Curiosity was eating Gin alive. She'd have given almost anything to be a fly on a wall in that officer right now.
* * * Forty-five minutes later all five came out in a group. They stood in the hall, shaking hands. The suits looked as grim as ever, Duncan and Dr. V.
were pleasant, and Oliver was quite literally beaming. Then the visitors headed for the parking lot, Duncan returned to his office, and Oliver bustled down the hall toward Gin.
"This is wonderful, " he said as he approached. The overhead fluorescents gleamed from his glasses and exposed scalp. He was grinning like a man who'd just won the lottery. "This is so wonderful!
" "What is, Oliver? What's going on? " '"I can't tell you, ' he said as he hurried past her. "I wish I could, but I can't. Not now. Maybe sometime." Gin watched him disappear into the stairwell down to his lab. She'd never seen him like this. Had he worked out some huge deal for his implants? She started to follow. She was sure she could pry it out of him.
But then she saw Duncan shrugging into his sport coat asX he stood before Barbara's desk. He was talking, she was taking notes and nodding her head. Then he was on his way.
Gin ducked into the locker room, grabbed her coat and purse, and hurried after him. She'd have to put off grilling Oliver until later.
"Hey, great news, " Barbara said as Gin passed her desk. "We've got a three-day weekend coming up." Gin slowed. "When? " "This weekend.
We're going to be closed on Friday. Dr. Lathram just told me to give everybody the day off with pay. Isn't that great? " "Yeah, " Gin said, picking up speed again. "Great." Friday off. Normally she'd assume Duncan had someplace to go this weekend and wanted an extra day. But the decision seemed to have been made right after his conference with Dr. V. and the suits. How come?
* * * No surprise when Duncan's Mercedes led her away from his golf club, but she was completely unprepared for the course he took through the District. East, then down Connecticut, past Adams Morgan to Dupont Circle. From there he took Massachusetts downtown.
He's heading for the Hill, Gin thought, but he breezed past Union Station and kept going, deep into Southeast. Mass was lined with two and three-story row housu down here, painted in bright reds, yellows, bluo, greens, even orange. The neighborhoods deteriorated, on a couple of corners she saw men in rough clothes drinking from bottles in paper bags. Gin was almost afraid to stop at the red lights. And she was in a three-year-old American compact. Duncan's Mercedes stood out like a luxury yacht in a fleet of tugboats. Yet nobody was bothering either of them.
What was he doing here? He had such a haughty attitude, she could not imagine him down here among the po' folk.
And then they came to the end of Mass Avenue and she caught on. D.
C.
General Hospital lay spread out on the downhill slope before them. She followed Duncan along the winding driveway through the well-kept complex of a dozen or so brick and stucco buildings, past the D. C.
Correctional Treatment facility to a restricted parking lot, "Decals Only" warned the sign. As Duncan turned in, Gin scooted into the nearby patient lot. She saw uniformed guards everywhere. Security seemed a major concern here.
She spotted Duncan strolling toward the doctors' entrance, a rectangular hole in the brick face of one of the buildings. How was she going to get in? She wasn't on staff.
But she could look like she was.
She grabbed an extra stethoscope from her glove compartment, hung her Senate ID badge around her neck, and hurried after him.
She wished she knew D. C. General. The brick building ahead was a big one and had a jury-rigged look. Eight storiff high at the front end, six at the rear, it looked as if it had started out considerably smaller and grown by accretion, a wing here, a few extra floors there.
This could be tricky. She kept up the quick pace as she passed the guard perched on a stool inside the entrance, smiling and waving with the hand holding the stethoscope, hoping he wouldn't notice that her photo ID wasn't for D.
C.
General.
The guard smiled back and nodded, then went back to reading his newspaper.
About fifty feet ahead of her she saw Duncan heading down the hall.
She broke into a delicate trot to close the distance between them. She knew if she lost sight of him, she'd never find him again in this maze.
He led her on a tortuous course that ended before a bank of elevators.
Gin hung back, uncertain. If she didn't get on that elevator with him, she'd lose him. She wouldn't even know which floor to search.
Only one thing to do. She tucked her Senate ID badge away and stepped forward.
"Duncan! " she said, tapping him on the shoulder. "What are you doing here? " He turned and started when he saw her. Something flashed in his eyes.
Shock? Anger? Suspicion? She wasn't sure which. Maybe all three.
Whatever it was, it was gone in an instant.
He smiled. "Gin! I never expected to see you here." Which doesn't answer my question, she thought. She felt her heart pick up tempo.
What's he going to do now?
"I was just visiting a hematology resident I know. An old friend from U. of P. But how about you? " He sighed unhappily and rubbed his jaw.
"Well, I didn't want anyone to know about this. If word ever got out .
. . " Oh, God, she thought. He's sick.
Terminal diagnoses like cancer and AIDS raced through her brain.
. .
He sighed again. "Easier to show you than explain it all." A battered elevator door wobbled open to their left. He pressed his hand gently against her back and guided her toward the emptying car. "Let's go."
He took her up to the maxillofacial clinic where the nurses beamed at him and the patients seated in the waiting room stared with wide eyes and whispered to their companions as they pointed to him.
She sat with Duncan in an examining room and watched in dazed wonder as he evaluated prospective patients and inspected his handiwork in postsurgical follow-ups .
It was the postsurgical patients who got to Gin. Some were effusive in their praise, some were almost inarticulate in their gratitude, but one and all they worshiped him, all but falling down on their knees before him for what he had done for them.
And finally the last patient was gone and she was alone with him in that tiny room, watching him scribble a progress note.
So this was where he'd been sneaking off to when he'd said he was playing golf. She was baffled.
"Why, Duncan? " '"Hmmm? " He looked up from the last chart and flipped it closed.
"Why are you here? " He shrugged. "I had a few empty hours to fill.
Face-lifts get boring after a while and I like to do something different now and then."
"But this is a free clinic and you're Duncan Cash-upfront-l-don't-give-a-damn-what-insurance-you-have Lathram. " His smile was sad as he shook his head slowly. "It was never about money. It's never been about money."
"Then what is it about? " "Someday I'll tell you. I'm not ready just yet." Gin bit back her frustration. "Okay, then. Why do you keep this a secret? " Another shrug. "When I opened up my cosmetic surgery practice I proclaimed to anyone who would listen about limiting myself exclusively to elective surgery and not accepting insurance of any type. Which was all fine at first, but quickly became stultifying."
He looked away.
"Despite heroic efforts to avoid it, I could not resist the urge to direct my skills toward a somewhat more meaningful application. " "Somewhat? " she said. "This is wonderful. I'm so proud of you.
He looked at her now, and again something flashed in his eyes, different this time Almost like pain.
"Don't get carried away now, Gin. This isn't a one-way street here.