Mindbend

CHAPTER 14

Jennifer had a restless night and was in the kitchen when the phone rang at seven forty-five. She answered it quickly, thinking that her parents were still sleeping, but her mother had already picked up.

“I’ve got it, mother,” said Jennifer when she heard Dr. Vandermer’s voice.

“Good morning, Jennifer,” he said. “We’re all set to take you at three-thirty. I’m sorry it’s so late, but we’re so busy we had trouble even fitting you in. Just stick to clear liquids and by tonight it will be all over and you can order whatever you want for dinner.”

“OK,” said Jennifer without much feeling. “How long will I be staying?”

“Probably just overnight. I’ll explain things to you when you are here.”

“What time should I check in?”

“Why not drive over later this morning? That way we can do the routine admission work. And if the surgical schedule lightens up, maybe we can take you earlier. Meanwhile, just relax and let me worry about the details.”

Jennifer made herself some coffee and walked out into the garden. For a moment she had second thoughts, but then she decided she was doing the right thing. Both Dr. Vandermer and her parents felt she had no other choice. She just wished Adam was there to share in the decision.

Adam followed José, trying to make himself as unobtrusive as possible. They walked the length of the passageway, passing the mess, and descended a steep flight of stairs. The crew members they encountered seemed to take Adam’s presence for granted. Even so, it was a nerve-racking experience for Adam. He kept expecting someone to recognize him and sound the alarm.

When they reached the lowest level, they began to walk aft down a narrow corridor that was lined with pipes and smelled of diesel fuel. They passed rooms filled with machines, which Adam guessed were the generators. A number of men were working there, stripped to their waists, their bodies glistening with sweat. The noise was deafening.

They walked until they came to a large dark room filled with painted metal dumpsters on casters that stank from the garbage they contained. José went in and guided Adam to the far corner, where two men were sitting on the floor playing blackjack. As José approached, the larger fellow glanced up and then went back to his game.

“Hit me easylike,” he said to the smaller man as José squatted down.

In the wall behind the player was a wide opening through which Adam could see a portion of the bustling pier. A swath of radiant sunlight, which looked heavenly in the hellish surroundings, slanted into the room.

“Hallelujah,” he muttered as he moved over to the lower door, shielding his eyes from the intensity of the tropical sun. He felt so close to land-and freedom. Never mind that he still didn’t see how he’d get there. He glanced outside at the concrete pier again and his elation vanished. To his immediate right was a passenger gangway carefully guarded by a brace of white-jacketed stewards who were carefully screening anyone leaving the ship.

“José, there’s no way I can walk out there without being stopped,” said Adam, trying to control his voice.

Without looking up from the card game, José said, “Just wait.”

Adam stood there for a few minutes, wondering what to do.

“José,” he said, “is this how you’re getting me off the ship?” He nodded toward the gangway.

“Nope,” said José, “the best is yet to come.”

“What are you planning?” said Adam angrily.

José didn’t answer. Going back to the opening, Adam stared longingly at the green hills rising gently from the harbor. They were dotted with small cottages. He was about to question José again when a line of yellow garbage trucks started down the pier, belching diesel smoke from vertical exhaust pipes. They came to a halt not far from the ship’s side, one behind the other. Then there was a fearful blast of an air horn.

The cardplayers cursed, threw down their cards, and went over to the nearest dumpster. With the big fellow pushing and the other two pulling, they rolled it down the ramp and up to the lead truck. While the men returned for another dumpster, the truck went to work. Large hydraulic arms came forward and grabbed the dumpster, lifting it high over the truck’s cab and dumping the contents in back. It was all done very neatly because the dumpster had a metal lid that did not open until the last moment. By the time the dumpster was slammed back onto the concrete, José and the others had the next one out on the quay. After a few more loads had been swallowed by the truck, José shouted to Adam, “OK, come over here.”

Adam followed him to the next dumpster in line.

“You’re going out with the trash,” said José. The three men began to laugh.

“You want me to get into that?” asked Adam with horror.

“You’ve no time to argue,” said José. “This is the last load for the first truck.”

“Is this the only way off the ship?” asked Adam.

“The only way,” said the huskier cardplayer. “I did it myself once. Not the fanciest way to ride around town, but it ain’t crowded.”

“Where will it take me?” asked Adam, considering what he should do if he went through with their plan.

“Right out to a landfill near the airport.”

“Jesus,” said Adam. “Why didn’t you tell me you were going to send me out with the garbage.”

