The case was handled by one of his underlings. He said he'd try to find out by the time you got there."
"Can't you come?"
"Hell, no. Haven't you heard the news about Bobby Geary?"
"The ball player?"
"Heart attack late last night. Found dead in bed. I'm posting him at ten-thirty. In fact, I'd like you back here before I finish, just in case I need your help."
"You've got it. You know, you are a pretty terrific chief, Stanley. Are you sure you want to retire?"
"Yesterday, if I could arrange it, Katey-girl. You hurry on back to Metro after you see Olesky, now. No telling what this shriveled brain of mine might miss."
White Memorial Hospital, an architectural polyglot of more than a score of buildings, was the flagship of the fleet of Harvard Medical School affiliated hospitals. Overlooking the Charles River near the North End, WMH had more research facilities, professors, grants, and administrative expertise than any hospital in the area, if not the world. Metropolitan Hospital had once held sway, reportedly supplying ninety percent of all the professors of medicine at all the medical schools in the country, but that time had long since been buried beneath an avalanche of incompetent administrators, unfavorable publicity, and corrupt city politicians. Although Metro had made a resurgence of sorts under the guidance of Norton Reese, there was little likelihood of its ever recapturing the prestige, endowments, and fierce patient loyalty of the glory days, when at least one man was known to have had "Take Me To Metro" tattooed across his chest. It had been some time since Kate had had reason to visit the pathology unit at White Memorial, and she was uncomfortably impressed with the improvements and expansion that had occurred. Equipment her department congratulated itself on acquiring, this unit possessed in duplicate or triplicate. Corridors and offices were brightly lit, with plants, paintings, and other touches that made the work environment less tedious and oppressive. Almost subconsciously, Kate found herself making mental lists of things she would press to accomplish as chief — of pathology at Metro. Leon Olesky, a mild, Lincolnesque man, brushed off her apologies for her tardiness and after exchanging compliments about Stan Willoughby, left her alone in his office with the material from the autopsy of Ginger Rittenhouse. On a pink piece of paper by his elegant microscope were the data on the woman's blood studies. Only two of many parameters measured were abnormal, fibrinogen and platelets. The levels of each were depressed enough to have been life threatening.
Her hands trembling with anticipation, Kate took the first of the ovarian sections and slid it onto the stage of the microscope. A moment to flex tension from the muscles in her neck, and she leaned forward to begin another journey through the yellow-white light. Forty-five minutes later, the one had become three. Leon Olesky hunched over one set of oculars of the teaching microscope, controlling the focus with his right hand and moving the slide with his left. Across from him, in the seat Kate had occupied, was Tom Engleson. "You know, " Olesky said, "if Stan hadn't called me about your case, the findings on our young woman would have slipped right past us. I mentioned the matter last night at our weekly department conference, but no one responded. An hour later, Dr.
Hickman came to my office. Young Bruce is, perhaps, the brightest of our residents, but at times, I'm afraid, a bit too quick for his own good."
Kate sighed. Olesky's observations described many of the so-called hotshot residents she had worked with over the years. "I'll take methodical over genius any day of the week, " she said. "Both is best,"
Olesky responded, "but that's a rare combination, indeed.
I might mention, though, that it is a combination your mentor feels he is lucky to have found in you."
"Methodical, yes, " Kate allowed, "but I've yet to receive a single membership application from Mensa."
"She's only the best in the hospital, " Tom interjected somewhat impetuously. "Finish telling us about your resident."
Kate withheld reaction to Engleson's enthusiasm, sensing that what she felt was, in equal parts, flattered and embarrassed. "Well, it seems our Dr. Hickman was uncertain about the pathology he was seeing in this woman's ovaries. However, rather than think that the finding might be unique, he assumed, although he won't say so in as many words, that the condition was one he should have known about, and hence one he would look foolish asking for help with. Since the cause of death was unrelated to the ovaries, he chose to describe his findings in the autopsy report and leave it at that."
"No harm done, " Kate said. "Quite the contrary, in fact. This event may be the pinprick Hickman's ego needs so he can reach his full potential as a physician. It will make even more of an impression if, as Dr. Willoughby and now yours truly, suspect, this pathology turns out to be one never before described."
Kate and Tom exchanged excited glances. "How would you explain its showing up in two women in the same city at about the same time?" she asked. The professor's eyes, dark and deeply serious, met first Engleson's and then Kate's. "Considering the outcome of the illness in both individuals, I would suggest that we work diligently to find an answer to that question. At the moment, I have none."
"There must be a connection, " Engleson said. "I hope there is, young man."
Olesky rose from his stool. "And I hope the two of you will be able to find it. I have a class to teach right now at, the medical school. This evening, I leave for meetings in San Diego, and from there, I go to the wedding of my son in New Mexico. My office and our department are at your disposal."
"Thank you, " they said. Olesky replaced his lab coat with a well-worn mackintosh. He shook hands first with Engleson and then with Kate. A final check of his desk and he shambled from the office. Kate waited for the door to click shut. "I'm glad you were able to get here so quickly,
" she said. "Did you have any trouble getting the records people to let you take Beverly's chart out of the hospital?"
"None. I just followed Engleson's first law of chutzpah. The more one looks like he should be doing what he's doing, the less anyone realizes that he shouldn't. I'll have to admit that the crooks with moving vans and uniforms who pick entire houses clean thought of the law before I did, but I was the first one I know to put it in words. Are you okay? I went to find you after the code was over yesterday, but you were gone.
Before I could call, I was rushed to the OR to do an emergency C-section."
"I was okay." She paused. "Actually, I wasn't. It hurt like hell to see her lying there like that. I can't remember the last time I felt so helpless." At the thought, the mention of the word, Arthur Everett's grotesque face flashed in her mind, his reddened eyes bulging with the effort of forcing himself inside her. Yes, I do, she thought. I do remember when. "How about you? " she asked. Engleson shrugged. "I think I'm still numb. It's like I'm afraid that if I let down and acknowledge my feelings about her and what happened, I'll never set foot in a hospital again."
Kate nodded her understanding. "You know, Tom, contrary to popuiar belief, being human doesn't disqualify you from being a doctor. Are you married? " Engleson shook his head. "I think it's hard to face some of the things we have to face and then have no one to talk them out with, to cry on, if necessary, when we get home." She thought about the difficult morning with Jared and smiled inwardly at the irony of her words. "Had you known Beverly outside the hospital?"
"No. I met her when she came into Metro. But I thought about trying to start up a relationship as soon as she His voice grew husky. He cleared his throat. "I understand, " Kate said. "Look, maybe we can talk about our work and our lives in medicine some day soon. Right now, we've got to start looking for some common threads between these women. I'm due back at Metro in, " she checked her watch, "-shoot, I've only got about twenty minutes."