Contagion

32

Jack felt uncomfortable. Among other problems he was stiff and now all his muscles ached. He’d been sitting in the van for more hours than he cared to count, watching customers going in and out of the pawnshop. There’d never been a crowd, but it was steady. Most of the people looked seedy. It occurred to Jack that the shop was trafficking in illicit activities like gambling or drugs.

It was not a good neighborhood. Jack had sensed that the moment he’d arrived that morning. The point had been driven home as darkness fell and someone tried to break into the van with Jack sitting there. The man had approached the passenger-side door with a flat bar, which he proceeded to insert between the glass and the door frame. Jack had to knock on the glass and wave to get the man’s attention. The moment he saw Jack he ran off.

Jack was now popping throat lozenges at a regular rate with little relief. His throat was worse, and to add to his increasing misery he’d developed a cough. It wasn’t a bad cough, merely a dry hack. But it further irritated his throat and increased his anxiety that he had indeed caught the flu from Gloria Hernandez. Although two rimantadine tablets were recommended as the daily dose, Jack took a third when the coughing started.

Just about the time Jack was contemplating admitting to himself that his clever ploy with the package had been a failure, his patience paid off. The man involved did not attract Jack’s attention initially. He’d arrived on foot, which was not what Jack expected. He was dressed in an old nylon ski parka with a hood just like a few of the individuals who’d preceded him. But when he came out he was carrying the parcel. Despite the failing light and the distance, Jack could see the “rush” and “biohazard” labels plastered haphazardly over the exterior.

Jack had to make a rapid decision as the man walked briskly toward the Bowery. He hadn’t expected to be following a pedestrian, and he debated if he should get out of the van and follow on foot or stay in the van, circle around, and try to follow the man while driving.

Thinking that a slowly moving van would attract more attention than a pedestrian, Jack got out of the truck. He followed at a distance until the man turned right on Eldridge Street. Jack then ran until he reached the corner.

He peeked around just in time to see the man entering a building across the street, midway down the block.

Jack quickly walked to the building. It was five stories, like its immediate neighbors. Each floor had two large, storefront-sized windows with smaller, sashed windows on either side. A fire escape zigzagged down the left side of the facade to end in a counterweighted ladder pivoted some twelve feet from the sidewalk. The ground-floor commercial space was vacant with a For Rent sign stuck to the inside of the glass.

The only lights were in the second-floor windows. From where Jack was standing it appeared to be a loft apartment, but he couldn’t be certain. There were no drapes or other obvious signs of domesticity.

While Jack was eyeing the building, vaguely wondering what to do next, the lights went on up on the fifth floor. While he watched he saw someone raise the sash of the smaller window to the left. Jack was unable to see if it had been the man he followed, but he suspected it was.

After making certain he wasn’t being observed, Jack quickly moved over to the door where the man had entered. He tried it, and it opened. Stepping over the threshold, he found himself in a small foyer. A group of four mailboxes was set into the wall to the left. Only two had names. The second floor was occupied by G. Heilbrunn. The fifth-floor tenant was R. Overstreet. There was no Frazer Labs.

Four buzzers bordered a small grille which Jack assumed covered a speaker. He vaguely contemplated ringing the fifth floor but had trouble imagining what he could say. He stood there for a few minutes thinking, but nothing came to mind. Then he noticed that the mailbox for the fifth floor appeared to be unlocked.

Jack was about to reach up to the mailbox when the inner door to the building proper abruptly opened. It startled Jack and he jumped, but he had the presence of mind to keep himself turned away from whoever was exiting the building. The person hastily brushed by Jack with obvious distress. Jack caught a fleeting glimpse of the same nylon ski parka. A second later the man was gone.

Jack reacted quickly, getting his foot into the inner door before it closed. As soon as he was certain the man was not immediately returning, Jack entered the building. He let the door close behind him. A stairway wound up surrounding a wide elevator built of a steel frame covered by heavy wire mesh. Jack assumed the elevator had been for freight, not only because of its size but also because its doors closed horizontally instead of vertically, and its floor was rough-hewn planks.

Jack got into the elevator and pushed five.

The elevator was noisy, bumpy, and slow, but it got Jack to the fifth floor. Getting off, he faced a plain, heavy door. There was no name and no bell. Hoping the apartment was empty, Jack knocked. When there was no answer even after a second, louder rapping, Jack tried the door. It was locked.

