Michael’s most recent chest X rays—taken about an hour ago— were up on a nearby viewing box beside the ones done last night when he was admitted. The whited-out areas were clearly larger, indicating the infection was spreading. I blocked out images of lungs in Tupperware that tried to crowd in on my thoughts.
The nurses found it reassuring that as of yet his sputum hadn’t turned copiously purulent. “It may be too early for staph,” I told them, while thinking it may already be too late for my friend.
I turned back to the cubicle as Rossit threaded a plastic catheter into Michael’s subclavicular vein. Two residents watched with rapt attention a set of fluorescent green numbers and curving lines appearing on a small overhead monitor. These were the pressure readings that confirmed the tip of the catheter was gliding through the right-sided chambers of Michael’s heart and into the large pulmonary artery leading from the heart to the lung. Rossit could now determine Michael’s huge fluid requirements in the presence of septic shock and hydrate him properly without overloading his circulatory system.
As far as I could tell, Rossit was making Michael one of his master efforts. The most aggravating thing about enduring the little man’s bullshit over the years was getting a glimpse of what a good doctor he could be when he pulled out all the stops, then seeing him revert to his nasty one-upmanship once he’d pulled off yet another of his miracle saves.
But today there was another possible explanation for Rossit’s attentiveness. If he were involved with the killings, he might be hovering over Michael to assure his death at the first opportunity.
Rossit caught my eye through the window and quickly turned away. Whether the reaction of a man guilty of murder or simply that of a creep who had loaded the dice against me at Death Rounds this morning—either way he didn’t seem happy to see me. Fresh from my showdown with Cam, I was primed to take on little Gary.
I put on a protective outfit and stepped into the room. “Dr. Rossit, I’d like a word in private, please.” Turning to the residents, I asked, “Would you two gentlemen excuse us?” My tone of voice made it an order, not a request.
They quickly left, taking only seconds to discard their gear at the door.
Rossit eyed me over the top of his mask. “Look, Earl, about this morning—”
“Shut up, Rossit! I just got back from admitting my wife to ICU in University Hospital. She’s also been diagnosed with Legionella, and I’m in no mood for your crap!”
“Your wife!” he exclaimed. From the part of his face I could see, his shock seemed genuine enough.
“Surprised, are you, Gary?” I shot back. “I wonder. Because I think someone deliberately infected her, just like someone probably deliberately infected Michael and Stewart Deloram. Now I’m not sure why Stewart was a target, but I think Michael and Janet were attacked because they were trying to expose whoever had also infected the nurses from UH. Am I going too fast for you, Gary, or do you know this already? Stop me if you do.”
I was standing over him, making him look up at me, and I felt a glint of satisfaction at seeing his pupils widen ever so slightly. I was scaring him.
“Earl, for God’s sake, what are you saying—”
“I’m saying I’m going to expose this killer. In the meantime, nothing further had better happen to Janet or Michael, is that clear?” I refrained from my urge to tap him on the top of his head with my fingernail.
“You can’t be serious,” he protested.
“What I’ m serious about, Rossit, is that you better be at your healing best with Michael here. I’m going to be double-checking every molecule of stuff you put into him, and there damn well better not be any suspicious incidents. Got me?”
This time I did poke my index finger into his chest, then spun around and strode out of the room. I didn’t look back as I discarded my gear into the bin at the door.
“You’re crazy. Garnet,” I heard him shout from behind me, “certifiably bonkers, crazy!”
* * * *
I called the same security company and made identical arrangements for Michael’s room as I had for Janet’s. The nurses were just as puzzled as their colleagues had been at UH, but once again I gave orders, not answers. I signed out for the rest of the day and headed home to sleep. It was 2:00 P.M., but I was fighting to keep my eyes open and knew I wasn’t safe to see patients in ER. On my way out I stopped at the hospital pharmacy to get Brendan, our nanny, and myself some erythromycin.
