Viral

by Robin Cook

  “Thank you,” Brian said insincerely, sensing that Charles was merely humoring him. “Until recently I had good health insurance, so I never concerned myself with hospital bills, like when my daughter was born prematurely. I now think that was a big mistake. Everyone, myself included, is guilty of giving you people free rein, and your greed and your secrecy has had no bounds. You are all new age robber barons.”

  Brian was just getting warmed up in giving this haughty, unprincipled businessman a dressing-down when he was again interrupted by the arrival of additional security. On this occasion it was an older uniformed patrolman who, like Brian had done years ago, was clearly earning some extra money covering the hospital on his day off. As he ran into the room, keeping the various police paraphernalia attached to his service belt from falling out, he pulled up short when he saw him. Almost simultaneously they recognized each other.

  “Brian Murphy?” the officer questioned with shock. He’d been warned that a deranged individual had broken into the hospital CEO’s office.

  “Liam Byrne?” Brian questioned. He’d not seen Liam for almost two years, and the man had gone prematurely gray. Plus, the face mask made recognition more difficult.

  Charles immediately pricked up his ears at this interaction between apparent old acquaintances. Speaking scornfully to Liam, he said: “Do you know this trespasser?”

  “Yes. He’s with the NYPD, like myself. In fact, he’s a member of the elite Emergency Service Unit. And his father, rest his soul, was commander of my precinct.”

  “That’s a shock,” Charles said with a mixture of disgust and disbelief. “A policeman! It’s hard to believe with the way he’s carrying on. He should have known better. Well, you’ve saved him from himself, but get him the hell out before I have him arrested for trespassing and criminal intimidation.”

  “Yes, sir,” Liam said. He stepped up to Brian and whispered, “I think it’s best I walk you out of here with no arguments.”

  For a moment of indecision, Brian looked back and forth between Charles Kelley and Liam Byrne. He had a lot more that he wanted to say to Charles, but seeing a community friend, particularly one who’d known his father, shocked him back to a sense of reality. In his confused state of mind brought on by Emma’s death, the last thing he should have done was rush into Charles Kelley’s office and make accusations. He shuddered to think of what might have happened had the limo driver drawn his gun before coming into the room or if the other security people had been armed. Someone could have been killed, and there was a chance it could very well have been him.

  Suddenly feeling embarrassed, he locked eyes with Liam and said: “Okay! You’re right. Let’s go.”

  Liam grasped Brian’s upper arm, and the two of them walked out. The secretary didn’t say anything as they passed her desk, but her expression suggested she was satisfied that her quick thinking had saved the day. They started down the hallway, but behind them they could hear Charles ranting and raging about how the hell such a miscreant had been able to saunter into his office.

  Brian and Liam didn’t say anything until they’d reached the hospital lobby, where they knew they could talk without being overheard.

  “What on earth were you doing in there mouthing off to the hospital CEO?” Liam asked in a forced half whisper, sounding truly concerned. “He’s a bad dude from what I know.”

  “My wife, Emma, died about an hour ago. I wasn’t thinking,” he said after letting out a deflating sigh.

  “Mary, Mother of God, I’m so sorry. What was it, an accident? Or Covid?”

  “No, neither.” He struggled against tears and had to take a few breaths in an attempt to keep them at bay. Despite his best efforts his eyes brimmed and a few tears ran down his cheeks, which he wiped away with the back of his hand. “She died of a viral disease called eastern equine encephalitis,” he added when he could.

  “I’ve never heard of it,” Liam said, putting an empathetic hand on Brian’s shoulder.

  “I hadn’t heard of it, either,” Brian admitted. He took a deep breath. “But apparently we are going to hear a lot more about it in the coming years thanks to climate change. It’s transmitted by mosquitoes that used to live in the tropics, but because it’s getting warm, they’re now all the way up to Maine and beyond.”

  “Another virus we have to worry about besides coronavirus?”

  “I’m afraid so,” Brian said with another sigh.

