Acceptable Risk

14

Monday, September 26, 1994

When Kim finally opened her eyes she was surprised to see it was nearly nine o’clock. That was later than she’d been getting up during the last month. Climbing out of bed, she glanced into Edward’s room, but he had been long gone. His empty room appeared neat and orderly. Edward had the commendable habit of making his bed in the morning.

On her way to the bathroom to shower, Kim placed a call to the plumber, Albert Bruer, who’d worked on both the cottage and the lab. She left her number on his answering machine.

Albert called back within a half hour, and by the time Kim had finished breakfast he was at her door. Together they drove up to the castle in his truck.

“I think I already know the problem,” Albert said. “In fact I knew about it when your grandfather was alive. It’s the soil pipes. They’re cast-iron and some of them have rusted.”

Albert took Kim into each of the bathrooms in the servants’ wing and took off the fronts of the access panels. In each he pointed out the rusted pipes.

“Can it be fixed?” Kim asked.

“Of course it can,” Albert said. “But it will take some doing. It might take me and my boy a week.”

“Do it,” Kim said. “I’ve got some people staying in here.”

“If that’s the case I can get water to the bathroom on the third floor. Those pipes look pretty good. Maybe no one lived up there.”

After the plumber left, Kim walked over to the lab to let the men know about the third-floor bathroom. She’d not been to the lab for some time and was not looking forward to the visit. They’d never made her feel welcome.

“Kim!” David called out excitedly. He was the first to see her come through the door that led from the vacant reception area into the lab proper. “What a nice surprise.” David yelled out to the others that she was there. Everyone, including Edward, dropped what they were doing and came over to greet her.

Kim felt herself blush. She did not relish being the center of attention.

“We have fresh coffee and donuts,” Eleanor said. “Can I get you some?”

Kim declined but thanked her, explaining she’d just had breakfast. She apologized to the group for bothering them and quickly told the men about the resolution of the plumbing problem.

The men were pleased and assured her that using the bathroom on the third floor was not an imposition. They even tried to talk her out of bothering to make any repairs.

“I don’t think it should be left the way it is,” Kim said. “I’d prefer it be fixed.”

Kim then started to leave, but they wouldn’t allow it. They insisted on showing her what each one of them was doing.

David was first. He took Kim to his lab bench and had her peer through a dissecting microscope while he explained that she was looking at an abdominal ganglion preparation that he’d taken from a mollusk called Aplasia fasciata. Then he showed her printouts of how Ultra modulated the spontaneous firing of certain neurons of the ganglion. Before Kim could even figure out what she was looking at, David took the printouts from her hands and led her into the tissue-culture incubator. There he explained how he evaluated the tissue cultures for signs of toxicity.

Then it was Gloria’s and Curt’s turn. They took Kim downstairs to the animal area. They showed her some pitiful creatures: stressed rats and stressed monkeys that had been raised to have severe anxiety. Then they showed her similar animals that had been treated with Ultra and imipramine.

Kim tried to appear interested, but animal experiments disturbed her.

François took over from Gloria and Curt and led Kim into the shielded room where the NMR machine was isolated. He tried to explain exactly how he was attempting to determine the structure of the binding protein for Ultra. Unfortunately, Kim understood little of his explanation. She merely nodded her head and smiled whenever he paused.

Eleanor then took over and led Kim back upstairs to her computer terminal. She gave Kim a lengthy explanation of molecular modeling and how she was attempting to create drugs that were permutations of Ultra’s basic structure and that would potentially share some of Ultra’s bioactivity.

As Kim was whisked around the lab, she began to notice that not only were the researchers friendly, they were also patient and respectful of each other. Although they were assertively eager to please her, they were content to wait their turn.

“This has been most interesting,” Kim said when Eleanor finally finished her lecture. Kim started to back toward the door. “Thank you all for taking so much of your valuable time to show me around.”

“Wait!” François said. He dashed to his desk, picked up a sheaf of photographs, and ran back. Breathlessly he showed them to Kim and asked her what she thought of them. They were brightly colored PET scans.

“I think they are-” Kim searched for a word that wouldn’t make her sound foolish. She finally said: “Dramatic.”

“They are, aren’t they?” François said, cocking his head to the side to regard them from a slightly different angle. “They’re like modern art.”

“What exactly do they tell you?” Kim asked. She would have preferred to leave, but with everyone watching, she felt obligated to ask a question.

