Terminal by Robin Cook Read Free Book Online Page A

Brian added.
    “That was only a little coke at a party,” Sean said. “It was just unlucky the police decided to raid the place.”
    “The lucky thing was my getting your juvenile record sealed. Otherwise you would have been in a hell of a fix.”
    “Miami is a violent city,” Anne said. “I read about it in the newspapers all the time.”
    “Jesus Christ!” Sean exclaimed.
    “Don’t use the Lord’s name in vain,” Anne said.
    “Mom, you’ve been watching too much television. Miami is like any city, with both good and bad elements. But it doesn’t matter. I’ll be doing research. I won’t have time to get into trouble even if I wanted to.”
    “You’ll meet the wrong kind of people,” Anne said.
    “Mom, I’m an adult,” Sean said in frustration.
    “You are still hanging out with the wrong people here in Charlestown,” Brian said. “Mom’s fears are not unreasonable. The whole neighborhood knows Jimmy O’Connor and Brady Flanagan are still breaking and entering.”
    “And sending the money to the IRA,” Sean said.
    “They are not political activists,” Brian said. “They are hoodlums. And you choose to remain friends.”
    “I have a few beers with them on Friday nights,” Sean said.
    “Precisely,” Brian said. “Like our father, the pub is your home away from home. And apart from Mom’s concerns, this isn’t a good time for you to be away. The Franklin Bank will be coming up with the rest of the financing for Oncogen. I’ve got the papers almost ready. Things could move quickly.”
    “In case you’ve forgotten, there are fax machines and overnight delivery,” Sean said, scraping his chair back from the table. He stood up and carried his plate over to the sink. “I’m going to Miami no matter what anybody says. I believe the Forbes Cancer Center has hit on something extraordinarily important. And now if you two co-conspirators will allow me, I’m going out to drink with my delinquent friends.”
    Feeling irritable, Sean struggled into the old pea coat that his father had gotten back when the Charlestown Navy Yard was still functioning. Pulling a wool watch cap over his ears, he ran downstairs to the street and set out into the freezing rain. The wind had shifted to the east and he could smell the salt sea air. As he neared Old Scully’s Bar on Bunker Hill Street, the warm incandescent glow from the misted windows emanated a familiar sense of comfort and security.
    Pushing open the door he allowed himself to be enveloped by the dimly lit, noisy environment. It was not a classy place. The pine wood paneling was almost black with cigarette smoke. The furniture was scraped and scarred. The only bright spot was the brass footrail kept polished by innumerable shoes rubbing across its surface. In the far corner a TV was bolted to the ceiling and tuned to a Bruins hockey game.
    The only woman in the crowded room was Molly, who shared bartending duties with Pete. Before Sean could even say anything a brimming mug of ale slid along the bar toward him. A hand grasped his shoulder as a cheer spread through the crowd. The Bruins had scored a goal.
    Sean sighed contentedly. It was as if he were at home. He had the same comfortable feeling he’d get whenever he wasparticularly exhausted and settled into a soft bed.
    As usual, Jimmy and Brady drifted over and began to brag about a little job they’d done in Marblehead the previous weekend. That led to humorous recollections of when Sean had been “one of the guys.”
    “We always knew you were smart the way you could figure out alarms,” Brady said. “But we never guessed you’d go to Harvard. How could you stand all those jerks.”
    It was a statement, not a question, and Sean let it pass, but the comment made him realize how much he’d changed. He still enjoyed Old Scully’s Bar, but more as an observer. It was an uncomfortable acknowledgment because he didn’t truly feel part of the Harvard medical world either. He felt rather like a