Robin Cook - Fatal Cure

Traynor found Werner Van Slyke in his windowless cubbyhole that served as the engineering/maintenance department's office. Traynor had never been particularly comfortable around Van Slyke. Van Slyke was too quiet, too much of a loner, and mildly unkempt. Traynor also found Van Slyke physically intimidating; he was several inches taller than Traynor and significantly huskier, with the kind of bulky muscles that suggested weightlifting was a hobby.

"I want to see the lights in the parking lots," Traynor said.

"Now?" Van Slyke asked, without the usual rise in the pitch of his voice that normal people use when asking questions. Every word he said was flat and it grated on Traynor's ears.

"I had a little free time," Traynor explained. "I want to make sure it's adequate."

Van Slyke pulled on a yellow slicker and walked out of the office. Outside the hospital he pointed to each of the lights in the lower lot, walking from one to the next without comment.

Traynor tagged along beneath his umbrella, nodding at each fixture. As he followed Van Slyke through the copse of evergreen trees and climbed the wooden steps that separated the two lots, Traynor wondered what Van Slyke did when he wasn't working. He realized he never saw Van Slyke walking around the town or shopping in the shops. And the man was notorious for not attending hospital functions.

Uncomfortable with the continued silence, Traynor cleared his throat: "Everything okay at home?" he asked.

"Fine," Van Slyke said.

"House okay, no problems?"

"Nope," Van Slyke said.

Traynor started feeling challenged to get Van Slyke to respond with more than monosyllables. "Do you like civilian life better than the navy?"

Van Slyke shrugged and began pointing out the lights in the upper lot. Traynor continued to nod at each one. There seemed to be plenty. Traynor made a mental note to swing up there with his car some evening to see how light it was after dark.

"Looks good," Traynor said.

They started back toward the hospital.

"You being careful with your money?" Traynor asked.

"Yeah," Van Slyke said.

"I think you are doing a great job here at the hospital," Traynor said. "I'm proud of you."

Van Slyke didn't respond. Traynor looked over at Van Slyke's wet profile with its heavy five o'clock shadow. He wondered how Van Slyke could be so unemotional, but then again he realized that he'd never understood the boy ever since he'd been little. Sometimes Traynor found it hard to believe they were related, yet they were. Van Slyke was Traynor's only nephew, the son of his deceased sister.

When they reached the stand of trees separating the two lots, Traynor stopped. He looked among the branches. "How come there are no lights on this path?"

"No one said anything about lights on the path," Van Slyke said. It was the first full sentence he had uttered. Traynor was almost pleased.

"I think one or two would be nice," Traynor said.

Van Slyke barely nodded.

"Thanks for the tour," Traynor said in parting. He was relieved to make his escape. He had always felt guilty for feeling so estranged from his own kin, but Van Slyke was such an enigma. Traynor had to admit that his sister hadn't exactly been a paragon of normality. Her name had been Sunny, but her disposition had been anything but. She'd always been quiet, retiring, and had suffered from depression for most of her life.

Traynor still had a hard time understanding why Sunny had married Dr. Werner Van Slyke, knowing the man was a drunk. Her suicide was the final blow. If she'd only come to him, he would have tried to help.

In any case, given Werner Van Slyke's parentage, it was hardly a surprise that he was as strange as he was. Yet with his naval machinist's training he'd been both helpful and reliable. Traynor was glad he'd suggested that the hospital hire him.

Traynor roused himself from this reflection and headed for Beaton's office.

"I've got some bad news," Traynor said as soon as Beaton's secretary admitted him. He told her about the Board of Selectmen's vote on the parking garage.

"I hope we don't have any more assaults," Beaton said. She was clearly disappointed.

"Me too," Traynor said. "Hopefully the lights will be a deterrent. I just walked around the parking lots and took a look at them. They seem adequate enough, except on the path between the two lots. I asked Van Slyke to add a couple there."

"I'm sorry I didn't do both lots from the start," Beaton said.

"How are the finances looking for this month?" Traynor questioned.

"I was afraid you'd ask," Beaton said. "Arnsworth gave me the mid-month figures just yesterday and they are not good. October will definitely be worse than September if the second half of the month is anything like the first. The bonus program is helping, but admissions for CMV are still over the projected level. To make matters worse, we seem to be getting sicker patients."

"I suppose that means we have to put more pressure on utilization," Traynor said. "DUC has to save the day. Other than the bonus program, we're on our own. I don't anticipate any more insurance bequests in the near future."

"There are a few other nuisances of which you should be aware," Beaton said. "M.D. 91 has relapsed. Robertson picked him up on a DUI. He was driving his car on the sidewalk."

"Pull his privileges," Traynor said without hesitation. "Alcoholic physicians have already caused enough heartache in my life." He recalled once again his sister's good-for-nothing husband.

"The other problem," Beaton said, "is that Sophie Stephangelos, the head nurse in the OR, has discovered significant theft of surgical instruments over the last year. She thinks one of the surgeons is taking them."

"What next?" Traynor said with a sigh. "Sometimes I think running a hospital is an impossible task."

"She has a plan to catch the culprit," Beaton said. "She wants an okay to go ahead with it."

"By all means," Traynor said. "And if she catches him let's make an example out of him."

Coming out of one of his examining rooms, David was surprised to find that the basket on the other room's door was empty.

"No charts?" he asked.

"You're ahead of yourself," Susan explained. "Take a break."

David took advantage of the opportunity to dash over to the hospital. The first stop was Nikki's room. When he walked in he was surprised to find both Caroline and Arni sitting on Nikki's bed. Somehow the two kids had managed to get into the hospital without being challenged. They were supposed to be accompanied by an adult.

"You won't get us into trouble, will you, Dr. Wilson?" Caroline asked. She looked much younger than nine. Her illness had stunted her growth much more than it had Nikki's. She looked more like a child of seven or eight.

"No, I won't get you in trouble," David assured them. "But how did you get out of school so early?"

"It was easy for me," Arni said proudly. "The substitute teacher doesn't know what's going on. She's a mess."

David turned his attention to his daughter. "I spoke with Dr. Pilsner, and he said it's okay for you to go home this afternoon."

"Cool," Nikki said excitedly. "Can I go to school tomorrow?"

"I don't know about that," David said. "We'll have to discuss it with your mother."

After leaving Nikki's room, David looked in on John Tarlow to make sure that he was settled, his IV was started, and the tests David had ordered were in progress. John said he didn't feel any better. David told him to be patient and assured him there'd be improvement after he'd been hydrated.

Finally David stopped in to see Marjorie. He hoped that the added antibiotic would have already improved her condition, but it hadn't. In fact, David was shocked to see how much she had deteriorated; she was practically comatose.