The Adamas Blueprint

CHAPTER 26

In a neighborhood near the Rice University campus, Bern drove as Lobec searched for a house at 1509 Albans. It was 1:00 pm on Thursday, and Lobec knew he was running out of time. The longer Kevin Hamilton and Erica Jensen remained at large, the greater the chance that he would never be able to recover the Adamas notebook, that they would turn it over to the police or someone else who may eventually understand the significance of it. Then the chase would be over. Every minute was valuable, and he and Mr. Bern were wasting it by following his arrogant boss’s orders.

Lobec hadn’t thought even Tarnwell would be foolish enough to bet everything on an untested technology. Then Tarnwell had proclaimed to the shareholders and press that he would announce a revolutionary new process next Tuesday, five days from now. With Adamas, his net worth would triple overnight. But if Tarnwell didn’t have the invention in hand at the time of the press conference, the stock would plummet, leaving him with no way to service the debt on the new company. It was all or nothing. Lobec supposed he shouldn’t have been surprised.

Despite Tarnwell’s orders, Lobec had taken time to find out why Murray Hamilton had left his son and Erica Jensen at LuminOptics. After some monetary persuasion, the sales representative told Lobec they had purchased a laser at well above list price.

The reason for the purchase was immediately obvious to Lobec. They had obtained the laser in order to repeat the Adamas experiment, to produce enough diamond for evidence. It was possible that Kevin Hamilton did not even believe that the process worked. All of which led to the conclusion that they would acquire the rest of the equipment necessary and find somewhere to run the experiment. If Lobec found that place, he would find them.

Instead of looking for that place as they should, some of his men were staking out various locations throughout the city or maintaining phone taps, and the rest of his team, including Lobec and Bern, was interviewing anyone in Houston connected with Hamilton or Jensen. Although he did not agree with the tactic, they had learned some information. The hospital confirmed that Erica Jensen had called the school on Tuesday to tell them she would not be in the rest of the week, giving the excuse that she had a death in the family.

They had also learned from the transaction for the laser that Miss Jensen had a sizable insurance payout from the death of her parents and had used it to cut a check for the laser. It also explained how they were able to get by without the use of credit cards. She had merely made another withdrawal from an automated teller machine in Dallas the same day Lobec tried to capture them. With the additional three hundred dollars, they wouldn’t need to withdraw money for at least several more days. Lobec had instructed Mitch to report Murray Hamilton’s pickup truck stolen, but he didn’t have much faith in the ruse working twice. His quarry could be anywhere in the contiguous United States by now.

“Here it is,” said Lobec, spying the number “1509” through the leaves of a live oak.

Bern stopped the car in front of the house. They got out and prepared their identification as they walked toward the door. Lobec carefully touched his throbbing nose. No one had mentioned his injuries, but he did observe several curious looks during the interviews.

After two rings, the door opened to reveal a six foot tall black man.

“Are you Nigel Hudson?” asked Lobec.

“Yes,” the man said warily.

Lobec flipped open his wallet. “My name is Detective Trumball, and this is my partner, Detective Braddock. May we have a few words with you?”

“About what?”

“We need to discuss a friend of yours. His name is Kevin Hamilton.”

Hudson eyed Lobec and Bern suspiciously. “All right,” he said after the hesitation. “Come on in.”

Good. This interview was already going as well as their other interviews. Perhaps this one would be more productive. If Lobec worded his questions correctly, he would know if this man had communicated with Kevin Hamilton. All he needed was one clue. Then he would have them.

At 1:00 pm on Thursday, Erica was driving Murray’s dualie down Tom’s Creek Boulevard away from Virginia Tech. She was alone. Kevin was in the lab, and Janice and Ted Ishio had left early Wednesday morning for Minnesota.

