Robin Cook - Godplayer

“Absolutely not,” said Dr. Ballantine. “Which reminds me. I spoke to George about the regrettable incident last night. He was mystified by your accusation.”

“I’ll bet,” snapped Thomas. “It’s common knowledge that George tried unsuccessfully to marry Cassi before I met her. Then I gave them the opportunity by working so many nights…”

Dr. Ballantine interrupted. “That doesn’t sound like much solid evidence, Thomas. Don’t you think that you might be overreacting?”

“Absolutely not,” said Thomas, uncrossing his legs and letting his foot down with a bang. “You saw them together yourself at your party.”

“All I saw was a very beautiful girl who seemed only interested in her husband. You’re a lucky man, Thomas. I hope you know that. Cassi is a special person.”

Thomas was tempted to stand up and leave, but Ballantine was still talking.

“I believe that you have been driving yourself too hard, Thomas. You’re trying to do too much. My God, man, what are you trying to prove? I can’t even remember the last time you took a day off.”

Thomas started to interrupt, but Dr. Ballantine cut him off.

“Everyone needs to get away. Besides, you have some responsibility to your wife. I happen to know Cassi needs eye surgery. Shouldn’t she be getting some of your time?”

Thomas was now reasonably certain that Ballantine had talked with Cassi. As incredible as it sounded, she must have come to him with her wild stories about drug addiction. It wasn’t enough, thought Thomas with anger, that she went to his mother. She also had to see his chief of service. Thomas suddenly realized that Cassi could destroy him. She could ruin the career that he’d spent his whole life constructing.

Luckily for Thomas, his sense of preservation was stronger than his anger. He forced himself to think with cold, hard logic as Ballantine finished.

“I’d like to suggest that you take some well-earned vacation.”

Thomas knew that the chief would love to have him out of the hospital while the teaching staff whittled away at his OR time, but he managed to smile.

“Look, this whole thing has gotten out of hand,” Thomas said calmly. “Maybe I have been working too hard, but that’s because there has been so much to do. As far as Cassandra’s eye problem is concerned, of course I’m planning to spend time with her when she’s laid up. But it really is up to Obermeyer to tell her how best to handle her retinal problems.”

Ballantine started to speak, but Thomas interrupted him.

“I listened to you, now hear me,” said Thomas. “About this idea that I’m abusing drugs. You know that I don’t drink coffee. It’s never agreed with me. So it’s true that I occasionally take a Dexedrine. But it has no more effect than coffee. You just can’t dilute it with milk or cream. I admit it has different social implications, especially if someone takes it to escape from life, but I only use it on occasion to work more efficiently. And as far as the Percodan and Talwin are concerned: yes, I’ve taken them at times. I’ve had a propensity for migraines since I was young. I don’t get them often, but when I do, the only thing that helps is Percodan or Talwin. Sometimes the one, sometimes the other. And I’ll tell you something. I’ll be happy to have you or anyone else audit my prescribing habits. You’d see in an instant the amount of these drugs that I prescribe and for whom.”

Thomas sat back and folded his arms. He was still trembling and did not want Ballantine to notice.

“Well,” said Ballantine with obvious relief. “That certainly seems reasonable.”

“You know as well as I,” said Thomas, “that all of us take a pill now and then.”

“True,” said Dr. Ballantine. “The trouble comes when a physician loses control of the number he takes.”

“But then they’re abusing the drug,” said Thomas. “I’ve never taken more than two in twenty-four hours, and that’s only with a migraine.”

“I must tell you that I feel relieved,” said Dr. Ballantine. “Frankly, I was worried. You do work too hard. I still mean what I said about your taking some vacation.”

I’m sure you do, thought Thomas.

“And I want you to know,” continued Ballantine, “that the whole department only wants the best for you. Even if we see some changes down the line, you will always be the keystone of our service.”

“That’s reassuring,” said Thomas. “I suppose it was Cassandra who came to you about the pills.” Thomas’s voice was matter of fact.

“It really doesn’t matter who called it to my attention,” said Dr. Ballantine, standing up. “Especially since you’ve laid my fears to rest.”

Thomas was now positive it had been Cassi. She must have looked in his desk and found bottles. He was swept by another wave of anger.

He stood up, his fists tightly clenched. He knew he had to be alone for a while. Saying good-bye and forcing himself to thank Ballantine for his concern, Thomas hastily made his way out of the office.

Ballantine stared after him for a moment. He felt better about Thomas, but not completely reassured. The scene at the party nagged him, and there were those persistent rumors that had cropped up recently among the house staff. He didn’t want trouble with Thomas. Not now. That could ruin everything.

When the door to the waiting room opened, Doris quickly dropped the novel she was reading into a drawer and closed it with one smooth, practiced motion. Seeing Thomas, she picked up the telephone messages and came around from behind the desk. After being alone in the office all afternoon, she was happy to see another human being.

Thomas behaved as if she were part of the furniture. To her surprise, he went past her without the slightest acknowledgment. She reached out to grasp his arm, but she missed, and Thomas continued into his office as if he were sleepwalking. Doris followed.

“Thomas, Dr. Obermeyer called and…”

“I don’t want to hear about anything,” he snapped, starting to close his door.

In commendable saleswoman fashion, Doris got a foot over the threshold. She was intent on giving Thomas his messages.

“Get out of here,” screamed Thomas. Doris stepped back in fright as the door slammed in her face with jarring force.

The fury that he’d suppressed during the harrowing interview with Ballantine engulfed him. His eyes searched for some object on which he could vent his anger. He grabbed up a bud vase Cassi had given him when they were engaged and smashed it on the floor. Looking at the shattered pieces, he felt a little better. He went over to his desk, pulled out the second drawer, and grabbed a bottle of Percodan, spilling several of the tablets onto his desk. He took one, putting the rest back, then went into the washroom for a glass of water.

Returning to his desk, he put away the pill container and closed the drawer. He began to feel more in control, but he still could not get over Cassi’s treachery. Didn’t she understand that all he really cared about was his surgery? How could she be so cruel as to try to jeopardize his career? First going to his mother, the one person who really had the power to upset him, then George, and now the head of his department. He would not tolerate this. He had loved her so much when they were first married. She had been so sweet, so delicate, so devoted. Why was she trying to destroy him? He would not let her. He would…

Suddenly Thomas wondered if Ballantine was glad about all this. For some time he had the nagging feeling that something strange was going on with Ballantine and Sherman. Maybe it was all an elaborate play to undermine him.

Thomas again felt a thrill of fear. He had to do something… but what?

Slowly at first, and then more rapidly, ideas began to form. All at once he knew what he could do. He knew what he had to do.