Mindbend

CHAPTER 12

The flight to Miami was uneventful. As soon as Adam was airborne, he removed his own driver’s license from his billfold and replaced it with Smyth’s. Then he studied the addresses in the passport. If someone asked him where he lived, he wanted to be able to rattle it off by heart.

The plane landed at five minutes after four, and since Adam had carried his luggage aboard, he was at the taxi stand by four-fifteen. The taxi was an old broken-down Dodge station wagon and the driver spoke only Spanish, but he recognized the name of the Fjord and understood that Adam was going on a cruise.

Adam stared at the tropical scenery. Miami was much more beautiful than he’d imagined. Soon they passed over a long causeway and Adam saw the harbor. The cruise ships were tied up in a line, with the Fjord the last in the row. Compared to the others, the Fjord seemed neither especially large nor particularly small. Like the others, it was painted white. It had one huge smokestack with an image of two intertwining arrows on the side. Adam wondered if that were MTIC’s logo.

Adam’s driver could not get close to the curb, so Adam paid him and got out in the middle of the street. Suitcase in hand, he made his way toward the entrance of the building. The din of car horns, voices, and idling motors was terrific, the air heavy with fumes. It was a relief to get inside.

Adam made his way to an information booth where the receptionists’ uniforms reminded him of the staff’s dress at the Julian Clinic. They, too, were dressed in white blouses and blue jumpers.

Adam had to shout to be heard. He asked how he should check in and was told to go up the escalator to the second level. Adam thanked the girl who’d directed him by mouthing the words.

Getting on the escalator was a trick, especially with the suitcase. While he rode up, he looked over the crowd. Although there were a few women, the majority of the people were men and they certainly looked like doctors-prosperous and self-satisfied. Most were dressed in business suits, though a few had on sport shirts and slacks.

On the second floor of the terminal was a long registration table, divided into alphabetical segments. Adam joined the line marked “N-Z.”

Glancing around the room, he suddenly got cold feet. Maybe he should leave. No one would notice. He could just catch a cab to the airport and fly home. He began counting the number of people between him and the registration desk. At that moment, Adam’s eye caught those of a man standing a few feet away in the neighboring line. Quickly looking away, Adam nervously tapped his foot. There was no reason for someone to be staring at him. Gradually, Adam allowed his eyes to return to the next line. Unfortunately, the man was still looking directly at him. When he saw Adam look up, he smiled. Self-consciously, Adam smiled back. Then, to his horror, the man came over.

“My name is Alan Jackson,” he said, forcing Adam to put down his suitcase and shake hands. Nervously, Adam introduced himself as Stuart Smyth. Alan just nodded and smiled again.

He was at least ten years older than Adam and had broad shoulders and a narrow waist. His sandy hair was combed forward, probably to hide a bald spot.

“You look awfully familiar,” said Alan. “Are you from New York?”

Adam felt the blood drain from his face. He hadn’t even checked in yet and already he was in trouble.

At that moment the loudspeaker came to life: “Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen. For those of you with boarding cards, the Fjord will be ready to receive you in just a few minutes. If you haven’t received a boarding card, we recommend that you proceed to the registration desk immediately.”

“Aren’t you in orthopedics?” asked Alan as soon as the loudspeaker fell silent.

“No,” said Adam, relieved. Obviously the man didn’t know the real Smyth. “I’m OB-GYN. How about you?”

“Orthopedics. I’m with the University of California, San Diego. This your first Arolen cruise?”

“No,” said Adam quickly. “How about you?”

“It’s my second,” said Alan, turning suddenly. “My God, there’s Ned Janson. Hey, Ned, you old bastard. Over here!”

Adam saw a stocky, dark-haired man who was with one of the few women in the crowd look up. Seeing Alan, his face lit up with a smile. He took the woman by the arm and made his way over.

While Alan and Ned had a back-slapping reunion, Adam introduced himself to the woman. Her name was Clair Osborn. She was a handsome lady, about thirty, with a round, healthy face, and long, muscular legs. She was dressed in a short black-and-white skirt. Adam was enjoying himself until she told him she was a gynecologist.

“What’s your specialty?” asked Clair. “Orthopedics or OB-GYN?”