  “Were you really mouthing off to Charles Kelley about climate change?” Liam asked.

  Despite his precarious mental state, Brian let out a brief laugh and shook his head. “Hardly,” he said. “No, I wanted to make sure he knew that there was a chance my wife died after she had been discharged while she was still sick because I couldn’t pay any of her nearly two-hundred-thousand-dollar insane hospital bill. At least that’s what I’m afraid happened. I’ve been learning a lot of shady things about hospitals and health insurance companies the hard way. They’re in this together, sucking money out of the system like there’s no tomorrow.”

  “What about our great health benefits as members of the NYPD?” Liam said. “How did you end up owing so much money?”

  Although he was tired of once again explaining, Brian went ahead and described how he and Emma had retired from the NYPD to form their own security company and ended up with Peerless Health Insurance, which he described as legalized fraud. “These short-term health policies collect your premiums but then figure out a way of avoiding paying for most everything. Of course, I didn’t read the policy. I mean, nobody reads their health insurance policies.”

  “You got that right,” Liam said.

  “The hospital is already suing me,” Brian went on to elaborate. “And as I understand, that kind of aggressive, sped-up approach is all Charles Kelley’s doing. He even had the hospital form their own collections division.”

  “I’ve heard he’s a mean son of a bitch,” Liam agreed. “I steer clear. Do you remember Grady Quillen?”

  “Yeah, I do,” Brian said. “I’m surprised you brought him up, because he is the one who served me the papers for the hospital suit against me.”

  “That’s why I mentioned him. I’d heard he worked as a process server after his retirement for the collections department here. I thought he might be someone for you to talk with for some advice.”

  “He gave me the name of a lawyer,” he said. “He also told me how busy he is, meaning that MMH Inwood is suing a lot of people, so I’m not alone.”

  “I can second that. A neighbor of mine is also being sued.”

  “He said the same thing about one of his neighbors,” Brian said. “MMH Inwood is a lot more predatory than I thought. Until this happened, I’d always considered it a valuable part of the community. Now I’m not so sure.”

  “How did you get here?”

  “I came in an ambulance,” Brian said.

  “I could call the precinct and have a squad car come and drive you home,” Liam offered.

  “No need,” he said. “It’s a short walk. But thanks for offering.”

  After a final conversation about how much everyone at the precinct missed Deputy Inspector Conor Murphy, Brian said goodbye. He thanked Liam for coming to his rescue in Charles Kelley’s office, admitting that he’d gone there in a fit of rage without giving it any thought.

  As Brian emerged back out into the sunshine, he stopped for a moment to eye the gleaming black Maybach sedan again. Seeing as the luxury car was owned by someone involved with healthcare, it seemed immoral at best.

  CHAPTER 16

  August 31

  In a kind of trance, Brian headed home totally unaware of his surroundings. The impulsive, histrionic display in Kelley’s office was so contrary to his usual style of careful planning and goal-oriented behavior. He knew that there was no way the episode could help rectify the situation in which he now found himself tra
pped. To make matters worse, calling Charles Kelley a new age robber baron was probably kowtowing to the man’s monumental ego.

  Turning onto Park Terrace East and starting up the hill, Brian slowed his pace and then stopped. In the middle of his brooding, he realized what had really propelled him into Kelley’s office: It had been a way to avoid facing Juliette, Aimée, and Hannah or even thinking about telling them the horrible news. In many ways he was unconsciously denying Emma’s death, and the act of telling the others, including Camila, would shatter that tenuous denial.

  “Maybe they already called the hospital,” Brian wondered out loud, but he knew that was wishful thinking. The burden of the truth was most likely squarely on him. What he feared the most was telling Juliette. He couldn’t even imagine what her reaction was going to be.

  Taking a deep breath, Brian recommenced walking. He knew he was not as adept in the psychological arena as he was in the action realm, so for the next few minutes he tried not to think at all.