The first thing Erica and Kevin did yesterday was make two phone calls. The first call had been to Congressman Sutter’s office to make an appointment for next week. The only opening the congressman had was on Monday morning at 8:00; he was supposed to leave the next day for a two week junket overseas. Since Kevin thought he would be done even sooner than Sunday, he’d told the secretary, Marian, that Monday would be fine.

The second call had been to the Smithsonian. At first, Erica had been uncomfortable pretending to be Marian, but she quickly grew into the role and thought her performance was convincing. The favor she had asked was somewhat unusual, but the man she talked with didn’t seem very surprised and agreed to her request. His matter-of-fact tone led Erica to believe he would do it.

The rest of the day had been mundane, consisting primarily of moving equipment and adjusting settings per Kevin’s direction. Research had never been interesting to her, and the stuffy lab hadn’t changed her mind. Eating greasy take-out pizza all day didn’t help the situation. Since the setup was finished and Kevin didn’t need her help any more, she was taking the opportunity to get some food that was not made primarily of saturated fats.

Ted and Janice had been planning to be gone for several days, and they’d let their store of food dwindle, especially the fresh fruits and vegetables Erica craved. The obvious solution was the immense grocery now in front of her. It was one of the new ones that had a pharmacy, a full-service bank, a deli, and anything else they could cram in.

The lot was packed with cars of students just returned for the fall semester loading up on supplies. Erica had to park on the fringe, but it didn’t bother her. She was looking forward to the walk, amazed that on a sunny September day the temperature hadn’t been higher than 75 degrees. Maybe later she’d walk around Ted and Janice’s neighborhood.

When she saw the other students entering and leaving the store, she felt a pang of guilt for neglecting her own studies. But there was nothing she could do. At least this mess would all be over on Monday.

Erica followed two teenage girls into the store. She grabbed one of the shopping baskets piled at the front and dropped her purse into it. At the entrance to the produce section, a woman was holding a tray with bits of food. The teenagers each took a piece and popped them into their mouths. Erica hadn’t eaten since breakfast, so she walked over to the woman.

She held the tray up for Erica. “Would you like to try a sample of NYC brand coffee cake?”

“I’d love to. I’m starving.”

“The pieces on the left have walnuts and the ones on the right don’t. Take one of each. If you like it, you can pick up a box from aisle 12.”

“Thanks.”

Munching on the coffee cake, Erica headed into the produce section. As she popped the second piece of cake into her mouth, she thought she might actually buy some.

A salad was her top priority though, so she stopped and picked a head of Romaine lettuce, a bundle of carrots, two tomatoes, and a cucumber. Next was a stalk of broccoli. She only needed one since Kevin hated broccoli. She wrapped the broccoli in a tear-off plastic sack and went in search of the pasta aisle. The thought of marinara sauce with a light sprinkle of parmesan made her mouth water, and she looked for a sign marked “Italian foods”.

As she rounded the corner into the grocery store’s back row, she saw the two teenagers standing by a dispenser containing cold drinks. They were facing away from Erica. Both were short and thin, one with dark, curly hair, the other with a blonde crop cut. The dark-haired girl seemed to be comforting the blonde. As Erica got closer, she could hear what they were saying.

“Tory?” the dark-haired girl said in a voice that was tinged with fear. “What’s the matter?”

Tory shook her head. She seemed to be clutching her throat. Immediately, Erica thought the girl was choking. But then Tory turned around, and Erica knew that the situation was much worse.

Tory’s face was bright red, and her lips, cheeks, and neck were grossly swollen. Her eyes were beginning to shut because of the swelling. The hissing sound was Tory gasping for breath through her constricting throat. It was a textbook case of a severe allergic reaction. If nothing was done in the next few minutes to halt the reaction, Tory would go into shock and die.

When the dark-haired girl saw Tory’s face, she screamed. A dozen eyes turned in the teenagers’ direction, and without thinking, Erica ran over to them, as did a man who looked like a student.

“What’s wrong with her?” the student asked.

“I don’t know,” said the dark-haired teenager. “She was fine just a minute ago.”

