Flashback

by Michael Palmer

  "Jason, no! " she screamed as the blade cut into the skin by her shoulder, releasing a spurt of crimson. The pain intensified as the scalpel began slicing a slow arc around the base of her breast. But before she could scream, a gag was pulled tightly between her teeth and tied behind her head, and her arms were bound just as vigorously to her sides. Soundlessly, praying for the relief of unconsciousness, Suzanne endured the agony of the surgical removal of her breast. And when the dissection was complete, she looked down at herself in wide-eyed terror.

  Where once there had been skin and breast tissue and a nipple, now there was only a gaping, bloody crater. In that moment, amidst a final, silent scream, blackness mercifully intervened. Fascinated by what he was observing, Frank set the stereo playing Fantasia on Greensleeves for automatic repeat and turned up the volume. For once, at least, his goddamn brother had been something of a help. Suzanne lay semiconscious on her back on the rug, twitching and shuddering from time to time, and crying out as much as the handleerchief tied tightly through her mouth would allow. Frank loosened the sleeves of his suitcoat, which he had used to bind her arms, and then cut a bath towel into strips. It was probably overkill, he realized, even to bother tying her up.

  Mainwaring's syrupy music was doing as fine a job of immobilizing her as any truss. Still, at least until she could be removed from the hospital to some safe-and permanent-resting place, it was worth the extra precaution. He rolled her onto her side and bound her hands tightly behind her.

  Then he laid her back and secured her ankles. Her eyes remained closed, but her restless movements had increased-almost in reflection. to the intensity of the music. Frank knelt beside her. Even under such difficult circumstances, she was a real beauty. Brains and looks-Leigh Baron without the hard edge. When Suzanne had first come to Sterling, he had made several carefully gauged attempts to start something up between them. Each time, she had politely but firmly refused him. It angered him that, after just a few weeks in town, his brother was already getting inside her pants. Well, so be it, he thought. The two of them deserved one another. And as soon as the board meeting was over, he would set about seeing to it that they got to spend an eternity together. He had tried to play it easy with both of them, but that approach had nearly blown up in his face. They had forced him to take off the gloves, and now they would see what kind of competitor Frank Iverson really was. He had always played to win, and now there was far, far too much at stake even to think of backing off. He reached down and ran his fingertips over Suzanne's face and then down over her breasts. She really did have a phenomenal body. Phenomenal! Lisette, Suzanne-Zack was spiteful enough to be planning on screwing them both, if he hadn't done so already. No way, Zack-o, Frank thought as he dragged Suzanne into his bathroom and set her on the damp floor of his shower stall. No way you're ever going to humiliate me like that. He smoothed out his suitcoat and then combed his hair. The music reverberated through the tiled room. Behind him, reflected in the mirror, Suzanne continued to jerk spasmodically.

  Perhaps, Frank thought, after the meeting, before he set about arranging an accident of some sort for her and his brother, he would take a few minutes to enjoy the favors she had denied him. To miss such an opportunity would be a shame. Besides, he mused as he checked himself in the mirror, a moment before setting off for the board meeting, it would be a crime to waste such romantic music.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  "I'm sorry, Dr. Iverson, but as I told you before, I'm under strict instructions from Mr. Iverson that no calls from you are to be put through to anyone at the hospital except him."

  "But all I want you to do is to page Dr. Cole for me. Ask her to call me. @ An hour had passed since Zack had been fired and ushered out of the hospital he had expected to work in for the rest of his professional life. He had driven home with the patrol car following him right into his driveway, and then had tried to reach Suzanne at her office. After a number of busy signals, he had gotten a tape saying that the office would be closed until one. He bad tried his own office, but the line had already been disconnected, Now, after a fruitless call to the hospital switchboard and a no-answer try at Suzanne's home, he was giving the page operator one last shot. "I understand what you are asking, Doctor,

  " the operator said. "And even when I tell you it's a medical emergency you won't do it?", Mr. Iverson was quite specific."

  "What's your name?"

  "Janine."

  "Well, Janine, I appreciate that you have your orders, but how is Mr. Iverson to know if you just put this one call through for me? "

  "You'd be amazed at the things Mr. Iverson finds out, Doctor. And if he does, it's my job. Now please, I've got to get back to my board."

  "Janine, wait damn."

