The Rusted Scalpel

by Timothy Browne

  “It looks like the cruise ships have found your little retreat,” Nick said, pointing to the large ship off the southern end of the beach.

  Wright looked at him and then to the ship. He hesitated as though he wasn’t sure what to say. Then he apologized, “I’m afraid that is the Solstice, Dr. Hart—my boat.”

  The craft appeared to be as long as a football field with at least three decks above water and a large heliport on the rear upper deck.

  Nick tried to hide his embarrassment with a laugh. “Forgive me, Mr. Paul. I’m just a redneck from Montana. I’m not used to this.”

  Wright gave him a gentle slap on the back. “No worries, mate. Love to take you on a little spin on her sometime. And, pleeease, call me Wright. You will find my staff is prim and proper but let the three of us put away formalities.”

  “Okay,” Nick said, and Wright continued the tour.

  Following the veranda to the left, Wright led them to a set of stairs and an expansive structure sitting twenty feet off the ground. It was suspended by the massive rain trees surrounding it. “I hope you don’t mind staying in the tree house,” he smiled at them.

  A tree house was not what Nick would have called it. It was in the trees all right, but it wasn’t exactly a house. Maybe a tree mansion or tree fortress would be a better term.

  The fit young shirtless man appeared from behind them.

  “Christian, would you please show our guests to their rooms,” Wright said, turning back to them. “If you would please excuse me, I have some business to attend to before tonight’s function.” He pulled a smartphone from his front pocket. “It’s almost noon. I will meet you by the pool at six. We’ll have a bite to eat and a drink before heading back to the city. I wish you had more time to rest, but please let us supply you with anything you need.”

  “Thank you so much, Mr. Paul…Wright,” Maggie said. “I can’t tell you how much this means to us. I do have one request. I wanted to work on my presentation for tonight. I don’t suppose there’s internet here?”

  “What is the speed you have in Guatemala?”

  “We have about five megabits, on a good day.”

  “You will get to experience one of the fastest internet connections on earth at five hundred…gigabits,” Wright smiled. He added proudly, “We had the cable laid from Singapore last year.”

  The alarm on his phone sounded, and he quickly silenced it. “Now if you would please excuse me.” He shook their hands. “Remember, my home is your home. Please let me know how I can make your stay more comfortable.”

  * * *

  Nick and Maggie stood at the railing of the tree house overlooking the ocean and Singapore in the distance. Nick shook his head with disgust. “Well, I sure looked like the dumb hillbilly. Geez, Mr. Paul, the cruise ships have arrived.” He ran his hands through the stubble on his head. “This is unbelievable. I had no idea that people lived like this.”

  “Don’t be so hard on yourself, Nick. Remember, I’m from the holler as well. Even worse, I’m from the rez.”

  Nick couldn’t get over it. “He almost speaks in a foreign language—my airplanes, my island, my yacht—definitely words you’ll never hear me say.” He looked at Maggie, who was smiling at him. “At least you don’t keep putting your foot in your mouth. I think you should have left me at home.”

  “Don’t be silly. I’m so glad you’re here with me, Nicklaus.” She pulled one of his hands off the rail and wrapped it around her waist. “We haven’t talked about that kiss?” she said more like a question and left it open-ended.

  Nick looked into her dark native eyes. “Thank you for bringing me, Maggie. I wish we were here all alone in this paradise and had another go at that kiss.”

  She tucked her head into his chest. “I can’t think of anyone else I’d rather be with.”

  Her words surprised him. He still couldn’t believe what she’d said about being open to another relationship. He knew that John was always on her mind. Probably she was just being kind. It was something they would have to work out. But right now, they were both too tired for such an emotionally charged discussion, so he responded with a joke. “Not even Mr. Richie Rich…Mr. Handsome?”

  “You mean Mr. Paul?” Maggie feigned surprise. “Is he handsome? I didn’t notice.”

  They both laughed hard.

  “Well, I still smell like two days of travel, and I want to work on my presentation.” She pulled back from him. “See you in a bit.”