“This ain’t garbage,” said the cardplayer. “We dump that into the ocean. This is trash.”

The truck’s air horn impatiently sounded.

“You have to go,” said José. “You can’t hang around my cabin forever. Put your foot here.” He made a platform of his hands and, against his better judgment, Adam used it as a step. The big cardplayer lifted the dumpster’s lid, and with a swift movement José tossed Adam headfirst into the mess of boxes, paper, waxed containers, and other debris. And contrary to what the cardplayer had said, there was garbage, too. The lid banged down, and Adam was plunged into darkness. He felt the dumpster roll down the ramp onto the pier. Then there was a violent jolt and Adam visualized his rise from the ground. The dumpster shook, tilted upside down, and with a flash of light Adam screamed and flew into the back of the truck. He ended up on his hands and knees, covered with trash.

Almost at once the truck began to roll. It was well away from the pier before Adam worked his head clear of the trash. The junk cushioned his ride, and he was not disturbed by the bumpy road. But after a few minutes the tropical sun turned the truck’s metal shell into a broiling oven. Adam began to sweat, and by the time the truck got to the landfill he didn’t care what happened to him as long as he could get out. He was dimly aware of a diesel whining beneath him as the back of the truck began to lift. A moment later he shot onto an enormous pile of trash. He got to his feet in time to see his truck lumber away.

No one had seen him leave the ship. He was safe. Looking about, he could see the tiny island airport two hundred yards to his right. To his left, the blue Caribbean stretched as far as he could see.

Dusting himself off as best he could, Adam started walking to the terminal.

The airport was a casual affair with an entrance crowded with colorfully painted taxis. As Adam started inside, he saw a group of tourists eyeing him nervously. It was clear that he could not casually buy a ticket unless he did something about his appearance. Ducking into a small store, he charged a pair of jeans and a tee shirt that cheerfully proclaimed: “Come to St. Thomas.” In the crowded men’s room Adam found an empty stall and changed his shirt and pants. On the way out, he tossed José old clothes into the trash where they certainly belonged.

Looking about, Adam spotted the flight schedules, which were displayed on felt boards with white plastic letters. There were two major carriers: American and Eastern. To his delight, Adam realized that he could easily make American’s nonstop flight to New York, which would leave at nine-twenty. He got at the end of the line to buy his ticket.

The line crept forward at a snail’s pace, and Adam began to fear he would miss the plane.

“One-way ticket to New York,” he said when he finally reached the counter.

The girl glared at him as if she thought his casual dress, unshaved face, and lack of luggage a little odd, but all she said was, “How do you plan to pay?”

“Credit card,” said Adam as he pulled out his wallet, which had somehow snagged a piece of lemon peel. Embarrassed, Adam flicked it off and extracted his Visa card.

The girl looked at the card and requested some identification. Adam went back to his wallet and pulled out his driver’s license. The girl checked it, then showed it to the heavyset clerk at the next counter.

“The Visa card is for Schonberg, but the license reads Smyth,” the man said, coming over to Adam.

Beet red, Adam got out his real license plus his Arolen employment card that had his picture and handed them over. He tried to explain that a friend had entrusted him with his license.

“Would you step to the side, please?” the man said, taking Adam’s cards and disappearing through a door. Adam tried not to appear nervous as the girl continued to sell tickets to the rest of the people in line, eyeing Adam from time to time to make sure he was not about to leave.

It was nearly ten minutes before the clerk returned with an airline agent who told Adam he was Baldwin Jacob, the supervisor. He was holding Adam’s cards.

“We’ll issue you a ticket,” he said, “but the flight is full. You’ll have to go standby.”

Adam nodded. There was nothing else he could do. The clerk made out the ticket and pointedly asked Adam if he had any luggage.

“No,” said Adam. “I travel light when I’m on vacation.”

He walked over to a cafeteria and bought a couple of donuts and a cup of coffee, happy not to have to worry about the possibility of being drugged. Then he put through a call to the Carsons ’. Just as he’d feared, Jennifer didn’t answer the phone. Instead, Mr. Carson’s baritone echoed over the wire.

“Hello,” said Adam more cheerfully than he felt. “This is Adam. Is Jennifer awake yet?”

“Jennifer is not here,” said Mr. Carson in a distinctly unfriendly voice.

“Where is she?”

“I don’t think you can reach her.”

