“Well, I haven’t,” Martin shot back. “If there was nothing we could do, that would be different. We would raise him as he is and love him unconditionally. But there is something we can do to make his life better.”
“I want him back the way he is. Do you understand?
“Rachel, calm down. You’re going to get your son back, and he’ll be better for it.”
She ran to the desk in the kitchen and snapped open the address file box. Sitting in the mail inbox on the desk was a pink receipt for a bank check. Five hundred thousand dollars. What he had paid Malenko. While she was gone, he had cashed in mutual funds, sold stocks, and God knows what else so he could put a down payment on his son’s IQ.
But money was the least of her concerns.
Her mind was so jammed, that for a moment she didn’t know what name she was looking up. She just kept fumbling for the
Martin came in to help her, but she hissed at him and punched the number.
When the secretary answered, she took a deep breath to get her center. “This is Rachel Whitman. I need to speak to Dr. Malenko. It’s an emergency.”
“I’m sorry, but Dr. Malenko isn’t in today. May I take a message?”
“How can I reach him?”
“I’m not sure. He’s out of town for the next few days.”
Another bolt of horror crashed through her. “Out of town?” Martin was flashing her hand signs, warning her not to mention enhancement. She turned her back to him.
“He’ll be back next Thursday,” the secretary said.
“But I have to speak to him. It’s urgent.”
“Well, I can take your number, and when he checks in I can have him call you.”
“Can’t you contact him directly? He’s a doctor. You must have some emergency number.”
There was a pause at the other end. “I can give you his voice mail and you can leave him a message.”
Martin made a move to take the phone from her, but she backhanded his arm.
“I don’t want his voice mail.” She was about to say
“What are you doing?” she screamed.
“You’re getting hysterical, Rachel. Now cool it!”
By reflex she swatted his hands away.
“Rachel, you’re just keyed up because of your mother’s condition.”
“My mother’s condition has nothing to do with it. He’s going to operate on our son’s brain—”
“It’s what we agreed on.”
“We didn’t agree on anything. I DIDN’T AGREE.” She was almost blind with rage. “We were going to talk about it when I got back. You took him without telling me.”
“And I wouldn’t have, if you hadn’t done all that shit.”
Rachel’s mouth dropped open.
“Yeah. He told me. ‘TNT for dynamite sex. Get off with a bang.’”
“That bastard.”
“Yeah, well, that bastard’s a godsend. He’s going to undo the damage you did, and he’s going to do it before it’s too late.”
“You don’t know that. YOU DON’T KNOW THAT.”
“He showed me the studies—a forty percent chance. We’re just lucky he wasn’t born brain-dead,” Martin said. “Whatever, next year at this time we’ll be burning candles to Lucius Malenko.”
Without a word, Rachel grabbed her purse.
“Where are you going?”
But she didn’t answer. All she could think was how she hated Martin at that moment. And herself.
She dashed into her car and shot down the street. Martin did not follow her. He wouldn’t. He’d wait until she cooled off and came whimpering back.
She drove without direction, telling herself not to panic. To get a bearing. That such a procedure would need several days of preop preparation.
It was twenty after four, and the offices of Nova Children’s Center closed at five. Because of the rain, the traffic was thick and slow, and there were no shortcuts. She kept one eye on the road, the other on the digital clock readout, watching the numbers tick by, feeling the pressure building in her chest—hoping that she would not have a stroke before she reached the place—thinking if she found it closed, she’d probably smash the windows in.
It was five minutes to five when she pulled into the lot. No red Porsche, of course.
But there were a few staff cars.
She parked and dashed around to the front entrance, the rain soaking her. The receptionist was the same woman, Marie, who had answered the phone. “I called you earlier. I have to reach Dr. Malenko. It’s an emergency.”
“Yes, Mrs. Whitman. I’m sorry, but he still hasn’t called in.”
“Is Dr. Samson here?”
“No, she’s out, too.”
“Isn’t there anybody here who knows where he is?”
“Lemme check,” she said, and she punched a few numbers. “Hi, it’s Marie. Yeah, I know, it’s really coming down. Well, I have Mrs. Whitman here and she needs to speak to Dr. Malenko. Any idea where he might be reached? Oh, okay. Thanks. Yeah, you, too.” She hung up and looked at Rachel. “Sorry. He’s gone for the week.”
“You must have some emergency number, a cell phone or some way to reach him.”
“Unfortunately, he doesn’t believe in cell phones—he thinks they’re dangerous. But he calls in frequently for messages.”
“Maybe you can tell me if Dr. Malenko has any surgeries scheduled within the next few days?”
The woman gave her an incredulous look. “Any
“My son is supposed to have a neuro procedure done, and I’m just wondering when Dr. Malenko will be doing it.” It was an outside shot since maybe nobody here knew about enhancement.
“What kind of procedure?”
For an instant she could hear all the caveats about secrecy. But
“Enhancement?” The woman’s face scrunched up. “What’s that?”
Rachel studied the woman. There was no sign of guile in her manner. She really had not heard the term. “Some kind of surgical procedure.”
“With Dr. Malenko?”
Rachel was on the verge of screaming.
Marie made a grimace of dismay. “There must be some mistake. Dr. Malenko doesn’t do surgery.”
“What?” For a split instant Rachel felt as if she had passed into some demented
“Well, those are kind of old, frankly.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “He’s retired from surgery. In fact, he hasn’t done surgery for over ten years.” The woman made a kind of self-conscious expression and raised her fingers to her face. “His vision.”
“His vision?”
“He’s blind in one eye.”
Rachel looked at her blankly, exerting every ounce of will to prevent herself from cracking. “What about the other neurosurgeons here?”
“There’s Dr. Kane and Dr. Lubeck,” she said, checking a folder. “But they’re not scheduled for any medical