“She’s having an allergic reaction,” Erica said, coming to a stop in front of the girls and dropping her hand basket to the ground.

“You,” she said, pointing at the student, “go call 911 and tell them it’s an emergency.”

She turned back to the teenagers. “Is she allergic to something in that cake you just ate?” she said to the dark-haired girl.

“Tory asked about nuts, but the woman said there weren’t any.”

Erica put one hand on Tory’s shoulder and lifted her head. The swelling was spreading rapidly. Tory’s face was now the color of one of the ripe tomatoes in Erica’s basket.

Severe allergies to nuts were fairly common; 100 people in the U.S. die from them every year. And sometimes the allergic person didn’t even have to eat nuts. The cake without walnuts might have had a nut oil, which would produce the same effect.

Tory lunged forward, panicking because she couldn’t breathe. She stumbled over Erica’s basket, scattering the fruit and the contents of her purse across the linoleum floor.

Erica clasped Tory’s shoulders hard, knowing the only way to save her was to give her the dose of epinephrine people with severe allergies like hers were supposed to carry.

“Tory, I know what the problem is and I’m going to help you. But you need to calm down.” Tory shook her head, but didn’t resist.

“What’s your name?” Erica said to the dark-haired girl as she held on to Tory.

“Maggie.”

“Maggie, I’m Erica. I need you to help me get Tory lying down. If she passes out and collapses, she might injure herself.”

“Are you a doctor?” Maggie said.

“Yes,” Erica said, knowing that telling Maggie she was a med student would only cause problems. On the other hand, if you told people you were a doctor, they immediately trusted your abilities. “Now, grab her other side.”

Gently, they moved Tory to the floor. Her breath was now coming in shallow, ragged gasps.

“Where’s her epi pin?” Erica said, beginning to search Tory’s pockets.

Maggie looked at her, puzzled. “Her what?”

“Her epinephrine. With her allergy, she should always be carrying it.”

“I don’t…”

“Damn!” Erica said. All she found were Tory’s driver’s license and seven dollars in cash. She wasn’t surprised; both of the severe allergic reactions she’d seen in the ER resulted from the patients not carrying their epi kits.

“Damn!” Erica yelled. “Did they call the paramedics?”

“They’re on their way,” someone said.

“How long?”

“They didn’t say. Maybe five minutes?” The response was more question than answer.

The nearest EMS unit could be all the way across town for all she knew. She had to do something, otherwise Tory would asphyxiate in minutes. Even if she didn’t, it wouldn’t take long for the girl to sustain irreversible brain damage. In an emergency room, a tracheotomy might have been an option, but under these conditions and with her lack of experience, she could just as easily kill the girl. Erica’s only choice was to stop the swelling before it got any worse.

By now, a few more of the students had gathered around the scene. An obese man wearing a tie and name tag shouldered some of the students aside.

“What’s going on here?” he said in a gruff voice.

“Are you the manager?” Erica said.

“Yes. Is the kid all right?”

“No, she’s about to go into shock.”

“Who are you?”

”I’m a doctor,” Erica said, not wanting to waste time explaining. “Go to the front of the store and make an announcement over the PA. Ask if there is anyone in the store who is allergic to bees and carries epinephrine…” Suddenly, Erica realized that was unnecessary. She remembered the sign on the front of the store that said “Pharmacy.”

“Forget that. Is the pharmacy open?”

“Sure,” the manager replied.

“Good. Go to there and ask the pharmacist for an adult epi kit.”

“A what?” the manager said, obviously confused.

“An kit of epinephrine for…” It was going to take too long to explain. The manager still had a bewildered look on his face, and if he brought back the wrong thing, it might be too late.

“Never mind,” Erica said. “Where’s the pharmacy?”

The manager pointed at the far end of the store.

“Maggie,” Erica said. “Don’t let Tory get up. Keep her still. I’ll be back in a minute.”

“Where are you going?”

