Mortal Fear

CHAPTER 6

The next instant Jason thought he’d died. There was a flash. But then he realized it was not the gun, but a light bulb over his head. He was still alive. Two uniformed policemen stood before him. Jason could have hugged them in his relief.

“Am I glad to see you guys,” Jason said.

“Turn around,” the larger cop ordered, ignoring Jason’s comment.

“I can explain…” Jason began, but he was told to shut up and put his hands on the wall, his feet spread apart.

The second cop searched him, removing his wallet. When they were satisfied Jason was unarmed, they pulled his arms off the wall and handcuffed him. Then they marched him back through the apartment, down the stairs, and into the street. Some passersby stopped to watch as Jason was forced into the back seat of an unmarked car.

The cops remained silent during the ride to the stationhouse, and Jason decided there was no point trying to explain until they got there. Now that he had calmed down, he began to think of what he should do. He guessed he’d be able to make a phone call, and he wondered if he should call Shirley or the lawyer he’d used when he’d sold his house and practice.

But when they arrived, the cops just marched Jason to a small, bare room and left him there. The door clicked when they went out and Jason realized he was locked in. He’d never been in jail before and it did not feel good.

As the minutes slipped by, Jason realized the gravity of the situation. He remembered Shirley’s request that he not stir the pot. God knows the effect his arrest would have on the clinic if it became public.

Finally the door to the room opened and Detective Michael Curran came in, followed by the smaller policeman. Jason was glad to see Curran, but he was immediately aware the detective did not reciprocate the emotion. The lines on his face seemed deeper than ever.

“Uncuff him,” Curran said without smiling. Jason stood up while the uniformed policeman released his hands. He watched Curran’s face, trying to fathom his thoughts, but he remained impenetrable.

“I want to talk with him alone,” he said to the policeman, who nodded and left.

“Here’s your goddamn wallet,” Curran said, slapping it into Jason’s palm. “You don’t take advice too well, do you? What do I have to do to convince you this drug business is serious stuff?”

“I was only trying to talk with Carol Donner…”

“Wonderful. So you butt in and screw things up for us.”

“Like what?” Jason asked, beginning to feel his temper rise.

“Vice has been staking out Hayes’s apartment since we learned it had been searched. We hoped to pull in someone a bit more interesting than you.”

“I’m sorry.”

Curran shook his head in frustration. “Well, it could have been worse. You could have gotten yourself hurt. Please, doctor — would you get back to your doctoring?”

“Am I free to go?” Jason asked with disbelief.

“Yeah,” Curran said, turning to the door. “I’m not going to book you. No sense wasting our time.”

Jason left the police station and took a cab back to Springfield Street, where he retrieved his car. He glanced up at Hayes’s building and shivered. It had been an unnerving experience.

With enough adrenaline in his system now to run a four-minute mile, Jason was glad he had plans for the evening. His friends the Alics had invited a lively group of people, and the food and wine were really good. The girl they wanted him to meet, Penny Lambert, struck him as a bit of a yuppie, conservatively dressed in a blue suit with a voluminous silk bow tie. Luckily, she was cheerful and talkative and willingly filled the gap left by Jason’s inability to stop thinking about Hayes’s apartment and his need to speak to Carol Donner.

When coffee and brandy were cleared away, Jason had an idea. Maybe if he offered to take Penny home, he could persuade her to stop at Carol’s club. Obviously, Carol was no longer living at Hayes’s apartment, and Jason figured he might have a better chance talking to her if he were accompanied by another woman. Penny happily accepted his offer of a lift, and when they were in the car, he asked her if she were feeling adventurous.

“What do you mean?” she asked cautiously.

“I thought you might like to see another side of Boston.”

“Like a disco?”

“Something like that,” Jason said. In a mildly perverse way, Jason thought the experience might be good for Penny. She was nice enough, but a bit too predictable.

She relaxed, smiling and chatting until they pulled up in front of the Club Cabaret. “Are you sure this is a good idea?” she asked.