As I stood at the counter and waited for the pharmacist to prepare the medication, I wondered about my own chances of being attacked by the Phantom. Michael and Janet had done little more than discreetly look through old records, yet that was enough to provoke this killer. I’d just confronted the two people I suspected most and practically accused them of murder. Even if I was wrong about Cam or Rossit, it was a pretty good bet that if this maniac was close enough at hand to have known what Michael and Janet were up to, he’d know what I was doing as well. I tried to convince myself that, unlike Michael and Janet, I was sure to be ready for any move he made against me. But I also decided it was time to finally tell Williams about my list of suspects, short as it was, just in case things didn’t work out the way I hoped. After all, he was the only other person left standing who was suspicious enough about the infections to take over the hunt. I’d phone him tonight, when he was back in his hotel.
In case things didn’t work out the way I hoped—I cringed as I thought of the phrase. It was one I sometimes used to prepare a patient for the possibility of death.
* * * *
Brendan was asleep when I got to the house, and I resisted picking him up and rocking with him. The Phantom could add making me afraid to touch my own son to his list of victories.
After I showed Amy, our nanny, how to give him his medicine— the banana-flavored liquid looked a lot easier to down than the big red-and-black capsules Amy and I had to cope with—I spent time explaining to her that Janet was stable and the medication for us was simply a precaution. She looked worried and asked a lot of questions about Legionella, but most of those questions were about what early signs she should watch for in Brendan.
My long overdue shower came next. I turned the nozzle on full and stepped into the heat, steam, and noise. For something like a second, enveloped in the force and feel of the water pounding down on me, my mind washed itself free and gave no thought to the gathering dangers outside.
Finally, sitting on the side of my bed, barely able to stay awake, I phoned ICU at University Hospital and learned from one of the nurses that Janet was sleeping, her condition no worse.
“By the way, the first of your guards is here,” the woman added. “He’s big, I’ll grant you that.”
“Good,” I replied sleepily.
“And your wife’s hopping mad at you about it.”
Muffy jumped up beside me as I put down the receiver and lay back, ready to surrender my mind to sleep for a while. Tonight, I thought, if Miller kept his team quiet, we might grab the shadowy figure prowling around in the asylum and put an end to the need for guards.
Lingering on, the image of that dark shape trespassed into my dreams. I was chasing it through dark passages lined with stone walls and floored with earth. However fast I ran, the form ahead disappeared around corners and turns in the endless maze. Some of the passages must have come back out behind me, because soon, whoever I was hunting was behind me, and I was running for my life.
* * * *
The ringing wouldn’t stop. It went on and on, louder and louder, piercing the blackness and hurting my ears. I knew it would go away if I waited long enough, yet every time it sounded, I got pushed closer to opening my eyes. One more ring and I’ll take a look, I promised, but I let three more go by. Finally my eyes did open, and all I saw was black. It was night, and the luminous dial on the alarm clock read 9:10. I flailed around with my hand, found the phone, and managed to get the receiver end to my ear. Cam’s voice startled me awake.
“Earl, get over
here as fast as you can!”
I was instantly on my feet. “What happened to Janet?” I believe I yelled the question.
“It’s not Janet,” he said quickly, his voice tremulous. “I think I found what Michael Popovitch discovered. You were right all along, but I have to show you, and I want Williams here as well. Do you know how I can reach him?”
I switched on the bedside lamp, found my jacket where I’d dropped it, and fished out the paper with Williams’s number.
Once I’d given it to him, he ordered, “Meet me in my lab!” then hung up without waiting for my reply.
* * * *
Twenty minutes later, at 9:32, I sped onto the grounds of University Hospital. Despite my recent practice at driving fast through waterlogged streets, it took me five minutes longer than what Janet boasted was her usual time to make it in for a delivery. I’d spent the difference at stop lights, fighting the impulse to run the red. While waiting at one intersection, I’d called my answering service. Among the messages that had piled up over the afternoon was a request I call Mr. Reginald Fosse as soon as possible.