  * * *

  “We are spending over two million dollars on the launch party alone. Dr. Amy, are you suggesting we delay the launch? You have to tell me now.” Wright spoke angrily into his phone. “The board and the sales team are not flying in to be entertained.”

  “Nor would they be,” Leah added on the conference call.

  “No, I’m not suggesting that,” Amy’s voice came over the speakerphone. “But we had two more Iban leaders tell me their experience. They came all the way down the river, for God’s sake, to share with me. The people are beginning to call Welltrex ‘celap.’”

  “Celap…cold?” Wright interpreted. “Like cold medicine? Something like Nyquil?” The muscles in his neck and shoulders tensed. Scientists and medical staff were an inconvenient necessity. They were so rigid and fussy.

  “No, like in spiritually cold.” Dr. Amy sounded flustered. “I’m not articulating it well.”

  There was a long uncomfortable pause, and Wright took a deep breath and stretched his neck from side to side. “Okay, Amy. I want you to know that I hear you. I’m not sure what to make of it, is all. What is your suggestion?”

  “Mr. Paul, I don’t think we should do anything different. I suppose we should proceed with the launch. I simply wanted you to know.”

  “Leah, what do you think?” Wright said into the speakerphone.

  “You know what I think.”

  “Okay then, we are a go.” His mood lifted, and he sighed deeply. “Amy, thank you for calling. You are stopping the clinical trial, correct? You’ll stop giving the Iban the Welltrex?”

  “Yes. I will send word upriver for everyone to stop taking the medication. After the launch on Saturday, when the drug goes into general distribution, we will move into FDA post-market safety monitoring,” she said.

  “Leah, do we have any exposure here? Do we need to notify the FDA of this?” Wright asked.

  Leah scoffed loudly. “That the witch doctors can no longer hear the voices in their heads? That would make for an interesting warning label: If you are a witch doctor, you may experience less chatter in your mind.” She didn’t hide her disgust.

  “Okay, okay,” he said. “Dr. Amy, good job. We will see you tomorrow night at the launch party. I’ll look forward to introducing you to Dr. Hart and Ms. Russell.”

  Wright waited for a series of clicks to make sure the doctor had hung up her phone. When his phone indicated that he was no longer on a conference call and all he heard was Leah’s nasal breathing, he asked, “Well?”

  “We may need to consider a change,” she said coldly.

  CHAPTER 12

  MERCY

  That “bite” to eat turned out to be a feast of sushi, a couple of dishes of Asian noodles and a pig roasted over an open fire. Maggie wished she hadn’t eaten so much before the helicopter flight to Singapore. She’d fallen asleep working on her presentation and awakened groggy. Now, with jet lag and a full belly, her mind drifted in a dreamlike state, cruising in sunset shadows over a strange, exotic landscape. She ran her hand over the soft leather of her seat in the rear of the helicopter. This was no dream.

  Maggie was still embarrassed by Wright’s extravagant compliments when she arrived poolside in a tight-fitting black evening dress. She’d been surprised he hadn’t changed to formal wear. He’d simply donned a royal-blue sports jacket over his casual clothes. The invitation had read: A CELEBRATION OF LIFE and suggested dressing in evening wear. How was she supposed to know how to dress for something like this? After Wright’s gl
owing attention, she’d fought the urge to run back to her room and put on jeans and a silk blouse. But she resisted when she saw that Nick had put on a suit and tie.

  She peered out the window as Wright slowed the helicopter and hovered over the city. “Singapore is an island itself—only two-thirds the size of New York with five and a half million people,” he said.

  The setting sun showered the city’s downtown skyscrapers in streams of pink and lavender. Clouds bathed in flaming orange stretched from the western horizon.

  “What a beautiful night.” Wright sighed. “I think Singapore is on her best behavior and showing off for you. Just wait until the lights come on.” As if on cue, neon lights of every color outlined the buildings and reflected off the bay waters cradled by the city.

  “This is stunning,” Nick said through the headset.

  “Isn’t it?” Wright said. “You can see why I love it here. Just wait for the Chinese New Year celebration Sunday night. The city has been celebrating all week, but Sunday night is the finale—there’ll be a show like you’ve never seen before.”

