Presidential Donor (10 page)

"No, Dave, listen to me, he's alive. He's with me."

"What! Are you all right?"

"Yes, I'm all right, but I need you to get McDermott's medical records for me. So I can try to figure out what this is all about."

"
You
need to figure out," Leah said. "One minute I'm told he's dead, now you're saying he's alive!"

"Look, Dave, you and I have known each other ten years, and I've always been straight with you. And I'm being straight with you now. Someone is trying to kill Jack McDermott. For what, I don't know. That's why I need those records. Maybe I can find a clue."

"Okay, Jonah, I'll see what I can do. How do I reach you?"

"I'll call you back in one hour."

"All right, you be careful. Sounds like something strange is going on."

"Don't worry. I'll call you back in an hour."

Leah hung up and rubbed his brow.
What the hell was going on around here?
He picked the phone up and dialed medical records. After two rings, a voice answered.

"Medical records."

"Yes, this is Dr. Leah. I need the entire record for patient, Jack McDermott. Could you have someone bring it to the ICU, please?"

"Sure, I'll bring it up in a few minutes," the clerk said.

"Thanks."

Leah waited a half hour and was about to call again when the phone rang.

"ICU, Dr. Leah."

"Dr. Leah, this is medical records. Those records you wanted, they're not here."

"Well who signed for them?"

"Looks like Bradley did. Says here, the patient is deceased."

"Okay, thank you."

Leah gathered up his clipboard and headed for the exit doors.
What did Bradley want with Jack McDermott's records?
And why did he tell him McDermott was dead? Maybe he should ask Bradley? After what he knew so far, he would just wait for Jonah's call.

Leah's mind was not on his work as he walked down the hall and into his next patient's room. He tried to remain compassionate as he looked at the huge specimen of a man on the bed. The guy was admitted for chest pain; no doubt due to the strain on his heart as it struggled to pump blood to all that flab. Compassion aside, the man had the abdominal girth of a small whale.

His obvious disregard for his health disgusted Leah. He was about to chastise the man about his bad habits when a nurse interrupted him.

"Dr. Leah, you have a phone call."

"Thank you, I'll be right there."

Leah excused himself from his patient and looked at his watch. That would be Jonah's call. Now maybe he could get some answers. He hurried across the hall to the nurses' station. He slipped his stethoscope into his lab jacket and took the phone from the nurse. He mouthed a thank you to her, then turned around and huddled in the corner. The nurse took the hint, and left him to talk in private.

"This is Dr. Leah."

"Dave, it's Jonah. Did you find what I needed?"

"I tried, but it seems they've already been taken. And guess by whom."

Before Jonah had a chance to answer, Leah said, "Bradley."

"What! What does
he
want with them?"

"I don't know, but it must be pretty important if Bradley is involved."

"Okay, I appreciate your help. I'll talk to you later. Right now I need to find some answers."

"No problem. You be careful."

"Don't worry," Jonah said, and hung up.

As the implications of Jonah's phone call began to settle on the dazed Leah, he
was
worried, though. The whole thing made no sense to him.

Perhaps he should confront Bradley after all and ask him why he lied about Jack McDermott?
As he stood there, the nurse walked up.

"Here's the sonogram report on your big man in there, Dr. Leah, and it don't look good."

Leah took the report and gave it a quick look, then shook his head. Could his day get any worse?

Jonah Bailey sat holding Eva's cell phone as he stared at the ceiling of the small cabin. It reminded him of a dollhouse with furniture that appeared to have been made in miniature. He was used to big bulky overstuffed chairs he could flop down on. This looked like it would snap in two if he sat on it. He wondered for a minute if he was in the home of the
Seven Dwarfs
. At the moment, though, it would have to do.
He was glad to be anywhere safe.

He shifted his massive frame from one foot to the other and pondered the problem. It reminded him of pathology. He sought simple truths. Many things can lead a person to choose a career; Jonah chose his because it offered answers. Sometimes they were difficult to find. In the end, however, the simple truths always came out. Now, the same determination that he'd used in hundreds of forensic cases, was leading him to seek the answer to why they were in the middle of a nightmare. He
would
find out.

