Luke stood there in amazement, blinking to make sure Gentry was for real. Up close, Luke noticed some red splotches on Rob’s cheek. Was it blood? Or lipstick?
“Aortic cross clamp!?” Rob exclaimed as he examined Kim’s open abdomen. “Nice move, Daulton. Her uterus looks like hell, though—not sure I can save it. Stitch! Give me a two-O vicryl suture.”
Relief and hope surged through Luke. Maybe they could yet save Kim.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
TUESDAY, NOVEMBER 23, 12:20 A.M.
Luke was breathing hard as he raced down to the main OR complex on the second floor. It had been very tough to leave Kim and Abi, but Luke had grave concerns about the senator. This whole thing was deadly serious, if Seidle had been willing to murder to keep them quiet. A plot to kill the senator now seemed not only plausible, but likely. And then there was Katz. What had he said before he left? “Trouble with the senator.” Luke wondered what kind of trouble—and hoped he wasn’t too late.
Luke felt reasonably sure Kim would be safe with the FBI agent/nurse, and Rob. Mark Seidle was certainly no longer a threat. So much had happened so fast, he could barely make sense of it all. He couldn’t tell if he was in shock or on cloud nine. Thirty minutes ago, Kim had almost died right before his eyes. And Abi, too. Not to mention facing his own death at the hands of that butcher, Mark Seidle. And now Seidle’s brains were spattered all over the wall.
In spite of it all, Luke felt totally exhilarated that they had saved Kim and Abi. Thank God for that FBI agent—she had really come out of the blue. And thank God Rob Gentry had been at the hospital—presumably to rendezvous with Gwen. They always said God works in strange ways. Even all the God-talk didn’t sound so weird.
Just as Luke got up to the main OR entrance, he saw Nikolai coming out.
“Nikolai, what room is the senator having surgery in?” Luke asked, out of breath.
Nikolai smiled widely but didn’t answer. He looked drugged up, although, Luke thought, that wasn’t uncommon.
“Nikolai,” Luke said louder, grabbing his arm. “What room?”
Nikolai bristled. “OR 5.” One of his hands slid into his pocket. He giggled and added, “Is going shitty in there.”
Luke pushed by him and ran to OR 5. An armed guard was posted at the door. Luke briefly debated his course of action. He had to find out for himself if the senator was doing okay, but he had to feel out the situation carefully because he wasn’t exactly sure who to trust. He didn’t have time for a long explanation, and they wouldn’t believe him anyway. All he had was a strange puzzle that his almost-deceased wife had solved. He pulled a slip of paper from his pocket and approached the guard. “I’m Dr. Daulton and I have critical lab values they need to see,” he said, waving it in front of the guard’s nose. He didn’t wait for an answer but continued through the door.
Before he could make it over to Stu Whitman at the head of the OR table, he was tackled from behind and went down hard. For the second time that night, he felt a gun barrel shoved painfully against his head. The wind was knocked out of him and he could barely speak.
“Hold it right there, pal,” a steely voice growled behind him. “Who the hell are you? And how’d you get in here?”
Luke struggled to look up. “I’m Dr. Daulton. I’m here to help,” he said weakly. He twisted his neck around so he could get a look at the stern face of a large Secret Service agent. Stu Whitman looked very intense and was drawing up drugs and mixing drips frantically. “Stu, is the senator okay?” Luke asked.
“What are you doing here?” Stu asked, flashing him a baffled look. Stu turned to the agent. “Let him up, Jensen. He’s my partner.”
“Not so fast,” Jensen said, although he eased the barrel off of Luke’s head. “Anyone who comes busting in here like that is a suspect until I say otherwise. I’m responsible for the well being of the senator here.”
“Luke,” Stu said, “I’m worried that the senator might have malignant hyperthermia.”
“Are you kidding?” Luke was incredulous.
“His temp’s up, and so is his C02. I just sent a blood gas. I could really use your help.”
Malignant hyperthermia! So, was this what Katz was up to? “I thought Katz came down here to help you. Where is he?”
“He was here—he helped me put the senator to sleep—but then he went up for Kim’s C-section. I thought he was with you.”
