restrained, Pittman was able to turn his head enough to see the man who’d been smoking in the rain yank the outside door open.
The attendants rushed with the gurney, disappearing into the night along with the nurse and the thin, intense man. The somber, stocky men retreated, letting go of Pittman, moving swiftly into the stairwell, down the stairs, through the outside door.
The man with the stethoscope trembled. “By God, I’ll phone the police. They can’t-”
Pittman didn’t stay to hear the rest of his sentence. What he heard instead were repeated thunks as doors to the private ambulance outside were opened and closed. He ran down the stairs. Peering out toward the drizzle- misted darkness, he saw the private ambulance pull away, a dark Oldsmobile following.
Immediately he lunged into the chilling rain. Seeing frost come out of his mouth, he raced through puddles toward the street corner opposite the Emergency entrance. From having come to the hospital so often with Jeremy, he knew the easiest places to hail a taxi late at night, and the corner across from Emergency was one of the best.
An empty taxi veered around a curve, almost striking Pittman as he ran across toward the corner.
“Watch it, buddy!”
Pittman scrambled in. “My father’s in that private ambulance.” He pointed toward where, a block ahead, the ambulance and the dark Oldsmobile were stopped at a traffic light. “He’s being taken for emergency treatment to another hospital. Keep up with them.”
“What’s wrong with
“They don’t have a machine he needs. Hurry.
The taxi sped forward.
Pittman sat anxiously in the backseat, wiping rain from his forehead, catching his breath. What the hell was going on? he wondered. Although the oxygen mask had concealed the face of the patient on the gurney, Pittman had noticed the man’s wrinkled, liver-spotted hands, his slack-skinned neck, and his wispy white hair. Obviously old. That wasn’t much to go on, but Pittman had the eerie conviction that the man on the gurney was Jonathan Millgate.
15
“I thought you said they were taking your father to another hospital,” the taxi driver said.
“They are.”
“Not in New York City, they ain’t. In case you haven’t noticed, we just reached New Rochelle.”
Pittman listened to the rhythmic tap of the taxi’s windshield wipers. As tires hissed on wet pavement, he concentrated to provide an explanation. “The ambulance has a two-way radio. Maybe they called ahead and the hospital they were going to didn’t have the machine they needed.”
“Where I live over on Long Island, they’ve got plenty of good hospitals. I don’t know why they didn’t head there. What’s wrong with your father, anyhow?”
“Heart disease.”
“Yeah, my brother has a bad ticker. Thirty years of smoking. Poor bastard. Can hardly walk across the room. You better hope your father’s strong enough to hang on, because it doesn’t look like the ambulance is gonna stop here in New Rochelle. Christ, at this rate, we’ll soon be in Connecticut.”
Headlights gleamed in the rain.
“I’d better let my dispatcher know what’s going on,” the driver said. “Listen, I’m sorry about your father and all, but buddy, this long a trip needs special arrangements. If we end up in Stamford or some damned place like that, I won’t be able to get a fare to come back to the city. I’m gonna have to charge you both ways.”
“I’ll pay it.”
“How?”
Rain tapped the roof.
“What? I’m sorry… I wasn’t listening.”
“How are you gonna pay me? You got the cash? Rough estimate-we’re talking over a hundred bucks.”
“Don’t worry. You’ll get paid.”
“But I do worry. I need to know if you’ve got the cash to-Wait a second. Looks like they figured out where they’re going.”
The sign at the turnoff heading north said SCARSDALE/WHITE PLAINS.
16
“What’s all those trees to the right?”
“Looks like a park,” Pittman said.
“Or a damned forest. Man, we’re way out in the country. I
“We’re not in the country. Look at those big houses on your left. This is some kind of expensive subdivision. There’s a sign up ahead. Yeah. SAXON WOODS PARK AND GOLF CLUB. I told you we’re not in the country.”
“Well, either the guys in that ambulance plan to take your father golfing or-Hold it. They’re slowing down.”
So did the taxi driver.
“They’re turning off,” Pittman said. “There, to the right.”
The driver kept going, passing a high stone wall and a gated driveway. As the red taillights of the ambulance and the Oldsmobile receded into the darkness, the gate-tall, made of wrought-iron bars-swung electronically back into place.
“Funny how these days they make hospitals to look like mansions,” the driver said. “What the hell’s going on, buddy?”
“I haven’t the faintest idea.”
“What?”
“I honestly don’t know. My father’s really sick. I expected…”
“Say, this isn’t about drugs, is it?”
Pittman was too confused to answer.
“I asked you a question.”
“It’s not about drugs. You saw the ambulance leave the hospital.”
“Sure. Right. Well, I don’t plan to spend the rest of the night driving around Scarsdale. At least I think that’s where we are. Ride’s over, buddy. You’ve got two choices-head back with me or get out right now. Either way, you’re paying both ways.”
The driver turned the taxi around.
“Okay, let me out where they left the road,” Pittman said.
The driver switched off his headlights, stopping fifty yards from the gate. “In case it’s not a good idea to advertise that you followed them.”
“I’m telling you, this isn’t about drugs.”
“Yeah. Sure. You owe me a hundred and fifteen bucks.”
Pittman groped in his pockets. “I already gave you twenty.”
“What are you talking about? That’s supposed to be my tip.”
“But I don’t have that much cash.”
“
“I’ve got a credit card.”
“That’s useless to me! This cab ain’t rigged to take it!”