  Zack slammed the receiver down and then snatched it up for another attempt. This time, he stopped before the switchboard operator could even answer. Frank had put an airtight sea] on the hospital that no simple phone call was going to breach. Nor did it help matters that his decision to forsake his father's care in favor of the town derelict had reduced his influence around Ultramed-Davis to near zero. Still, he had to get back into the hospital-to tell Suzanne of the trigger, and, he hoped, to enlist her help in confronting Jack Pearl. He had given up on even trying to speak at the board meeting. Frank would have him in a cell before he could get close to the door. But Toby Nelms was a different matter. Without cooperation from Pearl, without the man's willingness to admit what he and Mainwaring were doing, he felt quite certain the boy was as good as dead. Perhaps, he began to think, the board meeting might be the key. With Frank inside the conference room, and his security people stationed nearby, there might be some other, unguarded way inside the hospital. He scratched out a crude drawing of the building as best he could remember it. There was, he was nearly sure, a delivery entrance outside the cafeteria-one that had to be open.

  Assuming Suzanne was in the ICU, he could enter the hospital through the kitchen and reach the ICU by a back staircase. He checked the time. The board meeting, if not already under way, would be starting any minute.

  He could park on the highway and circle through the woods to the delivery entrance. Police or no police, it was worth a try. He tied Cheap dog on his run and then lurched the camper out of the drive and down the hill toward the hospital, hoping that the time for Toby's transfer to Boston had not been moved up. As he drove he pictured the boy sitting cross-legged on the rug in his house, watching his favorite hero cavorting across the screen, urging him to join in a song extolling the virtues of the letter P. "Alas my love, you do me wrong…" How many others, Jack? he said to himself, practicing the words he would use. How many other time bombs have you and Wnwaring planted in your patients?

  The hospital was located on the opposite side of town from Zack's house.

  Ordinarily, he took the highway bypass around Main Street.

  This day, lost in thought, he missed the turnoff and was well into town before he realized it. Traffic was heavier than usual, and it seemed, from the long line of cars at the corner of Birch, that the light was malfunctioning. After a moment's debate, he backed up a foot and made a U-turn, narrowly missing a two-tone Oldsmobile that was speeding past.

  It took several seconds before he realized the driver of the Oldsmobile was Jason Mainwaring. Zack began honking and waving, but it was several blocks before Mainwaring became aware of him and pulled over. They confronted one another in a small street side park, circumscribed by an arc of slatted benches arranged about a marble pedestal and bust of one of Sterling's founding fathers. Several grizzled men sat on two of the benches, smoking cigarettes, watching the passing scene, and occasionally sharing surreptitious sips from a brown bag. They watched curiously as the two well-dressed men approached one another. "Jason,"

  Zack began, somewhat breathlessly, "God, am I glad to see YOU."

  The surgeon looked at him strangely. "I'm sorry, Iverson, " he said after a beat, "but I've signed out to Greg Ormesby. If y'all need any surgical help
, I'm afraid you'll have to call-"

  "This has nothing to do with surgical help. Jason, we need to talk. I've been trying to locate you for several days."

  "I've been at home in-"

  "Georgia. I know." He glanced over at the old men, and then motioned to the bench farthest from them. "Please, Jason, what I need to speak with you about is pretty urgent and very private. Could we talk over there?"

  "Well, Iverson, I'm afraid I'm in a bit of a rush. Why don't we get together, say-"

  "It's about the anesthe ic."

  Mainwaring's color drained. "I beg your pardon? " he said. "Over there?

  " Zack again motioned toward the bench. By the time they sat down, the surgeon appeared as composed as ever. "Now, then, " he drawled, "just what anesthe ic are you talkin' about?"

  "It's the one you and Jack Pearl have been using on your cases, Jason.

  The one that allows them to get out of the recovery room three times faster than anyone else's cases."

  "I'm afraid I don't understand, " Mainwaring said. But Zack could see from his eyes that he did. "I don't have time to play games, " he said.

  "A child is dying, and I have reason, good reason, to believe that your anesthe ic is at fault."

  A minute tic developed at the corner of Mainwaring's eye. be hint of understanding disappeared from his face. This time, Zack felt certain, the man was genuinely surprised. "Look, Iverson, " he said, "I just don't have time for this nonsense. If you have something to accuse me or Jack Pearl of, then I'd suggest you do it through channels. I would also suggest you have a shitload of proof."