  From the moment Brian entered the house he could tell that the news had not preceded him. He could hear the songful cartoon soundtrack of Pinkalicious & Peterrific coming from the kitchen, and Aimée and Hannah were in the living room quietly talking. Both adults immediately appeared in the foyer’s archway as Brian removed his mask and shoes.

  “How is Emma?” Aimée asked warily. Hannah was standing next to her, but slightly behind, with a look of agonizing worry on her face.

  Once again Brian choked up as he had with Liam Byrne. It took him a minute to pull himself together. By then both women knew what was coming. “Emma didn’t make it,” Brian finally managed with difficulty.

  Hannah let out a high-pitched but thankfully short-lived wail as her face contorted into an expression of horror. In contrast, Aimée responded by putting her arms around Brian and hugging him tightly. “I can’t imagine what you are feeling. I’m so, so sorry, mon fils.”

  “Thank you,” Brian choked. While Aimée held on to him, with a halting voice he recounted the details of what had happened. It was difficult to repeat, but he thought they deserved to know.

  Finally, Aimée let go of Brian and exchanged a quick glance with Hannah, who had quieted down. “We have to tell Juliette,” Aimée said, keeping her emotions in check.

  Hannah nodded several times, wiping tears from her face. “Yes, that’s the first thing that needs to be done, no question, and it should be Brian who does it.”

  “Bien sûr,” Aimée added. “I agree completely.”

  “And a wake has to be planned and notices sent out,” Hannah said. “There is a lot to do.”

  “I don’t want a wake,” Brian blurted. He was shocked that such a suggestion was Hannah’s first reaction, but he knew he shouldn’t have been. He was well aware that Hannah’s method of dealing with any crisis was to suppress emotion with activity and planning. Emma had pointed it out on multiple occasions.

  “But there has to be a wake!” Hannah countered in a manner that brooked no argument. “It’s expected!” She was equally shocked at Brian’s response, which was a sharp break from recognized and revered Irish tradition.

  “Not here,” Brian pleaded. “Not around Juliette. And I have to think about what I can afford. Plus, these are not normal times.” As he spoke Brian realized he had no idea what Emma would have wanted. Despite the dangers they’d confronted as NYPD ESU officers, they’d never spoken with each other about their deaths and what their preferences might be.

  “Well, there has to be a wake and a funeral mass even if it is limited because of the pandemic. And we can help with the expenses.”

  “Not here,” Brian repeated, but realized this spur-of-the-moment response might seem selfish to Hannah and her family. He and Emma, although they’d grown up with a strong Irish connection to the Catholic faith, had drifted away from it during college. Neither had made a complete apostasy, but both felt the church was too ritualistic and out of touch with the times. As a consequence, they had not kept up with all the obligations on a regular basis, like going to mass and attending confession.

  “That’s fine,” Hannah said with resignation. To her credit, she recovered quickly. “We can have the wake at our house. I can also make all the arrangements for the funeral mass at the Church of the Good Shepherd. Meanwhile you two and Camila can concentrate on Juliette. Is there a funeral home involved yet?”

  “I called Riverside on Broadway,” Brian said.

  “A good choice,” Hannah said. “I’ve worked with them before. They are very professional.”

  “That was my experience, too,” Aimée said. “They were particularly helpful with Conor’s funeral.”

  “I remember,” Hannah recalled. “All right, I’m off. Good luck with Juliette.” Without waiting for a response, she bent down and slipped on her shoes. She then put on her mask. “Let’s be in touch,” she added before leaving.

  “Wow,” Brian let out as he closed the front door behind Hannah. “She’s really motivated.”

  “Hannah has been like that for as long as I’ve known her,” Aimée said. “It’s her defense mechanism. And I’m not surprised. After all, it is an Irish tradition with a death to channel emotion as much as possible into celebration rather than pure mourning. It’s a tradition I’ve come to appreciate, especially after your father’s passing.”

  “Yes, I remember you saying as much.”

  “Now it is time for the difficult part,” Aimée said. “Are you ready to face your daughter?”

