"That would be fine," Laurie said. She glanced at Sue, who winked, smirked, and waved good-bye all at the same time. When Laurie started to pick up her tray Sue motioned for her to leave it, saying she'd take care of it.
Laurie followed Roger as he threaded his way out through the cafeteria entrance, which was now even more crowded than when Laurie first arrived. Just beyond the throng, Roger stopped and waited for Laurie to catch up. "It's only one flight up. I usually take the stairs. Do you mind?"
"Heavens, no," Laurie said. She was surprised he'd even thought to ask.
"Sue told me you were part of the Médecins Sans Frontières," Laurie said as they climbed.
"I was indeed," Roger said. "For about twenty years."
"I'm impressed," Laurie said, knowing something of the good works carried out by the organization, for which it had received a Nobel Prize. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed that Roger was taking the stairs by twos. "How did you happen to join that organization?"
"When I finished my residency in infectious diseases in the mid-eighties, I was looking for some adventure. I was also an idealistic, far-left liberal who wanted to change the world. It seemed like a good fit."
"Did you find adventure?"
"Most assuredly, as well as training in hospital administration. But I found some disillusionment as well. The need for even the most basic medical care in so much of the world is staggering. But don't get me started."
"Where were you located?"
"The South Pacific first, then Asia, and finally Africa. I made sure I made the rounds."
Laurie remembered her trip to West Africa with Jack and tried to imagine what it would be like to work there. Before she could mention her experience, Roger sprinted ahead and opened the door at the top of the stairs.
"What made you leave the organization?" Laurie asked as they descended the busy main corridor en route to the administration area. As Roger was a relatively new employee she was impressed by how many people greeted him by name as they passed.
"Partly the disillusionment of not being able to change the world, and partly because I felt the need to come home and settle down and have a family. I'd always seen myself as a family man, but it wasn't going to happen in Chad or Outer Mongolia."
"That's romantic," Laurie said. "So love brought you back from the wilds of Africa."
"Not quite," Roger said as he held open the door that lead into the carpeted, peaceful realm of the administrative offices. "There was no one here waiting for me. I'm like a migratory bird instinctively flying back to the nesting site where I began as a chick, hoping to find a mate." He laughed as he waved to the secretaries who were not at lunch.
"So you're from New York," Laurie commented.
" Queens, to be exact."
"Where did you go to medical school?"
"Columbia College of Physicians and Surgeons," Roger said.
"Really! What a coincidence! So did I. What year did you graduate?"
"Nineteen eighty-one."
"I was eighty-six. Did you happen to know a Jack Stapleton in your class?"
"I did. He was one of the best basketball players in Bard Hall. Do you know him?"
"I do," Laurie said without elaborating. She felt strangely uncomfortable, like she was cheating on her relationship with Jack just by bringing up his name. "He's a colleague of mine over at the OCME," she added lamely.
They entered Roger's office, which was, as he had said, modest. It was situated on the inside area of the administration wing and accordingly had no windows. Instead, the walls were covered with framed photos of numerous places around the world where he had worked. There was a number of himself with either local dignitaries or patients. Laurie couldn't help but notice that in all of them, Roger was smiling as if each photo had recorded a celebratory event. It was particularly noticeable, since the other people were expressionless or actually frowning.
"Please, sit down!" Roger suggested. He angled a small straight-back chair toward the desk. After closing the door to the hall, Roger sat at the desk, leaned back, and folded his arms. "Now then, tell me what's on your mind."
Laurie again emphasized the need to keep her name out of the situation, and Roger assured her that she had nothing to fear. Reasonably confident, Laurie told the story as she had told it to Sue. This time, she used the term "serial killer." When she was finished she reached over and put a three-by-five index card with the four names directly in front of him.
Roger had been silent throughout Laurie's monologue, staring at her with increasing intensity. "I can't believe you are telling me this," he said finally. "And I am enormously appreciative of your making this effort."
"My conscience dictated that someone should know," Laurie explained. "Perhaps after I get copies of the charts or if toxicology comes up with something surprising, I'll have to eat my words. That would be fine, and no one would be happier than I. But until then, I'm worried something weird is going on."
"The reason I'm so surprised and appreciative is because I have been the scorned gadfly here like you have been over at the OCME, and for the same reasons. I've brought up each of these cases at the morbidity/mortality meeting. In fact, the last time was this morning with Darlene Morgan. And every time, I've been met with denial, even anger, particularly from the president himself. Of course, I haven't had the added benefit of the autopsy results, since we haven't gotten them yet."
"None of the cases have been signed out," Laurie explained.
"Whatever," Roger said. "These cases had me worried right from the first one, Mr. Moskowitz. But the president has put a gag order on our even discussing them, lest something leak out to the media and put the efficacy of our CPR program in question. The on-call docs were unable to get even a rudimentary heartbeat going on any of these cases."
"Has there been any investigation of any sort?"
"Nothing, which flies in the face of my strenuous recommendations. I mean, I've personally looked into it to a degree, but my hands are tied. The problem is, our mortality is very low, below two-point-two percent. The President said we'd do something when it gets to three percent, the usual level of concern. The rest of the committee agrees, particularly the quality-control person, the risk-management person, and the damn lawyer. They are all convinced beyond a shadow of doubt these episodes are merely unfortunate and unavoidable complications in the inherently risky environment of a tertiary-care center. In other words, they are within statistical predictions. But I don't buy it. For me, they're sticking their heads in the sand."
"When you looked into it, did you find anything at all?"
"I didn't. The patients have been on different floors, with different staff, and different doctors. But I haven't given up."
"Good!" Laurie said. "I'm glad you are on top of it, and I'm glad to have had a chance to satisfy my conscience." She stood up, but the second she did, she wished she hadn't, yet she couldn't sit back down for fear of embarrassing herself. The problem was Jack. In fact, lately it seemed that the problem was always Jack. She had enjoyed talking with this man and the feeling made her uncomfortable. "Well, thanks for listening to me," she added, extending her hand toward Roger in an attempt to regain a modicum of control. "It has been nice meeting you. As I mentioned, I'll be getting copies of the charts, and I have our best toxicologist working on it. I'll let you know if anything comes up."
"I'd appreciate it," Roger said, shaking her hand but then holding on to it. "Now, may I ask a few questions?"
"Of course," Laurie said.
"Would you mind sitting back down?" Roger asked. He let go of Laurie's hand and gestured toward the chair Laurie had just vacated. "I prefer you sitting, so I don't have to worry you'll flee out the door."
Somewhat confused by Roger's last comment and why he might believe she'd want to flee, Laurie sat back down.
"I have to confess that I have an ulterior motive in being uncharacteristically glib about answering personal questions. If you would indulge me, I'd like to ask you a few personal questions, since Sue made it a point to tell me that you were single and unattached. Is any or all of that correct?"