Silent Treatment

Harry was definitely feeling the strain. He had beensleeping only four or five hours a night, had absolutely no appetite, and haddeveloped a nasty, dry cough that he felt certain was nothing more than nerves.

And to heighten the tension, there had beenabsolutely no sign that The Roundtable or The Doctor was nibbling at the bait.

Harry wrote a lengthy, problem-orientedprogress note in the chart. As had been the case during the first two days ofrounds, no one spoke to him unless he addressed them directly. It was just aswell. The less anyone asked him, the less he would have to lie. And lying wassomething he had never done very smoothly.

To discourage hospital personnel fromvisiting Max's room, Harry also added 'probable tuberculosis' to the mix — allin all, enough pathology to give even the most intrepid caregiver pause. GivenRay Santana's gaunt appearance, sallow complexion, and chronic five o'clockshadow, Harry knew that hospital personnel would have no trouble connecting himwith his frightening inventory of diagnoses.

Felony.

Garabedian, whom Harry had labeled in hisadmission history 'a successful commodities trader' was admitted to anisolation room. Throughout his hospitalization, he would be tended to by hisown special-duty nurses. The night-shift 'nurse' was a private detective namedPaula Underhill. The day and evening shifts were being covered by Maura,wearing glasses and a brunette wig. As Garabedian would be on precautions, both'nurses' would be required to wear surgical masks and gowns. Of course, AntonPerchek would be masked and gowned as well. But both Maura and Santana feltthey would still be able to pick him out. And Paula Underhill, a witty,Brooklyn-born black belt in Kenpo karate, was more than willing to try.

Felony.

Having special-duty nurses also helpedsolve one of the thornier problems Harry had tackled: laboratory tests. Heordered blood work each day, but none of it included Ray's white-blood-cellcount, which would have been normal. But with Garabedian having his own nurses,the nurses on the floor would almost certainly follow his laboratory tests lessclosely, if at all. The trick had been to create a patient requiring aninsufferable amount of work, and then to provide the regular staff with thesalvation of a private nurse. Harry did insert fabricated admission bloodcounts from his office to the inpatient chart and decided he could improviseand produce more lab work depending on what he was hearing from the staff. Hewas hearing nothing.

Most of the other details were simple towork out — at least in theory. The intravenous line would be taped to Ray'sskin and wrapped in gauze. IV medications would be run into the gauze or intothe sink. Oral medications would be discarded immediately or squirreled awaybeneath Ray's tongue until they could be. And of course, Percodan or Demerolwould be ordered every three to four hours as needed for pain.

Felony.

The final hurdle was Ray's absoluteinsistence on having his gun close at hand. Both the private detective, who wascarrying a gun of her own, and Maura, who was not, agreed to help him concealthe weapon if needed.

Felony. Felony. Felony.

Harry finished his note by indicating thatGarabedian's condition was improving slightly, but that another ten to fourteendays of hospitalization were anticipated. His goal was to fabricate as manycomplications as possible. Northeast Life and Casualty, like most insurers inthe brave new medical world, had a team of peer reviewers that checked therecords of hospitalized patients, poised to terminate benefits if the databasesaid it was time for 'the diagnosis' to be treated at home.

Outside room 218 was a steel cart with thegloves, gowns, and masks required for infectious-disease isolation. Harryprepared himself and entered the room, closing the door tightly behind him.Maura was in a chair, sketching in an artist's pad. Ray was propped in bedwatching Regis and Kathie Lee.

'Any problems?' Harry asked.

'He wants me to give him a bed bath,'Maura said.

'Hey, I got one a couple of times a dayfrom the nurses the last time I was in hospital,' Ray whined. 'Just because I'mnot sick is no reason I shouldn't get tender loving care.'

'No bed baths,' Harry said, 'but I willwrite orders for three enemas a day instead.'

'And to think, I was embarrassed even toask for one.'

'I assume there haven't been anysightings.'

'Not even of a nurse. It's like they thinkthe plague is in here.'

'They do. Maura, anything I can do foryou?'

'Just find a way to have you-know-who makean appearance.'

Harry motioned to Ray's pillow.

'No problem keeping that concealed?'

'Not as long as my nurse, here, keepsvolunteering to do things so the people out there don't have to. They'vealready thanked her so many times, I wouldn't be surprised if they took up acollection for her. Any progress in the outside world?'

'The calls have slowed down, but they'restill coming in. One lab tech from Good Samaritan swears our man was a baldingmedical resident from Poland. A nurse from University Hospital is certain he'san orderly there, only with dark hair and an earring.'

'He probably was both,' Santana said. 'Ifwe could ever pinpoint what days he was spotted in those hospitals, I'd betwe'd find a death or two in patients insured by The Roundtable companies.'

'Well, if what we're doing here doesn'twork, I promise I'll help you put those posters back up. By that time, I'llhave nothing to lose.'

'True enough. But if something goes wronghere and we get caught, I'd be surprised if they'd even let you back in thishospital as a patient.'

'But hey, amigo, we've got our system downpat,' Harry said with comic bravado. 'What on earth could possibly go wrong?'

All day Ray Santana had been having a moredifficult time than usual with pain, primarily behind his eyes and in hisfingertips. He had received a Percodan at ten in the morning and required ashot of Demerol five hours later. Finally, fifteen minutes after the shot, hedrifted off into a fitful sleep. A powerful antibiotic, ordered to treat hisheart-valve infection, was dripping from a plastic IV bottle into the thickgauze bandage wrapped around his arm.

Maura was washing her face in preparationfor her sixth eight-hour shift in three days, and her second one in a row. Shefelt tired, but still keyed up. Their trap had been a long shot from the verybeginning. But it hadn't collapsed around them yet.

Santana was beginning to breathe moredeeply and regularly as Maura settled down in her chair with the latest People.Next to alcohol, the magazine remained the most addictive thing she hadever found. And like booze, it was perfectly easy to keep away from — as longas she didn't start. The door to the room was nearly closed. From out on thefloor, she heard the footsteps and multiple conversations of a group of peopleapproaching. Then there was a man's voice.

'. . The hospital has three rooms withthe reverse ventilation necessary for proper infectious-disease isolation,' hewas saying. 'The new wing will be connected through this floor, and willprovide three more. That will make this hospital number one in the city in theevent of an infectious epidemic …

Maura, her concentration split between themagazine and the lecture, did not realize that Santana was suddenly awake, upon one elbow, rubbing at his eyes.

'Maura,' he rasped, 'can you see him?'

'Can I see who?'

'The man, dammit! The man who's talking!'

His eyes were wild from the drug, hismouth cotton-dry.

'. . But you say the cost per day ofthese rooms is now more than double a standard room?' a second voice was asking.

'Yes, but compared with what's charged atmedical centers comparable to this one, that's still a bargain. Now, if youladies and gentlemen will follow me this way, I'll show you the latest in..'

Santana was sitting bolt upright now, thepillow on his lap shielding his gun. Panicked, Maura threw her magazine asideand moved toward him. Ray, perspiring profusely now, was clumsily trying todisengage himself from the bedclothes and IV line at the same time.