yearsback and they pulled my ticket.' His New York accent, without a hint of Latino,suggested he was U.S. born. 'Next March I'm eligible to get it back. I still dosome jobs for people, but under the table, if you know what I mean.'
The tension Harry had sensed in thewaiting room was physically apparent in an intermittent tic of the muscles onthe right side of Concepcion's face, and in his fingers, which seemed to be inalmost constant motion.
'The trouble you got into,' Harry said.'Drugs?'
Without hesitation, Concepcion nodded.'Cocaine. Crack, actually. I thought I could handle it.'
'No one can.'
'You got that right. I been clean foralmost three years now, though. No drugs, no booze, no wine. Nothing. Not thatI deserve a medal or anything, but I've gotten my act back together.'
'That
'Well, Mr. Concepcion, I have about twentyminutes before my next patient is due,' Harry said. 'Headaches are among thehardest symptoms to diagnose correctly, but I'll do my best. You may have tocome back another time or two.'
That's okay with me, Doc, as long as I canstretch out my payments. I'm not broke, but I do have to balance who gets what,if you now what I mean.'
'No problem,' Harry said. 'Why don't yougo on down to room two on the left. I'll take a brief history and examine youthere.'
Concepcion rose and left the room just asHarry's private line began ringing.
The private line, direct to the backoffice, enabled Harry to make calls without tying up an office line. It also ensuredthat emergency calls from the hospital wouldn't encounter a busy signal.
'Dr. Corbett,' he said, flipping through asmall stack of mail, mostly junk, that Mary had left on his desk.
'I am very upset with you, Doctor,' thefamiliar, slightly accented voice said. 'Very upset.'
Harry tensed. Even if he could somehowalert Mary, there was no extension to this line at the front desk.
'Who are you?' he demanded.
'The man you trapped and killed somercilessly last night meant a great deal to me.'
The words were spoken without emotion.
'Listen, I didn't trap anyone. Your goonstried to kill us. I'm not sorry someone saved our lives. But I have no idea whodid it.'
'I think you're lying, Dr. Corbett. Iblame myself for not considering that you might have arranged to have yourselffollowed. But I think you'll see that it was an unfortunate, foolish thing foryou to do. Very unfortunate and very foolish.'
'Who are you? Why are you doing this? Whydid you kill Evie?'
'You have become a great inconvenience tome, Dr. Corbett,' the soft voice went on. 'And I intend to do something aboutit. It would make things much easier for any number of people if you would justfind some clever, painless way to take your own life.'
'Go to hell.'
'Dead or in prison for life. I am afraidthose are now the only options available to you. If you don't wish to killyourself now, I promise you will before I am through. The man you arranged tohave gunned down last night was a close associate of mine. He will be avenged.'
'Why can't you just leave us alone? I haveno idea who you are, and neither does Maura Hughes. She doesn't remember onething from her time in the hospital. Nothing.'
'Ah, would that I could believe that. Now,then, we come back to the dual issue of your punishment and your suicide — bothof which I consider essential. To show you how serious I am about this, I havechosen that young gentleman you were speaking to not so long ago. Barlow isit?'
'You bastard! Don't you touch him!'
'A nice enough fellow, it seems, but mostunfortunate in having you for his physician.'
'No!'
'Consider your options, Dr. Corbett. IVmorphine is totally painless. Any number of sleeping pills would do the trickfor you as well. So would carbon monoxide. Falling from a great height wouldprovide a wonderful rush I would think, and would only hurt for a moment. Abullet upward through the palate would probably hurt even less.'
'Please,' Harry begged. 'Please give metime. Give me time to decide.'
'Oh, you have all the time you want.'
'Thank you. Thank you very much.'
'But I'm afraid Mr. Barlow has no time atall. Good day, Doctor.'
'Nooo!' Harry bellowed as the dial toneintervened. 'Damn you, no!'
Harry looked up at that moment andrealized that Walter Concepcion was standing just outside his door.
'I … I just wanted to know if I shouldget changed,' he said, embarrassed.
Mary Tobin, responding to Harry's shout,came rushing past him and into the office.
'Call Alexander Five,' he ordered. 'Tellthem to get someone into room five-oh-five now. Andrew Barlow. Roomfive-oh-five. I'm on my way over.'
'Yes, Doctor,' Mary Tobin said.
'Mr. Concepcion, you'll have to come backanother time.'
Without waiting for a response, Harrybolted past the bewildered man, out of the office, and across the sunlit street.It was six blocks to the Manhattan Medical Center.
Chapter20
In this part of the city, people were notthat surprised to see a man dressed in loafers and a suit sprinting along thesidewalk, dodging pedestrians. Harry felt as if he was running throughmolasses. The morning was already nearing eighty and quite humid. Passersbymoved aside and a few turned to watch. But most of them were looking past Harryto see who was chasing him. Harry knew he had a faster gear, but with the chestpain still unresolved, he was reluctant to use it. As it was, he felt somesharp jabs inside his left chest. And he wondered, with each block, when thedebilitating, bandlike discomfort was going to take hold.
By the time he reached the hospital, hewas carrying his suit coat and using one sleeve to mop sweat off his face. Hedashed through the main doors, anticipating that the overhead page would becalling out a Code 99 on Alexander 5. There was no such announcement, nor hadthe pager hooked to his belt gone off. The lobby was crowded as usual. Out ofdeference to the hospital and the patients, Harry slowed to a rapid walk downthe main corridor to the Alexander Building cutoff. At certain times of theday, taking the elevator might have been faster than the stairs. But Harrynever gave it a thought. Grateful for his regular workouts on the track, hetook the stairs two at a time. Again, there was some discomfort in his chest,but nothing major, nothing that definitely said cardiac. Muscular orgastrointestinal, Harry decided, filing the conclusion away.
The Code 99 cart was parked outside thedoorway to room 505. Harry cursed out loud as he hurried toward it. He was justa few feet away when he realized that the cover had not been removed from thecart. The two nurses who had so blatantly snubbed him just an hour ago werestanding nearby, chatting. They looked over at him, and he could feel as muchas see their disdain. 'What's going on?' he asked.
Harry stepped past them and into the room.Steve Josephson, stethoscope in place, was standing on the far side of the bed,hunched over Andy Barlow, examining his chest and back. The young architect,with his oxygen running almost wide open at six liters a minute, looked aboutthe same to Harry as he had on rounds — sick but in no mortal distress.
'Stuff at both lung bases,' Josephsonmuttered to himself. He glanced up and noticed Harry. 'Hey, there you are,' hesaid. 'I was on the floor finishing rounds when the nurses grabbed me.Apparently your office nurse called
