The early morning sun peers over the horizon, its rays stretching across the icy East River and the tangled, undulating mass of vegetation that overruns North Brother Island. On the west side of the isle sits a lone, ramshackle structure. In it, seated at a small workbench in the corner of his lab, Doctor Hyslop pores over the data on his most recent patients. He shakes his head in disgust as he scans the pages. The results are wildly inconsistent. Almost three-fourths of the patients he treated in the last eighteen months have made a full recovery. But it’s the other fourth that worries him. Three patients did not survive the second dose, and many who did saw their diseases run wild within hours of that treatment. The second dose is critical. Anyone in good health after that was cured by the third dose. Eyes glued to his work, he doesn’t even notice senior technician Todd Zigler’s entrance until the young man’s high-pitched voice pierces the air. “Another early start, Doctor Hyslop? Or were you up late again keeping Phil company?”
Hyslop looks up, his red eyes and baggy lids speaking for him. Zigler waves an accusatory, effeminate finger at him. “Oh gosh, you look terrible, Doc. You are not taking care of yourself at all.” He shakes his head with disapproval, then folds his arms lightly across his small chest. “Can I get you some coffee or something?”
Hyslop stares back impassively, nods, and returns to his work as Todd glides past him toward the break room. Along the way the lab technician runs his finely manicured fingers across the work bench, past a dizzying array of expensive, state-of-the-art equipment. Blood chemistry analyzers, interferometers, and spectrometers fill the bulk of the counter top. A venting hood, centrifuges, test tubes, and other sensitive, delicate instruments take up the remaining space.
A few minutes later Todd re-emerges, presenting a fresh cup of coffee to his boss. Hyslop masks his disdain over the young man’s French-manicured nails, sighs, and accepts the offering. Eccentricities aside, Todd has proven his most valuable asset, recruiting, assisting, and supervising a first-rate team of lab technicians despite the many drawbacks of their God-forsaken location.
“Made any breakthroughs this morning, boss, in our quest to outdo Grayson Limerock and company?”
Hyslop senses movement on the edge of his field of vision. He turns and spots his secretary, Kiki Aloni, moving furtively through the lab toward the coffee room. His voice booms, “A bit early for you, Kiki?”
She straightens up, her long black hair spilling off her shoulders. “Uh, yes, Doctor,” she replies self-consciously. “I caught a ride with Todd this morning.”
Hyslop nods, taking a sip of his coffee, then spits it on the floor in front of him. “What is this swill, Todd? Kiki!” She jumps to attention. “Make yourself useful.” He shakes his cup. “Fetch me a fresh cup right away, and then be gone.” Condescending, with a snicker he continues, “Todd and I have pressing matters to discuss that are well above your pay grade.”
Kiki nods her assent and scurries off to the coffee room.
Todd tries to get his point across in a playful manner, to avoid Hyslop’s wrath himself. “Hey boss. Maybe ease up on the Draconian approach, huh? The ladies can be kind of sensitive with that, you know?”
Hyslop, amused, looks Todd over, paying close attention to the young man’s nails. “Never thought of you as an expert when it comes to the ladies.”
Kiki dashes over, hands Hyslop his coffee, then hurries away. Hyslop yells after her, “Come back in about two hours. I’ll need you to deliver the treatment we’ve been working on to Doctor Gorelick.”
Kiki offers a quick nod, then disappears from the lab.
Hyslop holds up the cup. “Seems I have things well under control. Now, where were we?” Scratching his head, “Ah, yes. No breakthroughs this morning, Todd.” Hyslop rubs the bridge of his nose. “I can’t detect any patterns for the treatment failures. Can you pass me the calibration and quality assessment logs? Perhaps they’ll shed some light on our failings.”
Todd pats his chest. “I check on those daily and everything is always up to snuff.” Zigler arches his eyebrows and shakes his head. “I know you don’t want to hear it again, boss, but the prob is obvious in my opinion....”
“Yes, Todd, I know,” Hyslop replies wearily, “‘too many station chefs for you to keep track of’.”
“Exactly. Even the teensiest, tiniest error by any one of them and our formulations can be ruined.”
Hyslop stares at the ceiling and nods his head, his patience all but spent. “That’s why I personally trained each technician to be an expert in all areas of formulation and trained you to catch any rare errors along the way.”
A disapproving look fills Zigler’s face. “That was fine when I only had two techs to oversee. But seven, well, that’s really asking for trouble now, don’t you think?” Zigler’s eyes implore Hyslop. “We all want to plow ahead as fast as we can, but sometimes a breather’s not a bad thing.”
Hyslop’s death-stare says what no words ever could.
Zigler replies with a huff, “Okay, okay, I get it, boss. Keep our worker bees humming along and keep my opinions to myself.”
Hyslop’s stare morphs into a thin smile.
Todd stares back, intimidated and self-conscious. “Okay then... off to work.” He takes two hesitant steps away before coming to a stop and turning back. “Did you see the phone message I left on your desk last night from Doctor Jacobs?”
Hyslop’s brow arches. “No. What’s it about?”
“Apparently Detective Chris Ravello is in dire need of our services.”
“The same Ravello who just arrested that serial killer Durand?”
“One and the same. Ravello’s got a pheochromocytoma he badly needs our help with.”
He tries to contain it, but a smile spreads across Hyslop’s face. Turning away, in a soft voice he mutters, “Excellent. Just the case I need to test out two new theories.”