“Look, I know you love your daughter,” said Adam, “but the fact of the matter is that I am her husband, and it is urgent that I speak with her.”

There was a pause as Mr. Carson apparently made up his mind. “She’s not here. She and her mother just left for the Julian Clinic. They are admitting her this morning.”

“Admitting her?” repeated Adam with alarm. “Why is she being admitted? Is she all right?”

“She’s fine,” said Mr. Carson. “And that’s why I think you should leave her alone for a few days. After that, you two can iron out your differences. But frankly, Adam, your being away at this time is very upsetting.”

“Why? What’s going on?” said Adam, trying to control his fear.

“Jennifer had a repeat amniocentesis,” said Mr. Carson, “and it was again positive. She’s decided to have an abortion.”

Adam felt something snap. “She doesn’t need an abortion,” he shouted.

“That’s your opinion,” said Mr. Carson calmly. “It is not ours or Jennifer’s, and under the circumstances, there’s not a lot you can do about it.”

There was a click. The line was dead.

In a panic, Adam tried to call Jennifer at the clinic, only to learn that she had not been assigned a room yet and, no, patients could not be paged.

Adam slammed the phone down. There was still a half hour before flight time. He tried calling Vandermer, but was told he was in surgery.

Leaving the phone booth, Adam ran back to the American Airlines counter, which was now jammed with people trying to check in for the flight. Pushing and shoving, he managed to get to the front of the line and asked to speak to the supervisor.

It was several minutes before Mr. Jacob appeared. Not even trying to conceal his rising hysteria, Adam told the man he had to get to New York because his wife was going to have a baby.

The supervisor took Adam’s ticket and without saying anything checked the computer. “We’ll do the best we can, but, as I said, the flight is fully booked.”

Adam didn’t know what to do. Jacob obviously wasn’t going to put out any extraordinary effort for his sake. Adam stood there, trying to think what he could do. Then he ran back to the telephone and put in a call to an old friend from college, Harvey Hatfield. Harvey had finished law school and was working at a big Wall Street firm. Without going into details, Adam told Harvey that his wife was going to have an abortion and he wanted to stop her.

Harvey seemed to think he was kidding. “So why are you calling a firm that specializes in corporate mergers?” he asked.

“Jesus, Harvey, I’m serious.”

“Well, you’d better get someone who specializes in litigation. Try Emmet Redford. He’s a friend of my father.”

“Thanks,” said Adam as his flight was announced over the loudspeaker, the flight he hoped to be on. He dropped the receiver and ran back to the counter, where he practically flung himself at the clerk he’d originally approached.

“Please, Miss, I’ve got to get on the plane. My wife is having a baby and it’s going to die unless I get to New York.”

For the first time, Adam had the feeling that someone was taking pity on him. The girl stared into his frantic eyes and said, “I’ll put you on top of the standby list.”

Adam allowed himself a little hope, but a few more passengers arrived breathlessly and were given boarding passes. Then a portly man showed up with a walkie-talkie. He went through the boarding gate and pulled it closed behind him.

“Mr. Schonberg,” called Carol, the airline clerk.

Adam dashed back to the desk, but Carol was shaking her head. “Sorry, but the plane is completely full. No standbys at all.”

Crushed, Adam collapsed into a seat. He could hear the whine of the jet engines starting up outside. Then the boarding door reopened and a stewardess appeared, holding up one finger.

The clerk turned to Adam. “Seems like there is one seat, but it is in smoking. Do you want it?”

Unfortunately, the receptionist who greeted Jennifer at the Julian Clinic was the same girl who had helped admit Cheryl Tedesco. Seeing Karen Krinitz in her white blouse and blue jumper, Jennifer remembered the whole awful episode. Karen, however, acted as if they’d never met. She greeted Jennifer and her mother with the same mechanical smile.

“Hi! I’m Karen. I’ve been assigned to your case. I’m here to help if you have any questions or problems. We want your stay to be as pleasant as possible, so please call me if you need anything.”

“Well, isn’t that nice,” said Mrs. Carson, but Jennifer had the strange feeling she had heard the entire speech before-word for word.

Karen went on, explaining the Julian philosophy. When she was done, Mrs. Carson thanked her enthusiastically, saying, “I’m not sure I’ll ever be satisfied with Englewood Memorial after this. There is so much concern for the patient here.”

Jennifer nodded. The clinic certainly cared about people. Yet Karen’s speech bothered Jennifer. She had felt it was a little too pat the first time she’d heard it.