“Come on,” Jason urged. He’d given her a little background en route, explaining that he wanted to see the girl Dr. Hayes had been involved with. Penny had remembered the story from the newspapers and it had not buoyed her confidence, but with a bit more cajoling he persuaded her to let him park and go in.

Friday was obviously a big night. Gripping Penny’s hand, Jason worked his way down the room, hoping to avoid the man with the dark glasses and his two he-man bodyguards. With the help of a five-dollar bill he got one of the waitresses to give them a booth against the side wall, several steps up from the floor. They could see the runway while remaining partially concealed from the dancers by the dark silhouettes of men standing two deep at the bar.

They’d entered between numbers. They had just ordered drinks when the speakers roared to life. Jason’s eyes had adjusted to the darkness, and he could just make out Penny’s face. What he could see best were the whites of her eyes. She wasn’t doing much blinking.

A stripper appeared in a swirl of diaphanous crepe. There were a few catcalls. Penny remained silent. As he paid the waitress for their drinks, Jason asked if Carol Donner was dancing that night. The waitress said her first set was at eleven. Jason was relieved — at least she hadn’t been trashed along with Hayes’s apartment.

When the waitress left he saw the dancer was down to her G-string and that Penny’s lips were tightly pursed.

“This is disgusting,” she spat.

“It’s not the Boston Symphony,” Jason agreed.

“She even has cellulite.”

Jason looked more carefully when the dancer went back up the stairs. Sure enough, the backs of her thighs were heavily dimpled. Jason smiled. It was curious what a woman noticed.

“Are these men really enjoying themselves?” Penny asked with distaste.

“Good question. I don’t know. Most of them look bored.”

But not one was bored when Carol came out. Like the night before, the crowd came alive when she began her routine.

“What do you think?” Jason asked. “She’s a good dancer, but I can’t believe your friend was involved with her.”

“That’s exactly what I thought,” Jason said. But now he wasn’t so sure. Carol Donner projected a very different personality than he had expected.

After Carol finished, and again did not appear among the patrons, Jason had had enough. Penny was eager to leave, and Jason noticed she had little to say on the way home. He guessed the Club Cabaret hadn’t made a great impression. When he left her at her door, he didn’t even bother to say he’d call. He knew the Alics would be disappointed, but he figured they should have known better than to fix him up with a bow tie.

Back in his own apartment, Jason undressed and picked up the DNA book from the den. He got into bed and started reading. Remembering his exhaustion that afternoon, he thought he’d drop off to sleep quickly. But that wasn’t the case. He read about bacteriophages, the viral particles that infected bacteria, and how they were used in genetic engineering. Then he read a chapter on plasmids, which he’d never even heard of before he’d started reading about DNA. He marveled that plasmids were small circular DNA molecules that existed in bacteria and reproduced faithfully when the bacteria reproduced. They, too, served an enormously important function as vehicles for introducing segments of DNA into bacteria.

Still wide awake, Jason looked at the time. It was after two A.M., and sleep was out of the question. Getting up, he went into his living room and stared out at Louisburg Square. A car pulled up. It was the tenant who occupied the garden apartment in Jason’s building. He, too, was a doctor and although they were friendly, Jason knew little about the man other than he dated a lot of beautiful women. Jason wondered where he found them all. True to form, the man emerged from his car with an attractive blonde and amid soft laughter disappeared out of sight below. Jason heard the front door to the building close. Silence returned. He could not get Carol Donner out of his mind, wishing he could speak with her. Looking at the clock on the mantel, Jason had an idea. Quickly, he returned to the bedroom, redressed, and went out to his car.

With _some misgivings about the possible consequences, Jason drove back to the Combat Zone. In contrast to the rest of the city, it was still very much awake. He drove past the Club Cabaret once, then circled and backed into a side street and parked. He switched off the motor. There were some unsavory types lingering in doorways and on the side street who made Jason feel uncomfortable. He made sure all his doors were locked.