Through the tall trees and thinning fall leaves overhead I could see the lights of the massive building and its various wings spread wide and high into the darkness. The floodlights placed around the bases of the great stone walls made each of the sections appear separate and suspended in the mist, almost floating, like a huge cube ensnared in the surrounding branches. It was a wonder Fosse’s fund-raising efforts hadn’t capitalized on the eeriness of the place to turn it into a theme park by night that reverted to a major teaching hospital by day.
I found a parking space beneath the gargoyles. Though it wasn’t raining, the mist was thick enough to leave particles of water on my windshield, and the air was so cold that I could see my breath. Huddled in my overcoat, I hurried from the car toward the entrance. I kept trying to fathom what could have caused such an about-face by Cam. And what had suddenly made him enough of a believer that he’ d gone off in search of what Michael had found in the first place? Whatever had happened, I still didn’t trust Cam and was glad that he’d called Williams to join us.
It was after visiting hours, so security once more made me sign in at their desk. Since it was the evening shift, the guards weren’t the same as on the previous night, but like the others, these two were also decked out in surgical masks. The one checking out my ID said, “Oh, Dr. Garnet, you’ll need us to let you into whichever records department you’ll be requiring.”
“Pardon?” I said, not understanding.
“Your special audit for Dr. Tippet,” he explained, sounding a little puzzled, probably at my own show of surprise. “I presumed that’s why you’re here. We received the memo from Mr. Fosse late this afternoon saying we were to give you whatever access you needed.”
“Oh, right,” I acknowledged. Wouldn’t it be ironic, I thought, if the hard-won access was no longer necessary? “Actually, I was called in to see Dr. Mackie tonight,” I explained. “I’m to meet him in his lab.”
His eyebrows shot up. “So that’s where he rushed off to. Christ, he was on his way out of the hospital around six when he came over to our desk, asked to see our sign-in book. After glancing through it, he ran for the elevators.” He leaned forward and whispered, “Is there a problem? I hope there’s not more people from the hospital with that deadly infection. I heard one of the doctors from here came down with it this morning.” I could hear the fear in his voice. “Could someone carrying that bug have signed in here and exposed us?”
“No, not at all,” I lied. “I’m sure that business is under control by now.” But I was thinking, what would Cam have wanted with the sign-in book? I finished writing Bacteriology Lab as my destination and rifled back through a few pages but couldn’t see anything in today’s entries that I could imagine being of interest to him. Shoving the ledger back toward the guard, I figured I’d probably find out what it was in a few minutes from Cam himself. One thing I noted before closing the page was that Williams hadn’t arrived yet.
It wasn’t until I got off the elevator in the first level basement and started down the deserted corridor toward the labs that I realized what I should have thought of earlier.
Perhaps Cam hadn’t gone off searching for what Michael had found after all. What if he had absolutely nothing to show me and had lied about it to bring me here? I slowed my steps and involuntarily looked over my shoulder.
Lighting in the wide hallway in this part of the hospital was bright, and the shiny floor gleamed for as far as I could see. No one was in sight. Apart from the receding noise of the elevator as it returned upstairs, there also wasn’t a sound, and the quiet of the place made me feel uneasy. I stopped walking when I reached Cam’s elaborate sign. Standing beside the words BIOLOGICAL INVESTIGATIVE STUDIES, I stared ahead into the complex of laboratories where he was waiting for me.
We wouldn’t be entirely alone, I told myself. There would be at least one lab technician on duty for emergencies, perhaps more than one if the caseload upstairs in ER was heavy. Plus Miller should be about somewhere, preparing to go into the asylum; only that minute did I remember he was supposed to have called me.
