Robin Cook - Blindsight

8:45 p.m., Wednesday

Manhattan

At first Laurie thought the experience was unique enough to be tolerable, but as the time approached eight forty-five she began to get irritated. Thomas, Jordan ’s driver, had shown up exactly at the agreed-upon time, eight o’clock, and had rung Laurie’s bell. But when Laurie got down to the car, she learned that Jordan was not there. He was still in surgery doing an emergency operation.

“I’m supposed to take you to the restaurant,” Thomas had said. “Dr. Scheffield will be meeting you there.”

Taken by surprise with this situation, Laurie had agreed. She’d felt strange entering the fancy restaurant by herself, but she was quickly put at ease by the maitre d’, who had been expecting her. She’d been discreetly ushered to a waiting table wedged among others near to the window. Next to the table stood a wine stand icing down a bottle of Meursault.

The sommelier had appeared instantly and had shown Laurie the label of the wine. After she’d nodded, he’d opened it, poured her a dollop, waited for her OK, then filled her glass. All this had been accomplished without words.

Finally at five minutes before nine, Jordan arrived.

He came into the room with a flourish, and although he waved a greeting at Laurie, he didn’t join her immediately. Instead he weaved his way through the crowded room, stopping at several tables to say hello. Each group of diners greeted him with gusto; animated conversation and smiles followed in his wake.

“Sorry,” he said, finally sitting down. “I was in surgery, but I guess Thomas told you as much.”

“He did,” Laurie said. “What kind of emergency surgery was it?”

“Well, it wasn’t exactly an emergency,” Jordan said, nervously rearranging his place setting. “My surgery has picked up recently, so I have to squeeze standby cases in whenever the operating room can give me a slot. How’s the wine?”

The wine steward had reappeared and gave Jordan a taste of the wine.

“The wine is fine,” Laurie said. “Seems that you know a lot of people here.”

Jordan took a sip of his wine and for a moment he looked pensive while he swished it around inside his mouth. He nodded with satisfaction after he swallowed, motioned for his glass to be filled, then looked at Laurie. “I usually run into a few of my patients here,” he said. “How was your day? I hope it was better than mine.”

“Some sort of trouble?” Laurie asked.

“Plenty of trouble,” Jordan said. “First, my secretary, who’s been with me for almost ten years, didn’t show up in the morning. She’s never not shown up without calling. We tried calling her but there was no answer. So scheduling got all fouled up by the time I came in from the hospital. Then, to make matters worse, we discovered that someone had broken into the office the night before and had stolen our petty cash as well as all the Percodans we kept on hand.”

“How awful,” Laurie said. She remembered how it had felt to be robbed. Her room at college had been ransacked one day. “Any vandalism?” she asked. Whoever had broken into her room had smashed what they couldn’t carry away.

“No,” Jordan said. “But strangely enough the burglar rifled through my records and used the copy machine.”

“That sounds like more than a simple robbery,” Laurie said.

“That’s what makes me uneasy,” Jordan said. “The petty cash and the few Percodans I could care less about. But I don’t like the thought of someone in my records, not with the high accounts receivable I have. I’ve already called my accountant to run a tape; I want to make sure there isn’t some big change. Have you looked at the menu?”

“Not yet,” Laurie said. Her irritation was fading now that Jordan had arrived.

Responding to Jordan ’s gesture, the maitre d’ appeared with two menus. Jordan, who ate there frequently, was full of suggestions. Laurie ordered from the daily specials menu attached to the main menu.

She thought the food was wonderful although the frenetic atmosphere made it difficult for her to relax. But Jordan seemed in his element.

While they were waiting for dessert and coffee, Laurie asked Jordan about the effects of acid in the eye. He warmed to the request immediately, going on at length about the cornea’s and the conjunctiva’s responses to both acid and alkali. Laurie lost interest halfway through his discourse, but her gaze remained steady. She had to admit: he was an attractive man. She wondered how he maintained such a fabulous tan.

To Laurie’s relief, the arrival of dessert and coffee interrupted Jordan ’s impromptu lecture. As he began his flourless chocolate cake, he changed the subject. “I probably should be thankful those crooks didn’t take any of the valuables last night, like the Picassos in the waiting room.”

Laurie set her coffee cup down. “You have Picassos in your waiting room?”

“Signed drawings,” Jordan said casually. “About twenty of them. It’s truly a state-of-the-art office, and I didn’t want to scrimp on the waiting area. After all, that’s the place the patients spend the most time.” Jordan laughed for the first time since he’d sat down.

“That’s even more extravagant than the limo,” Laurie said. Actually, she felt more strongly than she let on. The idea of such ostentation in a medical setting seemed obscene, especially given the runaway cost of medical care.

“It’s quite an office,” Jordan said proudly. “My favorite feature of it is that the patients move. I don’t go to them, they come to me.”

“I’m not sure I understand,” Laurie said.

“Each one of my five examining rooms is built on a circular mechanism. You’ve seen these revolving restaurants at the tops of certain buildings. It’s kind of like that. When I push a button in my office, the whole thing turns and the examining room I want lines up with my office. Another button lifts the wall. It’s as good as a ride in Disneyland.”

“Sounds very impressive,” Laurie said. “Expensive but impressive. I suppose your overhead is pretty high.”

“Astronomical,” Jordan said. He sounded proud of it. “So high that I hate to take a vacation. It’s too expensive! Not the vacation itself, but letting the office sit idle. I also have two operating rooms for outpatient procedures.”

“I’d like to see this office sometime,” Laurie said.

“I’d love to show it to you,” Jordan said. “In fact, why not now? It’s just around the corner on Park Avenue.”

Laurie said she thought that was a great idea, so as soon as Jordan took care of the bill, they were off.

The first room they entered was Jordan’s private office. The walls and furniture were entirely of teak, waxed to a high gloss. The upholstery was black leather. There was enough sophisticated ophthalmological equipment to outfit a small hospital.

Next they entered the waiting room, which was paneled in mahogany. Just as Jordan had said, the walls were lined with Picasso drawings. Down a short hall from the waiting room was a circular room with five doors on its perimeter. Opening one, Jordan asked Laurie to sit in the examining chair.

“Now stay right there,” he said before leaving the room.

Laurie did as she was told. Next thing she knew, she felt like the room was moving. Then the movement-real or imagined-stopped abruptly and the lights in the room began to dim. Simultaneously, the far wall rose. Its disappearance effectively joined Laurie’s examination room to Jordan’s private office. Jordan was sitting at his desk, backlit, and leaning back in his chair.

“What’s that line about not having Mohammed go to the mountain, but the mountain going to him? Same principle applies here. I like my patients to feel they are in powerful hands. I actually believe it makes them heal more quickly. I know that sounds a bit hocus-pocus, but it works for me.”