Michael Palmer: Flashback

Frank grinned broadly. "No, it's not, " he said with a wink. "It's business."

"Studies in the Reversal of the Delayed Toxicity of Lysergic Acid Diethylamine (LSD), " had been written by a Scottish neurologist named Clarkin, and published almost fifteen years before in the little-read British Journal of Neuropsychology. It was an anecdotal report, not a scientific study in the true sense of the. word. Zack had stumbled onto the work during his first year of residency and had saved it because the notion of treating LSD flashbacks with LSD both amused and fascinated him. In most of his cases, Clarkin had used a high-density, saline-flotation isolation tank. With no such device at hand, they would simply have to make do. And while the Scotsman's concepts were intriguing, the data presented were too scant to justify many of his conclusions. It was frightening to realize that with no other promising options, Clarkin's theories were all that Suzanne and Toby Nelms had going for them. As he supervised the nurses' transfer of Suzanne to a water mattress-the first step in reducing her sensory input to the absolute minimum-Zack wondered about the neurologist and his work. Was it a mistake not to try and locate him? Was he even still alive? Still practicing? Was he a scholar, or a fraud? Had he received acclaim for his theolies, or scorn?

But most of all, Zack wondered if he might be endangering his two patients by what he was attempting to do. Over the years of his training he had developed total, implicit faith in his clinical judgment. Now, having difficulty focusing past the pain in his shoulder, and with the nightmare of the past twenty-four hours so fresh in his mind, he was having doubts. Be diligent. Be meticulous. Be honest. Account for every variable… Zack stared down at Suzanne, bound for the moment by four-point, leather restraints. Shortly after arriving in the ICU her coma had lightened and she had become combative and disoriented. Her symptoms were identical in many ways to Toby's, but were clearly evolving more rapidly and virulently-the result, Zack was certain, of Frank's vicious treatment of her. ALTHOUGH she was groggy from Valium she had received, it was apparent that she was still locked in her psychosis, totally out of touch with reality, Her temperature had risen to almost 101. Was there another way? He had been so sure of himself before the Judge's accident, sure enough to charge in and insist on applying Clarkin's anecdotal work to Toby Nelms. Now, even with Mainwaring's and Pearl's validation of his theories about an experimental drug, he felt himself on the knife's edge of panic. Be meticulous… Account for every variable… Zack rubbed at his shoulder. The swelling was increasing. Even the slightest movement of his arm was now sending numbing, metallic pain up into his neck and down to his fingertips. Fatigue and tension were battling for control of his mind. Across from him, in quiet resignation, Jack Pearl was readying his instruments and syringes. Off to one side, Jason Mainwaring stood alone, watching. As Zack finished placing patches over Suzanne's eyes and oilsoaked cotton in her ears. Mainwaring motioned him over. He looked uncharacteristically rumpled, gray, and drawn, and the concern in his eyes was, it seemed, genuine. "Iverson, you know, I'm sorry this is happening, " he whispered. "You should be."

"I've never been one to make excuses for myself, but before you n' Pearl get started, there are two things I'd like you to know."

"First of all, that woman you learned about from Tarberry-the one who died in my office 4 Yes… "She died of a coronary, not any allergic reaction.

She never got anything but plain ol'xylocaine, And that's the truth. I had some… some enemies at the hospital who had learned about my involvement with a pharmaceutical company. They were determined to get me, and Mrs. Grimes's unfortunate death gave them the chance. I won't deny doin' some work in my office with an experimental local anesthe ic, but Mrs. Grimes got Xylocaine." Zack glanced over at Suzanne.

"Mainwaring, " he said coolly, "I appreciate your coming back here the way you did. But don't look for any exoneration from me. What you two-you three-have done here was beyond stupid, and beyond wrong."

"I've never been one to cut corners, but our company was failing. We… we were desperate. Serenyl would have saved us."

Zack gestured toward the two comatose patients. "Do you think they care?

" he asked. Mainwaring had no response. "Zack, we're all set," Bernice Rimmer called over. "Coming." Throughout the ordeal the nurse had been a rock, quietly stemming the concerns of the rest of the unit staff, and promising to take full responsibility should anything go wrong. She was so quick, so efficient and compassionate. Zack found himself trying to remember what she had been like during their years together at school.

The only image he could conjure was of a plain, soft-spoken girl, pleasant enough, but well or. itside of the in crowd. How meaningless all of that seemed now. "All right, " he said to the staff. "Before we start, I want you all to know how much 1-how much all three of us-appreciate what you're doing here. I know you have questions about what's going on, and I promise that when things settle down we'll answer as many of them as we can. The plan is to put Suzanne to sleep with a new anesthe ic in hopes of ending her seizure. After we're done, we'll do the same thing to Toby."

"Exactly what do you expect to have happen? " one of the other nurses asked. "Ideally? Well, I guess we hope that whatever chemical molecules are poisoning their central nervous systems will be washed away, and they'll both just wake up. But it may take some time."

"Are there dangers?"

Zack looked over at Jack Pearl, who was drawing up the contents of one of his vials into a syringe. "Well, Jack?"

Pearl shook his head. "No, " he muttered. "No dangers." The nurse seemed satisfied. "Okay, then, " Zack said, feeling his pulse beginning to quicken, "let's go. Remember, no light, no sound, no movement." The nurses began cutting the lights and equipment noise to a minimum. Zack motioned Jack Pearl off to one side. "Remember, Jack, " he said. "Play this straight."

"Serenyl's not responsible for this, " Pearl growled. "Jack, don't start with me. Just do this right, dammit."

"It won't work, Iverson. You're crazy."

"You're absolutely right, Jack." His back to the others, Zack glared down at the man. "I am crazy. And don't you for one goddamn second forget that."

Together, they returned to Suzanne's bedside. The nurses settled down in the darkness as Pearl inserted a needle into the rubber bulb of Suzanne's IV line. Then he hesitated. "Do it, Jack," Zack rasped. "This may be your only tidket out of hell. For God's sake, do it now!"

The anesthesiologist's hands were trembling so badly he needed both of them to hold the syringe. "Dammit, Jack…"

Slowly, Pearl depressed the plunger. Frank perched on one of the tables of the Carter Conference Room and watched as Leigh Baron gathered her things. She would, no doubt, stop by the unit to verify his claims about Toby Nelms. But then, with any luck, she would be out of his life for good. His heartbeat continued to race, and there remained a persistent, sandpaper tightness in his throat, but that was understandable. He had narrowly dodged a bullet. Still, as he had learned countless times over his years as the quarterback, although his last-second victory wasn't a pretty one, a win was a win. And a win this most certainly was. His expectations of a regional directorship were gone, but the additional money in his bank account more than compensated for the termination of his association with Ultramed and Leigh Baron. It was interesting, he mused, how suddenly unattractive the woman looked in defeat. The bridge of her nose, the shape of her hips, the stiff, unfeminine way she moved.