Michael Palmer - Flashback

"I… I don't know. Maybe it's a rare complication of whatever it is they're using. Maybe people have had episodes like his but they've happened in other places, or haven't been brought to a doctor's attention. Maybe there's some sort of sensory trigger involved that Just doesn't happen to everyone. You told me yourself that you hadn't been feeling right since your operation."

"I've been tired. That's a far cry from having a psychotic seizure."

"What about that episode in the field?"

"What are you talking about?"

"You went blank."

"I did nothing of the sort."

"You did. It was as if someone threw a switch, and all of a sudden you weren't there."

"Zack, this is crazy. You've got to back off. You've hit this place like an earthquake."

"Suzanne, that child is dying."

"Maybe so. But it's not from something Jason or Jack Pearl did to him.

One other case, Zachary. Just find me one other case like Toby Nelms and I'll listen. Even then I may not believe you, but I'll listen. In the meantime, I think you owe your brother, and all the rest of us for that matter, a little breathing room." She stood up. "Back off, Zack. Please.

Do what you can to keep your father from destroying what your brother has worked so hard to build, and give us all a rest." She snatched up her handbag and, without waiting for a response, raced from the office.

For a time, Zack sat numbly, staring out the window at the waning afternoon. A trigger, or a sequence of triggers. Perhaps that was the key. Suzanne had no recollection of the episode at the Meadows during their picnic, but something weird had happened to her. A switch had been thrown. But what? A word? A sound? A smell?

Zack drummed his long fingers on the desk. He felt his thoughts darting out at the answer again and again, like the tongue of a snake. But each time not quite far enough… not quite far enough… Finally, he slid Toby Nelms's file back in front of him and opened it, — ice again, to the first page. They're not going to get you, kid, " he whispered. "I swear, they're not going to get you." Come, here. So., ong the best of the old New England inns, the Granite House "Darral. The slanting, hardwood floors, beamed ceilings, and oddly regard foroms, each with a stone hearth, were rated by the guides as man who is Vess wonderful than the cuisine and service. being your brotin had chosen the spot carefully for his first encounter tal." egional trustees, specifically, this night, a successful "It's not his hccrook, and Whitey Bourque, the rotund, often outtoo much on my mithe local A amp; P. "Like what? " I gone well-better than he had dared hope.

Every instinct wated the conversation beautifully, weaving accounts his theories to himstsses and plans in with reminiscences of some golf He stared down at. d with Crook, and some interested queries about Mainwaring wqhter, Renee, one of the finest young horsewomen in the "Suzanne, ` lieve that humey sat in the otherwise deserted Colonial Room, sipping "Now smoking after-dinner cigars, he felt ready to nail the two "And.". might bre were twenty-one members of the board. Frank considered six Srm to be all but in the bag-either because of their relationship enci him or because of business they would lose if Ultramed was forced sut of Sterling. Allowing for two no-shows at the meeting-and given the board's track record, that was a conservative estimate-he would need only three or four more votes to block the buy back regardless of the Judge's position. And at least half of those votes were right there at the table, sitting, it seemed, in the palm of his hand. All he needed to do, ever so carefully, was close his fingers.

Unlimited potential… Frank allowed himself the flicker of a smile.

Don't go too far away, Ms. Baron, he thought, eyeing the two men over his snifter. I'm coming. "They sure know how to do it right here, don't they, " he began. Bill Crook, logy from the meal and the drinks, mumbled agreement.

He was a slap-on-the-back Ivy Leaguer with a reputation for enthusiastically supporting the ideas of others while never coming up with an original one of any substance. Whitey Bourque belched and dabbed at his lips with the corner of his napkin. Frank noticed the tangles of fine veins reddening his cheeks. "Good beef, " he humphed. "Nothing we don't have at the store, but good."

"Lisette always said yours is the only place in town to buy meat, Whitey, " Frank said. "As a matter of fact, I think I'll have her stop by tomorrow and stock up our freezer… So, now, before we break up and head home to our families, I want to be sure I've answered all the questions either of you might have about just what Ultramed has on the drawing board for our hospital.

Bill?"

The banker thought for a moment, and then shook his head. "Sounds like a pretty ambitious and exciting set of objectives to me, Frank, " he said.

"And don't forget for a moment that Ultramed plans to finance every one of these projects with local money. Sterling National Bank money, if I have my way. Whitey?"

Bourque shook three sugars into a cup of coffee and drank it in one gulp. "No questions, " he said. "I'll have details of our proposal for competitive bidding on our dietary service in your hands by the end of the month."

"That'll be fine, Frank. Fine."

"Excellent." Frank glanced at the check, and then handed it and his Gold Card to the waitress. "Bring us a few more of those little mints, honey,

" he said. He cleared his throat and turned back to the table. "So, gentlemen, I've enjoyed sharing this meal with you both, and I presume Ultramed and I can count on your support at the board meeting Friday."

The two men looked at one another, silently selecting a spokesman.

Whitey Bourque was chosen. "Well, Frank, " he said, "all we can tell you at this time is, that depends."

Frank felt suddenly cold. "Depends on what?"

"On what your father comes up with these next couple of days. He called us yesterday, Frank, and asked us to keep our minds open on this business until he had checked up on a few things. I felt that considering how much help he was to me during last year's fund raiser for the new parish house, that was the least I could do."

"And I owe him for the way he stepped in when my boy Ted experimented with that damn dago red wine and had that accident," Crook chimed in.

"He saved the kid's buns for sure."

"Gentlemen, please, " Frank said, struggling to keep any note of desperation from his voice. "I'm not arguing against the good works the Judge does around this town. For goodness sakes, that's a given. And I'm proud to be his son. But it's apples and oranges. What we're talking about here is support for your hospital and the good works we've been doing. Renee's broken wrist, Whitey. Remember that?

Or… or how about that coronary your mother had last year, Bill?

People say that if it weren't for our new unit and our new cardiologist, she would have died."

"I… I understand," Crook said, staring down into his empty glass. well? 77 Whitey Bourque sighed. "Frank, we're sorry, " he said. "We'd like to help you out, but we gave the Judge our word we'd wait and follow his recommendation. He's the chairman of the board, and he's doin' all the legwork on this thing. All we want is what's best for Sterling. Since we're all too busy to do in-depth research of any kind, we're sort of counting on him to steer us in the right direction. I hope things work out. And whatever happens, I intend to help you and the hospital in any way I can."

"Ditto for me, Frank, " Crook said. "Well, then… I guess there's nothing more I can say, is there."

"You gave a good presentation, Frank," Bourque said, standing. "A damn good presentation. Your father'd be proud."

"Hey, what the heck. We'll work it out, Whitey. I'm sure of it."