  Wright pushed the helicopter cyclic to the right, and the aircraft responded quickly and swooped them back over the water. Massive cargo ships stacked with containers lined up like an LA traffic jam, awaiting their turn at the docks.

  “Singapore is a global commerce, finance and transportation hub. It holds the third-highest GDP per capita and is in the top five for education in the world. I don’t want to brag, but we spend one third of what the US does per capita on medicine, and our healthcare is ranked sixth in the world—the US is ranked what…around fortieth?”

  “Yeah, we’re ranked right up there with Cuba and Costa Rica.” Nick shook his head. “And yes, the US has the most expensive healthcare in the world.”

  Wright piloted the helicopter back toward land, east of downtown, and pointed to a large complex. “That’s Zelutex, my company.”

  Wright’s company included two six-story buildings covered in copper-colored glass and connected in front at a large arch. The complex expanded into a garden rivaling the beauty of the Butchart Gardens in Victoria, Canada. Next door to the compound was a large parking complex.

  “How many do you employ at Zelutex?” Nick asked.

  “Our global team is over eight thousand. We are launching a new medication tomorrow night called Welltrex. I believe it will do well.” Wright looked at Nick and then Maggie and acted as though he’d forgotten something. “Forgive me. I should have asked. Why don’t you join us tomorrow night for the celebration? It’s going to be a great bash.”

  “Sure, we’d love to,” Maggie said.

  “Dr. Hart, I think you will find it quite fascinating. I know that most doctors think of the pharmaceutical industry as the evil empire, but maybe you’ll see us in a different light.” He smiled at Nick.

  “Mr. Paul…er…Wright,” Maggie interrupted, “I don’t know if you are watching the time, but doesn’t the foundation party start at seven? It’s 7:10.”

  Wright laughed. “Yes, you’re right, of course. But you are the star of the party and celebrities should be fashionably late. They won’t start without us.” He turned and winked at Maggie.

  Wright pulled back on the throttle with his left hand, and the high-tech aircraft leaped like a racehorse from the gate. He directed it back toward downtown, circled acutely around the skyscrapers and aimed toward a large complex of buildings across the bay. He brought it to a hover over the area. “This is the famous Marina Bay Sands Resort.”

  The most prominent structure was a set of three tall buildings supporting a large platform, like three strong men holding a huge plank over their heads.

  “The podium on top is the SkyPark. It is the world’s largest cantilevered platform and has an infinity swimming pool that runs almost its entire length. The platform can hold four thousand people.”

  Wright aimed the helicopter toward one side of the complex to an odd-shaped building. Its multiple appendages extended like unfolding petals. The top was lit in pink and the base in green, giving it the appearance of a lotus flower blooming on the bay.

  “This is the ArtScience building, where the function is tonight. We have the whole thing to ourselves.”

  Sweat trickled down Maggie’s back. “How many people will be attending?” She tried not to let her voice betray her anxiety.

  “We sent out two thousand invitations, but we are expecting more. People in Singapore like to party, especially when it’s on someone else’s dime.”

  Nick looked back to her. “You’ll do great, Mags.”

  She stuck her tongue out, faking she was about to be sick. She gulped hard to catch her breath as Wright set the helicopter down in a roped-off area on the landing pad surrounded by a huge crowd. As soon as they touched down, that lotus flower burst with a laser show that lit the fading evening sky.

  * * *

  Maggie burped the smoked salmon pâté in the back of her throat. Fortunately, it came no farther, but she wasn’t sure it would stay put as she fumbled with her notes when Wright called her to the stage. Ten grants would be handed out tonight, but until she was seated at the head table next to Wright, Maggie didn’t know she was the featured speaker. She had stewed about her ensemble, and despite Wright’s attire, she found herself underdressed. Many of the women wore long formal dresses, and some of the men sported tuxes. The party sizzled with the glitz and glamour of a Hollywood awards ceremony, complete with paparazzi who rendered her eyes wonky with their strobe flashes.