“Why limit the choices to those two?” joked Adam, trying to change the subject.

“It’s my brilliant intuition,” said Clair. “Plus the fact that this cruise is for orthopods and obstetricians only.”

Adam laughed nervously. “Well, I’m OB. ”

“Really?” said Clair with delight. “Then we’ll be going to the same functions.”

“That will be nice,” said Adam. “Is this your first cruise?” Adam wanted to talk about anything other than OB-GYN. He didn’t fool himself into thinking he could hold up his end of a professional conversation.

“Sure is,” said Clair. “It’s Ned’s first time, too. Right, Ned?” Clair yanked on Ned’s arm to get his attention. Hearing bits and pieces of their conversation, Adam understood that Alan and Ned had trained at the same hospital.

“Hey! This is great,” said Ned after meeting Adam. “Why don’t we all have dinner tonight?”

Alan shook his head. “The Arolen people do the seating. They consider meals an extension of the scientific sessions.”

“Oh, bullshit,” said Ned. “What is this supposed to be, summer camp?”

The man in front of Adam moved away with his boarding card in hand. Adam stepped up to the counter and faced a young man nattily dressed in a white blazer. On the breast pocket was the same logo Adam had seen painted on the side of the Fjord’s smokestack. On his lapel was a name tag that said “Juan.” Below the name and in small letters was printed “MTIC.”

“Your name, please?” asked Juan. His voice sounded as if he’d asked the question so often that he was speaking by rote.

“Stuart Smyth,” said Adam and fumbled with his billfold to get out the driver’s license. In the process his Arolen card dropped on the counter. Luckily, Juan was already busy entering Stuart Smyth into the computer so he didn’t see it. Adam turned around to see if any of his new friends had noticed, but they were busy talking. Adam turned back to face Juan, thinking that by the time this cruise was over, he was going to be a nervous wreck. Furtively, he slipped the Arolen card into his jacket pocket.

“Passport?” asked Juan.

After a moment of panic Adam found the passport in his inside jacket pocket and handed it over. Juan opened it. Adam felt a stab of terror, but Juan just looked at it for two seconds and handed it back, saying, “Here’s your boarding card. Please present it to the purser and he will assign you your stateroom. If you leave the ship during the cruise, be sure to have the card on your person. Next, please.”

Adam stepped aside so the man behind him could approach the counter. So far so good.

After Alan had obtained his boarding card, he, Ned, and Clair accompanied Adam to the Arolen desk. There they were given a package of “goodies” as Ned called them. The process starts, thought Adam as he took the gift, a leather shoulder bag with the MTIC logo on the side. Inside the bag were a Cross pen and pencil set, a legal-sized, leatherbound note pad, and a lecture schedule for the cruise. There was also an array of Arolen products which comprised a small pharmacy. Adam glanced at the loot with interest, but knew that he’d have to wait to examine it in detail.

The loudspeaker crackled to life and it was announced that the ship was ready to board. A cheer rose from the crowd as Adam and his newly made friends slowly walked outside. A uniformed policeman checked their boarding cards at dockside, and they all trooped up the gangway.

Stepping off the ramp, Adam found himself on the main deck. It wasn’t a new ship by any stretch of the imagination, but it appeared to be well cared for and certain sections seemed to have been recently renovated. The personnel were all dressed like the man at the registration desk, in white blazers and black slacks. Their uniforms were spotlessly clean and carefully pressed.

Adam was approached by one of the stewards who politely checked his boarding card and directed him to a desk to the right. Apparently, there were different colored boarding cards for those who had been on a previous cruise. Ned and Clair were sent to a different desk.

Adam was assigned stateroom 407 on A deck, which was the floor below the main deck. As he took his key, he noticed that the purser had the same monotonous inflection in his voice as the man at the registration desk.

Alan, who was right behind Adam, was assigned stateroom 409. As they walked away, Adam commented on the flat speech pattern.

“I suppose they say the same thing over and over again,” said Alan.

A steward approached Adam and relieved him of his small suitcase and his new Arolen shoulder bag.

“Thank you,” said Adam.

The man didn’t respond except by indicating that Adam was to follow him.

“See you later, Stuart,” called Alan.

