Contagion by Robin Cook

“I’m surprised you weren’t thrown out again,” Chet said. “Why do you do this to yourself?”

“Because I’m convinced that there’s ‘something rotten in the state of Denmark,’ “Jack said. “But enough about me. How did your case go?”

Chet gave a short, scornful laugh. “And to think I used to like gunshot cases,” he said. “This one is kicking up a storm. Three of the five bullets entered through the back.”

“That’s going to give the police department a headache,” Jack said.

“And me too,” Chet said. “Oh, by the way, I got a call from Colleen. She wants you and me to come by their studio when we leave work tonight. Listen to this: They want our opinion about some ads. What do you say?”

“You go,” Jack said. “I’ve got to get some of these cases of mine signed out. I’m so far behind it’s scaring me.”

“But they want both of us,” Chet said. “Colleen specifically said that. In fact, she said they particularly wanted you there because you had helped already. Come on, it will be fun. They are going to show us a bunch of sketches outlining some potential TV commercials.”

“Is that really your idea of fun?” Jack asked.

“Okay,” Chet admitted. “I’ve an ulterior motive. I’m enjoying spending time with Colleen. But they want both of us. Help me out.”

“All right,” Jack said. “But for the life of me I don’t understand why you think you need me.”

19

* * *

FRIDAY, 9:00 P.M., MARCH 22, 1996

Jack had insisted on working late. Chet had obliged by fetching Chinese takeout so Jack could continue. Once Jack got started, he hated to stop.

By eight-thirty Colleen had called, wondering where they were. Chet had to nag Jack to get him to turn off his microscope and lay down his pen.

The next problem was Jack’s bike. After much discussion it was decided that Chet would take a taxi and Jack would ride as he normally did.

They then met in front of Willow and Heath after having arrived almost simultaneously. A night watchman opened the door for them and made them sign in. They boarded the only functioning elevator, and Jack promptly pressed the eleventh floor.

“You really were here,” Chet said.

“I told you I was,” Jack said.

“I thought you were pulling my leg,” Chet remarked.

When the doors opened Chet was as surprised as Jack had been the night before. The studio was in full swing, as if it were still sometime between nine and five, instead of almost nine in the evening. The two men stood for a few minutes watching the bustle. They were totally ignored.

“Some welcoming party,” Jack commented.

“Maybe someone should tell them it’s after quitting time,” Chet said.

Jack peered into Colleen’s office. The lights were on but no one was there. Turning around, he recognized Alice toiling at her drawing board. He walked over to her, but she didn’t look up.

“Excuse me?” Jack said. She was working with such concentration he hated to bother her. “Hello, hello.”

Finally Alice’s head bobbed up, and when she caught sight of him, her face reflected instant recognition. “Oh, gosh, sorry,” she said, wiping her hands on a towel. “Welcome!” She acted self-conscious; she’d not seen them arrive as she stood and motioned for them to follow her. “Come on! I’m supposed to take you down to the arena.”

“Uh-oh,” Chet said. “That doesn’t sound good. They must think we’re Christians.”

Alice laughed. “Creatives are sacrificed in the arena, not Christians,” she explained.

Terese and Colleen greeted them with air kisses: the mere touching of cheeks accompanied by a smacking sound. It was the kind of ritual that made Jack feel distinctly uncomfortable. Terese got right to business. She had the men sit at the table while she and Colleen began putting storyboards in front of them, maintaining a running commentary on what the storyboards represented.

Both Jack and Chet were entertained from the start. They were particularly taken by the humorous sketches involving Oliver Wendell Holmes and Joseph Lister visiting the National Health hospital and inspecting the hospital’s hand-washing protocols. At the conclusion of each commercial these famous characters in the history of medicine commented on how much more scrupulously the National Health hospital followed their teachings than that “other” hospital.

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