Jennifer sighed. She decided the experience with Cheryl was upsetting her. Who cared if a woman memorized a speech that she was required to give to all the patients?

“Are you all right, dear?” asked Mrs. Carson.

“I’m fine, mother,” said Jennifer as she watched Karen recede down the hall. “Thanks for coming with me today. It means a lot to me.”

Mrs. Carson reached over and gave her daughter a hug. She didn’t want Jennifer to know how worried she really was.

The moment Adam’s plane landed at Kennedy he ran for the nearest phone booth. First, he called the Julian Clinic and asked to be put through to Jennifer’s room. There was no answer. Then he dialed again and asked when Jennifer’s procedure was scheduled. When the operator asked who wanted to know, he said Dr. Smyth. The operator seemed to accept his answer, and a moment later a nurse came on the line and said that Jennifer Schonberg was set for that afternoon.

“So she hasn’t been done yet?” said Adam.

“Not yet, but she’s been called for the OR. Dr. Vandermer is almost ready for her.”

Adam fumbled with his coins and dialed the Julian Clinic a third time, this time asking to have Dr. Vandermer paged. An OR nurse picked up and said the doctor was unavailable, but should be done with his current case in thirty minutes.

With renewed panic, Adam called the lawyer that Harvey had recommended, Emmet Redford. Shouting that it was a life-or-death situation, he finally got put through. As briefly as possible, Adam told the lawyer that his wife was going to have an abortion and that he wanted to stop her.

“There’s not much you can do, my friend,” said Mr. Redford. “According to the Supreme Court, a husband cannot block his wife’s abortion.”

“That’s incredible,” said Adam. “It’s my child, too. Isn’t there anything you can do?”

“Well, I might be able to delay it.”

“Do it!” shouted Adam. “Whatever you can!”

“Give me her name and all the particulars,” said Mr. Redford.

Adam did so as quickly as he could.

“When is she scheduled to have the abortion?” asked Mr. Redford.

“In thirty minutes or so,” said Adam desperately.

“Thirty minutes! What do you expect me to do in half an hour?”

“I’ve got to go,” said Adam. “She’s at the Julian Clinic. There’s no time to lose.”

Adam dropped the phone and ran through the terminal to the taxi stand. Leaping into the first cab in line, he yelled for the driver to take him to the Julian Clinic.

“You got money?” the cabbie asked, eyeing Adam’s casual dress.

Adam pulled out his twenty, hoping it would be enough. Satisfied, the man put the car in gear and pulled away from the curb.

Jennifer was lying on a gurney just outside the treatment room. Her mother was standing beside her, and Jennifer was again forcibly reminded of her earlier visit to the Julian with Cheryl. Mrs. Carson was smiling, feigning confidence, but it was clear she was as nervous as her daughter.

“Why don’t you go back to the lounge?” suggested Jennifer. “I’ll be fine. From what Dr. Vandermer says, it’s going to be easy.”

Mrs. Carson glanced at her daughter, undecided as to what she should do.

“Please,” said Jennifer. “Don’t make a big deal out of this. Go back and read a magazine.”

Relenting, Mrs. Carson bent down, kissed Jennifer on her forehead, and headed back toward the lounge. Jennifer watched her go with mixed emotions.

“OK,” said the nurse, emerging from the treatment room. “We’re all ready for you.” She released the brake on the gurney and pushed Jennifer through the door. In contrast to the room where she’d had her amniocentesis, this room looked very much like an OR. Jennifer remembered the white floor and large white glass-fronted cabinets.

Two nurses were waiting. As they moved her to the table, one said, “It will all be over very soon, and you’ll be able to forget the whole episode.”

As she lay back, Jennifer thought she felt the child move. She struggled not to cry as one of the nurses prepped her lower abdomen.

The door to the corridor opened, and Dr. Vandermer came in, dressed in a surgical scrub suit. Jennifer felt better the moment she saw him.

“How are you doing?” he asked.

“OK, I guess,” said Jennifer faintly.

Jennifer wanted him to say something else, but he just stared at her with unblinking eyes. She looked questioningly at the nurses, but they didn’t seem to think there was anything odd about his silence. Then Vandermer seemed to come out of his trance and asked the nurses to hand him the anesthetic.

“You’ll just feel a little sting now,” said Dr. Vandermer flatly. With a deft jab he slipped the needle beneath Jennifer’s skin.

