“The good news is that they got your specimen mixed up at the clinic. Someone else’s baby has the bad chromosomes. They mixed up the slides.”
For a moment Jennifer was afraid to ask if Adam were telling the truth or if this were just some sort of plot to make her lose faith in Vandermer. The news seemed too good to be true.
“Jennifer, did you hear me?”
“Is it true?” asked Jennifer tentatively.
“Yes,” said Adam, and he described how he’d noticed the discrepancy in relation to the sex of the cell.
“What did Dr. Vandermer say?” asked Jennifer.
“He said that all the amniocenteses done that day have to be repeated.”
“Is that the bad news you were referring to?” asked Jennifer.
“No,” said Adam. “The bad news is that I’m still going out of town, unless you promise me something.”
“What do I have to promise?” asked Jennifer skeptically.
“Promise to see Dr. Wickelman for the remainder of your pregnancy and stop taking pregdolen.”
“Adam…” said Jennifer, drawing out his name impatiently.
“I’m more convinced than ever that there is something strange about the Julian Clinic,” said Adam. “If you agree to see Dr. Wickelman, I’ll promise not to interfere with anything he suggests.”
“Mistakes happen every day in hospitals,” said Jennifer. “Just because one happened at the Julian Clinic doesn’t mean I shouldn’t go there. It seems like the ideal place to have my baby now that I’ve gotten over that episode with Cheryl Tedesco. I like the people there and the atmosphere.”
“Well,” said Adam. “I’ll see you in a few days.”
“Where are you going?” asked Jennifer.
“I’d rather not say,” said Adam.
“Under the circumstances,” said Jennifer, “don’t you think that you should stay here? Adam, I need you.”
“That’s a little hard to believe with you at your parents’ and me alone in the apartment. I’m sorry, but I have to run. I love you, Jennifer.”
Adam hung up and called Eastern Airlines before he had time to have second thoughts. He booked a seat on a flight leaving for Miami from LaGuardia in forty-eight minutes.
Adam got his small Samsonite suitcase from the closet and began packing. Just as he was cramming in his toilet articles, the phone rang. Adam reached out his hand, but then, for once in his life, ignored the sound. Even a minute’s delay would make him miss his flight.
Jennifer waited, letting the phone ring on and on. Finally, she hung up. Right after speaking with Adam, she’d decided that she’d be willing to see this Dr. Wickelman if it meant so much to Adam. She could at least give the man a chance, and if she didn’t feel comfortable with him, she could always go back to Dr. Vandermer. But Adam had apparently left. Jennifer felt abandoned. Before she took her hand off the receiver, the phone rang again. Hoping it was Adam, she picked it up before the first ring was complete. It was Dr. Vandermer.
“I assume you have heard the good news.”
“Yes, Adam just told me,” said Jennifer.
“We are very grateful to your husband,” said Dr. Vandermer. “It is unusual for someone to notice a secondary abnormality in the face of an overwhelmingly positive finding.”
“So it is true that I am not carrying a defective child,” said Jennifer.
“I’m afraid I can’t go so far as to say that,” said Dr. Vandermer. “Unfortunately, we have no idea of the result of your amniocentesis. We’ll have to repeat the procedure. I’m terribly sorry this happened. There were twenty people besides yourself who had amniocentesis that day, and all of them have to be repeated. Obviously it will be done at the clinic’s expense.”
“When do you want to repeat the test?” asked Jennifer. She appreciated Dr. Vandermer’s willingness to accept responsibility even though the error was undoubtedly made by someone in the lab.
“As soon as possible,” said Dr. Vandermer. “Remember, we are up against a time constraint if there really is a problem.”
“How about if I get back to you in the morning?” said Jennifer.
“That will be fine. There’s no rush, but the sooner we do it, the better.”
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.”