Silent Treatment

for termination underthis protocol?'

'Could you do that?'

'I think so. The real question is whetheryour knight from Northeast Casualty would bite. What's his name?'

'Pat Harper. He's Lancelot, the one whomade Stallings the offer to join the inner circle.'

'So if anyone's actively involved in thisthing, it would be him. That's good.'

'But you're suggesting taking a patientand deliberately exposing him to this Anton Perchek? Who would do such athing?'

'Actually,' Harry said, 'I have someone inmind who would be happy to. Only he's not exactly a patient of mine. Could youtake me to my office? It's on 116th near Fifth.'

'Sure. I knew it was right to contactyou.'

Once again, Loomis's words and the way hespoke them made Harry feel uneasy. Not once had he talked about the implicationsfor him and his family of what he was doing. In fact, not once had he spoken ofhis family at all. He had chosen to contact Harry before going to the DA. Why? You'vegot to nail that guy. Why not we?

Suddenly Harry knew. What had beentroubling him so about the man was that he sounded detached, as if the eventshe described had happened to someone else entirely. He had chosen to speak withHarry before seeking out the DA because he never had any intention of going tothe authorities. In fact, he had no intention of seeing this thing through. Allat once a good deal about this strange ride made sense. Loomis's calmness. Hislack of fear. Loomis was an insurance executive. Harry suspected that his deathwould leave his family well provided for,

'You okay?' Harry asked as they approachedthe lights of the city.

'Huh? Oh, sure. I'm still worried aboutwhat's going to happen. But I feel much more hopeful after talking to you.'

'Good. We can put an end to TheRoundtable, you know.'

'I know.'

The sadness in his voice was unmistakablenow.

'Kevin, you said you knew about me and thewar.'

'What I read in the papers.'

'The platoon I was with was ambushed. Wewere caught in a vicious firefight, with mortar shells dropping on us from anearby hill. Most of our kids were killed or badly hurt. I managed to dragthree of them to the medevac chopper. That's what I got the decoration for — asif I even knew what I was doing at that point. Then a shell exploded rightbehind me. I think it hit a mine, because it seemed like half the jungle blewup. I have no idea who dragged me out of there. It was about a week before Iwoke up. They had taken what metal and other debris they could out of my back,along with part of one kidney. I spent several months in a rehab hospital. Thepain was wicked, and for a long time I thought I might not walk.'

'But you did.'

'That's sort of the point. About threemonths into my rehab, I decided I couldn't take it anymore. I snuck off in mywheelchair with a revolver tucked under the sheet. For half an hour — oh hell,I really don't even know how long — I sat in the woods with this gun in mymouth and my finger on the trigger.'

'Why didn't you pull it?'

Harry shrugged.

'I guess I just decided it wasn't my job.'

They had crossed the river into the citynow, and were heading toward Harry's office.

'Good for you.'

'Hopeless is a relative term, Kevin. JamesStallings is pretty much hopeless. You aren't. Think about that, will you?'

For a moment it seemed Kevin was about tosay something, but instead he just nodded and focused on the road. Harry felthe had gone as far as he could in counseling a man he did not know. At least hehad made his point. They rode in silence until Loomis pulled up at Harry'soffice.

'Is there anything else I should know beforeI go about creating a worm for Sir Lancelot to bite on?'

'Just follow the protocol,' Loomis said.'I wish you luck;

Harry stepped out on to the street. Therain had stopped, but the humidity was still close to 100 percent.

'I'd like about a week before you go tothe DA,' he said. 'If we're going to pull this off, publicity would reallyhurt.'

'No problem. I'll check with you first,anyway.'

'Thanks. And Kevin?'

'Yes?'

'Do everyone a favor and see this onethrough.'

Loomis looked at him without making eyecontact.

'Yeah, sure,' he said. 'Thanks.'

It was the middle of the night beforeHarry found what he was looking for — a male patient, age thirty-five tofifty-five, whose insurance carrier was Northeast Life and Casualty. MaxGarabedian, a forty-eight-year-old school custodian. Garabedian, who wascompulsive about his work and his body, was something of a hypochondriac. Butin the main, he was healthy. And that was what Harry needed to know. There wasonly one way his scheme could work, and countless ways in which it could gohaywire. But barring a freak accident, having Max Garabedian show up in somehospital when he was already an inpatient at MMC would not be one of them.

Harry considered calling Garabedian toexplain what he was about to do. But if the man agreed, he would be open tocharges of insurance fraud. No, he decided. Max Garabedian would have tobe hospitalized for treatment of his expensive, potentially fatal illnesswithout his knowledge. Harry copied down all the pertinent data the hospitaladmitting office would need to know.

Now there were only two problems: comingup with an appropriately dire condition, and convincing Ray Santana to becomethe bait.

Chapter34

Harry stepped off the elevator on to Grey2 and headed directly for the chart rack next to the nurse's station. He wastrying to be unobtrusive, but he knew that every nurse, aide, and secretary onthe floor was aware of his arrival. He was also trying to appear nonchalant,although he felt more and more like he was on night patrol in the jungle. Itwas his third day of making rounds on the patient in room 218, the manregistered as Max Garabedian. In order to clear his name from one felony, hewas willfully committing another, probably several others. That theircharade had survived even this long was a tribute to meticulous preparation andincredible luck. But the clock was ticking.

It had taken two days of intense workbefore Harry was set to admit Ray Santana to the Manhattan Medical Center. Thediagnosis he had chosen for his creation was acute lymphocytic leukemia,complicated by a low white- blood-cell level and bacterial endocarditis — aserious, potentially lethal infection of the heart valves. To up the ante forSir Lancelot's insurance company, he added a code and special note implyingthat Garabedian was being evaluated for total body radiation and a bone marrowtransplant.

To test the case, Kevin Loomis had run thedata through the computers of Crown Health and Casualty. The projected cost oftreating Max Garabedian's illnesses over the 2.2 years he was projected to haveleft to live was $697,000. A bone marrow transplant would add $266,000 to theequation, partly by increasing his life expectancy 13.6 years. If Lancelot wasusing The Roundtable's selection program, Max Garabedian would light up on theNortheast Life computers like a flare.

Harry opened Garabedian's record andreviewed the notes and laboratory reports he had inserted there, including adictation he had done using the name of the chief of hematology. He had signedthe note himself and intercepted the copy as it was being placed in thehematologist's cubby. Such maneuvers were necessary to keep the nurses andchart reviewers from becoming suspicious. But each move carried with it thedanger of discovery, and