Closing her eyes, Jennifer tried also to close her mind to what was about to happen.

The cab ride from Kennedy Airport to the Julian Clinic was hair-raising. Once Adam had flashed his twenty, the driver acted as if he were in a race for his life. He screeched to a halt in front of the hospital in less than thirty minutes. Adam tossed him the twenty and dashed up the stairs without waiting for change.

Interrupting the girls chatting at the reception desk, he demanded to know where Vandermer was operating.

“He’s performing an abortion on my wife,” he gasped.

“Pregnancy terminations are done on the sixth floor, but…”

Adam didn’t wait for her to finish. He ducked into an elevator just as the doors were closing, ignoring the receptionist who yelled after him that he was not allowed to go to six unaccompanied.

When the elevator stopped, Adam got out and made for the double doors at the end of the hall marked “Treatment Rooms.” As he passed the nurses’ station, he noticed the elaborate antique furniture and wondered what the Julian was trying to prove.

One of the nurses yelled for him to stop, but Adam kept running. He went through the double doors and opened the first treatment room door. It was empty. He went on to the next. A nurse tried to bar his way, but he was able to look over her shoulder at the patient’s face. It wasn’t Jennifer.

Adam crossed the hall and tried another door.

“Exactly what do you think you are doing?” asked a nurse with a German accent.

Adam rudely shoved the woman aside. He saw Dr. Vandermer bending over the table. He was holding a hypodermic whose needle sparkled under the overhead light.

“Jennifer!” shouted Adam, relieved that the surgery had proceeded no further than her being given the local anesthetic. “Don’t do it, please. Don’t have the abortion. Not without further tests.”

Jennifer started to sit up as two orderlies rushed through the door and pinned Adam’s arms behind his back. Adam saw that both men had the same unblinking stares as the stewards on the ship.

“OK, OK,” said Adam. “You’ve made your point. You’re stronger than I am. Now kindly let me go.”

“Adam Schonberg?” said Dr. Vandermer. Until he’d heard Adam’s voice, he’d thought they were dealing with a psychotic stranger. “What are you doing here? Jennifer just told me you were out of town.”

“Please don’t go ahead with the procedure. There’s something I must tell you.”

As if suddenly remembering the orderlies, Dr. Vandermer tapped the nearest on the shoulder and said, “I know this man. You can let go of him.” He undid his mask and let it fall on his chest.

The orderlies released Adam as the door to the corridor opened and a number of clinic staff members peered in to see what was happening.

“Everything is under control,” said Dr. Vandermer. Addressing the orderlies, he said, “Why don’t you two wait outside.”

As soon as they left, he guided Adam to a small anteroom, promising Jennifer they would both be back in a minute.

As soon as the door was closed, Adam blurted out, “I managed to get on one of the Arolen cruises.”

Dr. Vandermer stared at him as if just noticing the jeans and St. Thomas tee shirt for the first time. If he knew what Adam was talking about, he gave no indication.

“I’m happy you got to go,” was all he said. “We can compare notes later. Right now I need to take care of your wife. Why don’t you go down to the lounge and wait for me? I won’t be long.”

“But you don’t understand,” said Adam. “The Arolen cruises are more than continuing education sessions. They’re a cover for an elaborate behavior-modification scheme.”

Dr. Vandermer debated what to do. Adam was obviously psychotic. Maybe he could persuade him to go over to Psychiatry, where someone with experience could help him. Taking a step forward, Dr. Vandermer put his arm around Adam’s shoulder. “I think the person you should be talking with is Dr. Pace. Why don’t we go downstairs and I’ll introduce you to him?”

Adam pushed Dr. Vandermer’s arm away. “I don’t think you heard what I said. I’m talking about drug-induced behavior modification. Dr. Vandermer, you were a victim. You were drugged. Do you understand me?”

Dr. Vandermer sighed. “Adam, I know you believe what you are saying, but I was not drugged on my cruise. I gave lectures. It was a delightful time, as were the days I spent in Puerto Rico.”

“I saw it all,” said Adam. “I was on the Fjord. I saw how they drugged the doctors’ food and kept giving them yellow pills. Then they were subjected to these films. It was mind control. Look, you’ve got to believe me. Think. Why did you change your mind about pregdolen? Before you went on the cruise, you thought the drug was unsafe. You told me you’d never prescribe it.”

“I’ve never changed my mind about pregdolen,” protested Dr. Vandermer. “I’ve always thought it was the best product on the market if one were forced to use medication for morning sickness.”