“He was. But then he left.” Katz had to be in on the plot. It fit; he had been involved in every aspect, from Mrs. Hinkle’s case just two weeks ago, to Kim’s total spinal, and now the senator. Luke’s gut feeling had been right all along. A flash of insight blazed across his mind. “Stu, what exactly did Katz help you do?”
“He started that big IV there,” Stu said, pointing to the senator’s right arm.
“Maybe you should get rid of that IV, Stu. You’re not going to believe this, but I think someone’s trying to kill the senator.”
Luke suddenly felt a boot on his back, crushing him to the floor, and the muzzle of the gun returned to his head. “What the fuck are you talking about?” asked Jensen, his voice now threatening. “Did you say ‘kill the senator’?”
“If you take your boot off me so I can breathe,” Luke gasped, “maybe I’ll tell you.”
The pressure eased a little. “Go on.”
“I believe there’s a plot to kill the senator and I think Dr. Katz is involved. And I think Dr. Seidle was, too.”
“Katz? Seidle?” Stu asked, still looking confused. “What do you mean, was?”
“It’s a long story,” Luke said, realizing he didn’t know who he could trust. Could Stu be one of them?
Jensen, without easing his boot off Luke’s back any further, turned quickly to Stu. “The senator’s doing okay, right? Five minutes ago, you told me everything was fine.”
Before Stu could answer, one of the circulating nurses walked over to Stu and handed him a piece of paper.
“Blood gas, Doctor,” she said.
Stu held up his finger to keep Jensen at bay and studied the paper. The blood quickly drained from Stu’s face.
“Well, is he?” Jensen shouted.
“No,” Stu finally got out, his voice barely more than a whisper. “He’s having a bad reaction to the anesthesia. It’s called malignant hyperthermia.”
“So, you can fix it, right?” Jensen asked.
“Maybe,” Stu said. “It’s potentially fatal. Somewhere around 50 percent mortality.”
“Jesus Christ!” Jensen took his boot off Luke. He waved his gun about wildly, searching in vain for some elusive target.
“Stu, are you sure he has malignant hyperthermia?” Luke asked from the floor.
Jensen whirled and leveled his gun at Luke. “Not another word from you.”
“Yeah, Luke,” Stu said, ignoring Jensen. Stu bent down and showed Luke the blood gas report. “Look, his blood gas is shit—pH 7.12.”
That’s bad, all right, Luke thought, but his mind was reeling with conspiracy theories. Mimi Hinkle’s Case One came back to him, and he remembered how her arm wasn’t hot to the touch. Something had bothered him about that all along, even though she was acidotic as hell, too. An idea formed; he thought there was a chance he might yet be able to save the senator. “Stu, you gotta listen to me,” Luke said.
“No he doesn’t,” Jensen fired back. “Look, pal, the senator’s in deep shit and our man Doc Whitman needs to concentrate and fix it—not jaw with you about your crazy theories. Now we’re getting you the fuck out of here.” He grabbed Luke roughly under his arm while keeping the gun on him. “We can do this the easy way or the hard way,” he said as he hauled Luke to his feet.
Luke caught Jensen’s eye. “Listen, I’m trying to help. The senator’ll die if you don’t listen to me.” He could hear Stu in the background barking frantic orders to the anesthesia techs for dantrolene and ice packs.
Jensen froze for a moment, then something seemed to get through to him. Although he still maintained a firm
grasp on Luke’s arm and had his gun dug into Luke’s ribs, he looked Luke in the eye and said in a low but deadly serious voice, “You got ten seconds, Doc.”
“Stu, are you sure he’s hot?” Luke asked.
“The temp probe’s registering 39 degrees,” Stu answered with growing impatience. “I gotta pack his body in ice now, before it’s too late.”
“Forget the probe, Stu!” Luke yelled. “At that temperature, his body should be red hot to the touch.”
“Yeah, so what.” Stu began packing the senator’s head in ice.
“Touch him, Stu,” Luke pleaded.
“You’re not making sense.” Stu paused to look at Luke. “I have touched him, okay? He’s hot. Here, you touch him.” Stu motioned to Luke and Jensen. Jensen nodded.
Luke touched the senator’s forehead, which was dripping with perspiration despite his head being encased in ice. He quickly withdrew his hand. The senator’s forehead was indeed burning up—the fever was definitely real. Luke was now totally baffled. Did that mean the MH was real and he was wrong about Katz? Was it all just a crazy coincidence? What the hell was going on?
