Adam heard the sound of water in the bathroom sink. He didn’t know what to say. He hadn’t mentioned anything to Jennifer about Percy Harmon’s disappearance or any of his other suspicions about Arolen, but now that it seemed as if Vandermer was involved, Adam knew he had to do something.

Adam walked to the bathroom, where Jennifer was washing her face. “I’m going to insist that you see Dr. Wickelman. I don’t like the idea of Vandermer going to the Julian Clinic.”

Jennifer looked up, surprised. There were times lately when Adam acted very strangely.

“I’m serious,” he began, but stopped in mid-sentence, glimpsing a familiar bottle on the edge of the sink.

“What the hell is this?” he demanded, grabbing it.

Jennifer glanced from his face to the small bottle he held in his hand. Then she turned and silently hung up her towel.

“I asked you a question,” yelled Adam.

“I think the answer is obvious. It’s pregdolen. For my morning sickness. Now if you’ll excuse me.” She started for the bedroom. Adam grabbed her arm.

“Where did you get this?” he demanded, holding the bottle directly in front of her.

Jennifer pushed it away. “If you must know, from Dr. Vandermer.”

“That’s impossible,” said Adam. “Vandermer would never prescribe this stuff.”

Jennifer pulled her arm free. “Are you suggesting that I’m lying?”

Adam returned to the bathroom and poured some of the blue-and-yellow capsules into his hand. It was pregdolen all right.

“Did you hear me?” demanded Jennifer.

“I don’t want you taking this drug,” he said. “Do you have any more of it?”

“I’m going to follow my doctor’s orders,” said Jennifer. “Since I started taking these pills, I’ve had the first nausea-free day in months. And remember, you are the one who sent me to Dr. Vandermer in the first place.”

“Well, you’re definitely not going back,” said Adam. He lifted Jennifer’s tote bag from the shelf above the toilet and looked inside. The additional packages of pregdolen were right on top.

Trying to grab the purse, Jennifer shouted, “I like Dr. Vandermer and I trust him. Give me my bag!”

Adam fished out the other samples before letting it go. “Listen!” he said. “I don’t want you taking this stuff. It’s dangerous.”

“Dr. Vandermer wouldn’t give it to me if it were dangerous,” said Jennifer. “And I intend to take it. After all, I’m the one who is suffering, not you. And I think that you should remember that you are not a doctor. In fact, all you are right now is a drug salesman.”

Adam opened the sample packages while he lifted the lid of the toilet with his foot.

“Give me my medicine!” yelled Jennifer, realizing what he was doing.

Adam dumped the contents of the first bottle into the toilet.

Desperately, Jennifer snatched a bottle from Adam’s hand and ran into the bedroom. Stunned, Adam hesitated, then ran after her. For a minute they stood face to face. Then Jennifer dashed back into the bathroom and tried to lock the door. But she wasn’t fast enough. Adam got his foot beyond the door, and a brief shoving match ensued. Slowly the door inched open until Jennifer gave way. She backed up against the shower stall, hiding the bottle behind her.

“Give me the pregdolen,” ordered Adam.

Jennifer shook her head. Her breath was coming in short gasps.

“OK!” snapped Adam as he reached out and roughly pulled her hands from behind her back.

“No!” shouted Jennifer.

One by one he peeled back her fingers, took the bottle, and emptied it into the toilet. Jennifer began pounding his back. To protect himself, Adam threw up his right hand, accidentally hitting the side of her head. The blow sent her reeling against the wall, momentarily stunned.

Adam dumped the remaining samples into the bowl and flushed them away. Then he turned to apologize to Jennifer, but she was so furious she wouldn’t listen.

“You’re not my doctor,” she screamed. “I’m tired of being sick every day, and if he gives me medication to feel better, I’m going to take it.”

She tore into the bedroom and pulled her suitcase down from the top of the closet.

“Jennifer, what are you doing?” asked Adam, though it was pretty clear what she had in mind. Jennifer didn’t answer but began rolling up clothes and throwing them into the case.

“Jennifer, we can have disagreements without your running away,” said Adam.

Jennifer turned to face him, her cheeks flushed.

“I’m going home. I’m tired, I don’t feel well, and I can’t stand this bickering.”

“Jennifer, I love you. The only reason I took those pills away is to protect our child.”

“I don’t care why you did it. I have to get away for a few days.” She picked up the phone and Adam listened while she called her father and made arrangements to take a cab to his office so he could drive her home.

“Jennifer, please don’t do this,” he begged as she went back to her packing, but she refused to look at him while she closed the case, picked up her purse, and stalked out of the apartment.

Alone, it took Adam a few minutes to believe she had actually gone. Dazed, he wandered into the living room and sat down at the computer. Turning it on, he connected with the Arolen mainframe and tried to call up Vandermer’s file. He intended to see if Dr. Vandermer’s prescribing habits had changed, but the screen remained blank save for the stark message: “Transferred to Julian Clinic.”

Shocked, Adam wondered if any other files had been erased from the computer. He pulled the printout McGuire had given him and then asked the machine to relist the doctors in his assigned territory. Not only had the computer dropped Vandermer’s file, but six other doctors had been taken off the list.

Frantically, Adam began calling up each of the expunged doctors’ names. None of them had files! Four had entries like Dr. Smyth’s-“Refresher course scheduled…”-suggesting that if a doctor went on an Arolen cruise, he didn’t have to be detailed any longer. Two had entries like Vandermer’s: “Transferred to Julian Clinic.” Adam wondered if the Cruise Conferences pitched the Julian Clinic as well as Arolen products.

More confused than ever, Adam asked the computer to list all the physicians on staff at the Julian Clinic. Dutifully the dot-matrix printer sprang to life and spewed out a sizable roster. Adam ran his eyes over the list of names and stopped short at an entry halfway down the sheet: Dr. Thayer Norton! What the hell was Norton doing at the Julian Clinic? He was chief of Internal Medicine at the university.

Slowly Adam typed Thayer Norton’s name into the computer and requested his file. All he got was “Transferred to Julian Clinic”!

The idea that the old battle-ax would give up his coveted medical chair at the university was unthinkable. Adam wondered if Norton had recently taken a Conference Cruise.

Going back to the computer, Adam tried to access statistical data about the Julian. He discovered that of the six doctors who had transferred, four were OB-GYN specialists. Maybe that proved something. For another half hour Adam fed questions into the computer, but most of his requests were returned with the message that his access code was not recognized for the material he was requesting. Switching tactics, he asked for the number of times amniocentesis was done at the Julian in the previous calendar year. He got the number: 7,112. When he asked how many had shown an abnormality in the fetus, the computer again refused his access code. Adam finally asked how many therapeutic abortions had been performed during that time period: 1,217.

Totally mystified, Adam turned off the computer and went to bed, where he spent the night confronting an outraged Jennifer in his dreams.