Realizing he was making no headway, Adam grabbed Dr. Vandermer’s hand. Looking directly into the doctor’s eyes, he said, “Please, even if you don’t believe me, please don’t abort my child. I think the lab mixup that occurred with the amniocentesis slides was deliberate. I think Arolen is trying to increase its supply of fetal tissue, and this is how it is done.”

The door to the room opened.

“Dr. Vandermer,” said the nurse in the doorway, “what are we to do?”

Dr. Vandermer waved her away.

“Adam,” he said kindly, “I can appreciate how upset you must be with the way things have turned out.”

“Don’t be condescending,” warned Adam as he rubbed his eyes. “All I want is to delay the abortion. That’s all. I don’t think that’s asking too much.”

“It depends from whose point of view you’re talking about.” He pointed toward the treatment room. “Jennifer might feel differently. To delay at this point would be cruel for her. She’s already been through more than enough.”

Adam realized he was losing the battle. Desperately, he sought some way to get through to the doctor.

“Now,” Vandermer said firmly. “Why don’t you go down to the lounge and wait. I’ll be there shortly.”

“No,” shouted Adam, blocking the way. “You haven’t heard everything.”

“Adam!” shouted Dr. Vandermer. “Move out of my way or I’ll be forced to have you removed.”

“Listen, I think some of the people running the cruise have had psychosurgery. I’m telling you the truth. They had scars on the sides of their heads. Right here.” Adam reached out to touch the spot he meant on Vandermer’s head. When he did, he jumped back in horror. Tiny ridged lines were on either side of the doctor’s skull. Adam could just see the healing incisions. Dr. Vandermer reacted angrily.

“This has gone far enough.” He opened the door and motioned for the two orderlies to take Adam away. “Please show Mr. Schonberg down to the lounge. He can wait there if he behaves himself, but if he gives you any trouble, call Psychiatry.”

Adam put up his hands. “I won’t cause any trouble,” he said softly. The last thing he wanted was to be given some kind of tranquilizer. He realized that if Vandermer had undergone some sort of psychosurgery, there was no way he could be persuaded of Arolen’s treachery.

“May I speak to my wife?” he said.

Dr. Vandermer eyed Adam for a moment and then shook his head. “I don’t think it is in Jennifer’s best interests, but I will let her make the decision.”

He opened the door to the treatment room and stepped inside. Jennifer pushed herself up on her elbow. “What is happening?” she asked anxiously.

Dr. Vandermer briefly described his scene with Adam, ending with Adam’s request to talk with her. “He seems to have been unable to deal with the stress of your pregnancy” was the only thing Vandermer had to offer by way of an opinion.

“Well, he certainly hasn’t made the situation any easier for me,” said Jennifer. “I’m sorry he’s caused you so much trouble.”

“There’s no need to apologize,” said Dr. Vandermer. “I think we should get on with the procedure. You can deal with Adam when we are done.”

Jennifer nodded. “Why did he have to come back? You’re right. I don’t think I can handle Adam just now. Why don’t you just go ahead while I’m still in control?”

Dr. Vandermer smiled reassuringly and motioned for the nurse to begin setting up again. Then he returned to the anteroom and told Adam that Jennifer would speak to him afterward.

Adam realized there was no use in protesting further. Numbly, he followed the orderlies down the corridor.

Dr. Vandermer rescrubbed and went back into the treatment room. Picking up the hypodermic, he gave Jennifer the local anesthetic. He was just about to begin the procedure when the door opened again.

“Dr. Vandermer, I’m afraid you’ll have to hold up on this case.”

Jennifer opened her eyes. Standing at the door was a stocky woman dressed in a scrub suit. Jennifer didn’t recognize her, but Dr. Vandermer did. It was Helen Clark, director of the ORs at the Julian Clinic.

“We have just been served with an emergency restraining order. We cannot proceed with Jennifer Schonberg’s abortion.”

“On what grounds?” asked an astonished Dr. Vandermer.

“I don’t know the details,” said Mrs. Clark, “but it is signed by a New York Supreme Court judge.”

Dr. Vandermer shrugged and turned back to Jennifer.

“Don’t do anything foolish,” warned Mrs. Clark. “Defying a court order would get us all in trouble.”

“This is ridiculous,” said Dr. Vandermer. “Litigation in the operating room.” But he took off his mask and gloves.

