Deadly Errors (41 page)

Tyler smiled and cleared his throat. “Nothing. We sort of like the idea of random treatment errors. It adds a degree of excitement in our otherwise drab, retched lives. In fact, we have built an employee lottery around these events. The person who guesses the exact number of days from one complication to the next one wins one week paid vacation. And I must say, it’s done wonders to morale.”

He heard a gasp. The continuous murmuring from the audience hushed. His smile widened. “Next question.”

“Okay, okay, okay, Doctor Mathews … I think I get the message. We’ve rehearsed enough. It’s time now anyway.” Suhee Lee, Head of Communications for Maynard Medical Center stepped up on the riser. She turned and said to someone off the podium. “Cut the lights. It’s like a damn oven up here.”

The large klieg lights died, taking with them 110 degrees Fahrenheit of radiated heat.

She turned back to Tyler. “You think you’re ready?” She leaned a bit closer, inspecting the fine makeup patina powdered over his cheeks.

“Let’s get this over with.”

“Just remember, Tyler … a press conference is
your
opportunity to control the flow of information. Whatever question they ask, give them
your
message. Don’t let them take you down a path you don’t want to go. You understand?” She handed him a Kleenex.

“Yes.”

“Hold still a second.” She dabbed it on his forehead. “That last question … what should the answer be?”

“Maynard Medical Center stands committed to providing the best quality of care regardless of ability to pay.”

She nodded, swept a palm in the direction of the door. “Good. Now let’s go meet the real press.”

H
OLDING NANCY’S HAND, Tyler negotiated his way past gawkers and lookie-loos clogging the hall to Gunther Auditorium. Real reporters now lined the route in ambush, throwing out questions, eager for a jump start on their colleagues stupid enough to wait inside the crowded auditorium, thirsty for a slip of the tongue that would provide the sound bite with which to scoop the others. He nervously reached inside his Navy blazer. His finger touched the folded paper holding his formal statement to be read before the Q&A session would start. Yes, it was still there, exactly as it had been the last fifty times he checked this afternoon.

Suhee Lee whispered in his ear. “I just got word that the new head of the JCAHO committee will be attending. The one appointed after what’s his name died.”

A familiar voice called, “Tyler.” Something grabbed his arm.

He turned to look for the voice. Jill stood next to him, a serious looking man in a three-piece suit with round tortoise shell glasses immediately at her side. She wore one of her severe suits, a silk scarf inside the collar and pinned at the base of her neck. Her signature Ice Maiden look. She smiled. A forced smile, but a smile nonetheless.

“Tyler, I’d like you to meet my attorney, Barney Ruleman. I assume you’ve heard of him.” Barney Ruleman nodded at him with lawyerly solemnity that probably cost 600 dollars an hour.

Jill continued, “I think it only fair to warn you that nobody is going to believe that I had anything to do with what happened with those unfortunate patients. Also, if you imply anything to the contrary, I am fully prepared to have Mister Ruleman take corrective measures. Do you fully understand what I’ve just told you?”

Tyler smiled and nodded back at her. “I believe you will be hearing from the Board of Governors. Any problems you might have with any fallout from this can be handled by them. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

She shook her head. “I don’t think you heard me clearly, Doctor—”

He cut her off. “To the contrary.”

He turned to Nancy, wrapped his arm around her shoulder, said, “Come on, this is cutting into our vacation,” and walked away.

End

Yuen Studio, Seattle

Allen Wyler is a renowned neurosurgeon who earned an international reputation for pioneering surgical techniques to record brain activity. He has served on the faculties of both the University of Washington and the University of Tennessee, and in 1992 was recruited by the prestigious Swedish Medical Center to develop a neuroscience institute.

Leveraging a love for thrillers since the early 70’s, Wyler devoted himself to fiction writing in earnest, eventually serving as vice president of the International Thriller Writers organization for several years. After publishing his first two medical thrillers
Deadly Errors
(2005) and
Dead Head
(2007), he officially retired from medicine to devote himself to writing full time.

He and his wife, Lily, divide their time between Seattle and the San Juan Islands.

DEAD END DEAL

DEAD RINGER

DEAD WRONG

Published by Astor + Blue Editions ebooks