“And thanks for your time.”
“No problem,” Dr. Nakano said, but he didn’t look at Victor. He was already involved with another crisis.
Stunned, Victor walked out of the ICU, appreciating the quiet as the electronic doors closed behind him. He returned to the waiting room where the Murrays guessed the bad news before he could tell them. Gripping each other, they again thanked Victor for coming. Victor murmured a few words of condolence. But even as he spoke a frightful image gripped his heart. He saw VJ white and hooked up to a respirator in the bed where Mark had lain.
Cold with terror, Victor went to Pathology and introduced himself to the chief of the department, Dr. Warren Burghofen. The man assured Victor that they would do everything in their power to get the two autopsies, and get them as soon as possible.
“We certainly want to know what’s going on here,” Burghofen said. “We don’t want any epidemic of idiopathic cerebral edema ravaging this city.”
Victor slowly returned to his car. He knew there was little likelihood of an epidemic. He was only too conscious of the number of children at risk. It was three.
As soon as Victor got back to his office he asked Colleen to contact Louis Kaspwicz, the head of Chimera’s data processing, and have him come up immediately.
Louis was a short, stocky man with a shiny bald head, who had a habit of sudden unpredictable movements. He was extremely shy and rarely looked anyone in the eye, but despite his quirky personality, he was superb at what he did. Chimera depended upon his computer expertise for almost every area, from research to production to billing.
“I have a problem,” Victor said, leaning back against his desk, his arms folded across his chest. “I can’t find two of my personal files. Any idea how that could be?”
“Can be a number of reasons,” Louis said. “Usually it’s because the user forgets the assigned name.”
“I checked my directory,” Victor said. “They weren’t there.”
“Maybe they got in someone else’s directory,” Louis said.
“I never thought of that,” Victor admitted. “But I can remember using them, and I never had to designate another path to call them up.”
“Well, I can’t say unless I look into it,” Louis said. “What were the names you gave the files?”
“I want this to remain confidential,” Victor emphasized.
“Of course.”
Victor gave Louis the names and Louis sat down at the terminal himself.
“No luck?” asked Victor after a few minutes when the screen remained blank.
“Doesn’t seem so. But back in my office I can look into it by using the computer to search through the logs. Are you sure these were the designated file names?”
“Quite sure,” Victor said.
“I’ll get right on it if it’s important,” Louis said.
“It’s important.”
After Louis left, Victor stayed by the computer terminal. He had an idea. Carefully he typed onto the screen the name of another file: BABY-FRANK. For a moment he hesitated, afraid of what might turn up—or what might not. Finally he pushed Execute and held his breath. Unfortunately his fears were answered: VJ’s file was gone!
Sitting back in his chair, Victor began to sweat. Three related but uncrossreferenced files could not disappear by coincidence. Suddenly Victor saw Hurst’s engorged face and remembered his threat: “You’re not the white knight you want us to believe . . . . You’re not immune.”
Victor got up from the terminal and went to the window. Clouds were blowing in from the east. It was either going to rain or snow. He stood there for a few moments, wondering if Hurst had anything to do with the missing files. Could he possibly suspect? If he did, that might have been the basis for his vague threat. Victor shook his head. There was no way Hurst could have known about the files. No one knew about them. No one!
5. Monday Evening
Marsha looked across the dinner table at her husband and son. VJ was absorbed in reading a book on black holes, barely looking up to eat. She would have told him to put the book away, but Victor had come home in such a bad mood she didn’t want to say anything that would make it worse. And she herself was still troubled about VJ. She loved him so much she couldn’t bear the thought that he might be disturbed, but she also knew she couldn’t help him if she didn’t face the truth. Apparently he’d spent the whole day at Chimera, seemingly by himself because Victor admitted, when she’d specifically asked, that he’d not seen VJ since morning.
As if sensing her gaze, VJ abruptly put down his book and took his plate over to the dishwasher. As he rose, his intense blue eyes caught Marsha’s. There was no warmth, no feeling, just a brilliant turquoise light that made Marsha feel as if she were under a microscope. “Thank you for the dinner,” VJ said mechanically.
Marsha listened to the sound of VJ’s footsteps as he ran up the back stairs. Outside the wind suddenly whistled, and she looked out the window. In the beam of light from over the garage she could see that the rain had changed to snow. She shivered, but it wasn’t from the wintry landscape.
“I guess I’m not too hungry tonight,” Victor offered. As far as Marsha remembered, it was the first time he’d initiated conversation since she’d gotten home from making her hospital rounds.
“Something troubling you?” Marsha asked. “Want to talk about it?”
“I don’t need you to play psychiatrist,” Victor said harshly.
Marsha knew that she could have taken offense. She wasn’t playing psychiatrist. But she thought that she’d play the adult, and not push things. Victor would tell her soon enough what was on his mind.
“Well, something is troubling me,” Marsha said. She decided that at least she’d be honest. Victor looked at her. Knowing him as well as she did, she imagined that he already felt guilty at having spoken so harshly.
“I read a series of articles today,” Marsha continued. “They talked about some of the possible effects of parental deprivation on children being reared by nannies and/or spending inordinate amounts of time in day care. Some of the findings may apply to VJ. I’m concerned that maybe I should have taken time off when VJ was an infant to spend more time with him.”
Victor’s face immediately reflected irritation. “Hold it,” he said just as harshly, holding up both hands. “I don’t think I want to hear the rest of this. As far as I’m concerned, VJ is just fine and I don’t want to listen to a bunch of psychiatric nonsense to the contrary.”
“Well, isn’t that inappropriate,” Marsha stated, losing some of her patience.
“Oh, save me!” Victor intoned, picking up his unfinished dinner and discarding it in the trash. “I’m in no mood for this.”
“Well, what are you in the mood for?” Marsha questioned.
Victor took a deep breath, looking out the kitchen window. “I think I’ll go for a walk.”
“In this weather?” Marsha questioned. “Wet snow, soggy ground. I think something is troubling you and you’re unable to talk about it.”
Victor turned to his wife. “Am I that obvious?”
Marsha laughed. “It’s painful to watch you struggle. Please tell me what’s on your mind. I’m your wife.”
Victor shrugged and came back to the table. He sat down and intertwined his fingers, resting his elbows on his place mat. “There is something on my mind,” he admitted.
“I’m glad my patients don’t have this much trouble talking,” Marsha said. She reached across to lovingly touch Victor’s arm.
Victor got up and went to the bottom of the back stairs. He listened for a moment, then closed the door and returned to the table. He sat down, and he leaned toward Marsha: “I want VJ to have a full neuro-medical work-up just like he did seven years ago when his intelligence fell.”