It took Adam a moment to remember that that was his name. “Yes, of course,” he called.

The steward was leading him past a gift shop filled with Gucci bags and Japanese cameras. At the back were wines, liquors, and tobaccos as well as a drug section. For the first time, Adam thought about the possibility of seasickness.

“Excuse me,” he said. “When will the store be opened?”

“About an hour after departure.”

“Do they sell Dramamine or those ear patches for motion sickness?” asked Adam.

The steward looked at him with a blank expression. “I don’t know if they sell Dramamine or those ear patches.” The way he echoed Adam’s question didn’t invite further conversation.

Staterooms 407 and 409 were adjacent on the port side of the ship. Alan was nowhere in sight. Adam’s steward opened the door to 407 and led Adam inside.

To Adam, who’d never been on a luxury liner, the room seemed small. There was a single bed on the right with a night table. On the left were a small desk and a chair. The bathroom was a tiny affair with a shower, toilet, and sink crammed next to a narrow closet.

The steward stuck his head in the bathroom, entered, and reappeared a moment later with a glass of water, which he handed to Adam.

“For me?” asked Adam. He took the glass and sipped the water. It had a rather chemical taste.

The steward reached into his side pocket and pulled out a yellow capsule, which he extended toward Adam. “Welcome back,” he said.

Adam smiled uneasily. “Sure is good to be here,” he said, eyeing the yellow capsule. It became obvious that the steward expected him to take the pill.

Adam put out his hand and the steward dropped the capsule into his palm. It didn’t look like Dramamine, but how was he to know?

“Is this for motion sickness?” he asked.

The steward said nothing, but his unblinking stare made Adam acutely uncomfortable.

“I’ll bet it is for motion sickness,” said Adam, tossing the pill into his mouth. After a swallow, he gave the water glass to the steward, who returned it to the bathroom. While he was out of the room, Adam took the yellow capsule out of his mouth and dropped it into his pocket.

The steward pulled down the covers on the bed as if he expected Adam to take a nap. Then he set Adam’s suitcase on a stand and began to unpack.

Amazed at such service, Adam sat on the bed and watched the man silently go about his business. When the steward was finished, he thanked Adam and left.

For a moment Adam sat puzzling over the steward’s behavior. Then he got up and upended his new Arolen shoulder bag. The drugs spilled onto the blanket.

Taking the yellow capsule out of his pocket, he checked to see if it matched any of the samples. It didn’t. Adam wondered if he would be able to find a PDR on board. There should be a library with basic reference books. He was curious about the yellow capsule. It had to be for motion sickness. Adam glanced at it one last time, then put it into a small bottle of aspirin.

He picked up the lecture schedule and began to read. It was nearly twenty-five pages long. The first half dealt with orthopedics, the second with OB-GYN. Adam noted that most of the lectures were clinically oriented, which he thought accounted for the conferences’ popularity.

Adam was convinced that if anything were done in the nature of brainwashing, it had to be done during the lectures. But what could they say to make a doctor like Vandermer change his mind about a drug? Could it be some kind of subliminal hypnosis? Adam tossed the schedule aside. He guessed he’d find out soon enough.

The blast of a horn made Adam jump. Then he heard the engines start. He decided to go on deck to watch.

Hanging up his seersucker jacket and removing his tie, Adam stepped into the corridor. He paused outside of room 409, realizing that although they shared a common wall, he’d heard nothing from Alan. Adam rapped on the door and waited, but there was no answer. Another steward came past, and Adam had to flatten himself against the wall. Then he knocked again. He was about to leave when he heard a thump from inside the room. With the heel of his hand, he pounded on the door, thinking perhaps Alan was in the bathroom. Still there was no answer. Reaching down, Adam tried the latch. The door was unlocked and swung inward.

Alan was sitting on the edge of the bed. At his feet was a water glass that had apparently just fallen to the floor.

“I beg your pardon,” said Adam, embarrassed. Alan mumbled that it didn’t matter, but Adam saw that he must have been asleep.

“Sorry to have disturbed you,” said Adam. “I was going to watch the departure and thought that maybe you…” Adam didn’t finish his sentence. Alan was slowly falling forward. Entering the room, Adam grabbed him before he hit the floor and eased him back onto the bed.