Seeing that he was about to leave, Jennifer bit down on her lower lip to keep from screaming.

After Vandermer had thrown him out of the treatment room, Adam had immediately phoned Emmet Redford. The lawyer told him that he’d called in an old favor and had gotten a restraining order. It was on its way to the clinic as they spoke. Adam went back to the lounge, praying that the papers would be served in time. Seeing Mrs. Carson bent over a magazine, he took a chair out of her line of vision.

Less than five minutes later a nurse hurried over to Mrs. Carson. She bent and whispered something to the older woman who then threw up her hands and cried, “Her abortion has been canceled!”

Adam felt like cheering until he heard Jennifer’s sobs as she was wheeled down the corridor. He and Mrs. Carson both ran over to her and ended up standing on opposite sides of the gurney.

“Jennifer,” said Adam, grasping her hand. “Everything is going to be all right.”

She wrenched her hand away, crying hysterically, “Leave me alone. You’ve gone crazy. Leave me alone.”

Adam stepped away and sadly watched the gurney continue down the corridor.

“Are you responsible for this disaster?” sputtered Mrs. Carson.

Adam was too upset to answer. Was it a disaster to prevent an unnecessary abortion? Close to tears himself, he turned and walked blindly to the elevator. Once out on the street, he checked his wallet. Only three dollars and some change left. He decided he’d better take the subway to Emmet Redford’s Fifth Avenue office.

“Sorry about my clothes,” said Adam when the secretary ushered him in. “I didn’t want to waste any time going home to change.”

Mr. Redford nodded, although he was disturbed by Adam’s appearance. In fact, he was disturbed by the whole case. Though he’d arranged for the restraining order, he felt Adam’s claims were dubious at best, especially in light of the information he’d just received from the assistant he had assigned the case to.

“I think I should be frank,” Redford began. “I agreed to help out as a favor to Harvey, but there are a number of points that seriously trouble me.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” said Adam. “I think the Julian Clinic is deliberately doing unnecessary abortions.”

“I see,” said Redford, taking in Adam’s unkempt hair and unshaven face.

“But the real problem,” continued Adam, “is that Arolen Pharmaceuticals and its parent company, MTIC, have an elaborate program involving drugs and even brain surgery to influence the way doctors practice medicine.”

This man is nuts, thought Redford with dismay.

Adam’s voice became more urgent. “But now that I’ve learned all this,” he said, “I don’t know what to do about it.”

“I can understand your dilemma,” said Redford, wondering if Adam were potentially violent. He certainly seemed excitable. Redford pressed a concealed button under his desk and said, “Mr. Schonberg, do you mind if I ask a personal question?”

“Not at all,” said Adam.

“Have you ever sought professional help for your obsessions? I think that might be in everyone’s best interest.”

“What I’m telling you is true,” protested Adam.

There was a soft knock on the door. Redford got up to open it and told his secretary to ask Mr. Stupenski to join them. “I’m afraid a grand jury wouldn’t give much credence to your allegations,” he said to Adam while they waited.

Adam searched the lawyer’s face for some hint that the man believed him. There was none.

“I guess you’re right,” admitted Adam. “The only proof I have is what I saw.”

The door opened again and a young man wearing a pin-striped suit identical to Redford ’s came into the room.

“This is my associate, Mr. Stupenski,” said Redford.

Adam said hello and then tried once more to convince Redford that his story was true. “They drug the food on the cruises and supplement those doses with yellow pills that have to be some kind of tranquilizer.”

“So you say, Mr. Schonberg, but the problem is you have no proof,” repeated Redford.

The lawyers exchanged knowing glances. Adam stared at them in frustration.

“I think I should tell you that given the amniocentesis report that the clinic showed Mr. Stupenski, I’m sorry we went about getting the restraining order,” said Redford. “As it is, it remains in force only until the emergency hearing three days from now, and since I’m certainly not going to argue for the motion, you can expect it will be rescinded at that time. Good day, Mr. Schonberg.”

It took Adam a moment to realize that the interview was over.

Four hours later, washed and shaved and dressed in his best suit, Adam was sitting outside his father’s office waiting for Dr. Schonberg to finish with his last appointment. It was after six o’clock.

When Dr. Schonberg was finally free, he listened with some impatience to what even Adam had to admit sounded farfetched.

“I simply can’t believe this,” he told Adam. “Look, if it will make you feel better, let me call Peter Davenport of the AMA. He’s the guy who certifies the courses for CME credits. He’s been on several of the cruises himself.”

