Then, extending his hand, he said, “Come on. We can still get a few more hours of sleep.”
But that was not as easy as Victor had thought. An hour later, he was still awake, listening to the howling storm outside. The rain beat against the windows in sudden gusts; he jumped with every buffet. He couldn’t get the results of David’s DNA fingerprinting out of his mind nor of the cephaloclor being in the blood samples.
“Marsha,” he whispered, wondering if she were awake as well. But she didn’t answer. He whispered again, but still she didn’t answer. Victor slid out of bed, put his robe back on, and went down the hall to the upstairs study.
Sitting down at the desk, he booted up the PC. He logged onto the main Chimera computer with the modem, rediscovering how easy it was. Absently, he wondered if he had ever transferred copies of the Hobbs and Murray files onto the PC’s hard disk. To check, he called up the directory of the hard disk and searched. There were no Hobbs or Murray files.
In fact, he was surprised to find so few files on the disk at all, other than the operating programs. But then, just before he was about to turn the machine off, he noticed that most of the storage space of the hard disk was used up.
Victor scratched his head. It didn’t make sense, knowing the fantastic storage capacity of one hard disk. He tried to pry an explanation of this apparent discrepancy out of the machine, but the machine wouldn’t cooperate. Finally, in irritation, he turned the blasted thing off.
He debated going back to bed, but, glancing at the clock, he realized that he might just as well stay up. It was already after seven. Instead of going back to the bedroom, he headed downstairs to make himself some coffee and breakfast.
As he padded down the stairs, he realized that when he’d had his talk with VJ about using the computer, he’d forgotten to quiz the boy about the deletion of the Hobbs and Murray files. He’d have to remember to do that. Nosing around in files was one thing, deleting them was quite another.
Reaching the kitchen, Victor realized the other thing that was bothering him: namely, the issue about VJ’s safety, particularly at Chimera. Philip was fine for watching VJ, but obviously his help could only go so far. Victor decided that he’d call Able Protection, since they’d obviously done such a good job watching the house. He’d get an experienced companion for the boy. It would probably be expensive, but peace of mind was worth the price. Until he got to the bottom of the Hobbs and Murray deaths, he’d feel infinitely better knowing VJ was safe.
Getting out the coffee, Victor was struck by another realization. In the back of his mind the similarities between David’s and Janice’s cancers had been bothering him, especially in light of the results of DNA fingerprinting of David’s tumor. Victor resolved to look into it as best he could.
10
Saturday Morning
IT was still windy and rainy when Victor went out to the garage and got in his car. He’d breakfasted, showered, shaved, and dressed, and still no one else had stirred. After leaving a note explaining that he would be at the lab most of the day, Victor had left.
But he didn’t drive straight to the lab. Instead he headed west and got on Interstate 93 and drove south to Boston. In Boston he got off Storrow Drive at the Charles Street and Government Center exit. From there it was easy to drive onto the Massachusetts General Hospital grounds and park in the multistory parking garage. Ten minutes later he was in the pathology department.
Since it was early Saturday morning none of the staff pathologists were available. Victor had to be content with a second-year resident named Angela Cirone.
Victor explained his wish to get a tumor sample from a patient that had passed away four years previously.
“I’m afraid that is impossible,” Angela said. “We don’t keep—”
Victor politely interrupted her to tell her of the special nature of the tumor and its rarity.
“That might make things different,” she said.
The hardest part was finding Janice Fay’s hospital record, since Victor did not know Janice’s birthday. Birthdates were the major method of cross-referencing hospital records. But persistence paid off, and Angela was able to find both the hospital record number as well as the pathology record. She was also able to tell Victor that a gross specimen existed.
“But I can’t give you any,” Angela said after all the effort they’d expended to find it. “One of the staff members is up doing frozens this morning. When he gets through, we can see if he’ll give authorization.”
But Victor explained about his son David’s death of the same rare cancer and his interest in examining Janice’s cancerous cells. When he tried to, he could be charming in a winning way. Within the space of a few minutes, he’d persuaded the young resident to help.
“How much do you need?” she asked finally.
“A tiny slice,” Victor said.
“I guess it can’t hurt,” Angela said.
Fifteen minutes later, Victor was on his way down the elevator with another small jar within a paper bag. He knew he could have waited for the staff man, but this way he could get to work more quickly. Climbing into his car, he left the Massachusetts General Hospital grounds and headed north for Lawrence.
Arriving at Chimera, Victor called Able Protection. But he got a recording—it was Saturday, after all—and had to be content to leave his name and number. With that done, he searched for Robert, finding him already deeply involved with the project that Victor had started the night before, the separation of the section of David’s tumor DNA that differed from his normal DNA.
“You are going to hate me,” Victor said, “but I have another sample.” He took out the sample he had just gotten at Mass. General. “I want this DNA fingerprinted as well.”
“You don’t have to worry about me,” Robert said. “I like doing this stuff. You’ll just have to realize that I’m letting my regular work slide.”
“I understand,” Victor said. “For the moment this project takes priority.”
Taking the rat specimens that he’d prepared the night before, Victor made slides and stained them. While he was waiting for them to dry, a call came through from Able Protection. It was the same deep-voiced man whom Victor had dealt with earlier.
“First, I’d like to commend Mr. Norwell,” Victor said. “He did a great job last night.”
“We appreciate the compliment,” the man said.
“Second,” Victor said, “I need additional temporary security. But it’s going to require a very special person. I want someone with my son, VJ, from 6 A.M. until 6 P.M. And when I say I want someone with him, I mean constantly.”
“I don’t think that will be a problem,” the man said.
“When do you want it to start?”
“As soon as you can send someone,” Victor answered. “This morning, if possible. My son is at home.”
“No problem. I have just the person. His name is Pedro Gonzales and I’ll send him on his way.”
Victor hung up and called Marsha at home.
“How did you sneak out without waking me this morning?”
she asked.
“I never got to sleep last night after all the excitement,” Victor said. “Is VJ there?”
“He and Philip are still sleeping,” Marsha said.
“I’ve just made arrangements to have a security man stay with VJ all day. His name is Pedro Gonzales. He’ll be over shortly.”
“Why?” Marsha questioned, obviously surprised.
“Just to be one hundred percent sure he is safe,” Victor said.
“You’re not telling me something,” Marsha warned. “I want to know what it is.”
“It’s just to be sure he’s safe,” Victor repeated. “We’ll talk more about it later when I come home. I promise.”
