Michael Palmer - Flashback

"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-"