  "Jason, please, " Zack said, trying desperately to keep civility in his tone. "This isn't ethics or charges we're talking about. It's a child's life. Please listen."

  Item by item, in a near whisper, he reviewed his investigation into the case of Toby Nelms. Mainwaring listened impassively. Only at the mention of Darryl Tarberry did Zack detect any reaction. "So that's where things stand, " he concluded. "The boy's mother is certain that at least several times he was watching this children's show when he had his seizures. It's a show that features a version of Greensleeves'-the same music you use in the operating room. If I could just get my hands on whatever it is you were using for anesthesia, I think I might be able to help that kid."

  "Oh, you do?"

  "It's a long shot, but right now, it's his only chance."

  "Well, then, " Mainwaring said, "it would appear that the boy has no chance at all. Because, y'see, Iverson, there is no mystery anesthe ic."

  Zack stared at the man in disbelief. "Iverson, just who have you shared these charges with? " the surgeon asked. "Jason, these aren't charges. A child is dy-"

  "Who?"

  "The child's mother."

  "That all? "

  "Suzanne."

  "She believe you?"

  "She was willing to listen. But I spoke to her before I learned about the trigger-the music. Now Jason, please-"

  "I asked if she believed you."

  "Not completely, but after I tell her what I've learned, I'm certain she'll-"

  "Not completely," Mainwaring cut in snidely. "Iverson, I sure hope you have one hell of a lawyer. Have you mentioned this nonsense to your brother?"

  Zack glanced at his watch. The board meeting was already under way.

  "Mainwaring, this isn't nonsense. If that child dies, if anyone who received that drug dies, then it's murder."

  "Don't threaten me, " the surgeon said, shaking a finger at Zack. "Don't you ever threaten me. Now, I asked if you had shared this hokum with your brother."

  "I did. Dammit, Mainwaring, doesn't any of this have an impact on-"

  "When did you tell him?"

  "Just a while ago."

  "And his response?"

  "Mainwaring, there's no time for this-"

  "What was his response?"

  "He ignored me."

  "Just as I intend to do, " Mainwaring said. "Now, if you'll excuse me."

  He rose. "Mainwaring, you can't do this." Zack said loudly. The grizzled observers' interest heightened, and one of them sputtered on the contents of the brown bag. "Can, and am," Mainwaring said just as loudly. "Now you just quiet down, Iverson, or you'll have even more charges to deal with than you already do."

  "Mainwaring, are you some kind of fucking monster?"

  The surgeon turned and headed for his car. "Well, are you? " Zack screamed after him. Mainwaring, now at his car, turned back and shook a finger at him. "Watch it, " he said venomously. "Just fuckin' watch it."

  The sun, which had been gliding in and out of hiding all morning, slid behind a dense billow of gray cloud, instantly cooling the air. Zack pulled the camper onto a dirt track off the Androscoggin road and worked his way upward through a forest still sodden by the midnight rain. He felt ill over his unsuccessful encounter with Mainwaring, and could not dispel his anger-not only at the surgeon, but at his own handling of the man. Had he been too aggressive? Too abrasive? Would his arguments have been more effective if he had simply brought Mainwating to the hospital and let him see Toby Nelms for himself.? The questions burned in his thoughts as he picked his way uphill toward the Dortb side of the hospital. Only one thing was certain now. With Frank an enemy, and Mainwaring unwilling to expose himself to charges, Jack Pearl was all the hope the child had left. And without either of the other two men to back him up in a confrontation with the anesthesiologist, that hope was slim, indeed. Through the trees ahead, Zack could see the top two floors of the hospital. The broad glass windows were, he noticed for the first time, tinted just enough to give them an ebony cast. The effect was cold and uninviting. He moved up to the edge of the forest and flattened himself against a thick beech tree. To his left, just beyond an expanse of grass and past the corner of the building, was the patio of the cafeteria. A group of nurses sat laughing and talking at the only table in his line of sight. The entire north side of the hospital was deserted.