“The colors refer to concentrations of radioactive Ultra,” François said. “The red is the highest concentration. These scans show quite clearly that the drug localizes maximally to the upper brain stem, the midbrain, and the limbic system.”

“I remember Stanton’s referring to the limbic system at the dinner party,” Kim said.

“He did indeed,” François said. “As he suggested, it’s part of the more primitive, or reptilian, parts of the brain and is involved with autonomic function, including mood, emotion, and even smell.”

“And sex,” David said.

“What do you mean, ‘reptilian’?” Kim asked. The word had an ugly connotation to her. She’d never liked snakes.

“It’s used to refer to the parts of the brain that are similar to the brains of reptiles,” François said. “Of course it is an oversimplification, but it does have some merit. Although the human brain evolved from some common distant ancestor with current-day reptiles, it’s not like taking a reptile brain and sticking a couple of cerebral hemispheres on top.”

Everybody laughed. Kim found herself laughing as well. The general mood was hard to resist.

“As far as basic instincts are concerned,” Edward said, “we humans have them just like reptiles. The difference is ours are covered by varying degrees of socialization and civilization. Translated, that means that the cerebral hemispheres have hard-wired connections that control reptilian behavior.”

Kim looked at her watch. “I really have to be going,” she said. “I’ve got a train to catch into Boston.”

With such an excuse Kim was finally able to break free from the obliging clutches of the researchers although they all encouraged her to come back. Edward walked her outside.

“Are you really on your way to Boston?” Edward asked.

“I am,” Kim said. “Last night I decided to go back to Harvard for one more try. I’d found another letter that included a reference to Elizabeth’s evidence. It gave me another lead.”

“Good luck,” Edward said. “Enjoy yourself.” He gave her a kiss and then went back into the lab. He didn’t ask about Kim’s latest letter.

Kim walked back to the cottage, feeling strangely numb from the researchers’ intense congeniality. Maybe something was wrong with her. She hadn’t liked how aloof they’d been, but now she found she didn’t like them sociable either. Was she impossible to please?

The more Kim thought about her response, the more she realized that it had a lot to do with their sudden uniformity. When she’d first met them she’d been struck by their eccentricities and quirks. Now their personalities had become blended into an amiable but bland whole that shrouded their individuality.

As Kim changed clothes for her trip into Boston, she couldn’t stop mulling over what was happening at the compound. She felt her misgiving-the very anxiety that had driven her to see Alice-on the increase again.

Ducking into the parlor to retrieve a sweater, Kim paused beneath Elizabeth’s portrait and looked up into her ancestor’s feminine yet forceful face. There was not a hint of anxiety in Elizabeth’s visage. Kim wondered if Elizabeth had ever felt as out of control as she did.

Kim got into her car and headed for the train station, unable to get Elizabeth out of her mind. It suddenly occurred to her that there were striking similarities between her world and Elizabeth’s despite the enormous gap in time. Elizabeth had to live with the continual threat of Indian attack, while Kim was conscious of the ever-present peril of crime. Back then there had been the mysterious and frightful menace of smallpox while today it was AIDS. In Elizabeth’s time there was a breakdown of the Puritan hold on society, with the emergence of unbridled materialism; today it was the passing of the stability of the Cold War with the emergence of fractious nationalism and religious fundamentalism. Back then there was a confusing and changing role for women; today it was the same.

“The more things change, the more they stay the same,” Kim said, voicing the old adage.

Kim wondered if all these similarities could have anything to do with the message she’d come to believe Elizabeth was trying to send her over the centuries. With a shudder, Kim wondered if a fate similar to Elizabeth’s was in store for her. Could that be what Elizabeth was trying to tell her? Could it be a warning?

Increasingly upset, Kim made a conscious effort to stop ruminating obsessively. She was successful until she got on the train. Then the thoughts came tumbling back.

“For goodness’ sake!” Kim said aloud, causing the woman sitting next to her to eye her with suspicion.

Kim turned to face out the window. She chided herself for allowing her active imagination too much free rein. After all, the differences between her life and Elizabeth’s were far greater than any similarities, particularly in the area of control. Elizabeth had had very little control over her destiny. She had been essentially coerced at a young age into what was actually an arranged marriage, and she did not have access to birth control. In contrast, Kim was free to choose whom she would marry, and was free to control her body insofar as reproduction was concerned.

This line of thinking kept Kim comfortable until the train neared North Station in Boston. Then she began to wonder if she was as free as she’d like to believe. She reviewed some of the major decisions in her life, such as becoming a nurse instead of pursuing a career in art or design. Then she reminded herself that she was living with a man in a relationship that was becoming disturbingly similar to the one she’d had with her father. On top of that, she reminded herself that she was saddled with a research lab on her property and five researchers living in the family house-none of which had been her idea.

