Miracle Cure (1991) Page 37

  Remember how upset I was? I screamed about how the government was tryin g t o stall my progress. But in truth "

  "You were afraid they would learn you were a fraud."

  He nodded.

  "All they had to do was run one HIV test on Michael and all my wor k w ould have collapsed around my head.

  And worse, Markey was sending in his men the next day. What choice did I h ave? I had to get rid of Michael. So I had George kidnap him."

  "Where is he now?"

  He did not answer the question. Instead, he stared down at his gun.

  "I have to kill you, Sara. I'm sorry."

  "What is your plan this time, Harvey? How are you going to explain awa y m y death? Or Eric's?"

  "It won't be very difficult. Eric killed you because you discovered th e t ruth about him. Then he ran away. Disappeared."

  "What truth?"

  "That Eric was the man behind the Gay Slasher plot. First, I'll blow th e l id off Sanders' conspiracy. Cassandra will be so outraged by you r m urder that I am sure she will cooperate. From there it won't be an y p roblem to convince the media that Eric worked for the conspiracy. Th e m edia will eat it up, make it sound like the Goliath right-win g g overnment was picking on the little David clinic. The money will com e p ouring in."

  Harvey cocked the gun's hammer.

  "The police will search for Eric. They may even find him wherever I dum p h im, I don't know.

  If they do, everyone will figure his co-conspirators murdered him t o k eep him quiet. The media loves that kind of stuff."

  Sara stared at him with a look that was nearly palpable.

  "You'll never be able to tie the conspirators to the murders."

  "I don't have to. The speculation will be enough."

  "Max will figure you out."

  "You give him too much credit, Sara. All the evidence is gone.

  I killed Martino with the cyanide injection. The blood samples i n b ruce's package have been destroyed. There's nothing left to tie me t o t he murders.. except you."

  A million questions ran through her mind, but the same one kep t s urfacing.

  "Where is Michael?"

  Harvey stepped toward her.

  "When I found out that Lieutenant Bernstein knew about George, I r ealized that it was just a matter of time before he got caught. I ha d t o cut my losses.

  So I told George to burn down the storage house in Bangkok somethin g e lse I could blame on the right-wing conspiracy."

  His smile was back, his eyes bright and maniacal.

  "Don't you see the irony, Sara? Everyone thinks that the patients wer e m urdered by fascists who wanted to stop me from proving there was a n a IDS cure. But actually, it was the opposite the murders made i t i mpossible to prove that there was no cure."

  Sara's eyes bore into his.

  "What happened to Michael?"

  Once again the smile left his face. He lowered his gaze.

  "He's dead, Sara. George killed him. I begged him not to, but he hung u p o n " There was a sudden knock on the lab door.

  "Dr. Riker?"

  A nurse.

  Harvey turned to Sara, his face suddenly panicked.

  "If you call out, I will kill her too."

  The nurse knocked again.

  "Dr. Riker?"

  "I'm in the middle of an experiment," he said, his voice cracking.

  "Is it important?"

  "Yes, Doctor."

  "Hold on a minute."

  He turned back to Sara. Her big green eyes were tear-filled now. Ther e w as no longer confusion or horror in them just devastation and pur e h atred.

  "Get in the refrigeration room," he whispered.

  "You killed Michael."

  He glanced at the gun and then back at Sara.

  "Don't make me kill the nurse too."

  She knew it was no idle threat.

  "Drop the cane on the floor and move back. Now."

  With her eyes still on him, she dropped the cane and slowly backed u p i nto the refrigeration room. Her foot bumped into something and sh e r ealized with revulsion that it was Eric Blake's body.

  "The room is soundproof so I wouldn't try screaming," he said.

  "Please don't bring any more innocent people into this.

  Enough have died."

  The cold closed in around Sara as Harvey shut the refrigerator door an d l ocked it with a padlock. Then he moved across the room, unlocked th e l ab door, and stepped into the hallway, closing the door behind him.

  "What is it?" he asked the nurse.

  "It's Michael Silverman," the nurse said excitedly.

  "He's here."

  "What?"