  “Hardly,” Brian admitted, his heart squeezing in his chest. “Do you really think I can do this?”

  “Absolutely,” Aimée reassured him. “It has to be you. Do you want a suggestion? I don’t want to interfere, but as your mother I do have some advice.”

  “Please,” Brian said, desperate for any guidance.

  “This would be a good time to take advantage of some of the consoling power of faith,” Aimée advised. “For the last year I’ve been taking Juliette to mass with me, which I’ve appreciated you and Emma allowing. She’s absorbed a lot. Although she mostly enjoys the dressing-up part, she has been responsive to discussions about beliefs, especially when we talked about heaven and Grandpa Conor. I think it is a way of making death seem not so final, particularly in a child’s mind.”

  “Okay, I guess I can do that,” Brian said, thankful for any suggestions.

  “I know you can,” Aimée said while giving Brian’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

  Together, Brian and Aimée went into the kitchen. Juliette looked up at them briefly but then went back to watching her PBS cartoon. Brian motioned for Camila to step out into the hallway, while Aimée sat down with Juliette and watched TV.

  Once out of the room, Brian told Camila the news about Emma.

  “No, no!” Camila muffled her voice as she made the sign of the cross. “I’m so sorry, Brian.”

  “Thank you. I’m still in a kind of denial about it all, but I have to tell Juliette, as hard as it will be. How has she been doing after seeing the seizure?”

  “Not so good,” Camila said. “At first, I couldn’t get her to talk about it. Then, when she did, she didn’t say much and instead started complaining again about not feeling well.”

  “How so?”

  “First she says she’s not hungry and feels sick to her stomach,” Camila began. “She won’t eat anything no matter what I suggest. And she’s complaining again she has a headache. But it can’t be much of a headache because all she wants to do is watch TV, so I don’t know what it is. In general, she’s very cranky, which I suppose is entirely understandable.”

  “Has she said anything at all about what she saw?”

  “No, not a word,” Camila said. “And I didn’t know whether to bring it up. I mean, it upset me. It was so violent.”

  “It’s very disturbing,” Brian agreed. “Especially the second time. All
right, thank you. Either way, I have to tell her that her mother is gone and hope we can handle her reaction.”

  Despite all the hostage-negotiating seminars and discussions he’d had during his ESU training, Brian now felt totally unequipped to deal with his own four-year-old daughter. Nonetheless, he walked back into the kitchen and sat at the breakfast nook table across from his mother and Juliette. Unsure how to begin, he first reached out, picked up the remote off the table, and turned off the TV.

  Juliette reacted instantly and angrily, reaching for the remote, but Brian extended it beyond her reach. “I need to talk with you, Juliette,” he told her. “After that we can turn the TV back on.”

  Juliette looked at her father with obvious anger as if she knew what was coming, yet Brian persisted, trying to think of the best way to take his mother’s suggestion. “Mommy was very sick, as you know,” he began, “and she wasn’t feeling better, but now she has gone to heaven and all her pain is gone. She’s with Grandpa Conor, and they are very happy being together.”

  For a few seconds Brian closed his eyes, feeling monumentally unsuited for this discussion, saying things he didn’t quite believe himself. And for a brief moment he wondered if Heather Williams and Charles Kelley ever thought that their behavior led to horrible situations like these, ones that should never have to happen. When he opened his eyes, Juliette was still staring at him as if digesting what Brian had said. Taking a deep breath, he continued: “So, Mommy will not be coming home. But I want you to know that I am here for you, as are your grandmas and Camila. We are all here for you.”

  Suddenly Juliette let out a tortured wail somewhat akin to Hannah’s, then scrambled out of her seat and leaped onto Brian’s lap. With her arms around his neck and her legs around his midsection, she hugged him tightly and buried her face in his shirt. He could feel her sob. Brian hugged her back and exchanged a helpless glance with Aimée. He didn’t know what to do or what else to say. But one thing he did know was that Juliette was his sole responsibility and his life’s work from that moment on.