Michael Palmer - Flashback

Frank forced the words through a noose of anger and frustration tightening about his throat. He walked the two men to the dirt parking lot, shook their hands amiably, and watched until their taillights had disappeared into the night. Then he turned and landed a vicious kick on the door of the Porsche, leaving a dent and a small scrape. Heedless of the damage, he leapt behind the wheel and skidded from the lot, spraying a retired salesman and his wife with sand and stones. From the moment she had heard the Porsche screech into the drive and the screen door slam, Lisette knew it was going to be another one of those nights. With a mumbled greeting and not so much as a peck on the cheek, Frank stormed past her and into his den. She stood in the darkened hallway, waiting for the clink of ice in his glass. Frank did not disappoint her. Now, as she brewed a pot of the herbal tea that Frank had once introduced to her as "the only drink I ever touch after ten, " she battled the urge to bury herself in bed. She set the pot, two cups, some sliced lemon, and some sugar wafers on a tray and carried them to the study. Frank was standing in one corner, his back to her, reading. "Hi, what's the book?

" she asked. "Nothing."

He shoved the volume back into the bookcase and turned to her, but she had caught enough of a glimpse to know. It was his high school yearbook.

"Frank, are you okay?"

"Yeah, sure, I'm great. Do me a favor and just leave me alone, will you?

" His words were already beginning to slur. "I brought you some tea."

"I don't want any fucking tea."

"Frank, please."

"I said I don't want any goddamn tea!"

He swiped his arm across hers, sending the tray spinning across the room. Tea splattered on the wall. The fine china, a wedding gift from her mother, shattered. Stunned, she stared at the mess. "Frank, something's wrong with you, " she said as calmly as she could. "You need help. Please, honey. I love you. The girls love you. For our sake, you've got to get some help." She stepped toward him, her arms extended.

"I don't need any help! " he screamed. "What I need is to be left alone! "

"Please."

She took one more tentative step forward, and he hit her-a swift, backhand slap to the side of the face that sent her reeling against a chair. "I don't need you. I don't need my fucking father. I don't need goddamn Ultramed. I don't need anyone! I'm going to make it, and nothing any of you can do is-" He stopped in mid-sentence and looked down at her as if noticing her for the first time. Instantly, the fury in his face vanished.

"Baby. Oh, Jesus, are you all right? " he asked, moving toward her.

Lisette backed away, forcing herself not to touch the burning in her cheek. Then she turned and bolted from the room. BARON stared thoughtfully at the receiver in her hand, and then set it gently in its cradle. "Frank just lied to me, Ed," she said. "I don't like it. I don't like it at all."

As she sipped her coffee, she gazed out of her thirtieth-story office window, across Boston harbor to the airport. It was just after eight in the morning, and traffic was, as usual, badly backed up coming into the Sumner tunnel. She had spent the night in the city, working into the early morning on several impending Ultramed acquisitions and then catching a few hours of sleep on the fold-out in her office. The RIATA CEO, still perspiring from his daily seven-mile run, scanned the list of the Davis Regional Hospital board of trustees. "Which two did he meet with? " he asked. "The top two on that sheet, Bourque and Crook. He told me just now that the session went well and that both men were as good as in the bag."

"Those were his words?"

"Precisely. The only problem is that Stan Ogilvie, our man on the board, told me last night that Judge Iverson had contacted all of them, and that Bourque and Crook had both given their word to go along with anything he recommended."

"So maybe Frank talked them into changing their position?"

"Possible, but doubtful. Ed, he's scrambling. I just know it. He refuses to admit that he's in over his head. No matter how big the writing on the wall becomes, he keeps thinking he's going to pull this off."

She filled two crystal goblets with fresh orange juice and passed one over. gcthis is your baby, Leigh, " Blair said. Leigh nodded grimly.

Three more New England hospitals were close to coming over, but all of them were holding out until the Davis Regional sale was final. Blair was watching her performance as closely as she was watching Frank's. And the genius behind RIATA International was hardly one to tolerate a failure of this magnitude from anyone. "Well, " she said, "I guess it's time I took a little trip up north."

"I think, my friend, that is a wise decision. You've done an excellent job with Frank Iverson-an amazing job, all things considered. But it's becoming increasingly clear that the man is limited. It would seem he has gone about as far as he can go."

"And then some, " she observed. She sighed. "What is it? " Blair asked.

"Surely you can't be upset about pulling the plug on a man who's so blatantly put his own concerns ahead of yours or our company's?"

"No, " she said. "But I can't help thinking that I'll miss him at all the regional meetings."

"Miss him?"

"Yes." She smiled wistfully. "Frank Iverson may be a little short on principles and a little long on ego, but he's been great visuals."

The pain, a gnawing, empty ache centered beneath the very tip of Frank's breastbone, had begun soon after his fight with Lisette and had intensified throughout the night. He had thrown up several times, and he suspected-although he had not turned on the bathroom light to check-that the last time had been blood. A bottle and a half of Maalox had helped calm the burning some and enabled him to shave and dress and make it to his office in reasonable shape, but he sensed that it was only a matter of time before the searing pain resurfaced. It was Lisette's own damn fault that he had hit her. If she had only been more patient, more understanding of the stress he was under, she could have been a wife, and not just another strain on his life. Zack, the Judge, Mainwaring, Leigh Baron-as if he didn't have enough balls in the air without Lisette taking potshots at him, what goddamn nerve, telling him he needed to get some help when she should have been giving it to him. It was a miracle his stomach hadn't gotten fucked up long before this. He snatched up the phone and dialed the hospital pharmacy. "Sammy, it's Frank Iverson.

What's the name of the stuff that's good for stomach troubles?… No, no, not that stuff, the pills… Cimetidine. Yeah, that's it. Listen, could you bring me up a week's supply?… I know it's a prescription drug, dammit. I don't need any lectures. What I need are those pills..

.. Good. And not a word about this to anyone, right? " All he needed was a rumor going around that Frank Iverson had a bleeding ulcer. He slammed down the receiver and took another long swig of Maalox. It might have been a mistake not to have leveled with Leigh Baron about Bourque and Crook, but this battle was between him and the Judge, and the encounter with those two spineless yes-men was no more than a skirmish. By the meeting, he would have more than enough votes to block the buy back. He thought about calling Mainwaring for a progress report. If anything could help calm down his stomach, it was a few reassuring words from him. Two hundred fifty thousand back in the Ultramed-Davis account and $750, 000 left over to build on. Just the notion of that kind of money was enough to ease the queasy sensation. He simply had to calm down, ignore Lisette's behavior, and concentrate on the Judge and the board.

The ultimate success, both within the company and without, was so close he could taste it. He culled Mainwaring's Atlanta number from his Rolodex and was in the process of dialing when his secretary cut in on the intercom. "Mr. Iverson, it's Annette."