  "He just arrived from Bangkok."

  The sirens blasted.

  "Drive faster, Willie."

  "Jesus, Twitch, I can't drive through cars."

  "Then drive on the sidewalk."

  "Here." Willie handed him a pencil.

  "What?"

  "Suck on your pacifier and tell me what's going on."

  "I was an idiot, that's what's going on." Max tossed the pencil on th e c ar floor.

  "I spent so much time trying to figure out who wanted to destroy th e c linic that I couldn't see what was so obvious."

  "What?"

  "The murders were helping the clinic, not hurting it."

  "What the hell are you talking about?" Willie asked.

  "I just got the test results. Riccardo Martino was HIV positive.

  Krutzer, Leander, and Singer were HIV negative."

  "Speak English."

  "Martino had AIDS. The other three don't." "I thought Martino was cure d b y this miracle drug."

  "SRI is not a miracle drug. It doesn't work. Harvey Riker faked th e w hole thing."

  "The head of the clinic?"

  Max nodded.

  "At first I thought it might be his assistant, Eric Blake."

  "So what changed your mind?"

  "Something that happened the night Michael was kidnapped.

  Sara was about to go home for the night when she bumped into Eric Blake.

  He was heading upstairs to run an errand. Sara volunteered to do it fo r h im, and he let her."

  "So?"

  "If Eric Blake was behind the kidnapping, he would have never let Sar a g o back upstairs. He would have insisted on running the errand himself."

  "Let me get this straight this Riker guy faked like he had a cure?"

  "Right." "But he didn't run all the tests. I thought you said the othe r d ocs ran blood tests too."

  "They did. But look at the rotation. Our three murder victims wer e t rian, Whitherson, and Martino. All three were admitted by Bruce Grey.

  That meant that Bruce Grey took a blood test, concluded that they ha d t he AIDS virus, and admitted them.

  Then Riker took over. He was the one who drew the blood that was used t o d etermine if they were cured. He must have sent the lab someone else's b lood someone who never even had AIDS.

  Naturally, when the lab tested this blood, it came back negative.

  Ergo, they were 'cured'. A 'miracle'."

  "But I still don't get it, Twitch. Didn't Bruce Grey do the later test s w ith some of the patients? And didn't you just say the three guys Dr.

  Zry tested were all cured?"

  Max smiled.

  "Krutzer, Leander, and Singer weren't cured," he said, "because the y n ever had AIDS in the first place."

  "Huh?"

  "All three were admitted by Harvey Riker. So what did he do? He switche d t he blood samples right in the beginning except this time he switche d t heir HIV negative blood for the blood of someone who ha d a IDS."

  "Mother fucker," Willie exclaimed.

  "So it looked like they had AIDS when they never did?"

  "Right. Then Harvey probably infected them with a few mild flu viruse s t o make it look like they were really sick. When the time came, Bruc e g rey performed the blood tests. Since they never had AIDS in the firs t p lace, their te
sts came back negative.

  Ergo, they were 'cured'."

  "Unfuckinbelievable. When did you start putting it together?"

  "When George Camron was raving about being paid late. I didn't pay muc h a ttention at the time, but then I got to thinking why was he paid all o f a sudden? How did his boss get his hands on money so fast? Then I r emembered my original question who benefits? Who got the good press?

  Who put pressure on his foes to keep financing them?"

  "The clinic."

  Max nodded.

  "And all the donations solicited from Newsflash went directly to th e c linic."

  "Riker used the money to pay off Camron?" "Some of it. Camron also sai d h e never killed Martino. So I got to thinking who had the bes t o pportunity to kill Riccardo Martino? Riker claimed to be the last gu y w ho saw him alive.

  He probably injected him with cyanide a few minutes before O'Conno r k nocked him over the head."

  "You got a motive for all of this?" Max thought for a minute.

  "It's an unselfish, albeit warped, one Riker thought he could cure AIDS.