“Hey, are you OK?” asked Adam.

Sleepily, Alan nodded. “I’m just tired.”

“I think you’d better have a snooze,” laughed Adam, glancing around at the night table, suspecting that Alan might have taken a drink or two. But there was no liquor in evidence. He debated if he should cover the man, but since Alan was fully dressed, he just left him on top of the spread.

Back at the reception area there were still a few people waiting for room assignments. The gangplank, however, had been raised. Adam continued up two levels to what was called the promenade deck and went outside.

The change from air-conditioned coolness to the torpid Miami heat was a shock. Adam went to the railing and looked down at the quay. Stevedores were busy casting off the lines, freeing the ship from its mooring. The vibrations of the engines increased, and side thrusters moved the ship slowly away from the pier. From the stern Adam heard a cheer and then the noise of a Dixieland band.

Walking forward, Adam soon came to a teak barrier with a door leading to the bow. A sign cautioned: “Crew Only. Passengers Not Permitted Forward.” Adam tried the door. It was unlocked, but he decided not to test his luck by going through.

The horn blared again and at the same time the vibration of the ship changed. Adam guessed that the main screws had started to turn. Slowly, the ship began to move forward.

Adam met other passengers exploring the ship. Everyone was friendly and outgoing. A vacation mood prevailed.

Adam descended a deck and found himself surrounded by conference rooms of all sizes, ranging from a full-fledged theater to seminar rooms for less than a dozen people. Almost all the rooms were equipped with blackboards and slide projectors.

Amidships, Adam came to a door marked “Library.” He wanted to go in and look for a PDR, but the door was locked. Assuming that it would be open in the morning, he continued forward. Soon the central corridor ended at a locked door, which Adam guessed led to the crew’s quarters.

Descending another level, Adam came out on the main deck. He wandered past the store and the reception area and stopped to look into the main dining room. It was huge, with crystal chandeliers and large picture windows. At one end was a raised platform with a podium for speakers. On either side of the platform were swinging doors which apparently led to the kitchen. Stewards busy laying the tables were going in and out of the doors with their trays. A sign near the entrance stated that dinner would be served at nine o’clock.

Adam descended another level to the A deck where his stateroom was located. A number of cabin doors were open, and Adam could see the doctors unpacking and going in and out of each other’s rooms.

Walking down still another level, Adam found more conference rooms, a small gym, the ship’s doctor’s office, and an indoor swimming pool. Deciding he had explored the ship as much as he could, Adam made his way back to the promenade deck, where a noisy cocktail party was well under way.

Ned Janson spotted him and rushed him over to a group next to the pool. There was no way Adam could refuse, and soon he found himself drinking an ice-cold Heineken.

“Where the hell is Alan?” asked Ned over the babble of voices.

“In his room, sleeping,” said Adam.

Ned nodded as if it were expected and then started slapping his thigh as the band struck up “When the Saints Come Marchin’ In.”

Adam smiled across the table at Clair, who seemed to be enjoying herself, and then glanced around the party. It seemed a typical gathering of MDs. It was boisterous, physical-with lots of back-slapping, jokes, and booze. The minute Adam finished his beer, Ned thrust another into his hand.

Rather suddenly the ship began to pitch. Adam looked back and saw that the lights of Miami had vanished. The ship was now out into the Atlantic. His stomach did a flip-flop, and he hastily put down the beer.

The other doctors at the table seemed oblivious to the ship’s motion, and Adam wished he’d been able to find an anti-nauseant. Once again he wondered if the yellow capsule were for seasickness. He was tempted to ask but then decided he couldn’t stay in the loud, laughing group a minute longer.

He excused himself and quickly walked forward to a quiet spot by the rail. After a few minutes he felt better but decided to lie down for a while in his cabin. Closing his eyes, he felt OK, although the beer was still sloshing around in his stomach.

Jennifer and her father had gone for a walk in the field behind their house. She knew he wanted to discuss her pregnancy, and for the last half hour she had held him off with a barrage of chatter. Finally, turning back to the house, Jennifer decided it was time to face the subject.

“What do you think I should do, Father?”