“I’m going to get some medicine.” She stood and faced the manager.

“Come with me,” she said and sprinted down the aisle toward the pharmacy.

Ten seconds later she skidded to a stop at the pharmacy counter. A man in his early thirties was sorting pills near the back. When she hit the counter, he looked up, startled.

“I need…an epi kit,” Erica said, gasping for breath more from the stress than the exertion.

For a moment, the man was taken aback. Then he said calmly, “And your name?”

“No,” Erica said. “This isn’t a prescription.” As she said it, the manager caught up with her at the counter, huffing like he could have a heart attack any minute. Judging from his weight, it was a distinct possibility.

His eyes on the manager, the pharmacist said, “Epinephrine is not an over-the-counter drug. I need a prescription…”

“Listen,” she said. “A girl on the other side of the store had a severe allergic reaction to that coffee cake the woman was serving by the registers. If she doesn’t get epinephrine in the next few minutes, she will die.” She glanced at the manager. “Do you understand?”

The manager’s eyes widened at the implications of a huge lawsuit. He looked at the pharmacist. “I saw the kid. Her face was swollen like a balloon. This woman is a doctor. Get her whatever she needs, right now.”

The pharmacist nodded. He hurried to the last shelf on the right and grabbed a box near the top. He gave it to Erica, who ripped open the package and withdrew a small syringe.

To the manager, she said, “I want you to go to the front of the store and wait for the paramedics so you can show them where we are.”

Without waiting for a response, she ran to Tory.

Erica approached the crowd and shoved two people aside. “Everybody back up!” she yelled. The dozen people surrounding her complied.

Erica kneeled next to the prone teenager. By now Tory was no longer moving, and her breath came in short, shallow hisses. Erica propped her head back to look down her throat. It was what she feared. In seconds, the throat would be completely constricted.

Maggie was now almost hysterical. “Erica, do something, please! She’s dying!”

“She’s not going to die,” Erica said as calmly as possible. She stuck the syringe’s needle into Tory’s left quadricep and pushed the plunger to its stop. The epinephrine would quickly flow from the thigh muscle into the femoral vein and then straight to the heart. She removed the needle and stuck it into one of the tomatoes lying on the floor.

The only thing Erica could do now was tilt Tory’s head back to clear the airway as much as possible. Cradling Tory’s neck with her left hand, Erica gently pushed her forehead back. She leaned down and put her ear next to Tory’s mouth. It was only the faintest of puffs, but she was still breathing. Erica hoped the epi had come soon enough.

Erica looked into Maggie’s tearful eyes. “She’s going to be all right,” she said confidently, even though she wasn’t sure. But the words had the desired effect. Maggie nodded and tried to smile.

Two minutes later, she heard sirens blaring and then the honk of a piercing air horn. They were silenced as an EMS unit squealed to a stop in front of the store. The paramedics would be in here any second. Then another siren grew louder. The police, Erica thought with alarm. When they got here, they would certainly want a statement from Erica, including her name. She had to leave.

The contents of her purse were still scattered across the floor. She hurriedly scooped them up and stuffed them back in her purse. As she finished, the crowd parted and two paramedics holding emergency boxes pushed their way through.

Erica got up and spoke to one of them while he opened the box on the floor. “Anaphylactic reaction. Severe throat constriction causing stridor. A dose of epi was administered via left quad.”

Before he could ask any questions, she ducked past the crowd. As she ran down the aisle, she could hear shouts behind her. “Hey! Who was that? Come back!”

At the cash registers, she slowed to a walk when she saw a policeman. He was talking to the store manager, who had his back to Erica. She held her face down to avoid being recognized. As inconspicuously as possible, she turned away as the policeman followed the manager toward the rear of the store. She continued walking with her purse clenched tightly to her stomach and made it through the store’s front door without being noticed. Outside, clusters of people were talking and pointing at the emergency vehicles. No one looked at her. Although she was almost hyperventilating, Erica ran.