“Why does something like this always happen on Friday night?” Helen complained.
Jason slept poorly. In the middle of the night he had a hot flash resulting in so much perspiration, he felt obliged to take a shower. While toweling off he had a chill.
“This settles it,” Helen said after putting several blankets on her shivering husband. “We’re calling the doctor first thing in the morning.”
“What’s he going to do?” Jason grumbled. “I got the flu. He’s going to tell me to stay home, take aspirin, drink a lot of fluids, and rest.”
“Maybe he’ll give you some antibiotics,” Helen said.
“There’s some antibiotics left over from last year,” Jason said. “They’re in the medicine cabinet. Get them! I don’t need a doctor.”
Saturday was not a good day. By late afternoon Jason admitted that he was definitely worse despite the aspirin, fluids, and antibiotic. The discomfort in his chest had worsened to pain. His temperature had risen to one hundred and three, and he’d developed a cough. But what he complained about most was a splitting headache, along with generalized aching muscles.
Attempts to reach Dr. Goldstein were unsuccessful. The doctor had gone to Connecticut for the weekend. His answering service advised Helen to take her husband to the local emergency room.
After a long wait, Jason was finally seen by the emergency-room physician, who was impressed with his condition, especially after a chest X-ray. To Helen’s relief, the doctor advised Jason’s immediate admission to the hospital and referred the case to Dr. Heitman, who was covering Dr. Goldstein’s inpatients. The diagnosis was influenza with secondary pneumonia, and the emergency-room physician started Jason on intravenous and antibiotics.
Jason had never felt worse in his life as he was taken to his hospital room just before midnight. He complained bitterly about his chest pain, which was excruciating when he coughed, and about his headache. When Dr. Heitman came by to see him, Jason pleaded for relief and was given Percodan.
It took almost a half hour for the pain medication to have an effect. By that time Dr. Heitman had departed. Jason lay on his bed, exhausted but unable to sleep. He sensed a mortal battle was raging inside his body. Allowing his head to loll to the side, he looked at Helen in the half light and gripped her hand. She was maintaining a silent vigil. A tear traced a path down the side of Jason’s face. In his mind’s eye Helen was still that young woman who’d wandered into his shop in the Plaka all those years ago.
Helen’s image began to fade as welcome numbness suffused Jason’s body. At twelve-thirty-five A.M. Jason Papparis fell asleep for the last time. Mercifully, he was unaware when he was later rushed to the intensive care unit by Dr. Kevin Fowler, who waged an unsuccessful battle for his life.
Chapter 1
Monday, October 18
4:30 a.m.
The hum of the commuter plane’s engines was ragged. One moment they were screaming as the plane headed inexorably earthward, the next they were eerily silent, as if they had been inadvertently switched off by the pilot.
Jack Stapleton watched in terror, knowing that his family was aboard and there was nothing he could do. The plane was going to crash! Helplessly he shouted NO! NO! NO!
Jack’s shouting mercifully yanked him from the clutches of his recurrent nightmare, and he sat bolt upright in bed. He was breathing heavily as if he’d been playing full-court basketball, and perspiration dripped from the end of his nose. He was disoriented until his eyes swept about the interior of his bedroom. The intermittent sound wasn’t coming from a commuter plane. It was his telephone. Its raucous jingle was relentlessly shattering the night.
Jack’s eyes shot to the face of his radio alarm clock. The digital numbers glowed in the dark room. It was four-thirty in the morning! No one called Jack at four-thirty. As he reached for the phone, he remembered all too well the night eight years ago when he’d been awakened by a phone call informing him that his wife and two children had perished.
Snatching the receiver from its cradle Jack answered the phone with a rasping and panicky voice.
“Uh oh, I think I woke you up,” a woman’s voice said. There was a significant amount of static on the line.
“I don’t know why you’d think that,” Jack said, now conscious enough to be sarcastic. “Who is this?”
“It’s Laurie. I’m sorry I’ve awakened you. It couldn’t be helped.” She giggled.
Jack closed his eyes, then looked back at the clock just to make sure he had not been mistaken. It indeed was four-thirty in the morning!
“Listen,” Laurie continued. “I’ve got to make this fast. I want to have dinner with you tonight.”
“This has got to be a joke,” Jack said.
“No joke,” Laurie said. “It’s important. I have to talk with you, and I’d like to do it over dinner. It’s my treat. Say yes!”
“I guess,” Jack said, reluctant to commit.
“I’m going to take that as a yes,” Laurie said. “I’ll tell you where when I see you at the office later on this, morning. Okay?”
“I suppose,” Jack said. He wasn’t as awake as he’d thought. His mind wasn’t working up to speed.
“Perfect,” Laurie said. “See you then.”
Jack blinked when he realized Laurie had disconnected. He hung up the phone and stared at it in the darkness. He’d known Laurie Montgomery for more than four years as a fellow medical examiner in the Office of the Chief Medical Examiner for the City of New York. He’d also known her as a friend — in fact, more than a friend — and in all that time she’d never called him so early in the morning. And for good reason. He knew she was not a morning person. Laurie liked to read novels far into the night, which made getting up in the morning a daily ordeal for her.
Jack dropped back onto his pillow with the intent of sleeping for another hour and a half. In contrast to Laurie, he was a morning person, but four-thirty was a bit too early, even for him.
Unfortunately it was soon apparent to Jack that more sleep was not in the offing. Between the phone call and the nightmare, he couldn’t get back to sleep. After half an hour of restless tossing and turning, he threw back the covers and padded into the bathroom in his sheepskin slippers.
With the light on, Jack regarded himself in the mirror while running a hand over his stubbled face. Absently he noted the chipped left incisor and the scar high on his forehead, both mementos of some extra-office investigating he’d done in relation to a series of infectious-disease cases. The unexpected fallout was that Jack had become the de facto guru of infectious diseases in the medical examiner’s office.
Jack smiled at his image. Lately it had occurred to him that if he had been able to look into a crystal ball eight years previously to see himself now, he would never have recognized himself. Back then, he’d been a relatively portly, midwestern, suburban ophthalmologist, conservative in dress. Now he was a lean and mean medical examiner in the City of New York with closely cropped, gray-streaked hair, a chipped tooth, and a scarred face. As far as clothes were concerned, he now favored bomber jackets, faded jeans, and chambray shirts.
Avoiding thoughts of his family, Jack mulled over Laurie’s surprising behavior. It was so out of character. She was always considerate and concerned about proper etiquette. She would never phone at such an hour without good reason. Jack wondered what that reason was.
Jack shaved and climbed into the shower while he tried to imagine why Laurie would have called in the middle of the night to arrange a dinner date. They had dinner together often, but it was usually decided on the spur of the moment. Why would Laurie need to line a date up at such an hour?