Mr. Carson put his arm around her. “Whatever you think is right.”

“But what is your opinion?” asked Jennifer.

“That’s a different question,” said Mr. Carson. “Your mother really trusts this Dr. Vandermer. The mix-up with the amniocentesis samples was unfortunate, but I like the way he handled it. My feeling is that you should follow his recommendations.”

“Dr. Vandermer wants me to repeat the amniocentesis immediately,” said Jennifer.

“If he thinks there is a chance you might want to consider an abortion, then I think you should do it. Your mother and I don’t believe that a severely defective child should be brought into this world. It’s not fair to anyone, including the child. But that’s just the way we feel.”

“I suppose I feel the same way,” said Jennifer. “It just makes me feel so bad.”

Mr. Carson gave his daughter a squeeze. “Of course, honey. And your husband isn’t making things any easier. I don’t like to make judgments, but I don’t appreciate the way he is acting. He should be here helping make these decisions, not gallivanting off on some mysterious trip.”

They reached the screen door at the back of the house. They could hear Mrs. Carson in the kitchen, preparing dinner.

“You’re probably right,” said Jennifer, opening the door. “I’ll call Dr. Vandermer and have the amniocentesis repeated tomorrow.”

“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. Dinner is now being served.”

Adam woke from a sound sleep, and it took him several minutes to realize that the voice was coming from a small speaker in the wall of the cabin. He looked at his watch. It was nine o’clock.

Struggling to his feet, Adam felt the ship rolling as well as pitching. The idea of dinner wasn’t all that appealing. He took a quick shower, trying to maintain his balance, then dressed and left the cabin. He paused a minute and knocked on Alan’s door, but there was no answer. Either the man was still asleep or he had already gone to dinner. In either case, it wasn’t any of Adam’s business.

He noticed the ship’s store was open and went in to buy Dramamine, but the man behind the counter said they were out and would have to wait until morning to get more from the storeroom. Disappointed, Adam made his way to the dining room, where a steward asked if he was an obstetrician or an orthopedist. Adam told him OB and the steward led him to a table near the speaker’s platform.

There were five other doctors already seated. Adam was so busy remembering that his name was Stuart, he only caught two of his companions’ names during the introductions: Ted and Archibald.

The conversation was almost exclusively medical, although more about the profession’s economics than its practice.

Adam said little, preoccupied with his queasy stomach. As soon as he could, he motioned for the steward to remove his plate, wondering how the others could ignore the rolling motion of the ship. After coffee was served, a tall, dark man mounted the speaker’s platform.

“Hello, hello,” he said, testing the microphone. “My name is Raymond Powell, and I am your official MTIC host. Welcome to the Arolen Pharmaceuticals Medical Conference Cruise.”

Conversation ceased as people turned their attention to the podium. Powell gave a typical welcoming speech and then handed the microphone to Dr. Goddard, who was in charge of the actual medical program.

When Goddard finished speaking, Powell stepped back to the microphone and said, “And now we have a surprise. For your enjoyment, let me present the Caribbean Dancers.”

Doors on either side of the speaker’s platform burst open and a dozen scantily clad dancers swept into the room. Adam noticed only two men. The rest were unusually pretty young girls. Behind the dancers was a rock group with electric guitars. This band quickly set up speakers on the plaform.

As the girls worked the audience, Adam saw that Powell and Goddard were standing to one side as if trying to assess the effect of the dancers on the usually restrained medical group. After a few minutes Adam found his attention held by a particularly attractive brunette. She had narrow hips and firm, upstanding breasts. She caught Adam’s eye for just a moment and he could have sworn that she winked at him. Unfortunately, Adam’s stomach was not cooperative, and in the middle of the performance, Adam reluctantly decided that he’d better visit the deck.

Excusing himself, he fought his way through the boisterous crowd in more and more of a hurry to get away. He barely reached the rail of the promenade deck before his stomach turned over and he vomited violently over the side. After a minute he glanced around to check if anyone had seen him. Thankfully, the deck was deserted. Lowering his eyes, he inspected the front of his shirt. It was clean. Relieved, Adam wandered forward into the wind. He wasn’t ready to go below yet.