Since the stairway rose up another floor, Jack climbed to see if he could get to the roof. The door opened but would lock behind him once he was outside. Before he ventured onto the roof he had to find something to wedge between the door and doorjamb so he could return to the stairwell. Just over the threshold he found a short length of two-by-four, which he guessed was there for that very purpose.

With the door propped open Jack stepped out onto the dark roof and gingerly walked toward the front of the building. Ahead of him he could see the arched handrails of the fire-escape ladder silhouetted against the night sky.

Arriving at the front parapet, Jack grasped the handrails and looked down. The view down to the street awakened his fear of heights, and the idea of lowering himself over the edge made him feel momentarily weak. Yet just twelve feet down was the fire-escape landing for the fifth floor. It was generously illuminated by the light coming from within the apartment.

Despite his phobia, Jack knew this was a chance he couldn’t pass up. He had to at least take a look into the window.

First he sat on the parapet facing the rear of the building. Then, holding on to the handrail, he stood up. Keeping his eyes fixed on each rung, Jack lowered himself down the short run of ladder. He moved slowly and deliberately until his foot hit up against the grate of the landing. Never once did he look down.

Maintaining one hand on the ladder, he leaned over and peered through the window. The space was indeed a loft as Jack had surmised, but he could see it was partially divided with six-foot-high partitions. Immediately in front of him was a living area with a bed to the right and a small kitchen built against the left wall. On a round table was the opened remains of Jack’s parcel. The doorstop and the crumpled newspaper were strewn about the floor.

What interested Jack more was what he could just see over the partition: It was the top of a stainless-steel appliance that did not look as if it belonged in an apartment.

With the window in front of him invitingly open, Jack could not control his urge to climb into the apartment for a better look. Besides, he rationalized, he could exit into the stairwell rather than subject himself to climbing the fire-escape ladder again.

Although he continued to avoid looking down, it took Jack a moment to convince himself to let go of the ladder. By the time he had slithered into the apartment headfirst, he was perspiring heavily.

Jack quickly collected himself. Once inside with his feet planted on the floor, he had no compunction about peering back out the window and down at the street. He wanted to make sure the man in the ski parka wasn’t coming back, at least not for the moment.

Satisfied, Jack turned back to the apartment. He went from the combination kitchen-bedroom into a living room dominated by a storefront-sized window. There were two couches facing each other and a coffee table on a small hooked rug. The walls of the partitions were decorated with posters announcing international microbiological symposia. The magazines on the coffee table were all microbiological journals.

Jack was encouraged. Perhaps he had found Frazer Labs after all. But there was also something that disturbed him. A large, glass-fronted gun cabinet stood against the far partition. The man in the ski parka was not only interested in bacteria; he was also a gun enthusiast.

Moving quickly, Jack passed through the living room intent on locating the door to the stairwell. But as soon as he passed beyond the living room’s partition, he came to a stop. The entire rest of the large, multicolumned loft was occupied by a lab. The stainless-steel appliance he’d seen from the fire escape was similar to the walk-in incubator he’d seen in the General’s lab. In the far right-hand corner was a type III biosafety hood whose exhaust vented out the top of the sashed window.

Although Jack had suspected he’d find a private lab when he climbed through the window, the comprehensiveness of the one he’d discovered stunned him. He knew that such equipment was not cheap, and the combination living quarters/lab was unusual to say the least.

A generous commercial freezer caught Jack’s attention. Standing to the side were several large cylinders of compressed nitrogen. The freezer had been converted to using liquid nitrogen as its coolant, making it possible to take the interior temperature down into the minus-fifty-degree range.

Jack tried to open the freezer, but it was locked.

A muffled noise that resembled a bark caught Jack’s attention, and he looked up from the freezer. He heard it again. It came from the very back of the lab where there was a shed about twenty feet square. Jack walked closer to examine the odd structure. A vent duct exited from its rear and exhausted through the top of one of the rear windows.

Jack cracked the door. A feral odor drifted out as well as a few sharp barks. Opening the door farther, Jack saw the edges of metal cages. He flipped on a light. He saw a few dogs and cats, but for the most part the room was filled with rats and mice. The animals stared back at him blankly. A few dogs wagged their tails in hopeful anticipation.

Jack shut the door. In Jack’s mind the man in the parka was becoming some kind of fiendish microbiological devotee. Jack didn’t even want to think about what kind of experiments were in progress with the animals he’d discovered.

A sudden, distant high-pitched whine of electrical machinery made Jack’s heart skip a beat. He knew instantly what it was: the elevator!

