Zimmermann said, snatching up the telephone and setting the Ashburton number on his desk. "Dr. William Zimmermann, access number three-oh-eight-three, " he told the operator, as Kate looked on excitedly, "I'd like a Watts line, please."
Only a few more minutes, Kate told herself. Only a few more minutes, a few words from the confused, stammering receptionist, and Zimmermann would at least realize that something was not right at the Ashburton Foundation. For the moment, that would be enough. Measured against the fiascoes surrounding Bobby Geary and Ian Toole, the planting of even a small seed of doubt in the man's mind would be a major victory. "Yes, good morning, " she heard Zimmermann say. "I am Dr. William Zimmermann, from Boston. I should like to speak with the director… Yes, exactly.
Dr. Thompson." Kate turned to Tom and gave him a conspiratorial smile.
Suddenly, she realized that Zimmermann was waving to get her attention and pointing to the extension phone on the conference table. She came on the line just as did Dr. James Thompson. "This is Dr. Thompson, " the man said. "Dr. Thompson, I'm sorry to disturb you. My name is Zimmermann. I'm the director of the Omnicenter here in Boston."
"Oh, yes, Dr. Zimmermann, I know of you, " Thompson said. "You took over for poor Dr. French, what was it, four years ago?"
"Five."
"Tragic accident, tragic, as I recall."
"Yes, he drowned, " Zimmermann said, now looking directly at Kate, who was beginning to feel sick. "What can I do for you, sir? " Thompson had a deep, genteel voice. "I'm here with Dr. Kate Bennett, one of our physicians."
"Ah, yes. Her name is right in front of me here on my desk. Twice, in fact. She phoned here yesterday and was told I would return her call.
However, my secretary had no way of knowing that my son, Craig, had fallen at school and broken his wrist and that I was going to be tied up in the emergency room for hours."
"He's all right, I hope?"
Thompson laughed. "Never better. That plaster makes him the center of attention. Now, what can I do for you and Dr. Bennett?
"
"Nothing for me, actually, but Dr. Bennett has a question or two for you. One moment."
"Certainly." Zimmermann, his expression saying, "Well, you asked for it, now here it is, " motioned for her to go ahead. Kate felt as if she were being bludgeoned. She had been sure, so sure, and now… "Dr.
Thompson," she managed, "my apologies for not being more patient." She glanced over at Tom, who shrugged helplessly. "I… I was calling to find out if there was any connection between the Ashburton Foundation and Redding Pharmaceuticals."
There was no sense in trying anything other than a direct approach.
She was beaten, humiliated again, and she knew it. "Connection?"
"Yes, sir. Isn't it true that the foundation was once located in Darlington, Kentucky, the same town as Redding?"
"As a matter of fact, it was. John and Sylvia Ashburton, whose estate established the foundation, were from Lexington. Their son, John, Jr., ran one of their horse farms, Darlington Stables. For two years after his parents died, John stayed at the farm, tidying up affairs and setting up the mechanics of the foundation. I was hired in, let me see, seventy-nine, but by then, the center of operations had already been moved to Washington. I'm afraid that as far as Redding Pharmaceuticals goes, the geographical connection was pure coincidence."
"Thank you, " Kate said meekly. "That certainly helps clear up my confusion." Another glance at Tom, and she grasped at one final straw.
"Dr. Thompson, I was trying to find out the street address of your office, but there's no Ashburton Foundation listed in the DC directory."
"By design, Dr. Bennett, quite by design. You see, where there is grant money involved, there are bound to be, how should I say it, omewhat less than fully qualified applicants contacting us. We prefer o do our own preliminary research and then to encourage only appropriate institutions and agencies to apply. Our offices are at 238 K street, Northwest, on the seventh floor. Please feel free to visit any time you are in Washington. Perhaps your pathology department would be interested in applying for a capital equipment grant."
"Perhaps," Kate said distractedly. William Zimmermann had heard enough.
"Dr. Thompson, " he said, "I want to thank you for helping to clear up the confusion here, and also for the wonderful support your agency has given my Omnicenter."
"Our pleasure, sir, " Dr. James Thompson said. "Well? " Zimmermann asked after he had hung up. "Something's not right, " she said. "What?"
"He mentioned my pathology department. How did he know I was a pathologist?"
"I told him you were at the very start of the call."
"I'm not trying to be difficult, Bill-really, I'm not-but you referred to me as a physician, not a pathologist. You remember, Tom, don't you?"
A look at the uncertainty in Tom's eyes, and she began having doubts herself. "Well?"
"I… I'm not sure, " was all the resident could say. Kate stood to go.
"Bill, I may seem pigheaded to you, or even confused, but I tell you, something still doesn't feel right to me. I just have a sense that Dr.
Thompson knew exactly who I was and what I wanted before you ever called."
"You must admit, Kate, " Zimmermann said clinically, "that when one looks first at the business with the baseball player, then at the conflict over whether or not a chemist actually performed tests he swears he never ran, and now at what seem to be groundless concerns on your part regarding the Ashburton Foundation and my long-standing computer engineer, it becomes somewhat difficult to get overly enthusiastic about your hunches and senses and theories. Now, if you've nothing further, I must get back to work."
"No, " Kate said, smarting from the outburst by the usually cordial man.
"Nothing, really, except the promise that no matter how long it takes, I will find out who, or what, is responsible for Ellen's bleeding disorder. Thanks for coming, Tom. I'm sorry it worked out this way."
With a nod to both men, she left, fingers of self-doubt tightening their grip in her gut. She bundled her clinic coat against the wind and snow and pushed head down out of the Omnicenter and onto the street. What if she were wrong, totally wrong about Redding and Horner, about the Omnicenter and Ellen's bleeding, about Reese? Perhaps, despite the critical situation in Berenson 421, despite the nagging fears about her own body, she should back off and let things simmer down. Perhaps she should listen to the advice of her father-in-law and reorder her priorities away from Metropolitan Hospital. They were waiting for her in her office, Stan Willoughby, Liu Huang, and Rod Green, the flamboyant, black general surgeon who was, it was rumored, being groomed for a Harvard professorstlp. I "Kate, " Willoughby said. "I was just writing you a note." He held the paper up for her to see. Kate greeted the other two men and then turned back to Wiljj› loughby. He was tight. His stance and the strain in his smile said so. "Well? " she asked.
"Pardon?"
"The note, Stan. What would it have said?"
"Oh, I'm sorry. My mind is racing." He cleared his throat. "Kate, we need to talk with you."
"Well, sit down then, please." She felt her heart respond to her sudden apprehension. "A problem?"
Willoughby was totally ill at ease. "I… um… Kate, yesterday you did a frozen section of a needle biopsy on one of Dr. Green's patients."
"Yes, a breast. It was an intraductal adenocarcinoma. I reported the results to Dr. Green myself." Her pulse quickened another notch. "Was there, um… any question in your mind of the-"
"What Dr. Willoughby is trying to say, " Rod Green cut in, "is that I did a masectomy on a woman who, it appears, has benign breast disease."
The man's dark eyes flashed. "That's impossible." Kate looked first to Willoughby and then to Liu Huang for support, but saw only the tightlipped confirmation of the surgeon's allegation. "Liu?"