  He tried desperately to keep his clinic financed, but after their firs t y ear he must have realized that he needed something big or their gran t w ould get cut off. That's when he decided to fake the cure. But he als o k new that Trian, Whitherson, and Martino would never stand up to clos e s crutiny and eventually they would die. So he had to find other patient s w ho could stand up to any test. He had to find patients who would b e l egitimately HIV negative when tested by the government. That's when h e b rought in Krutzer, Leander, and Singer."

  Willie swerved around a van.

  "It's a nice little theory, Twitch.

  Have any evidence?"

  "I will. Riker's one problem was the storage house in Bangkok.

  All lab material was immediately packaged by either Eric Blake o r w inston CXConnor and sent to Bangkok for safekeeping. If Riker had trie d t o divert it, it would have looked suspicious. But Riker really wasn't w orried about it anyway. He figured he could always have the storag e h ouse destroyed if anybody got too close to the truth."

  "Which is what he tried to do, except you nailed Camron first."

  Max nodded.

  "Colonel Ts men are guarding the building twenty-four hours a day. Whe n w e test the stored blood specimens, it will prove that the blood take n u pon admittance could not possibly belong to the same person as th e b lood taken when they were supposed to be cured. That's one reason Rike r w anted the safehouse in Bangkok. It was far away and yet it was Georg e c amron's hometown. Markey and the government would have a lot of troubl e f inding it. If they really tried, Riker could always have George destro y i t."

  "Case solved."

  "I hope."

  "Do you think Riker knows you're on to him?"

  "I doubt it."

  "So calm down. We're almost there."

  "You don't understand."

  "What?"

  Max leaned down and picked up the pencil.

  "Sara is alone with him."

  It was so cold.

  Sara wrapped her arms around herself but it did no good.

  The frigid air cut through her skin to the bone. She looked down , coughing. Eric's body was in a twisted, fetal position. His eyes wer e c losed, a bullet wound in his throat. She wondered how Michael had died.

  Had he been tortured or had it been quick and painless? She fought bac k t ears and tried to think clearly.

  For the sake of their unborn child, she had to find a way out of this.

  She tried the door, but it would not budge. Her cough had becom e r elentless, racking her body with powerful jerks. She could feel th e c old settle into the bottom of her lungs. She wondered if it was a n i nfection. Her lips trembled. She felt weak, drained. She hunched he r b ody into a small ball, her eyes darting about the small room.

  There were shelves filled with various codes. One test tube said 87m332.

  Another read 98k003. The beakers were labeled Naoh, So2, H2So4, Hspo Hd a nd CHd3.

  Michael. Her poor, beautiful Michael. Dead. How? Why?

  The room was tiny. The walls and ceiling seemed to be closing in aroun d h er. Sara curled herself into a tighter ball, lowered her head, an d s obbed gently. She had never known such loneliness, such despair.

  The cold grew unbearable. Her fingers became numb. She felt herself gro w w eaker and weaker. She tried to concentrate on a Blue Oyster Cult son g i n a bizarre attempt to keep herself awake: "All our times have come, Here but now they're gone Seasons don't fea r t he Reaper, Nor do the wind, nor the sun, nor the rain, We can be lik e t hey are ..."

  But she felt herself slipping away.

  Hold on, Sara. Hold on.

  But it was no good. Harvey was coming back soon and then it would b e o ver. Her Michael was dead. He had joined the Reaper and in the end, s o w ould she.

  Her eyes began to close.

  Chapter 25.

  Michael was still unconscious when they wheeled him into his room o n t he third floor. Dr. Sombat patiently filled Harvey in on everythin g t hat had happened.

  "Your Lieutenant Bernstein is a brave man," the Thai doctor said.

  "He saved Mr. Silverman's life."

  "Did they capture the man who kidnapped Michael?" Harvey asked.

  "Yes. He is in custody." "Has ... has he said anything yet? Anythin g t hat might help solve this case?"

  "I apologize, Dr. Riker, but I am not privy to that information."

  Harvey nodded.

  "Where is Lieutenant Bernstein now?"

  "He had an emergency," Dr. Sombat replied.

  "He drove off with Sergeant Monticelli. If there is nothing else, I hav e t o get back to the airport."

  "No, nothing else. Thank you for all your help."

