The First Patient

CHAPTER 55

The noise, from the stairway behind Alison, was faint-the opening of the door. A footstep on the top stair.

The sound was significant. It meant, in all likelihood, that she wasn't dead.

She had no idea how many hours it had taken for her cardiac, respiratory, and nervous systems to recover from having been overdosed with metaproteranol-the pharmacoactive drug in Alupent. She still felt jittery, sick to her stomach although she hadn't eaten for thirty-six hours or more, and profoundly ill at ease.

Her muscles ached terribly, even though she could not recall having been injected after the inhaler overdose. It was doubtful that Griswold had any idea of what dosage of metaproteranol a person could survive. More likely was that he had simply kept forcing the medication into her lungs and bloodstream until the apparatus had run dry. It was a miracle her body hadn't simply given in-her lungs exploding, her heart ceasing to beat, her brain shutting off altogether.

She had to find a way out-to cause Griswold to make a mistake of some sort.

The footsteps continued down the stairs.

The monster was back for another session. She had beaten him this far-even gotten him to boast that there were, in fact, various drugs adulterating the president's Alupent-and somehow, she vowed, she would beat him again.

Or die.

Softly she began to hum, singing the words in her mind, preparing herself for whatever was to come.

"This world ain't always tasty like candy… That's what my mama once told me…"

Another step… then another. Alison tightened her eyes shut and clenched her fists.

"Sometimes it'll shake and bend you…"

The footsteps ended on the concrete floor. Then she heard a woman gasp.

"¡Ay, Dios mío!"

Constanza came into Alison's sight.

"I can't believe he let you down here," Alison rasped through parched, split lips.

Constanza lifted the back of Alison's head and gave her a sip from a bottle of spring water. The jeans and black beaded sweater she wore looked elegant on her, but her gentle, exotic face was dark with anguish and concern.

"Donald doesn't know I am down here," she said. "He has forbidden it, but I know where the key is. I have lived here in this house for ten years. There is little I don't know. Beatriz and I heard you screaming last night and the night before from upstairs, even though this room is below the basement. It was very frightening."

"He has caused me terrible pain," Alison replied. "And he plans to continue torturing me until he is convinced I have told him all that he wants to know."

"And why won't you tell him?"

"Because then he will kill me. Sooner or later, he plans to kill me anyway."

"I can't believe that about Donald."

"Constanza, please, please listen to me. You must listen and help me. Help me or I will die. Donald works for the government."

"No, he is a businessman."

"Does this look like something a businessman would do?"

"Who are you? I remember you from the nail shop. What is your name?"

"Please. I won't last much longer. My name is Alison. I work for the government, too-just like Donald."

"I'm sorry he had to do this to you."

Alison studied the woman's face but could see no sign that she was lying-that she had been sent down by Griswold to accomplish what his muscle-tearing chemical and the Alupent overdose could not.

"He didn't have to do this to me, Constanza; he wanted to. Please untie me. I am in so much pain."

"Donald is sending us away," the beauty said, pointedly ignoring Alison's pleas.

"You and Beatriz?"

"Yes. There is a woman in Mexico City he knows. We are to leave to go there in just a few minutes, and wait until he sends for us. We are all packed. We have money. He is sending a car to take us to the airport."

Don't bother coming back to this house, Alison was thinking. It's not going to be here. Soon-maybe as soon as tonight-your Donald is going to see to it that this place mysteriously burns to the ground. That is what people like him are expert at-covering up and then counterattacking. It was one thing to blow the whistle and bring charges against such highly connected people. It was another to come up with the evidence to make them stick.

"What time is it now?" she asked.

"Almost nine in the morning. Donald has gone to work."

"Constanza, listen to me, please. Don't leave me like this. I know Donald has been good to you, but he has hurt me. He has hurt me badly. And he's not done. He will continue to hurt me until he is convinced I have told him all I know; then he will kill me."

"But Donald will be furious with me. He sometimes has a short temper, and he can get very angry."

Alison continued desperately fumbling for the right words.

"Think of… of how you would feel being tied down like this."

Constanza did think for a time. Then she shook her head, turned, and headed back toward the stairs.

"I'm sorry," she murmured over her shoulder.

Alison felt her heart sink.