Читать книгу The Apotheosis - Darrell Lee - Страница 26

It had been a long week for John without seeing Amira. He had not heard a word from her. He understood it would take time. The last thing he wanted was to create more stress in her life. He absorbed himself in his work while he waited. He continued hours of testing and improving the software system for analyzing the brain structure of the cloned monkeys.

On this September day, when John arrived at his lab, he made adjustments to the software parameters and restarted the program. He checked his calendar and noticed a budget meeting with board members in the afternoon. John sighed. It wouldn’t be fun. The equipment he had recently purchased impacted the budget for the lab across the hall, and he knew Ethan would aggressively protect his corner of the world. John knew he would probably have to make concessions and pay for most of it himself, leaving Dr. Shinwell with his perceived victory. If Ethan knew what I was really researching. It was just the framework of an idea, just the vapor of a theory. Although the process wasn’t fully formed in John’s mind, he was sure if Ethan Shinwell knew of it, he’d shut him down.

The phone at the desk near the door rang. John looked at the date on his watch. It’s the wrong day for the cleaning crew. He walked over to the desk and picked up the phone. “Hello?”

“John, this is Phillip. I’m sorry to bother you. Could you come down to my office?”

“Sure, Dr. Jones, what’s this about?”

“I’d rather we talk in my office.”

“Be right there.”

A few minutes later, John entered Dr. Jones’ office. He sat down across the cluttered desk from him.

“I received bad news this morning. I got a call from the Boston Police Department, a Detective Garcia. He had questions about Dr. Shinwell.”

“What kind of questions?”

“General questions, like did he work here? What was his function here? How long has he been employed?”

“Why are the police asking about Dr. Shinwell? Are they looking for him?”

“He has been arrested. It seems he tried to kill his wife yesterday evening. She’s okay. However, it appears that he unintentionally shot their six-year-old daughter in the head. The child died.”

“What?”

“He’s on suicide watch in the city jail. I had to make calls to a few friends to get the details.”

“How is she, his wife?”

“I was told she is in the hospital. Not from her injury. Not from the gunshot wound; it’s superficial. Because she’s distraught, the trauma of it all.” Dr. Jones shook his head. “This really is the saddest thing I’ve ever heard.”

John couldn’t think and he couldn’t move. The shock mingled with the horror and clouded his mind.

“Why?” John managed to say.

“Yes. It’s all too tragic. I wanted to tell you in person because I want you to take over the day-to-day operations of Dr. Shinwell’s lab. I don’t mean to sound cold about the whole thing. God knows—but regardless of what happens, I think Dr. Shinwell will be away for a significant amount of time. What do you say?”

“Of course,” John said absentmindedly, unable to concentrate on Dr. Jones’ words.

“Thanks. We’ll postpone the budget meeting till next week. It’ll give us time to adjust.”

John went back to his lab and phoned area hospitals until he found Amira Shinwell as a patient at Massachusetts General Hospital. He all but ran to his car. She needed him.