The more Al thought about the current situation, the more frustrated he became. The girl could be in any one of at least four cities. And it wasn’t even a simple hit. If they did find her, they first had to get her to tell them where she’d hidden the vaccination gun.
Leaving Jake and George to get the luggage, he rented a car, using one of the several fake IDs he always carried. He decided the only thing they could do was stake out Tieman’s house. That way, even if they didn’t find the girl, she wouldn’t get to the doctor. After making sure he could get a car with a cellular phone, he spread out the map the girl at Budget had given him. Tieman lived in some out-of-the-way place called Sausalito. At least there wouldn’t be much traffic; it wasn’t even 7:00 A.M. yet.
The operator at the Fairmont placed Marissa’s wake-up call at 7:30 as she’d requested. Marissa had been lucky the night before. A small convention group had canceled out at the last minute, and she’d had no trouble getting a room.
Lying in bed waiting for her breakfast she wondered what Dr. Tieman would be like. Probably not much different from Krause: a selfish, greedy man whose attempt to protect his own wallet had gotten out of control.
Getting up, she opened the drapes to a breathtaking scene that included the Bay Bridge, the hills of Marin County, with Alcatraz Island looking like a medieval fortress in the foreground. Marissa only wished that she was visiting under more pleasant circumstances.
By the time she’d showered and wrapped herself in the thick white terry cloth robe supplied by the hotel, her breakfast had arrived, an enormous selection of fresh fruit and coffee.
Peeling a peach, she noticed they had given her an old-fashioned paring knife—wood handled and very sharp. As she ate, she looked at Tieman’s address and wondered if it wouldn’t be better to visit him at his office rather than at home. She was sure someone had contacted him after her visit to Dr. Krause, so she couldn’t count on really surprising the man. Under such conditions, it seemed safer to go to his office.
The Yellow Pages was in one of the desk drawers. Marissa opened it to Physicians and Surgeons, found Tieman’s name and noted that his practice was limited to OB-GYN.
Just to be certain the man was in town, Marissa dialed his office. The service operator said that the office didn’t open until eight-thirty. That was about ten minutes away.
Marissa finished dressing and dialed again. This time she got the receptionist, who told her the doctor wasn’t expected until three. This was his day for surgery at San Francisco General.
Hanging up, Marissa stared out at the Bay Bridge while she considered this new information. In some ways confronting Tieman in the hospital might even be better than at his office. It would certainly be safer if the doctor had any idea of trying to stop her himself.
She looked at herself in the mirror. Except for her underwear, she had been wearing the same clothes for two days, and she realized she’d have to stop somewhere and get some fresh things.
She put up the Do Not Disturb sign as she left the room, less nervous here than in New York since she was certain she was several jumps ahead of her pursuers.
The site of San Francisco General was gorgeous, but once inside, the hospital was like any other large city hospital, with the same random mixture of old and modern. There was also that overwhelming sense of bustle and disorganization characteristic of such institutions. It was easy for Marissa to walk unnoticed into the doctor’s locker room.
As she was selecting a scrub suit, an attendant came over and asked, “Can I help you?”
“I’m Dr. Blumenthal,” said Marissa. “I’m here to observe Dr. Tieman operate.”
“Let me give you a locker,” said the attendant without hesitation, and gave her a key.
After Marissa changed, her locker key pinned to the front of her scrub dress, she walked to the surgical lounge. There were about twenty people there, drinking coffee, chatting and reading newspapers.
Passing through the lounge, Marissa went directly into the operating area. In the vestibule, she put on a hood and booties, then stopped in front of the big scheduling board. Tieman’s name was listed for room eleven. The man was already on his second hysterectomy.
“Yes?” inquired the nurse behind the OR desk. Her voice had that no-nonsense tone of a woman in charge.
“I’m here to watch Dr. Tieman,” said Marissa.
“Go on in. Room eleven,” said the nurse, already devoting her attention to another matter.
“Thank you,” said Marissa, starting down the wide central corridor. The operating rooms were on either side, sharing scrub and anesthesia space. Through the oval windows in the doors, Marissa caught glimpses of gowned figures bent over their patients.
Entering the scrub area between rooms eleven and twelve, Marissa put on a mask and pushed into Tieman’s operating room.
There were five people besides the patient. The anesthesiologist was sitting at the patient’s head, two surgeons were standing on either side of the table, a scrub nurse perched on a footstool and there was one circulating nurse. As Marissa entered, the circulating nurse was sitting in the corner, waiting for orders. She got up and asked Marissa what she needed.
“How much longer for the case?”
“Three-quarters of an hour,” shrugged the nurse. “Dr. Tieman is fast.”
“Which one is Dr. Tieman?” asked Marissa. The nurse gave her a strange look.
“The one on the right,” she said. “Who are you?”
“A doctor friend from Atlanta,” said Marissa. She didn’t elaborate. Moving around to the head of the table and looking at Dr. Tieman, she understood why the nurse had been surprised by her question: the man was black.
How odd, thought Marissa. She would have suspected that all the PAC officers were old-guard, white and probably racially prejudiced.
For a while she stood above the ether screen and watched the course of the operation. The uterus was already out, and they were starting repair. Tieman was good. His hands moved with that special economy of motion that could not be taught. It was a talent, a gift from God, not something to be learned even with practice.
“Start the damn car,” said Al hanging up the cellular phone. They were parked across from a sprawling redwood house that clung to the hillside above the town of Sausalito. Between the eucalyptus trees they could see blue patches of the Bay.
Jake turned the key in the ignition. “Where to?” He knew Al was pissed, and when he was in that kind of mood, it was better to say as little as possible.
“Back to the city.”
“What did Tieman’s office say?” asked George from the backseat.
Jake wanted to tell George to shut up, but he was afraid to speak.
“That the doctor was in surgery at San Francisco General,” said Al, almost white with anger. “His first operation was scheduled for seven-thirty, and he’s not expected at the office until three.”
“No wonder we missed him,” said George disgustedly. “The guy must have left his house an hour before we got here. What a waste of time. We should have gone to a hotel like I said.”
With blinding speed Al twisted around in the front seat and grabbed George’s pink Dior tie. George’s eyes bulged and his face turned red. “If I want your advice, I’ll ask for it. Understand?”
Al released the tie and shoved George back down in his seat. Jake hunkered down like a turtle into his sports jacket. He hazarded a glance in Al’s direction.
“And what are you gawking at?” demanded Al.
Jake didn’t say a word, and after what had just happened, he hoped George had learned the wisdom of silence.
They were almost at the bridge before anyone spoke.
“I think we should get another car,” Al said, his voice as calm as if the outburst had never happened. “Just in case we run into a problem and have to split up. Then we’ll go to San Francisco General. The sooner we spot Tieman the better.”
With plenty of time to spare and feeling confident that she’d have no problem recognizing Dr. Tieman now that she’d seen him, Marissa left the operating room as the assistant was closing. She changed back to her street clothes. She wanted to be able to leave right after she spoke to the man. Going into the surgical lounge, she found a seat by the window. A few people smiled at her but no one spoke.