The train lurched to a stop. Mindless of her immediate environment, Kim walked to the subway. She knew what the problem was. She could almost hear Alice’s voice in the background, telling her it was her personality. She didn’t have appropriate self-esteem; she was too pliant; she thought of other people’s needs and ignored her own. And all these conspired to constrain her freedom.

Such an irony, Kim thought. Elizabeth’s personality, with her assertiveness and decisiveness, would have been perfect for today’s world whereas in her own time it undoubtedly contributed to her untimely death. Kim’s personality, on the other hand, which was more dutiful and submissive rather than assertive and decisive, would have been fine in the seventeenth century but was not working out so well today.

With renewed resolve to unravel Elizabeth’s story, Kim boarded the subway and traveled to Harvard Square. Within fifteen minutes of her arrival she was back in Mary Custland’s office in the Widener Library, waiting for Mary to finish reading Jonathan’s letter.

“This house of yours must be a treasure of memorabilia,” Mary said, looking up from the page. “This letter is priceless.” She immediately called Katherine Sturburg to her office and had her read it.

“What a delight,” Katherine said when she was finished.

Both women told Kim that the letter was from a period of Harvard history of which there was scant material. They asked if they could copy it, and Kim gave them permission.

“So we have to find a reference to ‘Rachel Bingham,’” Mary said, sitting down at her terminal.

“That’s what I’m hoping,” Kim said.

Mary entered the name while Kim and Katherine looked over her shoulder. Kim found herself with crossed fingers without having been conscious of doing it.

Two Rachel Binghams flashed onto the screen, but both were from the nineteenth century and could have had no association with Elizabeth. Mary tried a few other tricks, but there was nothing.

“I’m awfully sorry,” Mary said. “Of course you realize that even if we did find a reference, the problem of the 1764 fire would still be a rather insurmountable difficulty.”

“I understand,” Kim said. “I really didn’t expect to find anything, but, as I said on my first visit, I feel obligated to follow up on any new leads.”

“I’ll be sure to go through my sources with the new name,” Katherine said.

Kim thanked both women and left. She took the subway back to North Station and had to wait for a train to Salem. As she stood on the platform she vowed to redouble her efforts at sorting the impossible jumble of papers in the castle over the next couple of days. Once she started back to work she’d have little opportunity to work on it except on her days off.

Arriving back at the compound, Kim intended to drive directly to the castle, but as she cleared the trees, she saw a Salem police car parked in front of the cottage. Curious as to what that could mean, she headed in its direction.

As she approached, Kim spotted Edward and Eleanor standing and conversing with two policemen in the middle of the grassy field about fifty yards from the house. Eleanor had her arm around Edward’s shoulder.

Kim parked next to the patrol car and got out. The group in the field either hadn’t heard her arrive or were too preoccupied to notice her.

Curious, Kim started walking toward them. As she approached she could see that there was something in the grass that had their collective attention.

Kim gasped when she saw what had their attention. It was Buffer. The poor dog was dead. What made the scene particularly gruesome was that some of the dog’s flesh from its hindquarters was gone, exposing bloodied bones.

Kim cast a sorrowful look at Edward, who greeted her with composure, suggesting to her that he’d recovered from the initial shock. She could see dried tears on his cheeks. As nasty as the dog was, she knew he cared for him.

“It might be worth it to have the bones looked at by a medical examiner,” Edward was saying. “There’s a chance someone could recognize the teethmarks and tell us what species of animal could have done this.”

“I don’t know how the medical examiner’s office would respond to a call about a dead dog,” one of the officers said. His name was Billy Selvey.

“But you said you’ve had a couple of similar episodes during the last few nights,” Edward said. “I think it behooves you to find out what kind of animal is involved. Personally, I think it was either another dog or a raccoon.”

Kim was impressed with Edward’s rationality in the face of his loss. He’d recovered enough to have a technical discussion about potential teethmarks on the exposed bone.

“When was the last time you saw the dog?” Billy asked.

“Last night,” Edward said. “He usually slept with me, but maybe I let him out. I can’t remember. Occasionally the dog stayed out all night. I’d never thought it was a problem since the compound is so big, and the dog wouldn’t bother anyone anyway.”

“I fed the dog around eleven-thirty last night,” Kim said. “I left him in the kitchen eating.”

