'You're a member of the Long Way Club, too, Annalee,' she said, taking pains to mask her concern. 'One more thing. When did you take that weight loss powder of Peter's, and for how long?'
'About four years ago, and for about three months. Dr. Singh had already tested the powder someplace on a number of people. But before Peter would allow himself to be associated with it, he arranged for ten or twelve people he knew to take it. Altogether, we lost about a half a ton. Why? Is there something wrong with it?'
'No, no. I was just wondering. Nothing's wrong with it. Nothing at all.'
'Well, I hope not,' Annalee said. 'Because according to the last figures I saw, since they began marketing the powder about seven months ago, a few hundred thousand people have done exactly the same thing.'
'I know,' Sarah said, flashing on a stainless steel surgical pan and the dusky, severed arm of a young woman. 'I know.'
CHAPTER 33
October 26
Matt arrived at his office at 7:15 A.M. feeling the sort of nervous energy he had once associated with game day. Earlier in the morning, he had run three miles-part of the fitness regimen he had instituted after being so badly outclassed by Sarah in Chinatown. He had also read several sections of the Globe and the sports section in the Herald, and spent fifteen minutes of intense practice on Nintendo baseball-the impressively realistic game at which he was determined, at least once in his lifetime, to beat Harry.
After four arduous, confusing months, pieces in the bewildering puzzle of Grayson v. Baldwin were beginning to come together. Rosa Suarez and a virologist from the CDC had identified the genetically altered virus circulating in Lisa Grayson's bloodstream and had traced it to a company across the river in Cambridge. The virus, labeled CRV113 by the BIO-Vir Corporation, had been developed to enhance the clotting of blood and the healing of wounds. Later that morning, Rosa and Ken Mulholland would be meeting with the director of the lab. The BIO-Vir bug still might prove to be a red herring in terms of Lisa Grayson's DIC. But given the purpose of its creation, that possibility seemed remote.
And with any luck, before the hour was out, yet another piece of the jigsaw would be set in place. Matt had done what homework he had time for and had rehearsed the scenario in his mind. Now it was showtime. Unless he was way off base, Roger Phelps had two Achilles' heels-arrogance and greed. The trick was to expose one or both of them without alerting the man. Failing to accomplish that, there was always Plan B-the frontal assault approach he had used with such mastery against Tommy Sze-to. His groin ached at the memory. He was reaching nervously for his glove and ball when, with a soft knock, Phelps entered the outer office.
'Daniels?'
'In here, Roger. Come on in.'
The claims adjuster, wearing a three-piece suit, tapped playfully on Matt's office door and then entered. Despite his dandyish appearance, Matt knew he was calculating and intelligent-a man to be dealt with carefully. Matt offered him coffee and then motioned him to the seat across the desk from his.
'So,' Phelps said, settling in, 'it's a change of heart we've had, is it?'
'Dr. Baldwin's getting cold feet about going to court.'
'You can call her Sarah. I've heard rumors that the two of you know each other on-um-shall we say a first- name basis.'
'Now, Roger, what in the hell am I supposed to say in response to that remark?'
'Nothing. She's very attractive-in a tomboy sort of way. I really wouldn't blame you if you were carrying on with her.'
Right away an assertion of power and control, Matt thought. The man is good. Damn good.
'To tell you the truth, Roger, the thought has crossed my mind. But believe me, nothing's going to happen on that front until this case is resolved.'
'Smart. Is that perhaps a reason you want to settle?'
'Perhaps. I told you that I honestly think we can win.'
'Well, obviously we're not as sure of that as you are. A pretty young girl with a dead baby and a stump for an arm makes a damn persuasive argument to a jury. And when juries decide for plaintiffs, they tend to decide big.'
'I understand.'
'I'm glad. So, then, what's your pitch?'
'On behalf of my client, I'm prepared to agree to your offer of a settlement with no admission of guilt. But I'm a bit concerned about my reputation in this whole business. Grayson versus Baldwin has been a high-visibility case. If I go to trial and win, I'm probably set for business for years to come-if not from the MMPO, then either from the other malpractice carrier or even from plaintiffs. Goodness knows there's a pile more money to be made from suing doctors than from defending them.'
'So?'
'So, I'd like some guarantee of referrals from you. Perhaps a retainer of some sort.'
'Mr. Daniels, you know we don't do that.'
'There's always a first time. Believe me, for the right amount, I can be as good or as bad as you want me to be.'
Matt could see that his remark, delivered more or less offhandedly, struck a nerve. Phelps paled visibly, but then just as quickly regained his composure.
'I think you'd best stop right there,' he said.
Matt pushed back from behind his desk and rubbed wearily at his eyes.
'Roger, please. I need your help,' he said. 'I'm nervous as hell talking to you like this, but I'm in financial trouble-pretty deep financial trouble.'
'I thought you were a big baseball star.'
'Never that big, believe me. A few years ago, I got talked into this can't-miss real estate deal and, well, it missed. You know how it is. Right now I'm staying afloat, but just barely. So like I said, I really need your help.'
'Sorry. No can do. No retainer. But I will keep you in mind as cases come in.'
Matt could see the suspicion in the man's eyes. He was not going to be at all easy to trip up.
'You know,' Matt said, 'there's this question I've been asking myself over and over. 'Why did Roger Phelps hire me for this case in the first place?' Especially when I was being opposed by Jeremy Mallon, the Michael Jordan of malpractice litigation. 'Why?' Finally, when the answer just wouldn't come, but the question just wouldn't go away, I started doing some checking. Did you know that Jeremy Mallon goes to trial more than any other malpractice lawyer in Boston? It's like the man doesn't know the meaning of the word 'settle.' '
'But he's settling here,' Phelps said.
'You know what else I learned?' Matt went on as if the statement hadn't been made. He was hoping that if he kept talking fast enough, and with enough authority, Phelps would fail to consider that he might be winging it. 'I learned that not one of the lawyers opposing Mallon in those trials had much more experience in malpractice cases than I did. Lambs to the lion-every one of us. Now do you see what I mean about being as bad as you want me to be? Roger, I don't need a cut of the jury awards or anything like that. I'm not greedy. A retainer will do just fine. Some guarantee that this business will continue rolling my way.'
'Daniels, I don't take kindly to this sort of innuendo. Besides, what you're saying is utter nonsense. Like I said before, Mallon is settling in this very case.'
'That's because he's going to lose,' Matt responded with icy calm. 'He knows it, and you know it. Roger, get it through your head. I'm not out to crucify you. I want to work with you. I need to work with you.'
Phelps eyed him for a time, clearly weighing all the variables, and then said, 'Go to hell.'
Damn you, Matt thought. He was getting closer by the moment to Plan B. He stood, slipped on his glove, and began gently flipping the scuffed ball into its pocket.