“Okay, genius,” Jensen said, “time’s up.” He shook his head. “That was your best shot? I’m no doctor, but I can read the fuckin’ thermometer over there.” He pointed to the temp probe, which now ominously registered 40 degrees Celsius. “The senator’s burning up and Doc Whitman needs to fix that.” Jensen started leading Luke toward the door. “You’re outta here.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
TUESDAY, NOVEMBER 23, 12:20 A.M.
Katz rounded the corner into the third floor OB unit just in time to see two nurses wheeling Mrs. Daulton into the elevator. “Where are you taking her?” he asked, desperate to find out what was going on.
“To the SICU,” answered Diane, her voice quavering. She looked pretty shook up—it must’ve been a rough case. Katz quickly assessed the situation. Mrs. Daulton was asleep and intubated and Diane was bagging her with an Ambu bag. An OB nurse he didn’t know was at the foot of the litter helping with the transport. Blood was hanging and running into the patient’s IV. He scanned the transport monitor—her vital signs looked decent, except her blood pressure was marginally low.
What the hell had happened in there? Things didn’t make any sense. Why was Kim Daulton going to the SICU? The total spinal shouldn’t have landed her in the SICU. Could this be the result of Plan B? No, he quickly reasoned. If Seidle had decided to take decisive action, she should be dead. Could it be just a coincidence that the C-section had gone bad in the delivery room, as they sometimes did? He found this hard to believe.
He did know that things were moving goddamn fast and threatening to unravel. He needed to tie up loose ends quickly here—Secret Service agents were crawling all over the place. And why the hell wasn’t Luke Daulton with his wife? Something definitely didn’t add up. Time to sort things out.
“Diane,” he said, “it’s a real mess in the OR. It looks like the senator is having a malignant hyperthermia episode.” No time for secrets now.
“Wow, we just had one two weeks ago,” Diane said as she maneuvered her end of the stretcher into the cramped elevator.
“Yes, I know,” Katz said, working hard to control his breathing. “Why don’t you go down there and help out. I know Dr. Whitman could use an extra hand.”
Katz ignored Diane’s pained expression and pressed on. “I think we got the situation under control, but when I heard Mrs. Daulton was having problems, I had to come see what had happened.” Katz paused, trying to read her. “I mean, obviously the senator’s extremely important and all, but Stu’s got a good handle on things. The bottom line is, we take care of our own, right?” This seemed to have the desired effect. He got onto the elevator. “Listen, Diane, you go help Dr. Whitman, and I’ll stay here and take care of Mrs. Daulton, personally.” He put on his best caring smile and patted Kim’s leg.
“Okay, Dr. Katz,” she said reluctantly. “But did you hear what happened in the delivery room?” She was squeezing the Ambu bag a little too vigorously and her hand was trembling.
The OB nurse at the foot of the bed suddenly spoke up. “Diane, you go now. I’ll fill Dr. Katz in on all the details.” She stared at Diane and the two traded looks.
“Okay,” Diane said, sighing with resignation. “I’ll get right down there.” She handed the Ambu over to Katz and got off the elevator.
The door started to close, but Katz stopped it with his foot. “Oh, Diane,” he said. “Where’s Dr. Daulton? I would’ve thought you couldn’t pry him away from his wife.”
“He said he was going to the OR to help with the senator. The two of you must’ve just missed each other.”
“Thanks,” he said. What the hell was Daulton up to? It didn’t matter—he was too late to save the senator anyway.
The elevator door glided shut. Katz turned his attention to the OB nurse. He could now read her ID badge as Jenna Steele and it also identified her as a traveling nurse. He didn’t know anything about her. Curiously, she was staring at him.
“Miss Steele, what happened in there? Did Dr. Seidle run into a lot of bleeding? Is the baby okay?”
Jenna continued to study him. Finally she said, “Yeah, there was quite a bit of hemorrhage. Dr. Gentry came in to help stop the bleeding.”
So Gwen was telling the truth. Rob Gentry was here.
“Where is Dr. Gentry?”
“He said he had to check on another patient,” she replied. Probably Gwen, Katz thought.
“The baby’s fine,” Jenna added.
