Michael Palmer - Extreme Measures

"Any idea why they sent for the two of us at once?" Eric asked after Reed had set his book aside.

"Nope. All I've heard is that they've made their decision.

Knowing ol' Grendel Teagarden, we'll probably learn that some hard-nosed woman from Stanford has been recruited for the position, and you and I are gonna be out of work."

Teagarden, the tyrannical chief of surgery, was as renowned for her outspoken feminism and undisguised partiality toward female physicians as she was for her skill in the O.R. Her volatile capriciousness had made or broken any number of careers.

"Are you sure you want this job?" Eric asked.

Marshall grinned.

"I'm sure Carolyn wants me to want it. You're not married, so you don't know that that's quite enough."

He laughed somewhat wistfully. "oh, I want it, too, Eric," he said finally. "It'd be foolish to say I don't, although even I can't say how much. Put another way, my ulcer may be rooting for you, but my ego is pulling for me. Still, I see the whole question as moot because I have no doubt I didn't get it."

"Nonsense."

"This from the man who not only is a legend at his work, but who just happens to have saved a trustee's life."

"He never even sent me a thank-you note."

"Jesus. Well, that's no surprise, given the holier than-thou philosophy of this place. Speaking of which, before we get called in there, I want to thank you for doing your best not to make a big deal out of all this."

It was Eric's Turn to smile, "You mean not openly," he said.

"Of course. The whole damn committee has been doing its best to set us at each other's throats, privately and in public."

"The famous WMH pyramid."

"Exactly. Room for one and only one at the top.

Survival of the nastiest. We both deserve a pat for not taking their bait. I know how much you want the position, and the real truth is, if it didn't mean so much to Carolyn to stay around here, I might have actually considered pulling out of the running.":'You don't have to say that."

"It's true… Well, at least, it might be true."

"I wonder what in the hell they're doing in there," Eric said.

"Two-on-one with Grendel?"

"God, what a prospect! If so, my money's on Teagarden. Say, listen, does the name Caduceus mean anything to you?":'Aside from the obvious?" 'Aside from the obvious."

Reed Marshall shrugged and shook his head. "No bells," he said.

"Why?"

"Nothing. Maybe later we can-"

The door to the conference room opened and Dr. Joe Silver stepped out.

A ferretlike man in his late forties, Silver stood no more than five foot five in the two-inch lifts that, rumor had it, he wore even to bed.

He had been the chief of emergency services for five or six years, and ran his office in an autocratic manner that would have made Napoleon proud. He was knowledgeable enough, but he had no sense of people's needs or how to deal with them straightforwardly. And over their years of association with the man, neither Eric nor Reed Marshall had been able to develop anything approaching a warm relationship with him.

"Gentlemen," Silver said, "we apologize for keeping you waiting.

If you'll both come in please…

Both? Eric wondered why the committee would do something so insensitive. Surely, after three months, and interview upon interview, it would have been more appropriate to speak with the losing candidate alone. He thought back to the eerie call. The caper, whoever he or she-was, seemed so confident of being able to affect the selection process. Was Joe Silver Caduceus? It was so like the man to play control games with people.

The committee was seated at a massive hardwood table, with Sara Teagarden at the head. She was a large, androgynous woman with close-cropped auburn hair and gold-rimmed granny glasses. That day she was dressed in a royal-blue suit with a large pearland-diamond broach on the lapel. It was an outfit that somehow made her appear even more intimidating than usual. As she welcomed them Eric tried unsuccessfully to match the cadence of her voice with that of the caller.

Joining the heads of surgery and emergency medicine on the search committee was Dr. Haven Darden, the chief of medicine. The highly publicized demise of Craig Worrell, the former associate director of emergency services, had bathed White Memorial in an intensely unfavorable light, and the high-powered makeup of the search committee underscored the hospital's determination to put the whole- matter to rest. Silver, Teagarden, Darden-Eric had not faced a panel such as this one since his internship application days. He wondered if the triumvirate was about to take the WMH pyramid philosophy to the limit by engaging the two of them in a medical quiz-down.

As if reading Eric's mind, Haven Darden said, "Now don't get worried, you two. We're not about to start firing clinical problems at you."

Of the three committee members, Darden, a tropical medicine specialist, was the one Eric felt was least in his corner. Like Reed Marshall, he had come straight up through the Harvard system. Unlike Marshall, though, he had risen from abject poverty. His life, from his illegitimate birth in a ghetto in Port-auprince, Haiti, through his escape to the United States and his subsequent adoption by a wealthy black physician, had been chronicled in various Harvard publications.

There was a rumor that somewhere not far down the line, Darden was slated to become the first black dean in the history of the university.

His detractors, and there were a number, pointed to his inability to make any major research contributions to his field.

But his reputation for clinical brilliance kept all but the most vociferous enemies at bay, and residents often jockeyed their schedules to be on the wards when Darden visited.

Darden's English was clipped and precise, with just the hint of an accent. And unless he could change his speech radically, Eric decided, there was no way he could have been the caller. He struggled to force thoughts of Caduceus from his mind and to concentrate on the business at hand. In a minute or two the committee's decision would be known, and the whole bizarre affair would most likely be exposed as a hoax.

"Gentlemen," Sara Teagarden began, "we don't wish to drag this business out any more than you do.

However, I am sure you know that we are trying to recoup some pretty heavy losses in the public's confidence in our hospital, and in particular in our emergency service. I would like Dr. Silver to explain how and why we have arrived at our decision. But first, I would like to be certain that both of you are still interested in becoming his associate. Dr. Marshall?"

"I'm still in."

"And Dr. Najarian?"

"Yes "Very well. Dr. Silver, will you please explain our current position."

Eric gripped the edge of his chair as Joe Silver straightened his notes and adjusted his reading glasses.

"Reed, Eric," he began, "I first want to congratulate each of you for the impression you've made on this committee, and also to thank you on behalf of President Tertensen, the trustees, and all of White Memorial for the marvelous years of service you've rendered here. As you know, the previous associate E.R. director brought us more ill will and bad ink than any hundred other doctors who have ever worked here combined…

Despite the tension of the moment, Eric and Reed exchanged amused glances. Craig Worrell had gone to the well of his perversion once too often, and had been videotaped soliciting sex from a young woman emergency-room patient in exchange for a hefty narcotics Prescription.

He was arrested soon after in his BMW in the hospital garage as he urged the undercover policewoman to hurry up and get on with her Part of the deal so that he could return to duty. The entire Boston press and TV corps seemed to have been present for the bust. A month later, while free on bail, Worrell vanished. Since then there had been rumored sightings of the man, but nothing more.