Too many of the Hill rats she'd met seemed to adopt that attitude after a couple of years on the job. She promised, swore, that wouldn't happen to her.
No doubt doing some last-minute fine tuning of his remarks before the camera.
Finally he seemed ready. He nodded to his aides, straightened his tie, adjusted his suit coat, patted his toupee, then started down the steps.
Gin sidled to her right to where she had an unobstructed view of the steps. She watched Allard descend on an angle toward the waiting camera and reporter. His movements were smooth and fluid during the first two flights, then he stopped on the landing halfway down.
He paused and rubbed his eyes, shook his head as if to clear it, then continued down. At the top of the last flight he stopped again.
A warning bell sounded in Gin's brain. Something was wrong.
Allard leaned against the bronze handrail and pressed a hand over his eyes. Even from here Gin could see that the hand was shaking.
He lowered his hand and began to sway. He grasped the rail and turned around to stare back up at the Capitol. His expression was frightened.
He looked lost, confused, as if he didn't know where he was. He took a faltering step to his left but wobbled backward instead.
Gd, he's going to fall!
As his arms windmilled for balance, his aides cried out and rushed down to him. But Allard was already toppling. He managed to twist around but could not break his fall. He hit the granite steps and began to roll.
Shouts now from the TV crew as the reporter rushed toward the falling legislator. The cameraman followed her, taping all the way A couple of Capitol Police started running from the other end of the steps.
Gin was already on her way down as Congressman Allard landed in a heap at the base of the steps and lay still, arms akimbo, his toupee skewed so that it hung over his left ear. His aides, the TV crew, and the cops converged on him from three directions.
Gin reached the growing knot and forced her way in.
'"I'm a doctor, " she said. "Let me through. ' The onlookers made way for her and soon she was kneeling at Allard's side. He was on his back, his face was a mess, blood everywhere. Gin dug her index and middle fingers into the side of his throat, probing for a carotid. She found it, pulsing rapidly, but strong and regular.
She saw his chest moving with respirations, small bubbles of saliva fluttering at the corner of his bloodied lips as air flowed in and out.
Pulse and respiration okay. Good. But he did seem to be in shock.
"All right, ' she announced to the onlookers. "His heart's beating and he's breathing. No need for CPR. But nobody move him. He may have a spinal injury." She looked around. "Is somebody calling an ambulance?
' One of the Capitol cops pointed to his partner who was babbling into his radio. We're on it, " he said.
Gin returned her attention to Allard. She couldn't do a neurological evaluation here, but if she had to bet she'd put her money on a stroke.
Maybe he'd flipped an embolus to his brain.
She glanced up and saw someone standing at the railing along the edge of the west portico, looking down. She blinked. It was Duncan. She couldn't read his expression. He stood there staring for a moment, then turned and disappeared from view.
Duncan? she thought. Aren't you going to help?
COFFEE GINA DIDN'T GET BACK TO THE SURGICENTER until shortly before noon. She'd hovered by Congressman Allard's side until the E.M.Ts arrived. She watched them bandage his face, strap him to a back board, load him into their rig, and howl away toward G. W. Medical Center.
She stopped back at Allard's office to let them know what had happened, and after that she'd been at loose ends, wandering around the Capitol area, thinking, wondering . . .
Duncan had acted so strange this morning, and he hadn't shown the slightest concern for the fate of the congressman, who wasn't just some stranger, he was one of Duncan's patients. And who was this Lisa he'd been talking about to Allard? It had seemed like such a non sequitur.
She took the Metro Red Line up to Friendship Heights and walked the rest of the way, still thinking, still wondering.
By the time she reached the surgicenter she still didn-t have an answer.
"He wanted to see me, ' she told Barbara as she paused at her reception desk.
"He mentioned it, but right now he's conferencing with another doctor.
Strict orders not to disturb." "Really? Anybody we know? " Barbara shrugged. "All he tells me is to block out half an hour for Dr. V.
Now you know as much as I do. But he's very good-looking." Barbara's eyebrows oscillated as her voice took on a Mae West tone. "This is his second visit, and I hope it's not the last." Why so mysterious about the name? A doctor who wanted cosmetic surgery maybe?
Gin shrugged. Not her business.
"Let him know I'm here."
"Will do." A few minutes later she was sitting in the basement lab across the workbench from Oliver, diffidently watching him fill the next batch of a dozen or so implants for tomorrow's surgery. She already had a headache, and the residual olfactory tang of solvents was conspiring with the bright overhead fluorescents to make it worse. She should have been working with Oliver, learning the technique, but she couldn't muster the concentration.
Her chin rested on her hands and her elbows were propped on the marred black counter. She felt leaden, as if someone had siphoned off all her energy . . . the aftermath of. the morning's events, and the certainty that Duncan was going to fire her.
'"He's not going to fire you, " Oliver said.
She glanced up at him. He sat calmly in his white coat, his pudgy hands folded in front of him. But she read genuine sympathy in the round, pale face and in the blue eyes behind the thick horn-rimmed lenses. Hard to believe he and Duncan shared the same gene pool.
"How can you be so sure? ' "He tends to fly off the handle lately.
Ever since they reconvened that darn committee. ' "What is it with him and that committee? " '"Well, years ago he had a bit of trouble . .
.
' His voice trailed off.
"What sort of trouble? " '"Nothing. Forget I said anything." Gin wasn't forgetting anything. Especially after this morning. Another question was burning through her brainpan.
"All right then. Tell me this, Who's Lisa? " "Lisa? " "Yes. I heard Duncan mention something about a Lisa this . , .
morning.
The implant Oliver was filling suddenly burst. "I . . . I don't know.
He had a daughter named Lisa."
"Had? " "Yes, well, " The phone rang.
Oliver picked it up and listened. "She's right here, " he said, then handed it across to her. Duncan's voice, "Gin, please come to my office." Her mouth went dry. "Okay. Sure." The other end clicked dead. That in itself was not indicative of anything, Duncan rarely said hello or good-bye on the phone, but she could feel her insides coiling into knots. She handed the receiver back to Oliver. "He wants to see me." Oliver smiled. "See?
He's cooled down already."
"I wouldn't be too sure of that."
"I'll talk to him if you want."
"Thanks, but I'd better handle this myself.
" With the knots inside pulling even tighter, she rose and headed for Duncan's office. This was it. She'd been in his office before, many times, but usually just a quick stop before surgery to discuss some potential problem with one of his patients. This was the first time he'd actually called and asked her to his office.