  The banquet and the surroundings were magnificent—if only she could have enjoyed it—with elaborately adorned tables bearing centerpieces of beautiful yellow roses surrounding a large bubbling fountain. The feast was served on fine bone china with more forks at each setting than she knew what to do with. Even larger bouquets of flowers and greenery framed the gathering. It was an exquisite garden party, and Maggie felt like a royal princess. To top off the sights and scents, a string quartet played Mozart, filling the space with intimate sounds.

  Maggie had picked at the fresh halibut and lobster dinner but couldn’t bring herself to eat anything else. As she walked to the stage she wished she’d taken a larger drink of champagne for Dutch courage. Wright said something funny about his black eye, and laughter filled the room as she climbed the stairs to the podium. She’d missed his joke as she was concentrating on not tripping. She walked across the stage and stood next to him. He introduced her with elegance that fueled her anxiety. He stepped back from the microphone, gave her a warm hug and adjusted the mic for her height.

  Her head swirled, and her heart pounded in her throat, as she looked over the impressively dressed crowd. Wright had been correct; these people sure liked to party. As she gathered herself to speak, the rumble of conversation dropped only a decibel.

  When Maggie cleared her throat, it resounded in the great room, creating a squeal of feedback from the sound system.

  “Oops, sorry,” she said nervously and chuckled, adjusting the microphone away from her mouth. She spread her notes on the podium and silently prayed. Father, let my words honor You.

  She smiled at the crowd, let her shoulders relax, and pushed a button on the control panel of the podium to advance her PowerPoint to the first slide. A black-and-white photo of John filled the large screen behind her. He ministered to a small, naked, dark-skinned child whose belly was so distended from parasites that it looked like it could burst. John knelt in the dirt, holding the boy with one hand on his back and with the other, the bell of the stethoscope on the boy’s tummy. The child looked wide-eyed at the white man. After all these years, it was still her favorite picture of John. God, how I miss him.

  “Blessed are the merciful, as they will be shown mercy,” she said, her voice cracking with emotion. She paused, unsure she could continue as she forced herself to keep from breaking down and sobbing. The slide showed the kind of scenario, the desperation, that had propelled her and John to give their lives to help sick and impoverishe
d people. She was a little surprised when the room went completely silent. The only sound was the bubbling fountain.

  The audience’s attention renewed Maggie’s confidence. “The pictures I’m going to show you tonight and the stories I’m going to tell may shock you…or move you. In any case, I know your hearts will never be the same. The hardships that much of humanity endures are difficult to look at, but for me and my late husband, John, they were impossible to look away from. John and I visited Guatemala as young adults, and what we saw impacted us to our very core. We experienced a swath of humanity doing without some of the most basic needs—so many things we often take for granted like shelter, food, and medical care. After John finished his training as a general surgeon, we knew we had to go to serve.”

  Maggie paused and redirected her attention to the child in the slide.

  “We found this little boy wandering through the destruction after a hurricane devastated Honduras. The storm had destroyed most of his village, leaving little in its wake. The survivors were living in some of the worst conditions I’ve ever seen—no fresh water, little to eat, and shanties made of cardboard and tin or anything else that had survived the storm. Thousands were left homeless, and hundreds of orphans roamed the streets. To this day, I can hardly talk about it without crying. Many of the people died from dehydration and disease.” Her voice cracked.

  “But it doesn’t have to be that way.” Maggie went to the next slide that showed the Hope Center with its small mission hospital and orphanage. “After a few detours along the way, John and I ended up in Quetzaltenango, Guatemala, where we opened the Hope Center…”

  * * *

  Maggie glanced at the timepiece on the podium; she had spoken for thirty-seven minutes about their ministry, explaining how they rotated medical teams through the hospital to care for the people of Guatemala. She showed a slide of Isabella and told the child’s story and how Nick had operated and corrected her severely deformed feet. Maggie showed more slides, picture upon picture of mercy, picture upon picture of hope, and pictures of the smiling children they cared for. She concluded her talk with a few images from Turkey and King’s Orphanage, which had swelled to overcapacity during the earthquake six months ago. A rumble of gasps came from the crowd when they saw the devastation.