grasped his hands together to form a club and after swinging them in a great arc, pounded the man who had just inserted the syringe into Adam. The blow caught the man on the side of the head with such force that he was propelled from astride Adam into the mouth of an open toilet stall, ramming into the divider with a sickening crunch.

The smaller medic stood up in shock, his eyes reflecting the horror of having witnessed the materialization of a monster. He took a step backward and raised his hands, but Alan was on him in a flash, biting off most of the man's ear with a snap of his jaws. The medic's terror made it impossible for him to defend himself. Alan grabbed his head and began to beat it against one of the mirrors above the sinks, whipping frothy spirals of blood onto the glass in graceful arcs. The mirror cracked, splintered, and then shattered in a cascade of shards.

Adam had also been initially transfixed by the unexpected transformation of Alan, but having seen it once before, he was better able to recover. He yanked the syringe from his thigh and, scrambling to his feet, quickly assessed the chances of being able to pass Alan, who continued to smash the medic's head against the mirror. Unfortunately, at that moment the medic's body went limp and he
fell to the floor. Alan immediately lost interest in him. Throwing his head back and shrieking again, Alan now came after Adam.

Adam's only recourse was to dash into a toilet stall and try to close the door behind him. Alan got his hand around the edge of the door though, and began to prevail in the shoving match that ensued. As Adam sensed that he was losing the test of strength, he lifted his legs against the door. With his back against the wall, he thrust the door closed, catching Alan's fingers in the jamb. Alan shrieked anew and pulled his hand free.

Adam latched the door and backed against the wall, the toilet between his legs, His mind raced as to what he could do next.

Alan began to throw his body against the door repeatedly. Each time the latch bent a little more. Finally it snapped, and the door burst open.

Adam screamed Alan's name, but Alan came at him like a locomotive, his pupils pinpoints and his eyes crazed. More out of pure defense than thought, Adam held out the syringe which he had been clutching. Alan ran directly onto the needle, which pierced his abdomen. The force of his charge depressed the plunger, sending the contents into his flesh.

Alan did not even feel the needle. He grabbed Adam's head with seemingly superhuman strength and practically lifted Adam off the floor. But then, as Adam watched, his crazed eyes fluttered and his pupils dilated. His right eye wandered like a child's lazy eye, and his left one assumed a questioning look. His grip relaxed and he slowly sagged to his knees. Finally, he collapsed backward and flopped out of the stall onto the floor in front of one of the sinks.

For a moment Adam could not move. He felt he'd come close to death. Slowly he lowered his eyes to look at the tip of the needle that was still in his hand. A drop of fluid had collected there and now dropped off. Adam let go of the syringe, and it clattered to the floor.

Stepping out of the stall and pushing aside two gurneys that were at the back of the room, Adam knelt beside Alan and felt his pulse. It was strong and normal. To Adam's surprise, the man's eyes fluttered open. In a very slurred voice he complained that his hands hurt.

• • •

“At that level of energy, there is no doubt that our patient's electrodes were stimulated to maximum,” said Hofstra. “The result has to have been devastating.”