Suddenly it hit him hard. Where was Mark Seidle? Getting info out of this nurse was proving harder than he thought. He didn’t have all night here. “Where’s Dr. Seidle?”
She looked him in the eye. “Dr. Daulton knocked him senseless after he realized Seidle was bleeding her to death.”
Oh, shit! Katz could hardly believe his ears. Plan fucking B! Amazing. “What the hell are you talking about?” he said. Nurse Steele didn’t answer but continued to stare at him.
Katz knew Seidle well. Yeah, he wanted the money badly, but he didn’t seem to have the balls to kill someone. He must’ve had a really good reason to execute Plan B. What could possibly have forced his hand?
The elevator binged at the second floor and the door whooshed open. He looked up at the lit-up numbers above the door, and then it dawned on him—Kim must’ve solved the Sudoku. What else could it be? That would explain Seidle’s drastic action. Perhaps it would also explain why Daulton wasn’t with her. Damn that twerpy FBI agent! He deserved his fiery fate. And damn Daulton! Always trying to help, putting his nose in where it didn’t belong.
They rolled into the SICU and entered the second room on the left. Katz quickly hooked Kim up to the ventilator to free his hands from the Ambu bag. Time was of the essence here, and he needed to take care of business.
“Listen, Jenna, I’ll take it from here. You can go back to OB now. Take a break or something. I’ll wait for the SICU nurse and give report.”
“I promised Dr. Daulton I’d keep an eye on his wife,” she said.
Unbelievable! It seemed this nurse had a backbone and was copping an attitude. Most nurses would’ve hightailed it out of there. “He obviously didn’t know I would be here,” he said, not bothering to hide his irritation. “I need to give her some pain medication.”
He approached Kim. Jenna amazed him further by moving to block him. More than a little attitude. What was this bitch’s problem?
“It doesn’t really look like she needs any medicine, now, does it, Dr. Katz,” Jenna said. She threw a glance over at Kim, who was sleeping peacefully.
Katz was momentarily dumbfounded. What the fuck! He felt his face flush. “Look, Nurse, are you telling me how to practice medicine? I said, I’ll take it from here.” He started to push her aside. “Now get the hell out of my way so I can do my job.” Her shoulder felt a lot more solid than he would’ve expected.
“Let me make this clea
r, Doc,” Jenna said, holding her ground, her face inches from his. “I’m not leaving her side, and you’re not giving her anything.” She glared at him. “I already saw this lady almost get killed. It’s not gonna happen again.”
“Who the fuck are you?” Katz snarled and pushed so hard that she gave up some ground. He pulled a syringe out of his pocket and readied it. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her back up a step. Then her hand blurred.
“I said get away from her!” She emphasized her point by leveling a large-caliber, semi-automatic pistol at him. She pulled out a badge with her other hand. “FBI,” she said.
Katz was stunned again. He backed away from Kim and returned the syringe to his pocket. He wished to hell he hadn’t given Seidle the Makarov. He strained to think. The fucking FBI. What’re they doing here? Daulton couldn’t have called them this quickly.
As if to answer his question, she said, “Benjamin Harris sent me.”
CHAPTER FORTY
TUESDAY, NOVEMBER 23, 12:25 A.M.
Gwen paced nervously around Katz’s office. The scent of burnt candles hung heavily in the air, and she found this odd, but dismissed it. Would Katz play ball? Where was he? She needed all her wits about her to pull off this meeting with him, but her unreliable, pathetic mind kept drifting back to Rob. Rob had sounded so serious on the phone earlier this evening when they had arranged to meet. What was it he had said? “I have something important to tell you.” These words kept coming back to her, haunting her—the words she dreaded. She knew he probably wanted to break it off with her—again. She could read the writing on the wall, after all. Life just wasn’t fair.
She thought back to their brief meeting in the call room earlier. They had barely gotten to say hello, and were in the middle of a good, hard kiss when that frantic OB nurse came barging in.
“Dr. Gentry, come quick!” the nurse had urged.
Gwen and Rob quickly disengaged, Rob looking sheepish, as he tried to wipe her lipstick off of his face.
“I’m sorry to bother you,” the nurse added after sizing up the situation, “but it’s Mrs. Daulton. She’s dying!” She threw a sour look at Gwen as she grabbed Rob by the hand and pulled him out the door. “Dr. Daulton needs you!”
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