But staring down the long passageway that led into the labyrinthian series of rooms, I didn’t see a single figure come out of any of the doors or hear anyone talking. Perhaps the technicians were upstairs in ER, I thought, taking bloods. As for Miller, perhaps he was also somewhere else in the hospital, lining up the electricians and plumbers he needed. Or maybe he’d gone ahead to start the search without me. He certainly hadn’t seemed too keen to have me along. In any event, it was possible I’d end up alone with Cam down there after all.
Do I go back upstairs and wait for Williams? What if Cam hadn’t even called him? Telling me he was going to phone him could have been another lie, said to reassure me just enough that I’d agree to come and not be too wary when I went into his lab.
I instinctively moved to press my back against the wall and kept an eye in both directions. The stillness of the place was increasingly oppressive, and I began to feel stirrings of the same panic I’d nearly succumbed to one floor below in the far more claustrophobic confines of the subbasement. I was thinking perhaps I should get the security guard to accompany me when the silence was abruptly broken by the sound of a phone ringing far off in the labs.
Someone calling for a technician, I thought. One of them might be somewhere down here despite the place appearing deserted. I swallowed and began walking toward the persistent trilling.
I passed by the doors to hematology. The lights were on, but no one replied when I poked my head in and called, “Hello!” I only heard the gentle murmur of machines. I got the same result at bacteriology. The sound of the phone continued to come from a room farther down the row of departmental signs. I reminded myself that during evening hours back at St. Paul’s I’d often had to let it ring forever before getting an answer, but nevertheless I felt more than wary as I continued along the corridor. Up ahead was the bacteriology lab.
When I got near, unlike in the other rooms where the lights were on, I could see only blackness on the other side of the glass door. This wasn’t unusual. Unless a life-threatening infection was in process upstairs, no one would be doing cultures or plating Gram stains at this hour. But the ringing phone was clearly behind this door. I turned the knob. It was unlocked.
I pushed it open and looked inside. “Hello?” I said to the darkness, feeling like an idiot—a very scared idiot.
The only sound besides that incessant ringing—much louder now—was the soft hum of the ventilating hoods. I could see the illuminated digital settings for temperature and humidity control above a row of incubators on the counter nearest to me. At the far end of the room was the blue glow of a computer terminal someone had left on. The noise of the phone was coming from near there. The back of the room was black as pitch and nothing at all was visible in those recesses. I felt around the inside wall near the door but couldn’t loca
te a light switch.
The ringing kept on. Was it Cam, calling to tell me to meet him somewhere else? Or had he been suddenly summoned upstairs for some emergency? My alarm rocketed as I immediately thought of Janet. Maybe he was phoning me about her. I quickly made my way toward the sound of the phone, using the blue light of the distant computer as a beacon. Once I got near the screen, I found the receiver easily enough by the glow. It was a single line and had no indicator lights.
I picked up. “Hello, Dr. Garnet here!” My voice sounded overly loud as I broke the quiet around me.
At the other end of the connection was only silence.
“Hello?” I said again.
Nothing. Then I heard a whisper, a breath more than a voice, but coming through the silence of that open line, the soft words were as distinct as the chill that went through me.
“Look around you!” I heard whoever it was command, followed by a click and the annoying buzz of a dial tone.
I practically dropped the receiver as I turned and got ready to run. I wanted out of there.
But something caught my eye that stopped me cold.
Two words were now blinking on what had been a completely blank computer screen a few seconds ago.
I stared at them.
This time the chill up my back was like a shot of electricity.
They read, Janet’s Dead.
I screamed.
I would have run to ICU, but my legs felt like water.
The phone. I grabbed the receiver, my hands shaking, and punched in the number I already knew by heart.
“ICU,” answered a nurse coolly.
I felt so nauseous that when I opened my mouth to speak I gagged.
“It’s D-Dr. Garnet!” I managed to stammer. “Has something happened to my wife, Janet?” The effort nearly made me vomit.
“One moment. Doctor,” she said coolly, and put me on hold.
Death Rounds Page 28