  "You are welcome. How can I get back to Kennedy Airport?"

  "Ask the receptionist downstairs to call a taxi. Thanks again."

  They shook hands and Dr. Sombat departed, leaving Harvey alone wit h m ichael in the quiet, dark room.

  "Michael?"

  No response. Harvey could see that Michael's nose was broken. He ha d l ost a considerable amount of weight.

  "I'm sorry, Michael."

  Harvey stared down at his young friend lying helplessly in the bed. A t ear ran down his cheek. He bent over and gently kissed Michael's f orehead. Then he turned to leave.

  "Harv?"

  He turned around. Michael looked up through the darkness with grogg y e yes.

  "I'm right here, Michael. You're back now."

  His voice was barely a whisper.

  "Sara?"

  "She left a few minutes before you got here," he replied.

  "I left a message on the answering machine for her to call me."

  '"Peel ... feel weak."

  "I know. Try to get some rest. I'll wake you when Sara gets here."

  Michael tried to nod.

  "Max got the Slasher."

  "I know," Harvey replied, walking back toward the bed. He hugged hi s f riend.

  "Go to sleep now, Michael. Everything is going to be okay. You want m e t o give you something?"

  Michael shook his head and closed his eyes. Harvey quietly crept out o f t he room. Then he headed down the hallway, unlocked the door, an d e ntered the laboratory.

  "I'm sorry, Michael," he said out loud. But there was no one to hear hi s w ords.

  He took out the gun from his pocket and wrapped a towel around th e b arrel, using it as a makeshift silencer. No matter really. Th e r efrigeration room was soundproof once the door was closed. He had sho t e ric in there and no one had heard a sound.

  He crossed the lab. How was he going to get the bodies out?

  Harvey knew from first-hand experience how heavy dead weight could be.

  He would have to place the corpses in a plastic bag.

  Then he would instruct the nurses that he would take care of Michael fo r t his ever ting on his own and that no one was to enter the thir
d floo r u nder any condition. That would give him the opportunity to drag th e b odies to the elevator, head down to the basement, get them out throug h t he tunnel George had used, and put them in the trunk of his car.

  Then what?

  He was not sure. Tie weights to their legs and dump them in the river.

  Isn't that what they always did in the movies? He would have to b e c areful. Wear gloves. Clean the lab from top to bottom. Wouldn't wan t t he police to find a few strands of long blonde hair in th e r efrigeration room now, would we?

  He reached the door of the refrigeration room and leaned his ear agains t i t. Cold. Well, what did he expect? And why did he put his ear agains t t he door in the first place? What had he expected to hear through th e t hick door?

  Idiot.

  Stop putting it off, Harv. Stop stalling. Sara has to die. She'll neve r k eep silent. Think of all the young men dying every day.

  Think of the thousands, maybe millions, you can save from an awfu l d eath. Look toward your goal.

  A world with no AIDS.

  Harvey nodded to himself. He reached down and unlocked the padlock.

  Then he opened the door and pointed the gun at Sara.

  Two floors below Cassandra smiled at the security guard as she heade d i nto the clinic. She tried to put a little bounce in her steps, tried t o m ake her smile bigger, but it would not hold. In her right hand, she ha d a bag of take-out Chinese. Spare ribs, moo-shu pork, General Tsao's c hicken (Chinese generals cook?), and beef with broccoli, all package d i n those little white boxes Chinese restaurants use. The bottom of th e b ag no doubt had about 850 packets of duck sauce, soy sauce, and tha t m ustard hot enough to remove paint. Then there were the usual fortun e c ookies and, for some reason which always escaped her, they always gav e y ou an orange for dessert.

  Cassandra strolled down the hall toward Harvey's office. She had no t s een him very much in the past few days and missed him terribly.

  Probably he had not been sleeping or eating properly.

  Between Michael's mysterious kidnapping, the Gay Slasher, and now he r f ather's Washington conspiracy it was enough to make any man begin t o u nravel.

  So Cassandra had decided another little surprise was in order.

  At the end of the hallway, she knocked on Harvey's door.

  "Hello?"