With rapidly mounting panic, Jack frantically searched for the door to the hall. The spectacle of the lab had diverted his attention from locating it. It didn’t take long to find, but by the time Jack reached it, he feared the elevator would be nearing the fifth floor.

Jack’s initial thought had been to dash up the stairs to the roof and then exit the building after the man in the parka had entered his apartment. But now with the elevator fast approaching, Jack thought he’d be seen. That left exiting the apartment the way he’d entered. But when the elevator motor stopped and the metal doors clanged open, he knew there wasn’t time.

Jack had to hide quickly, preferably close to the door to the hall. About ten feet away was a blank door. Jack rushed to it and opened it: It was a bathroom. Jack jumped in and pulled the door closed behind him. He had to hope the man in the parka had other things on his mind than using the toilet or washing his hands.

Hardly had Jack shut the bathroom door than he heard keys turning the locks of the outer door. The man came in, locked the door after him, then walked briskly away. The sound of his footsteps receded, then disappeared.

For a second Jack hesitated. He gauged how much time he needed to get to the door to the hall and unlock it. Once he got to the stairs he felt confident he could outrun the man in the parka. With all his basketball playing, Jack was in better shape than most.

As quietly as possible, Jack opened the door. At first he only cracked it to be able to listen. Jack heard nothing. Slowly he opened the door further so that he could peer out.

From Jack’s vantage point he could see a large part of the lab. The man was not to be seen. Jack pushed the door open just enough to squeeze through. He eyed the door to the hall. There was a deadbolt a few inches above the knob.

Glancing around the lab once more, Jack slipped out of the bathroom and rushed silently over to the outer door. He grasped the knob with his left hand while his right hand went to the deadbolt. But there was an agonizing problem. The deadbolt had no knob. A key was required from both inside and out. Jack was locked in!

Panicked, Jack retreated to the bathroom. He felt desperate, like one of the poor animals penned in the makeshift shelter. His only hope was that the man in the parka would leave before using the bathroom. But it was not to be. After only a few agonizing minutes, the bathroom door was suddenly whisked open. The man, sans parka, started in but collided with Jack. Both men gasped.

Jack was about to say something clever when the man stepped back and slammed the door hard enough to bring down the shower curtain and rod.

Jack immediately went for the door handle for fear of being locked in. Putting his shoulder into it, Jack rammed the door. Unexpectedly the door opened without hindrance. Jack stumbled out of the bathroom, struggling to stay on his feet. Once he had his balance, his eyes darted around the loft. The man had disappeared.

Jack headed for the kitchen and the open window. He had no other choice. But he only made it as far as the living room. The man had also run there to snatch a large revolver out of a drawer in the coffee table. As Jack appeared, the man leveled the gun at him and told him to freeze.

Jack immediately complied. He even raised his hands. With such a large gun pointing at him, Jack wanted to be as cooperative as possible.

“What the hell are you doing here?” the man snarled. His hair fell across his forehead, making him snap his head back to keep it out of his eyes.

It was that gesture more than anything else that made Jack recognize the man. It was Richard, the head tech from the Manhattan General’s lab.

“Answer me!” Richard demanded.

Jack raised his hands higher, hoping the gesture might satisfy Richard, while his mind desperately sought some reasonable explanation of why he was there. But none came to mind. Under the circumstances Jack couldn’t even think of anything clever to say.

Jack kept his eyes riveted to the gun barrel, which had moved to within three feet of his nose. He noticed the tip trembled, suggesting that Richard was not only angry but also acutely agitated. In Jack’s mind such a combination was particularly dangerous.

“If you don’t answer me I’m going to shoot you right now,” Richard hissed.

“I’m a medical examiner,” Jack blurted out. “I’m investigating.”

“Bull!” Richard snapped. “Medical examiners don’t go busting into people’s apartments.”

“I didn’t break in,” Jack explained. “The window was open.”

“Shut up,” Richard said. “It’s all the same. You’re trespassing and meddling.”

“I’m sorry,” Jack said. “Couldn’t we just talk about this?”

“Were you the one who sent me that fake package?” Richard demanded.

“What package?” Jack asked innocently.

Richard’s eyes left Jack’s, and they swept down to Jack’s feet and then back up to his face. “You’ve even got on a fake deliveryman outfit. That took thought and effort.”

“What are you talking about?” Jack asked. “I dress like this all the time when I’m not at the morgue.”

“Bull!” Richard repeated. He pointed toward one of the couches with the gun. “Sit down!” he yelled.