"Eva, I'm going to the hospital."

"But they're looking for you, and there's no telling what they're capable of. Besides, we don't even know who
they
are."

"She's right," Jack said. "It's too dangerous."

"I'll be fine. I know a way to get in so they'll never see me."

"If you're sure," Eva said. "Please be careful."

"I'll be Claude Raines without his gauze wrap."

Jack and Eva looked at each other and shrugged their shoulders.

"Claude who... never mind," Eva said.

Jonah stood a long moment at the windows. He wondered where the men on the snowmobiles were; he knew better than to think they had given up.

They were probably canvassing the area on foot. Satisfied it was clear; he scrambled out the door and toward the road. He stayed close to the row of thick pines that bordered the narrow lane. It made it nearly impossible for anyone to see him. Snow began to fall, but the thick branches of the pines kept most of it off him. He had taken one of the blankets from the cabin and fashioned it into a parka. Since he had not had time to get his coat before they fled Zurich Trauma, it would have to do. With no idea how long he would be exposed, he figured it would keep him warm for a while.

A half mile later, a Zurich Transit Bus screeched to a halt in front of the bus stop. The bus doors cranked open, but no one disembarked. Jonah climbed on and the engines roared back to life. Jonah plopped down in a seat, his mind filled with images of Jack McDermott, Eva, and men in trench coats chasing them. Jonah gazed out the window and tried to orient himself. After twenty years, he was still only familiar with his own route: from the hospital to his flat, which was a mile from the hospital. Most of his time was spent at the morgue. He did have a general idea where he was. Still, he didn't want to be looking for the main road in the dark. The buses, he remembered, did stop near Zurich Trauma. So he felt safe.
At least for the moment.

* * *

Back in the cabin, Eva found some newspaper and twisted it up with several sticks of wood. When she realized she didn't have anything to light it with, in the same instant, she remembered she had matches in her on-call bag.

She slipped from beneath her blanket and snatched the nylon bag from the table. Finding the matches, she went to the fireplace, and after several tries, lit the paper. The wet firewood hissed for a few minutes, and then finally, a steady flame licked at the logs. Soon, the heat was radiating through the cabin.

Eva rubbed her hands together. "Wonderful."

Jack still wore the flimsy hospital gown with the imprint: ZT across the front. He sat on the toboggan with the blankets wrapped around his legs. A puddle of water had formed under him where the snow had melted.

"We better get you in some real clothes," Eva said.

Jack grinned. "I don't think you're the right size."

"I believe the guy who owns the cabin might have some that fit."

"He won't mind?" Jack asked.

Eva shook her head. "No, he's only here about once a year. I just keep an eye on the place for him. He won't care, especially under the circumstances."

Jack shifted his weight. "I am a little cold now that you mention it. Maybe I better get off this sled."

Jack stood and wrapped the blankets around him modestly. His legs were still rubbery, but his mind was clear.

Eva took the toboggan and stood it up by the front door. "Let me go see what I can find for you to wear."

"I'll be right here," Jack said. He sat down Indian style in front of the fireplace.

Eva returned a few minutes later with an armful of clothes and a pair of boots. "Here you go."

"They even match," Jack said. "Just like a woman to make a fashion statement under any conditions."

Jack tried on the clothes while Eva pretended to turn her back.
After all, she'd already seen him in his birthday suit.
He didn't know it, but he was naked in the ER following his accident.

After some tugging, Jack managed to fit into the clothes. Even the shoes fit, Eva observed, with the thick socks she had brought him. "They look like they were made for you."

Jack smiled. "This is much better. That hospital gown is definitely not outdoor-wear. Now if I could just get something to eat."

Helga Samulson couldn't stop thinking about Jack McDermott. Despite Dr. Leah's kind words and Bob Bradley's word that whoever had failed to notify her would be reprimanded, she couldn't help but feel something was amiss.
People just don't die like that.
She had seen countless patients come and go during the course of her career and had never seen anything like it.

