Flashback (1988) (52 page)

“I … I can’t remember.”

“Just relax, Barbara. You’re doing fine.… Now, just open your mind to that evening and think about what he might have been watching.… See it.… Just relax, open your mind, and see it.…”

The muscles in Barbara Nelms’s face went slack. Her breathing became deeper and more regular.

“That’s good,” Zack whispered. “That’s very good.”

Zack’s words brought a strange, enigmatic smile to Barbara’s mouth.

“I know what he was watching,” she said. “Each time, I know what he was watching.…”

32

Zack raced down the corridor at nearly a full run, hesitating only to glance into his fathers room. The bed was stripped, and an aide was washing down the plastic mattress cover. He bolted through the stairway door and vaulted down to the first floor.

A major piece in the puzzle had fallen into place—a piece that irrefutably connected Toby Nelms, Suzanne, and Jason Mainwaring. Now, Frank would have to listen.

“My brother in?” he panted to the buxom, blond receptionist.

Annette Dolan looked at him strangely.

“He is, but—”

“Thank you,” Zack said, already on his way through Franks office door.

Frank, behind his desk, working at his computer, looked up coolly.

“You don’t work here anymore,” he said.

“Frank, I’ve got to talk to you. I’ve learned something—something important.”

“Mr. Iverson, I’m sorry. I tried to stop him,” Annette Dolan said from the doorway.

Frank smiled at her emotionlessly.

“That’s okay, Annette,” he said. “I know how persistent my little brother can be. I’m sure you did your best to stop him. Before you get back to work, though, why don’t you go on home and change that sweater. It’s not appropriate for the office.”

The receptionist hesitated a beat, her lower lip quivering. Then she turned and hurried away.

“Now, then,” Frank said, glancing at his watch, “what on earth could be important enough to take you away from your packing?”

Zack moved to sit down, but Frank stopped him with a raised hand.

“Don’t get comfortable, sport,” he said. “Just say what you want to say and leave.” He motioned to the computer. “Number six now, Zack-o. Six out of nearly two hundred administrators nationwide. Not bad, if I do say so myself. No, siree, not bad at all.”

“Well, then you’d better listen to me, Frank. Because I’ve learned something that could bring this place crashing down about your ears if you don’t do something about it.”

There was no more than a flicker of interest. “Oh?”

“It’s that anesthetic, Frank. The one I tried to tell you about before.”

“Go on.”

“I just came from speaking with Mrs. Nelms, the mother of the boy in ICU.”

“I know who she is,” Frank said.

“Well, I was going over some of my concerns with her, and—”

“You what?”

“Frank, just calm down and listen.”

“No,
you
listen. Do you have any idea how much of a nuisance that woman will be if you fill her with all that human experimentation bullshit of yours?”

“Frank, it’s not bullshit. It’s really happening, and you’d better help me do something about it or this place will be crawling with lawyers, hospital-certification people, and police. I promise you.”

“Don’t you dare threaten me.”

“Well, then, will you please listen, for Chrissake? Suzanne’s life may be on the line here, to say nothing of that poor kid in the ICU. We don’t have much time.”

Frank toyed with a paper clip for a few moments, straightened it, and then snapped it in two.

“Okay, Bro,” he said finally. “You’ve got five minutes.”

“They’re experimenting with something, Frank—Mainwaring and Pearl. They’re fooling around with some sort of new general anesthetic, and they think it’s working fine, only it isn’t. The patients look asleep during their surgery and even think they
were
asleep afterward. But at some level, just below their conscious surface, they were wide awake, experiencing the whole thing—the cutting, the blood, the pain, everything.”

“Sport, I didn’t believe you this morning, and I don’t believe you now.”

“Well, you’d better. I have proof.”

“Oh?”

“It’s the music, Frank. ‘Greensleeves’—the music Mainwaring operates to.”

“What in the hell are you—”

“Mainwaring nearly always works to one piece of music. It’s a classical version of ‘Greensleeves’—you know, the folk song from—”

“I know the tune,” Frank said testily.

“Well, according to Mrs. Nelms, every time her kid had one of his seizures, he was watching a children’s show where they play that melody.”

“That’s your proof?”

“There’s more. Last week Suzanne and I were together, when suddenly she went blank, totally blank.”

“So?”

“Frank, that tune was playing on the radio. As soon as I shut it off, she snapped out of whatever place she was in, and kept on talking as if nothing had ever happened. I didn’t put together what was going on until just now. She was on her way, Frank. I’m sure now that if I had left the radio on a little longer, she would have had a seizure just like the kid’s. She was on her way to reliving her breast operation—probably in some bizarre, distorted way—just the way Toby kept reexperiencing his hernia repair.”

“This is ridiculous.”

“It’s fact, Frank. Listen, you’ve got to help me find Mainwaring, or at least help me try and reason with Pearl.”

“No way.”

“That child is dying. We need to know what they gave him.”

Frank picked up the phone and dialed.

“Chief Clifford, Frank Iverson here,” he said. “That restraining order I asked you for ready yet?”

“Jesus, Frank, you
are
crazy,” Zack said.

“That’s fine, Chief, fine. So it’s effective immediately?”

“I’m going to tell the board what’s going on here, Frank—the board
and
Ultramed. And as soon as I find Mainwaring, I’m going to—”

“Chief, could you do me a big favor and send a couple of men around now? He’s here, and he’s refusing to leave.…”

“Dammit, Frank.”