  Cautiously, he picked his way along the treeline toward the corner farthest from the patio. He would have to dash across, perhaps, twenty yards of lawn to reach the delivery door. From there, he would walk nonchalantly through the kitchen, searching for a route to the corridor that did not take him through the crowded cafeteria itself Ahead of him the tinted windows of the hospital glinted ominously in the muted midday light. If there were faces behind those windows watching him, he would have no way of knowing. His heart was pounding in his ears, more so than even on the most treacherous climbs. A crouch, a final check of the building line, and Zack bolted ahead. He saw the blur of movement and color to his right at virtually the same moment he heard the barked command. "Stop!

  Right there, right now!"

  Startled, Zack stumbled forward, slamming heavily against the brick facing and nearly falling as he spun toward the voice. Standing not ten feet away, brandishing a heavy nightstick, was the security guard, Henry, the pockmarked behemoth who had been present at Guy's death and again at his funeral. "I been following you, Doc, " he said, rubbing a hand over the side of his nearly nonexistent neck. "From that window right there, I been following you all the way across."

  "Jesus, Henry, you just scared the hell out of me, " Zack said, still gasping for breath. His shoulder was throbbing viciously at the point where it had collided with the building. Gingerly, he raised his arm.

  Pain stopped it just below a horizontal position. He'd almost dislocated it. A first-degree separation at least, he guessed. "Didn't mean to scare ya, Doc, " the huge guard said, lowering his stick nearly, but not completely, to his side. "Just to stop ya."

  "Henry, I've got to get in there, " Zack said. "Mr. Iverson left strict orders not to let you. That's why I was called in."

  "There's a kid dying in there, Henry. A kid that only I can help.

  You've got to let me pass."

  "Can't, " the man said simply. "If I do, it's my job. No discussion, no excuses. That's what my boss said. I got three kids, and nothin' to support em with exceptin' what
God gave me from the neck down. Jobs like this one don't come along that often to a man like me."

  Zack started to argue, but then, just as quickly, stopped himself. He pictured the guard at Guy's funeral-his ill-fitting blue suit, his quiet, anxious little wife. The man was right. The job probably was a godsend to them and their children. And too many people had been hurt already. He would find another way to contact Suzanne, or perhaps a way to lure Jack Pearl outside the protection of the building. "All right, Henry, " he said. "I won't try to argue with you."

  He turned and started back toward the woods. "Doc, wait…"

  Zack looked back over his injured shoulder. "How old's the kid?"

  "He's eight, Henry."

  "I see… My Kenny's almost nine… Doc, what in the heck happened between you and your brother, anyhow?"

  Zack laughed ruefully. "It's a long story, Henry."

  "You know, he's not a very nice man, your brother."

  "No, Henry, " Zack said. "I guess he isn't."

  "He doesn't think much of people like me."

  "Perhaps he doesn't." For a few moments, there was only the sound of the wind through the leaves overhead. "Doc, " the guard said suddenly, "why don't you just go ahead on in there and do whatever it is you have to do."

  Zack eyed the man. "You mean that?"

  "Talking to me and my wife the way you did at Doc Beaulieu's funeral-that was a really nice thing to do."

  "Henry, your job may be on the line."

  "I'll find another one if I have to.

  You know, I really did think I was responsible for Doc Beaulieu's death.

  I'm big, and I'm tough when I have to be, but I'm not mean. I couldn't eat or sleep after he died-that is, until you talked to me."

  "If anyone was responsible, Henry, " Zack said, "it was my brother. He's the one who started all those rumors about Dr. Beaulieu."

  "I believe it. You go on in there." Zack started toward the door. "You sure? " he asked. "Do it for Doc Beaulieu, " Henry said. Fony-nine years. Had Guy lived, Clothilde Beaulieu suddenly realized, they would have celebrated their forty-ninth anniversary in just one week. How strange that now, standing behind her chair, surveying the room of blank, bored, and patronizing faces, she should feel as close to her husband as she had at any time during those five decades. He had stood in rooms like this one many times over the past two years, confronting these faces, or faces like them. And although she had never been there with him, Clothilde knew that she was feeling exactly as he had. She knew, too, that even though there was little or no chance she would prevail, he was, at that moment, by her side, and he was proud."… For many years after my husband opened his practice in Sterling, " she was saying, "he was one of only three doctors in town, and the only surgeon for almost a hundred miles. He was a kind and skilled and caring man, who did nothing-nothing-to deserve the kind of treatment he was to receive from the administration of this institution and the corporation whose philosophy it has adopted…"