After a few minutes he felt a little better, and when he reached the door forbidden to passengers, he simply opened it and walked through. The lights were scarcer in this part of the ship and the deck was a plain unvarnished gray. Adam walked all the way to the bow and looked down on a tangle of ropes and chains. The sea leaped and twisted on either side. The starry sky stretched out above him.

A hand suddenly fell on Adam’s shoulder.

“This is an unauthorized area,” said a man with a Spanish accent.

“I’m sorry,” said Adam nervously, trying to make out the man’s face. “This is my first cruise and I was just wandering around. Any chance of visiting the bridge?” Adam remembered the adage that the best defense was offense.

“Are you stoned?” asked the man.

“Me?” said Adam, taken aback. “No. I’m fine.”

“No offense,” said the man, “but we’ve had some bad experiences with passengers in the past. The captain happens to be on the bridge. I’ll see if he’ll let you up.”

After asking for Adam’s name, the man disappeared as silently as he’d arrived. A moment later a voice shouted down, inviting him up. There was a ladder to starboard.

Adam walked around the side and found a stairway. He guessed that on a ship a ladder and a stairway were the same thing. At the top, the man with the Spanish accent was holding open the door to the bridge.

Inside, Adam saw that the instruments were illuminated by red lights, giving the room a surrealistic air. The man at the wheel ignored Adam’s presence, but another man stood up and introduced himself as Captain Eric Nordstrom. He seemed younger than Adam would have expected and, at first, seemed rather wary of his guest.

“José said this is your first cruise, Dr. Smyth.”

“That’s right,” said Adam uneasily, remembering that Smyth had already been on an Arolen cruise. The captain made no comment, and Adam asked, “Who owns the ship?”

“I’m not sure,” said Nordstrom. “The crew works for a company called MTIC. Whether they own the ship or lease it, I don’t really know.”

“Is MTIC a good employer?”

Captain Nordstrom shrugged. “We get our paychecks on time. It’s a bit boring running the same route over and over, and socializing with this crew has its limitations.”

“Don’t you get to meet the passengers?” asked Adam.

“Never,” said Captain Nordstrom. “MTIC is strict about keeping the passengers and the ship’s crew from fraternizing. You’re the first person I’ve had on the bridge in a long time. We’ve had some unfortunate experiences with the passengers getting drunk.”

Adam nodded. If the amount of alcohol that the doctors had consumed tonight was any indication, he wasn’t surprised.

Away from the sea breeze, the pitching of the ship began to bother Adam again, and he decided to say good-bye.

“José, accompany Dr. Smyth back to the passenger section,” said Captain Nordstrom.

José moved quickly, preceding Adam out the door. He went down the steep ladder, oblivious to the movement of the ship. Adam followed but much more cautiously.

“In a day or so you’ll have your sea legs,” said José with a laugh.

Adam wondered.

As they walked aft, José offered some technical details about the ship. Adam nodded dutifully, but most of the terms went over his head. When they got to the barrier, José hesitated, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. In the better light Adam could see the man’s face, which was dominated by a luxurious mustache.

“Dr. Smyth…” began José. “I was wondering if you would do me a favor.”

“What do you have in mind?” asked Adam suspiciously. From what the captain had said, crew and passengers were not supposed to mix, and Adam was not interested in any trouble. On the other hand, the idea of having a friend among the crew was appealing and could come in handy.

“They sell cigarettes in the ship’s store,” said José. “If I gave you the money, would you buy some for me?”

“Why don’t you get them yourself?” asked Adam.

“We’re not allowed beyond this door.”

Adam considered the request. It seemed sufficiently innocuous. “How many packs do you want?”

“As many as you can get for this.” José reached into his pocket and pulled out a fifty-dollar bill.

Adam had the feeling that José’s request wasn’t so innocent after all. José was probably running a little shipboard black market.

“Let me start with ten dollars’ worth,” said Adam.

José quickly substituted a ten for the fifty.

Adam took the money and told José that he’d meet him at the same location the next day at eleven. He remembered from the lecture schedule there was a coffee break scheduled at that time. José smiled broadly, his teeth startlingly white against his mustache.

Taking a few deep breaths of sea air, Adam went inside and headed for his stateroom.