“I’m afraid so,” said Dr. Vandermer.
“I thought it took weeks to do tissue cultures,” said Adam.
Dr. Vandermer looked Adam directly in the eye. “Normally, that is true,” he said. “But in your wife’s case there were plenty of cells for us to examine directly in the amniotic fluid. Adam, as a medical student, I’m sure you understand these things happen. But as I told your wife, you’re both young. You can have other babies.”
“I want to see the slides,” said Adam, preparing himself for an argument. But Vandermer just nodded and said, “Why don’t you follow me?”
Adam began to wonder if he’d been too hasty in his judgment. The man seemed genuinely sorry to be the bearer of such bad news.
On the fourth floor Vandermer led Adam to the cytology lab. Adam blinked as they went through the door. Everything was white: walls, floor, ceiling, and countertops. At the back of the room was a lab bench with four microscopes. Only one was in use, and a middle-aged brunette woman looked up as Dr. Vandermer approached.
“Cora,” he asked, “I hate to bother you, but could you get us the slides on Jennifer Schonberg?”
Cora nodded and Vandermer motioned for Adam to sit down at a teaching microscope with dual viewing heads.
“I don’t know if you wanted to see the B scan ultrasonography or not,” said Dr. Vandermer, “but I brought it anyway.” He opened the folder he’d been carrying and handed the images to Adam.
As a medical student, Adam had not had any experience with ultrasonography, and the pictures looked like inkblots to him. Dr. Vandermer took the photo that Adam was examining, turned it over, and outlined the developing fetus with the tip of his finger. “The technique is getting better and better,” he said. “Here you can plainly see testicles. A lot of times at this age you can’t tell the sex by ultrasound. Perhaps this little guy takes after his father.”
Adam realized Vandermer was doing his best to be friendly.
The door swung open and Cora reappeared with a tray of slides. Each had a tiny cover glass over its center. Dr. Vandermer selected one that had been labeled with a grease pencil. He placed it under the optical head of the microscope, put a drop of oil on it, and lowered the oil-immersion lens. Adam sat up and looked through the eyepiece.
Dr. Vandermer explained that the specimens had been specially stained to make viewing of the chromatin material as easy as possible. He said they had to find a cell in the process of division. Finally, he gave up and asked for Cora’s assistance.
“I should have let you do this in the first place,” he said, changing seats with the woman.
It took Cora about thirty seconds to find an appropriate cell. By manipulating the hairline pointer, she showed Adam the chromosomal abnormality.
Adam was crushed. He had hoped the results would be ambiguous, but even to his inexperienced eye, the problem was clear. Cora continued pointing out other minor problems that had been noticed, including the fact that one of the X chromosomes also appeared slightly abnormal.
Finally, Cora asked if he would like to see another case that demonstrated a more common type of Down’s syndrome.
Adam shook his head. “No, but thanks for your time.” He put both hands on the lab bench and started to rise. Halfway up he stopped. Something was wrong. He leaned forward and peered into the microscope. “Show me that X chromosome abnormality again,” said Adam.
Cora leaned forward and put her face to the eyepiece. Soon the hairline pointer moved to a pair of identical chromosomes. Cora started to explain the suspected abnormality, but Adam interrupted her.
“Are those X chromosomes?” asked Adam.
“Absolutely,” said Cora. “But…”
Adam again interrupted her and asked Dr. Vandermer to take a look. “Do you see the X chromosomes?”
“I do,” said Dr. Vandermer, “but like you, I can’t appreciate the abnormality that Cora is talking about.”
“I’m not concerned about the abnormality,” said Adam. “I’m concerned about the two X chromosomes. Just a moment ago on the ultrasound image you pointed out that my child is a boy. This slide we are looking at is a girl.”
Dr. Vandermer had straightened up when Adam had begun to talk. His face wiped clean of all expression.
Cora immediately turned to the microscope. “He’s right,” she said. “This slide is of a girl.”
Slowly Dr. Vandermer raised his right hand to his face. Cora flipped over the edge of the slide tray and checked the number. Then she checked the number on the slide. They matched. Getting the main register, she checked the number there. The name was Jennifer Schonberg. Looking very pale, Dr. Vandermer told Adam to wait for a moment.
“Has anything like this ever happened before?” asked Adam when the doctor had gone.
“Never,” said Cora.
Dr. Vandermer reappeared with a large man in tow. Like Dr. Vandermer, he was wearing a long white coat. Dr. Vandermer introduced him to Adam as Dr. Ridley Stanford. Adam recognized the name. He was the author of the textbook on pathology that Adam had used during his second year of medical school, and had been chief of pathology at University Hospital.
“This is a disaster,” said Dr. Vandermer after Dr. Stanford had taken a look.
“I agree,” said Dr. Stanford, his voice as emotionless as Vandermer’s. “I can’t imagine how this could have happened. Let me make some calls.”
Within a few minutes there were ten other people crowded around the microscope.
“How many amniocenteses were done yesterday?” asked Dr. Vandermer.
Cora glanced at the book. “Twenty-one,” she said.
“They all have to be repeated,” said Dr. Vandermer.
“Absolutely,” said Dr. Stanford.
Turning to Adam, Dr. Vandermer said, “We owe you a vote of thanks.” The others echoed his sentiments.
Adam felt as if a huge black cloud had been lifted from over his head. His child was not some kind of genetic monster. The first thing he wanted to do was call Jennifer.
“We would be honored if you would stay for lunch,” said Dr. Stanford. “There’s a fabulous pathology lecture on retroperitoneal tumors which you might find interesting.”
Adam excused himself and hurriedly descended to the main lobby. He couldn’t believe that in the face of the current disaster they wanted him to stay for lunch and a lecture! There was no question but the place was weird. Passing the front door en route to the telephone, Adam was pleased to see that his car was still where he’d left it.
Adam first called the apartment, but there was no answer. Thinking that Jennifer might have gone home with her mother, he dialed the Englewood number, but there was no answer there, either.
After a moment’s hesitation, Adam decided to go back to the apartment. He ran out of the Julian Clinic, got in his car, and started for home.
His excitement at the good news was beginning to give way to a heightened sense of uneasiness about the Julian Clinic and Dr. Vandermer. It had been only a lucky break that he’d noticed the discrepancy. What if he hadn’t and Jennifer had had an abortion!
Adam felt all his anxieties return in a rush. He’d narrowly averted one catastrophe, but unless he could get Jennifer to switch from both Vandermer and the clinic, there might be more. For a while he’d abandoned the thought of the Arolen cruise. Now it looked again as if it might be the only way to get the evidence to prove Vandermer was dangerous. Adam looked at his watch. It was twelve-twenty. Still time to make the Fjord by six o’clock.
Reaching his apartment door, Adam was disappointed to find the police lock engaged. He found Jennifer’s impersonal note and decided to call Englewood once again. He was pleased when Jennifer answered instead of her mother.
“I’ve got good news and bad.”
“I’m in no mood to play games,” said Jennifer.