As she stood outside the nurses' lounge and prepared to leave, Helga suddenly recognized the feeling that had plagued her all evening, a sort of vague anxiety and ennui. The new orderly who had picked up McDermott. He seemed out of place and awkward.

Then she remembered.

She had seen him on her way to work earlier that day.
Dressed completely different!
Why would an orderly come to work dressed in a suit and tie and accompanied by two other men in similar dress? Helga felt her entire body flush.

Someone's lying!

Helga stared a hole in the floor tile. She had always prided herself on good instincts and knowing whom she could trust. Now, for the first time in years, Helga felt alone, uncertain which way to turn. Suddenly, it occurred to her that the only person who might be able to verify what she'd been told was the staff pathologist, Dr. Bailey. She decided she'd pay him a visit and see what he had to say about McDermott's death. She didn't know him personally, but the few times she'd spoke with him, he seemed very professional and easy to talk to. But would he even be here at this hour?

Brimming with new resolve, Helga rushed down the hall and climbed on the elevator and headed for the basement. She exited the elevator and found herself standing almost in total darkness. The dim glare of a lone fluorescent bulb was the only source of light in the entire corridor. In the quiet of the basement, her heels sounded like gunshots as they clicked against the slick tile floor. She scanned the hall for the sign of anyone else, but the only sound she heard was her own pulse in her head. Rounding the corner near the morgue door, her heart sank as she saw it was closed and dark.
Damn!
Just for the hell of it she grabbed the knob and shook it. To her astonishment, the door swung open and Helga Samulson stood staring at a row of corpses lined up on metal gurneys.

Zurich Trauma Center was a large octagon affair, where, if you walked long enough, you would end up back where you started. If you were in a hurry or didn't want to walk the long way, there were alternative breezeways you could take to reach your destination. Jonah planned to take one of these alternate routes to get into the hospital without being seen.

Dusk fell and Jonah's last shadow disappeared into the coming night. This time of evening the hospital operated with a skeleton staff. Jonah went virtually unnoticed as he lumbered across the grounds toward the back entrance. Even the crunch of the snow under his massive bulk, was drowned out by the gigantic heating fans on the roof. He disappeared behind a row of English Boxwood hedge that lined the perimeter of the building. Waiting until he was within a few feet of the exit door, he stepped from the shadows.

As a staff physician, Jonah had master keys to all the doors, so it was no problem to gain entry. The back exit was only used by maintenance to empty trash, which was done after midnight. A fact Jonah learned by spending many late nights at the morgue and leaving by that very exit. Standing at the rear doors, Jonah used his key to enter. A siren off in the distance jarred his thoughts.
Probably an ambulance ride for some unlucky skier.

The entrance was dimly lit with a lone florescent light that reflected off the white tile floor. The deserted corridors of the hospital felt almost sepulchral at this hour. Jonah's muscles were tense as he hurried in through the heavy steel doors. This wing of Zurich Trauma was nothing but offices and conference rooms. Arriving at the main door of Medical Records, he found it locked. Jonah would have to get into their office if he hoped to find Jack's files.
Maybe he could slip into the office while the clerk was at dinner?

Bradley may have taken the records, but there should still be a computer file.

Jonah's heart was racing as he tried to jimmy the lock on the door.
Forget it.
As he turned, getting ready to check the other door, a light came on down the hall. The sound of footfalls accompanied by voices, loomed behind him.

Jonah felt his chest tighten.
Hide or be killed!

Instinctively, Jonah lunged toward the first door he could find and wretched the knob. To his amazement, it opened and he threw himself in. As if to give voice to his own fear, someone was on a cell phone just outside the door. The conversation was muffled by the throbbing of his own pulse in his ears. Jonah felt everything spinning around him now. His eyes swept the room and he saw he had stepped into someone's office. It looked vaguely familiar. Then by the small light on the mahogany desk, he saw the nameplate and knew where he was.
Bradley's office!