Terminal by Robin Cook Page A

librarians.
    “If I can be of any assistance,” Mrs. Barington said, “just give me a call.”
    Sean thanked her and moved to leave, but Mrs. Barington insisted she show him around the department. Sean tried to be interested as he was shown the Center’s computer capabilities, the laser printers, the hoist they used to bring charts up from the basement storage vault, and the view they had over the sleepy Miami River.
    When Claire and Sean got back to the corridor, she apologized.
    “She’s never done that,” she added. “She must have liked you.”
    “That’s just my luck,” Sean said. “The older set and the prepubescent are taken by me. It’s the women in between I have trouble with.”
    “I’m sure you expect me to believe that,” Claire said sarcastically.
    Sean was next treated to a rapid walk through the modern eighty-bed hospital. It was clean, well designed, and apparently well staffed. With its tropical colors and fresh flowers, it was even cheerful despite the gravity of many of the patients’ illnesses. On this leg of the tour, Sean learned that the Forbes Cancer Center had teamed up with the NIH to treatadvanced melanoma. With the powerful sunshine, there was a lot of melanoma in Florida.
    With the tour completed, Claire told Sean it was time for her to lead him over to the Cow Palace and see that he got settled. He tried to suggest he’d be fine, but she wouldn’t hear of it. With strict orders to stay close, he followed her car out of the Forbes Cancer Center and headed south on Twelfth Avenue. He drove carefully, having heard that most people in Miami carry pistols in their glove compartments. Miami has one of the world’s highest mortality rates from fender-bender accidents.
    At Calle Ocho they turned left, and Sean glimpsed the rich Cuban culture that has placed such an indelible mark on modern Miami. At Brickell they turned right and the city changed again. Now he drove past gleaming bank buildings, each an open testament to the financial power of the illicit drug trade.
    The Cow Palace was not imposing to say the least. Like so many buildings in the area, it was two stories of concrete block with aluminum sliding doors and windows. It stretched for almost a block with asphalt parking in both the front and the back. The only attractive thing about the place was the tropical plantings, many of which were in bloom.
    Sean pulled up next to Claire’s Honda.
    After checking the apartment number on the keys, Claire led the way upstairs. Sean’s unit was halfway down the hall at the back. As Claire struggled to get the key into the lock, the door directly opposite opened.
    “Just moving in?” a blond man of about thirty asked. He was stripped to the waist.
    “Seems that way,” Sean said.
    “Name’s Gary,” the man said. “Gary Engels from Philadelphia. I’m an X-ray tech. Working nights, looking for an apartment by day. How about you?”
    “Med student,” Sean said as Claire finally opened the door.
    The apartment was a furnished one-bedroom with a full kitchen. Sliding glass doors led from both the living room and the bedroom to a balcony that ran the length of the building.
    “What do you think?” Claire asked as she opened the living-room slider.
    “Much more than I expected,” Sean said.
    “It’s hard for the hospital to recruit certain personnel,” Claire said. “Especially high-caliber nurses. They have to have a good temporary residence to compete with other local hospitals.”
    “Thank you for everything,” Sean said.
    “One last thing,” Claire said. She handed him a piece of paper. “This is the number of the tux rental place that Dr. Mason mentioned. I assume you’ll be coming tonight.”
    “I’d forgotten about that,” Sean said.
    “You really should come,” Claire said. “These affairs are one of the perks for working at the Center.”
    “Are they frequent?” Sean asked.
    “Relatively,” Claire said. “They really are fun.”
    “So you’ll be