“Did you let him out?” Edward asked.

“No, as I said, I left him in the kitchen,” Kim said.

“Well, I didn’t see him when I got up this morning,” Edward said. “I didn’t think anything about it. I just assumed he’d show up at the lab.”

“Do you people have one of those pet doors?” Billy asked.

Both Kim and Edward said no at the same time.

“Anybody hear anything unusual last night?” Billy asked.

“I was dead to the world,” Edward said. “I sleep very soundly, especially lately.”

“I didn’t hear anything either,” Kim said.

“There’s been some talk down at the station about these incidents being due to a rabid animal,” the other officer said. His name was Harry Conners. “Do you people have any other pets?”

“I have a cat,” Kim said.

“We advise you to keep it on a short leash for the next few days,” Billy said.

The police put away their notepads and pens, said goodbye, and started toward their cruiser.

“What about the carcass?” Edward called out. “Don’t you want to take it to the medical examiner?”

The two officers looked at each other, hoping the other one would respond. Finally Billy yelled back that they thought it best not to take it.

Edward waved them away good-naturedly. “I gave them a great tip and what do they do?” he said. “They walk away.”

“Well, I’ve got to get back to work,” Eleanor said, speaking up for the first time. She looked at Kim. “Don’t forget, you promised to come back to the lab real soon.”

“I’ll be there,” Kim promised. She was amazed Eleanor cared, yet she seemed sincere.

Eleanor started off toward the lab.

Edward stood looking down at Buffer. Kim averted her eyes. The sight was grisly and made her stomach turn.

“I’m very sorry about Buffer,” Kim said, putting her hand on Edward’s shoulder.

“He had a good life,” Edward said cheerfully. “I think I’ll disarticulate the back legs and send them to one of the pathologists I know at the medical school. Maybe he could tell us what kind of animal we should be looking for.”

Kim swallowed hard hearing Edward’s suggestion. Further mutilating the poor dog was hardly what she’d expected from him.

“I’ve got an old rag in the back of my car,” Edward said. “I’ll get it to wrap the carcass in.”

Not sure what she should do, Kim stayed by Buffer’s remains while Edward went for the old towel. She was rattled by Buffer’s cruel fate even if Edward seemingly wasn’t. Once Buffer was wrapped in the towel, she accompanied Edward back to the lab.

As they neared the lab a disturbing possibility occurred to Kim. She stopped Edward. “I just thought of something,” she said. “What if Buffer’s death and mutilation had something to do with sorcery?”

Edward looked at her for a beat, then threw his head back with howls of laughter. It took him several minutes to get himself under control. Meanwhile Kim found herself laughing with him as well, embarrassed at having suggested such a thing. “Wait just one minute,” Kim protested. “I can remember reading someplace about black magic and animal sacrifice going hand in hand.”

“I find your melodramatic imagination wonderfully entertaining,” Edward managed amid renewed laughter. When he finally got himself under control, he apologized for laughing at her. At the same time he thanked her for a moment of comic relief.

“Tell me,” he said, “do you really think that after three hundred years the devil has decided to return to Salem and that witchcraft is being directed at me and Omni?”

“I just made the association between animal sacrifice and sorcery,” Kim said. “I really didn’t think too much about it. Nor did I mean to imply that I believed in it, just that somebody did.”

Edward put Buffer down and gave Kim a hug. “I think maybe you’ve been spending too much time hidden in the castle going through the old papers. Once things are really under control with Omni, we should go on a vacation. Someplace hot where we can lie in the sun. What do you say?”

“It sounds fun,” Kim said although she wondered what kind of time frame was in Edward’s mind.

Kim did not care to watch Edward dissect Buffer, so she stayed outside the lab when he went in to do it. He came back out in a few minutes, carrying a shovel, with the carcass still wrapped in the towel. He dug a shallow grave near the entrance of the lab. When he was finished burying Buffer, he told Kim to wait a moment since he had forgotten something. He disappeared back inside the lab.

Reemerging, Edward snowed Kim a chemical reagent bottle he had retrieved. With a flamboyant gesture he placed the bottle at the head of Buffer’s grave.

“What’s that?” Kim asked.

“It’s a chemical buffer called TRIS,” Edward said. “A buffer for Buffer.” Then he laughed almost as heartily as he had with Kim’s suggestion of sorcery.

“I’m impressed how you are handling this unfortunate incident,” Kim told him.