Dr. Schonberg dialed Davenport at home and jovially asked his opinion of the Arolen cruises. After listening for a few minutes, he thanked the man and hung up.

“Pete says the seminars on the Fjord are completely above board. Some of the evening entertainment was a little risqué, but otherwise the conferences were among the best he’s attended.”

“He was probably drugged like the rest of them,” said Adam.

“Adam, please,” said Dr. Schonberg. “You are being ridiculous. MTIC has been sponsoring seminars and medical conventions either under its own auspices or through Arolen Pharmaceuticals for over a decade. The cruises have been going on for five years.”

“That may be,” said Adam, losing hope of convincing even his own father, “but I swear to you they are drugging the doctors and subjecting them to rigorous behavior modification. They even operate on certain people. I saw the scars on Dr. Vandermer myself. I think they are controlling him through some kind of remote-control device.”

Dr. Schonberg rolled his eyes. “Even given the small amount of psychiatry that you’ve had, Adam, I would think you would be able to recognize how paranoid your story sounds.”

Adam abruptly stood up and started for the door.

“Wait,” called Dr. Schonberg. “Come back here for a minute.”

Adam hesitated, wondering if his father would relent.

Dr. Schonberg tilted back his chair. “Let’s say for the sake of discussion that there is something to your story.”

“That’s gracious of you,” said Adam.

“What would you have me do? I’m the director of new products for the FDA and I can’t espouse a wild theory like yours. But seeing you are so upset, perhaps I should go on one of these cruises and see for myself.”

“No,” interrupted Adam. “Don’t go on the cruise. Please.”

“Well, what would you like me to do?”

“I guess I want you to start an investigation.”

“I’ll make you a deal,” said Dr. Schonberg. “If you agree to see a psychiatrist and explore the possibility that you may be experiencing some sort of paranoid reaction, I’ll make further explorations into Arolen.”

Adam took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. If one more person suggested that he see a shrink, he’d scream.

“Thanks, Dad,” he said. “I’ll give your offer some serious thought.”

As he rode back to the airport, Adam wondered just what kind of treatment Arolen had given Pete Davenport of the AMA and how much of the medical profession was under MTIC’s control.

Adam landed at LaGuardia around nine and took a cab back to the city. The thought of returning to his empty apartment was depressing, and he was very concerned about Jennifer. Although he dreaded having to drive out to Englewood and brave the Carsons’ anger, he didn’t feel he had much choice. He had to talk to Jennifer.

There were no lights on at the Carson house when he pulled into the drive. Cautiously, he walked up the front steps and pressed the doorbell. He was surprised when the door opened almost immediately.

“Your headlights shone right into our bedroom,” Mr. Carson said angrily. “What on earth do you want at this hour?”

“I’m sorry if I woke you,” said Adam, “but I need to speak to Jennifer.”

Mr. Carson folded his sizable arms across his chest. “Well, you have some nerve. I’ll give you credit for that, but my daughter refuses to speak to you. Maybe she’ll change her mind after a few days, but for the moment…”

“I’m afraid that I must insist,” said Adam. “You see, I don’t believe she needs an abortion…”

Mr. Carson grabbed Adam’s shirt and shouted, “You will insist on nothing!” He shoved Adam back from the doorway.

Adam regained his balance, cupped his hands over his mouth, and began calling, “Jennifer! Jennifer!”

“That’s enough,” yelled Mr. Carson. He grabbed Adam again, intending to march him to his car. But Adam sidestepped his father-in-law and ran inside. At the foot of the steps he shouted again for his wife. Jennifer appeared in her nightgown in the upstairs hall. She looked down at her husband with dismay.

“Listen to me,” shouted Adam again, but before Jennifer could speak, Mr. Carson had grabbed Adam from behind and carried him back out the door. Unwilling to fight back, Adam tripped when he was shoved toward his car and fell off the porch into the bushes. He heard the door slam before he could scramble to his feet. He was beginning to get the message that Mr. Carson would never let him speak to Jennifer that night.

Climbing into his car, Adam tried to figure out what he could do to keep Jennifer from having the abortion, at least until she got a second opinion. He only had three days to persuade her.

He was halfway back across the George Washington Bridge before he knew what he had to do. Everyone wanted proof. Well, he’d go to Puerto Rico to get proof. He was certain everything he’d seen on the cruise would be replicated there in spades.