Within a quarter hour of his arrival, a large group of people emerged from the club and went their separate ways. About ten minutes later, a group of dancers appeared. They chatted together in front of the club, then split up. Carol was not among them. Just when Jason had begun to worry that he’d missed her, Carol came out with one of the body-builders. He wore a leather jacket over his T-shirt, but it was not zipped up. They turned right, heading up Washington Street toward Filene’s.

Jason started his car, unsure of what to do. Luckily there was plenty of traffic, both cars and pedestrian. To keep Carol in sight, he nudged out into the street, staying to the side. A policeman saw him and waved him on. Carol and her friend turned left on Boylston Street, walked into an open parking lot, and got into a large black Cadillac.

Well, at least he’ll be easy to keep in sight, Jason thought. But, never having followed anyone, he discovered it wasn’t as easy as he’d imagined, especially if he didn’t want to be observed. The Cadillac skirted the edge of the Common, went north on Charles Street, then made a left on Beacon, passing the Hampshire House. Several blocks later, the car pulled over to the left side of the street and double-parked. This was an area of town called Back Bay, composed of large, turn-of the-century brownstones, most of which had been converted into rental units or condos. Jason passed the Cadillac as Carol alighted. Slowing, he watched in the rearview mirror as she ran up the steps of a building with a large bay window. Jason turned left on Exeter, then left on Marlborough. After waiting about five minutes, he rounded the block. Arriving back on Beacon Street, he looked for the black Cadillac. It was gone.

Jason parked in front of a fire hydrant half a block from Carol’s building. At three A.M. Back Bay was peaceful — no pedestrians and only an occasional passing car. Turning into the walk leading to Carol’s building, Jason surveyed the six-story facade and saw no lights in any of the windows. Entering the building’s outer foyer, he scanned the names opposite the buzzers. There were fourteen. To his disappointment there was no Donner listed.

Stepping back outside, Jason debated what he should do. Remembering there was an alley running between Beacon and Marlborough, he walked around the block, counting the buildings until he located Carol’s. There was a light in the window on the fourth floor. He guessed that had to be Carol’s since it was unlikely anyone else would be up.

Intending to go back to the entrance and press the appropriate buzzer, Jason turned and headed back up the alley. He saw the lone figure immediately, but he kept walking, hoping the man would merely pass by. As the distance between them closed, Jason’s steps slowed, then stopped. To his dismay he realized it was the body-builder. His leather motorcycle jacket was unzipped, showing a white T-shirt stretched tight across powerful muscles. It was the same individual who had thrown him out of the Club Cabaret the night before.

The man kept coming at Jason, his fingers flexing in apparent anticipation. Jason guessed him to be in his mid-twenties, with a full face that suggested he took steroids. It obviously spelled trouble. And Jason’s hope that the man might not recognize him was banished as the goon growled, “What the fuck you doing, creep?”

That was all Jason needed. He spun on his heels and started for the other end of the alley. Unfortunately, his leather-soled loafers were no competition for the body-builder’s Nikes. “You goddamn pervert!” he shouted, pulling Jason to a stop.

Jason ducked a roundhouse left hook and grabbed the goon’s thigh, hoping to trip him. Unfortunately, it was like grabbing a piano leg. Instead, Jason was jerked upright. The unevenness of the match was already apparent to Jason, who decided he’d prefer some kind of dialogue. “Why don’t you find someone your own size!” he yelled in exasperation.

“Because I don’t like perverts,” the body-builder said, practically lifting Jason off his feet.

Twisting to one side, then the other, Jason wriggled out of his jacket and shot off down the alley, knocking over a garbage can as he fled.

“I’ll teach you not to come sniffing around Carol!” the goon shouted, kicking aside the garbage can as he started off after Jason. But Jason’s years of jogging paid off. Although the body-builder was quick despite his size, Jason could hear the man’s breathing becoming increasingly labored. Jason was almost at the end of the alley when he skidded on loose pebbles, momentarily losing his balance. He scrambled back to his feet just as a heavy hand grabbed his shoulder and spun him around.