“All right already,” Jack said. “You only have to ask nicely.” The initial shock was passing and his wits were returning. He sat where Richard indicated.

Richard backed up to the gun cabinet without taking his eyes off Jack. He groped for keys in his pocket and then tried to get the gun cabinet open without looking at what he was doing.

“Can I give you a hand?” Jack asked.

“Shut up!” Richard yelled. Even his hand with the key was shaking. When he got the glazed door open, he reached in and pulled out a pair of handcuffs.

“Now, that’s a handy item to have around,” Jack said.

Handcuffs in hand, Richard started back toward Jack, keeping the gun pointed at his face.

“I tell you what,” Jack said. “Why don’t we call the police. I’ll confess, and they can take me away. Then I’ll be out of your hair.”

“Shut up,” Richard ordered. He then motioned for Jack to get to his feet.

Jack complied and lifted his hands again.

“Move!” Richard said, motioning toward the main part of the lab.

Jack backed up. He was afraid to take his eyes off the gun. Richard kept coming toward him, the handcuffs dangling from his left hand.

“Over by the column,” Richard snapped.

Jack did as he was instructed. He stood against the column. It was about fifteen inches in diameter.

“Face it,” Richard commanded.

Jack turned around.

“Reach around it with your hands and grasp them together,” Richard said.

When he did what Richard had insisted, Jack felt the handcuffs snap over each wrist. He was now locked to the column.

“Mind if I sit down?” Jack asked.

Richard didn’t bother to answer. He hurried back into the living area. Jack lowered himself to the floor. The most comfortable position was embracing the column with his legs wrapped around it as well as his arms.

Jack could hear Richard dialing a telephone. Jack considered yelling for help when Richard started his conversation, but quickly scrapped the idea as suicidal, considering how nervous Richard was acting. Besides, whomever Richard was calling probably wouldn’t care about Jack’s plight.

“Jack Stapleton is here!” Richard blurted without preamble. “I caught him in my goddamn bathroom. He knows about Frazer Labs and he’s been snooping around in here. I’m sure of it. Just like Beth Holderness at the lab.”

The hairs on the back of Jack’s neck rose up when he heard Richard mention Beth’s name.

“Don’t tell me to calm down!” Richard shouted. “This is an emergency. I shouldn’t have gotten myself involved in this. You’d better get over here fast. This is your problem as well as it is mine.”

Jack heard Richard slam down the telephone. The man sounded even more agitated. A few minutes later Richard reappeared without his gun.

He came over to Jack and looked down at him. Richard’s lips were quivering. “How did you find out about Frazer Labs?” he demanded. “I know you sent the phony package, so there’s no use lying.”

Jack looked up into the man’s face. Richard’s pupils were widely dilated. He looked half crazy.

Without warning, Richard slapped Jack with an open palm. The blow split Jack’s lower lip. A trickle of blood appeared at the corner of his mouth.

“You’d better start talking.” Richard snarled.

Jack gingerly felt the damaged part of his lip with his tongue. It was numb. He tasted the saltiness of his blood.

“Maybe we should wait for your colleague,” Jack said, to say something. His intuition told him he soon would be seeing Martin Cheveau or Kelley or possibly even Zimmerman.

The slap must have hurt Richard as well as Jack because he opened and closed his hand a few times and then disappeared back into the living area. Jack heard what he thought was the refrigerator being opened, then an ice tray being dumped.

A few minutes later Richard reappeared to glare at Jack. He had a dish towel wrapped around his hand. He commenced pacing, pausing every now and again to glance at his watch.

Time dragged by. Jack would have liked to have been able to take one of his throat lozenges, but it was impossible. He also noticed that his cough was increasing and that he now felt just plain sick. He guessed he had a fever.

The distant, high-pitched sound of the elevator brought Jack’s head up from where it had slumped against the column. Jack considered the fact that the buzzer hadn’t sounded. That meant that whoever was on their way up had a key.

Richard heard the elevator motor as well. He went to the door and opened it to wait in the hall.

Jack heard the elevator arrive with a thump. The motor switched off and the elevator door clanged open.

“Where is he?” an angry voice demanded.

Jack was facing away from the door when he heard Richard and his visitor come into the loft. He heard the door close and be locked.

“He’s over there,” Richard said with equal venom. “Handcuffed to the column.”

Jack took a breath and turned his head as he heard footsteps close in on him. When he caught sight of who it was, he gasped.