“I’m certain it has something to do with Ultra,” Edward said, still chuckling over the pun. “When I first heard what had happened I was crushed. Buffer was like family to me. But the awful sorrow I felt passed quickly. I mean, I’m still sorry he’s gone, but I don’t feel that awful emptiness that accompanies grief. I can rationally recognize that death is a natural complement of living. After all, Buffer did have a good life for a dog, and he didn’t have the world’s best disposition.”

“He was a loyal pet,” Kim said. She wasn’t about to tell him her true feelings about the dog.

“This is another example of why you should give Ultra a chance,” Edward said. “I guarantee it will calm you down. Who knows, maybe it would clear your mind enough to help you with your quest to learn the truth about Elizabeth.”

“I think only hard work can possibly do that,” Kim said.

Edward gave her a quick kiss, thanked her effusively for her moral support, and disappeared back into the lab. Kim turned around and started for the castle. She’d only gone a short distance when she started to worry about Sheba. Suddenly she remembered letting the cat out the night before, after she’d fed Buffer, and she hadn’t seen her that morning.

Reversing her direction, Kim headed for the cottage. As she walked she gradually increased her pace. Buffer’s death had added to her general anxiety. She couldn’t imagine how devastated she’d be if Sheba had succumbed to a similar fate as Buffer.

Entering the house, Kim called for Sheba. She quickly climbed the stairs and went into her bedroom. To her relief she saw the cat curled up in a ball of fur in the middle of the bed. Kim rushed over and snuggled with the animal. Sheba gave her one of her disdainful looks for being disturbed.

After petting the cat for several minutes, Kim went to her bureau. With tremulous fingers she picked up the container of Ultra she’d put there the night before. Once again she removed one of the blue capsules and examined it. She yearned for relief. She debated with herself the idea of trying the drug for twenty-four hours, just to see what it could do for her. Edward’s ability to deal so well with Buffer’s death was an impressive testimonial. Kim went so far as to get a glass of water.

But she did not take the capsule. Instead she began to wonder if Edward’s response was too modulated. From her reading as well as her intuition Kim knew that a certain amount of grieving was a necessary human emotion. That made her consider whether blocking the normal process of grieving might exact a price in the future.

With that thought in mind, Kim replaced the capsule in the vial and hazarded another visit to the lab. Fearing being entrapped by more interminable demonstrations by Edward’s team, Kim literally sneaked into the building.

Luckily, only Edward and David were on the upper floor and they were at opposite ends of the huge room. Kim was able to surprise Edward without the others knowing she was there. When Edward saw her and started to respond, Kim shushed him with her finger to her lips. Taking his hand, she led him from the building.

Once the door to the lab had closed behind them, Edward grinned and asked, “What on earth has gotten into you?”

“I just want to talk to you,” Kim explained. “I had a thought that maybe you could include in the clinical protocol of Ultra.”

Kim explained to Edward what she’d thought about grief and expanded the notion to include anxiety and melancholy, saying that moderate amounts of these emotionally painful feelings play a positive role as motivators of human growth, change, and creativity. She concluded by saying, “What I’m worried about is that taking a drug like Ultra that modulates these mental states may have a hidden cost and could cause a serious negative side effect that would not be anticipated.”

Edward smiled and slowly nodded his head. He was impressed. “I appreciate your concern,” he said. “It's an interesting thought you have, but I don't share it. You see, it's based on a false premise, namely that the mind is somehow mystically apart from the material body. That old hypothesis has been debunked by recent experience that shows that the mind and the body are one even in regards to mood and emotion. Emotion has been proved to be biologically determined by the fact that it is affected by drugs like Prozac, which alter levels of neurotransmitters. It has revolutionized ideas about brain function.”

“That kind of thinking is dehumanizing,” Kim complained.

“Let me put it another way,” Edward said. “What about pain? Do you think drugs should be taken for pain?”

“Pain is different,” Kim said, but she could see the philosophical trap Edward was laying for her.

“I don’t think so,” Edward said. “Pain, too, is biological. Since physical pain and psychic pain are both biological, they should both be treated the same, namely with well-designed drugs that target only those parts of the brain responsible.”

Kim felt frustrated. She wanted to ask Edward where the world would be if Mozart and Beethoven had been on drugs for anxiety or depression. But she did not say anything. She knew it was no use. The scientist in Edward blinded him.

Edward gave Kim an exuberant hug and reiterated how much he appreciated her interest in his work. He then patted the top of her head.

“We’ll talk more about this issue if you’d like,” he said. “But now I better get back to work.”

Kim apologized for bothering him and started back for the cottage.