'No prob. Hope you find what you're after.'
I hung up, took the stairs to the ground floor and entered the throng in the lobby. Easing my way through hard-packed bodies, I made it to the Information counter and, after spotting a hospital directory near the clerk's hand, slid it toward me.
The clerk, a dyed-blond black woman, was answering a Spanish-speaking man's question in English. Both of them looked tired and the acid of strife embittered the air. The clerk noticed the book in my hand and looked down her nose at me. The man's gaze followed. The queue behind him swayed and rumbled like a giant serpent.
'You can't have that,' said the clerk.
I smiled, pointed at my badge, and said, 'Just want to borrow it for a minute.'
The clerk rolled her eyes and said, 'Just for a minute, that's all.'
I moved to the far end of the counter and flipped the book open to the first page, running my eyes and my index finger down the numbers column on the right side of each page, prepared to scan hundreds of extensions until I found 25 oh. But I hit the jackpot after only a couple of dozen.
ASHMORE,L.W (Tox.) 1506
I replaced the book and thanked the clerk. She glared again, snatched it, and placed it out of reach.
'Half a minute,' I said. 'Do I get a refund?'
Then I saw the faces of the people waiting in line and regretted being a wise-ass.
I went up to see Cassie, but there was a DO NOT DISNRB sign on her door and the nurse on duty told me both she and Cindy were sleeping.
On my way out of the hospital, my thoughts were intruded upon by someone calling my name. Looking up, I saw a tall, mustachioed man approaching from the main entrance. late thirties, white coat, rimless glasses, Ivy League clothes. The mustache was an extravagant waxed black handlebar. The rest of him seemed arranged around it.
He waved.
I reached into the past and drew out a name.
Dan Kornblatt. Cardiologist. Former UC San Francisco chief resident.
His first year at the hospital had been my last. Our relationship had been limited to case conferences and casual chats about the Bay Area-I'd done a fellowship at langley Porter and Kornblatt delighted in pushing the proposition that no civilization existed south of Carmel.
I remembered him as long on brains and short on tact with peers and parents, but tender with his young patients. Four other doctors were walking with him, two women, two men, all young. The five of them moved rapidly, accompanied by swinging arms physical fitness or a strong sense of purpose. As they got closer I saw that Kornblatt's hair had grayed at the temples and his hawk face had taken on a few seams.
Alex Delaware. My, my.'
'Hi, Dan.'
'To what do we owe the honor?'
'Here on a consult.'
'Really? Gone private?'
A few years ago.'
'Where?'
'The West Side.'
'But of course. Been back up to the real city lately?'
'Not lately.'
