Michael Palmer - Flashback

"And you think your father may be having one of these-what are they called?"

"Conversion reactions. Yes, Mom, I do. Judge, your neurologic findings simply don't jibe well with any other explanation." The Judge looked away. "But why? " Cinnie asked. Zack shrugged. "I'm not certain, " he said. "Anger at me is the most likely possibility. There are other factors that could be at work, too, I guess, fear, grief, guilt. Only you can fill in the blanks, Judge. But whatever it is, isvery powerful stuff. At the moment, even you might not know. Many times, though, as soon as the source of the conversion is identified, the symptoms begin to resolve."

"Are you sure about this? " Cinnie asked. "No, Mom, I'm not. It's just that the other diagnoses don't fit with the operative findings and Dad's clinical picture, and conversion reaction does. I might be wrong. All I can do is hope that I'm not, and tell you what I think."

"Clayton? " she asked. The Judge, tight-lipped, would not answer.

"Zachary, " she said, "perhaps you'd better go now. We can talk about this again soon." She rose and kissed him on the cheek, her expression begging him to leave them be-to allow them the chance to digest what he had said. "Sure enough, " he said. "When is the ambulance due?"

"Any time now, I think."

"Fine… Dad, I-" He looked down at his father's pallid, emotionless face. "I'll be thinking of you."

As he reached the doorway, Zack checked the corridor for his brother or a security guard, and then headed for a room at the far end of the hall.

If, as it seemed, he was running out of time within the walls of Ultramed-Davis, he would use what little he had left to make one last run at a clinical puzzle that was no less perplexing than his father's, and far more lethal. "I knew it, " Barbara Nelms said as Zack finished recounting his interview with her son and the theories he had developed as a result. "You are not a very good liar, Dr. Iverson. I could see it in your eyes that night in your office. I should have called you on it then, dammit. You know, holding out on me like that was a very cruel thing to do."

"I know, and I'm sorry, But I had no proof."

"Dr. Iverson, Toby is my son."

"I understand."

Barbara was propped up in her hospital bed by several pillows. Her right arm was in a sling and her left was fixed to an intravenous line that was infusing a potent antibiotic. Despite her pallor and the heavy shadows engulfing her eyes, her glare was piercing. "I'm not sure that you do, Dr. Iverson, " she said after some thought.

"But I'm willing to give you the benefit of the doubt-at least for now."

"Thank you."

"You said that you held back information from me and my husband because you had no proof of your theories. Am I to assume that situation has changed?"

Zack hesitated. "Dr. Iverson, please, " she said. "Don't try to lie to me again. My son nearly stabbed me to death yesterday without even knowing I was there."

"Okay, " he said. "Okay. The truth is, as things stand, I have no direct proof of anything. But the circumstantial evidence supporting my belief is quite strong-at least to me it is."

"Tell me." Zack reviewed his impressions of Pearl and Mainwaring's gallbladder cases, and summarized his conversation with Tarberry at Johns Hopkins. He could see the anger smoldering in Barbara Nelms's eyes. In time, whether Toby survived or not, she would be out for blood.

And where once that notion had been the impetus to have him lie to her, now it goaded him to share every detail. Frank had been given his chance to clean house, but he had ignored it. "I wouldn't blame you a bit for being skeptical, " Zack said as he concluded his account, "but that's the way I see it."

"Dr. Iverson, " Barbara Nelms responded, her fury barely contained,

"this is the first time since this nightmare began that an explanation has fit with the facts as I know them. I believe every word you've told me. Every word."

She turned and stared out the window. Resting on the rim of her sling, her fist was clenched. Slowly, her fingers relaxed. The tension in her neck and back lessened. When she turned back to Zack, the anger had given way to determination. "Now then, Dr. Iverson, " she said, "what can we do to save my son?"

Zack took a moment to sort his thoughts. "Well, first of all," he said finally, "it would help tremendously if we could find the trigger."

"You mean the thing that sets Toby off?"

"Exactly."

"But how?"

"I want you to close your eyes, lean back, listen to my voice, and begin to tell me everything you can think of surrounding Toby's attacks.

Everything, no matter how trivial it may sound."

"Are you going to hypnotize me?"

"I can. And I will, if it seems appropriate. But I believe all you'll need is a little help. Now, relax as much as you can, open your mind, and let it drift back to Toby's very first episode."

"He… he was in his pajamas. "Good. Go on."

"It was before bed… He was playing… "Playing what?"

"I. I can't remember."

"Was he in his room?"

"Yes… No, no, wait. He ended up in his room, but I don't think he started there. He… he was in the den. He was watching television.

Yes, that's right. That's exactly right."

"Good. Very good. Now, what was he watching?"

"The show?"

"Yes."

"I… I can't remember."

"Just relax, Barbara. You're doing fine… Now, just open your mind to that evening and think about what he might have been watching… See it … Just relax, open your mind, and see it… The muscles in Barbara Nelms's face went slack. Her breathing became deeper and more regular.

"That's good, " Zack whispered. "That's very good."

Zack's words brought a strange, enigmatic smile to Barbara's mouth. "I know what he was watching, " she said. "Each time, I know what he was watching…"

Zack raced down the corridor at nearly a full run, hesitating only to glance into his father's room. The bed was stripped, and an aide was washing down the plastic mattress cover. He bolted through the stairway door and vaulted down to the first floor. A major piece in the puzzle had fallen into place-a piece that irrefutably connected Toby Nelms, Suzanne, and Jason Mainwaring. Now, Frank would have to listen. "My brother in? " he panted to the buxom, blond receptionist. Annette Dolan looked at him strangely. "He is, but-"

"Thank you, " Zack said, already on his way through Frank's office door.

Frank, behind his desk, working at his computer, looked up coolly. "You don't work here anymore, " he said. "Frank, I've got to talk to you.

I've learned something-something important."

"Mr. Iverson, I'm sorry. I tried to stop him, " Annette Dolan said from the doorway.

Frank smiled at her emotionlessly. "That's okay, Annette, " he said. "I know how persistent my little brother can be. I'm sure you did your best to stop him. Before you get back to work, though, why don't you go on home and change that sweater. It's not appropriate for the office."

The receptionist hesitated a beat, her lower lip quivering. Then she turned and hurried away. "Now, then, " Frank said, glancing at his watch, "what on earth could be important enough to take you away from your packing?"

Zack moved to sit down, but Frank stopped him with a raised hand. "Don't get comfortable, sport, " he said. "Just say what you want to say and leave." He motioned to the computer. "Number six now, Zack-o. Six out of nearly two hundred administrators nationwide. Not bad, if I do say so myself. No, siree, not bad at all."

V@ell, then you'd better listen to me, Frank. Because I've learned something that could bring this place crashing down about your ears if you don't do something about it."

There was no more than a flicker of interest. "Oh?"