Drug of Choice

No. She’d turn him in.

Harry, the intern?

No. He would be all confused, bewildered, unhelpful.

Dr. Shine?

Perhaps. That was a good possibility. Or Dr. Andrews, the Chief of Medicine at the hospital. But somehow…

Janice Connor.

Of course! He snapped his fingers. Janice would hear him out.

He drove away from his apartment, toward the Strip, and parked at an all-night drive in. The kids were there, laughing and necking in convertibles under the lights. He found a payphone near the restrooms, dropped in his money and dialed.

A sleepy girl answered. “Hello?”

“Janice Connor, please.”

“This is she.”

“Janice, this is Roger Clark.”

For a moment, there was silence. Then: “Who?”

“Roger Clark. You remember me, I’m the doctor—”

“Yes, yes. I remember. Where have you been?”

“You wouldn’t believe it,” Clark said. “They had me locked up in this place, and—”

“Where are you now, Roger?” she said.

“I’m at a drive-in on the Strip. Super-burger, it’s called.”

Another pause. “What do you want me to do?”

“I want to talk to you. I thought if I came over to your place, we could—”

“No, no. It’s better if we meet somewhere else. I’ll come down. Super-burger?”

“Yes.”

“Give me fifteen minutes,” she said. When he hung up, he felt an immense sense of relief.

21. IT’S YOU, ROGER

He had a hamburger and settled down to wait, but as he waited, he began to have odd feelings. He didn’t like to be suspicious, but …

Feeling almost guilty, he drove his car out of the drive-in lot and across the street, parking it a block away, on the hill leading down to the center of town. Then he walked back and stood on the corner across the street from the drive-in.

The night was cool but not cold, and the laughter of the kids was gay and reassuring. When Janice drove up in her Italian sportscar, he felt himself relaxing once more. She was alone; everything was fine. She got out of the car and stood uncertainly, looking around her.

He started to cross the street.

At that moment, he heard the sirens. He froze, moved back to the curb.

Three police cars converged on the Super-burger Drive-in. They pulled up, lights flashing, sirens going. Six cops jumped out, guns drawn.

The kids screamed. The scene was chaotic. There were cries of “Bust! Bust!”

And in the middle of it all, Janice stood frowning and worried-looking. One of the cops came up to her to talk. She answered his questions, shaking her head.

Bitch, he thought, and moved back down the bill. He got into the car and drove off. The night air was making him more clear-headed, and he was remembering more of what had happened to him. He remembered the chair, and the room, and the sounds and fog and shocks. He remembered it dimly, as if it had been a dream.

But it made sense — even as a dream.

Janice, on the other hand. She made no sense at all. Why had she called the cops? And they were cops, no question of it. They weren’t fakes. They were real, live, honest-to-God cops.

And they had come very quickly.

Ergo…

He was a wanted man. Wanted for what?

He drove half a mile to a gas station, got out and made another call, this time to Dr. Andrews. A woman answered. He asked for Dr. Andrews. “Dr. Andrews speaking.”

“Dr. Andrews, this is Roger Clark.”

“Roger?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Roger, where are you?”

Dr. Andrews’ voice was sympathetic and concerned. But wrong: he never called anyone by his first name. Except patients. Clark shuddered.

“Roger, are you there? Where are you?”

“I’m…downtown.”

“But where?”

“In a gas station.”

“Now look, Roger. I want you to stay where you are. Stay right where you are, and don’t get excited. Everything will be fine. Tell me the address of the gas station.”

“Why?” Clark said.

“Now, Roger,” Andrews said, chuckling. “This is no time to be difficult. We only want to help you. Tell me where you—”

Clark hung up.

So Andrews was part of it, too. What had happened? It must have been awful, whatever it was, if the whole town was after him this way.

Certainly he couldn’t go to the police. Not now. Not until he knew more. Then who?

He knocked on the door of the pink stucco mansion. A maid answered hesitantly, opening the door just a fraction. I “Yes?”

“I want to see Dr. Shine.”

“The doctor is not available.”

“He is for me. Tell him it’s Roger Clark. And tell him to hurry — if he’s not out here in a minute, I’ll leave. You understand?”

“Yes.”

The door was slammed hurriedly in his face. Clark stepped back, onto the grass, until he could look up to the second floor. He saw a light go on, probably the bedroom.

He waited on the grass, standing in the darkness beneath a large tree. After a moment, the door opened, and yellow light spilled out on the lawn. A figure emerged.

“Anybody here?”

He recognized Shine’s voice.

“It’s me. Roger Clark.”

“Oh?” The voice was disbelieving. He moved forward onto the lawn as Shine advanced. Clark could not see anything but the silhouette, framed in yellow light.

“Yes. It’s me, all right.”

“Where are you? Let me get a look at you.”

Clark stepped out from beneath the tree. “I want to talk to you—”

“My God. It is Roger Clark.”