“Thanks, Cliff.… Oh, he’s doing as well as could be
expected. It’s nice of you to ask. John Burris, the neurosurgeon from Concord, has transferred him down there.…”

“Frank, for Chrissake—”

“Hopefully, we’ll be getting a new neurosurgeon in town soon, so that we won’t have to send folks out who need our help.… Exactly. Well, thanks again, Cliff. When can I expect those men of yours? … Excellent. You run a crack operation, Cliff. The best … You bet. Take care now.”

Frank laid down the receiver with exaggerated deliberateness.

“You’ve got about three minutes to get your ass out of my hospital,” he said, “and less than a day to get it out of our house. I’d suggest you get home and start packing. And I promise you, if you so much as set foot in this place, or say one word to any of our patients, you will be in deep, deep shit. Is that clear?”

“Frank, you’re making a big mis—”

“I said, is that clear?”

Without responding, Zack headed toward the door. When he opened it, a hospital security guard—if anything, even larger than the guard, Henry—was standing there.

“It’s a little button right down here,” Frank explained, gesturing to the base of his desk. “I never had to use it until now, but it just paid for itself. Tommy, would you please see to it that Dr. Iverson here is out of the hospital and off hospital property right away.”

“Yessir.”

“No stops.”

“Yessir.”

“It’s not going to work, Frank,” Zack said.

“I’ll take my chances.”

“What about that kid?”

“That kid will be better off having a doctor who doesn’t get drunk when he’s on call, sport. Now, I see by the ol’ clock on the mantel that your five minutes are about up.” He looked out the window. “Oh, and there are our friends from the constabulary, right on time.”

“You are something, Frank. You really are.”

Frank smiled broadly.

“Yes,” he said, “I know.”

* * *

“Greensleeves.”

Curious, Frank fished through his desk drawer for the cassette Mainwaring had given him and popped it into his tapedeck. It was syrupy, spineless music—certainly far from being any sort of lethal weapon. Clearly, Zack had flipped over the edge, grasping at any straw in an effort to disrupt his brothers finest hour.

“No way, Zack-o,” Frank murmured. “No fucking way.”

He snapped off the tape and then watched through his office window as his brother was led across the hospital parking lot to his car by two policemen and the hospital guard. It was a scene he would carry with him forever. The days of sports trophies and star-struck coeds might be part of the past, but this triumph would do quite nicely.

As he followed Zack’s battered orange camper down the hill toward town, Frank knew that the last obstacle toward his achieving every one of his goals was all but disappearing. With the Judge out of the way, and Bourque having agreed to a closed vote, the final purchase of the hospital by Ultramed was a virtual lock. And with Zack out of the way, there was nothing to interfere with the satisfactory conclusion of his dealings with Mainwaring.

He felt at once exhilarated and exhausted. It had been a brutal game, but with time running out, he had just run in for the go-ahead touchdown and then recovered the fumble on the ensuing kickoff. Now, he had only to hang on to the ball and run out the clock. He glanced at his watch. The board meeting was less than an hour away. He reminded himself that no matter how exhausted he felt, this was not the time to let down.

“Loose ends …”he murmured. “Loose ends … loose ends …”

He called the guard room and ordered an extra man brought in to patrol die outside of the hospital, on the off chance his brother tried anything foolish. Then he phoned two fence-sitting board members to tell them about the closed-ballot vote and to call in favors he was owed. Finally, he called Atlanta and learned that Jason Mainwaring had left for New England the previous evening and was expected back in Atlanta the next day. Perfect, he thought. If the secretary’s information was correct, Mainwaring had to be planning to conclude their transaction that afternoon.

Again, Frank checked the time. For the moment, there was
nothing he could think of to do but wait. He returned his attention to the still-open hookup with UltraMA. Soon, perhaps within a day, his access code would be upgraded to that of a regional director and he would be made a party to some of Ultramed’s most sensitive information.

Regional director, with a cool three quarters of a million dollars in the bank
. Frank Iverson was within a cats whisker of making it all the way back and then some. When she walked out on him, Lisette had made the biggest fucking mistake of her life. By the time the dust settled, he would have it all—the position, the money, the house and, goddamn it, the children, too. She’d see. He had handled the board, he had handled his brother, and he would handle her just as well.

Only when the knock on his office door grew persistent did Frank notice it.

“Who is it, Annette?” he asked through his intercom. “Annette?”

There was no answer. Then he remembered having sent the woman home, and cursed himself for forgetting that his other secretary was on vacation.

“Come in,” he called out. “For crying out loud, stop that pounding and come in.”

Jason Mainwaring, wearing his customary beige plantation owners suit, entered, carrying his briefcase.

“Little shy on office help, aren’t we?” he said, heading directly for Franks liquor supply.

“You know me, Jason. Slice off the excess fat. Everything goes down to the bare bone.”

Mainwaring ran his fingertips over the glistening mahogany surface of Frank’s desk.

“Yes,” he drawled. “I can see that philosophy at work all around me.”

“I called Atlanta a while ago. Your secretary said she expected you back there tomorrow. You’re welcome to use your house for a few more days if you want.”

“Thanks all the same, but I’ve been here about two years too long already. My replacement lined up?”

“Ready to cut. He’s due here next Wednesday.”