Small and neat. A tiny anteroom, the open door showing about a hundred and twenty square feet of dawn-lit space. Berger flipped on the lights. He had a desk, a matching credenza, a couple of worn patient chairs and bookshelves. Not much else. Not much else would fit. The doctor hung up his white coat on a brass rack and sat down in front of his desk. Decker pulled up a chair, positioning it directly across from Berger. He took out a notepad.
Berger checked his watch. “I don’t know what I could possibly tell you. But go ahead.”
“You’ve worked with Dr. Sparks for a long time.”
“Yes.”
“You went through medical school with him?”
“Harvard. Although I’m sure you know that already.”
“Yes, I do. Have you always worked with Dr. Sparks?”
“You mean are we joined at the hip? The answer is no.”
“So you’ve had positions other than your current one with Sparks?”
“I don’t see the point of this line of questioning.”
“All right, I’ll be direct. You’ve got a great reputation as being a surgeon in your own right. But with Sparks, you were always the number two man. Did that ever lead to resentment?”
Berger looked Decker in the eye. “Yes.”
Decker was quiet.
“Surprised?” Berger asked.
“Surprised that you admitted it.”
“Yes, at times, I was resentful…very resentful. We’d walk in a room together, Azor would get the accolades, I’d be standing there, nodding my head like some carnival kewpie doll. Of course, I was resentful. But I didn’t murder the man.” Berger’s voice went harsh. “If that was your reason for questioning me, you’re going about this investigation all wrong. I think you’d better reevaluate.”
Decker was silent, wondering why the man was so hostile. Berger was finally in the medical spotlight. Maybe he had a bad case of stage fright and was covering it with bravado.
Again, Berger checked his watch. “I’ve got rounds-”
“What positions did you hold before you hooked up with Dr. Sparks?”
“I don’t see where that’s any of your business.”
“Dr. Berger, I can look up your professional background in a snap-”
“So do it.”
“You’re not going to make this easy on me?”
“I didn’t kill the man, period. That’s all you have to know.”
Decker smoothed his mustache, trying to figure out how to work around the man’s anger. Attempt a different approach. Suddenly, something dawned on him. He said, “Do you have a past, sir?”
Berger seemed poised for another attack. Abruptly, he wilted. Silence thickened between them.
“Why don’t you just go away?” Berger whispered.
Mildly, Decker said, “I’m ready whenever you are.”
Berger looked at the ceiling, said nothing.
“I’m going to find it all out. Might be better if it came from you.”
Berger kneaded his hands, slowly began his recitation. “My father was a good man. Worked hard…was very proud of me.”
“I’m sure.”
“A good man,” Berger repeated, “but a gambler. At the age of fifty-one, he dropped dead from a heart attack and left my mother helpless and penniless. I was a senior resident at the time…away from home. Of course, when I heard the news I rushed back to my mother’s side, took over the many responsibilities that she couldn’t handle. Squared her away.”
“Big burden,” Decker said.
“It was because my father had left big debts. But we took care of them. I stayed long enough to get her on the right footing, then I left home once again to continue on with my studies…with my life. I came back just in time to take my specialty boards. Needless to say, I was a wreck. Flustered and disoriented. Still reeling from grief, overrun with worry. I hadn’t had a moment to study. I was caught cheating.”
No one spoke.
Decker said, “Obviously, you’ve overcome the mishaps.”
“After pleading and begging, yes, I was allowed to retake my exams. And I passed. But no hospital would permit me to attend because of my black eye. They didn’t come right out and say that my cheating was the reason for denying attendance privileges. But after applying to fifty-plus institutions, you see the writing on the wall. If you’re a surgeon, Lieutenant, you need hospitals.”
“What did you do?”
“I worked as a general practitioner for a while. Lebanon, Indiana. Did quite well.”
“But you were frustrated.”
“That is an understatement, sir. I was miserable. In my eyes, not only was I a failure, but a dishonest one at that.”
“So along comes your old friend Azor Sparks, a man with a renowned international reputation, who took a chance.”
“And we all lived happily ever after.”
Again, no one spoke.
Decker said, “You must have been very grateful.”
“I just about wept at his feet, I was so thankful.” Berger blew air into his hands, rubbed them together. “My first assignment was assisting him. Like any other resident surgeon. I’d been out of practice for a while…”
He tapped his hands on the desk.
“The next time out, he handed me the scalpel. A routine bypass that evolved into a complex situation. I was sweating buckets. I kept waiting for Azor to step in. But he didn’t. Yes, he watched, but never said a word. The upshot? I handled it masterfully.”
“Congratulations.”
Berger smiled. “Thank you. And that was it. We’ve been working together ever since. As colleagues, side by side. Having said that…I always knew his position. And I always knew mine. Yes, occasionally, I suffered a bruised ego. But better a bruised ego than none at all.”
Decker wrote as he spoke. “Let me ask you this, Dr. Berger. If you applied to other programs and institutions now, how do you think you’d be received?”
“After working with Azor for twenty-five years, I could write my own ticket.”
“So your past wouldn’t follow you?”
“Perhaps…if the position was a very big one like the head of NIH or the dean of Harvard Medical School…it might come out that I took my boards twice. But I strongly doubt the reason would be exposed. Unless someone was determined to unbury this oddity in order to ruin me.”
“Who would that be?”
“No one,” Berger snapped. “Even Reggie Decameron doesn’t hold that kind of animosity toward me. It would only come up if someone purposely launched an extensive probe.” He looked pointedly at Decker. “Someone like the police.”
Decker kept his expression neutral, wondering why the doctor spilled so easily if his past had truly been that well interred. Maybe Berger confessed to cheating in order to hide something more nefarious. Decker said, “Well, not much point in my looking into your past now.”
“Which is the reason why I told you. Better to head you off at the pass, so to speak.”
“So few people know about your ordeal.”
“The generation that knew my plight way back when has practically died out.”
“A theoretical question,” Decker said. “What would happen to you if your past was suddenly made public?”
Berger’s eyes turned stony. “I can’t answer that because it wouldn’t happen. The only one of my current colleagues who was aware of it was Azor. And he never said anything to anyone.”
“As far as you know.”
“I do know.” Berger glanced at the clock on his wall and stood. “I really must tend to my business. We have very sick people here who have just lost their doctor…a person they view as saving their lives. They’re distressed. They need care. They need comfort. Please?”
“Of course.” Decker got up. “Some other time, maybe we can talk about Curedon.”
“I’d be happy to except…” He tapped his watch. “I’m swamped at the moment.”
“Thank you for your time, Dr. Berger.”