The Second Opinion, page 14
“Brave new world,” Thea said.
“More like Kafka. For all I know there’s a security team watching over that security team.”
Selene patted Petros on the cheek, her bangles clinking.
“Well, I’ve got to go, old shoe,” she said. “I would think the least you could do was to wake up. You’re not acting very grateful to this woman here for saving your life.” She turned to Thea. “Take care, Princess Buttercup. Welcome to the staff of the Beaumont.”
Without waiting for a reply, Selene was gone. Thea ached for what their father was listening to, especially when the twins were at the bedside together. It was probably just as well that Dimitri wasn’t among the man’s regular daily visitors. She moistened a washcloth and mopped, then dried his forehead. Then she looked about, untaped his eyes, added some lubricant, and bent low by his ear.
“Dad, did you hear all of that?” she asked. “I need to get your records code so I can see exactly what was done with Jack Kalishar. Dr. Thibideau hasn’t been very helpful. All she really told me is that he’s still alive. Move your eye if you understand what I said.”
Thea gently moved his lids apart. Petros’s pupils were mid-position—perhaps a bit smaller than usual.
“Dad, look up. . . .”
He couldn’t be sleeping, not after the conversation that had just gone on with Selene.
“Dad, please. Look up if you can hear me. . . .”
There was no movement at all.
“Dad . . . ?”
Nothing. Thea pulled back and stared down at the man. He wasn’t hearing her. Not at all. She felt certain of it. There was no hint whatsoever that he was aware but locked-in. He wasn’t aware at all. At this moment, Petros was as unconscious as everyone else believed he was.
CHAPTER 23
“You all right? You don’t look so good.”
It was the patient with virtually incurable pancreatic cancer who was asking the question of the doctor.
“I was just going to say the same thing to you,” Thea replied.
“You’ll get your chance,” Hayley said. “In fact, I’m feeling bloated and a little uncomfortable up here in my stomach. I interpret every little ache, every little gas bubble as being another little cancer cell biting the dust. But you go first.”
Thea reviewed the developments surrounding her father and Jack Kalishar, the bizarre visit with Lydia Thibideau, and also the oddly truncated staff privileges conferred on her by Sharon Karsten and the credentials committee. Hayley, who had been reading Joyce Carol Oates in her usual spot near the doorway, had set her book aside and listened intently.
“So I think this Kalishar business might turn out to be a hopeful sign for you,” Thea said, unable to speak the name without wondering once again why her father had chosen it, of all the helpful words he could have given her. “He was treated by the same physician in the same hospital as you, and he’s a five-year survivor with no evidence of residual or recurrent disease.”
Hayley sighed.
“Doc, I got where I am today by being able to read people—many of them extremely oblique and difficult in that regard. You, my dear woman, are neither. It’s great that you’re trying to be upbeat and cheerful around me, but we’ll get a lot farther a lot faster if you just take the things that are bothering you one at a time.”
“Sorry. I’ll try.”
“Do we know if Kalishar and I are part of the same study?”
“Actually, we know that you’re not. According to Thibideau, the drug you’re getting is an improvement over the one he got.”
“Bad side effects?”
“Enough to modify the original drug. But Thibideau says this new version is showing great promise. You sleeping any better?”
Hayley took her hand.
“I’ll assume that the wonderful, unselfish, caring physician in you wants to reach out to me,” she said, “and to do what you can to make me feel better. We’ll get to me later. I promise. Now, number one on the list of things that are weighing on you is . . .”
Thea sighed and stared down at their hands. Over the years, she had improved a thousand percent in the art of making direct eye contact when speaking with someone, but the improvement still left her well below the average neurotypical in that regard. Hayley either didn’t notice the tendency, or more likely, chose not to comment on it.
“Well, number one is my father,” Thea said finally. “I told you he was communicating with me, but refused to communicate with my brother Niko or my sister Selene. She’s—”
“Niko’s twin. I have this terrible shortcoming in that I pay attention to what people say to me—especially people I care about. What about Dimitri?”
“I don’t know. He hasn’t been here very much. I think Petros has chosen me and only me. Unfortunately, I didn’t realize that at first, and told one of the nurses and Dr. Hartnett that he was awake and had communicated with me.”
“But they didn’t believe you when he didn’t respond to them.”
“Exactly.”
“Go on, please. I’ll try not to interrupt. Interrupting is another one of my shortcomings.”
“Well, even though they might not have believed he had regained consciousness, one or both of them said something about it to other people. Now I have no idea who knows my father might be awake, and who doesn’t. Not long after I failed to demonstrate Petros’s ability to communicate, a man disguised as an orderly almost got into the ICU. I think he was trying to kill him.”
“But you’re not certain of that.”
Thea shook her head.
“Earlier today, without my knowledge or opportunity to object, Petros was transferred from the ICU to the step-down unit. A little while ago, I was alone with him and tried to communicate. He’s been very slow at give-and-take, but I thought he might be improving. This time, he didn’t respond. Not at all.”
“Has he slipped back into a coma?”
“I don’t know. They took the pressure monitor out of his head, so there’s no easy way to tell if there’s a new blockage.”
“If the chief of the institute is treated that way, what can I expect?”
“You’re doing fine, and from all I can tell, you’re getting great care. You know, it’s possible my father is just being petulant. Thinking he was in a coma, Selene said some pretty harsh things about him at the bedside. If he heard her, maybe he just stopped talking.”
“Or maybe she knew he was awake. . . . I’m sorry, sweetheart. That was the cynical broad from the land of Trust No One speaking.”
“That may be better than the land of Trust Everyone, where I come from. Now, tell me what’s going on with you.”
“In a minute. First, tell me a little more about Jack Kalishar.”
“Do you know him?”
“No, but I know people who do. We billionaires are a pretty close bunch, you know, bound by the spirit of competition, plus an unbreakable creed of dislike, envy, and mistrust. Oops, there I go again. The wicked witch of the Southeast.”
“I think you’re wonderful.”
“Kalishar.”
“Okay. From what I can tell, my father believes that the hit- and-run that nearly killed him was no accident. I have the sense that he knew something he shouldn’t know, or saw something he shouldn’t have seen, and then maybe he told the wrong person about it. After he allowed me in on the secret that he had regained consciousness and had the ability to communicate, I convinced him to summon all his energy and let me walk him through the alphabet searching for one word—just one word—to help me understand what might be going on.”
“And he gave you Kalishar. I like the clothes they carry in his stores. The Kalishar’s Department Store chain is just the tip of his empire, though. The man’s got his thumb in more pies than Little Jack Horner.”
“Any of it dishonest?” Thea asked, a hopeful note in her voice. “Something that my father might have learned about him?”
“Not that I’ve heard. People like us don’t get to where we are without stepping on a toe or two or reinterpreting a law here or there. Dr. Thibideau wasn’t very helpful?”
“Typically, I just couldn’t tell if she was holding back from me, but she certainly wasn’t forthcoming either. You and I have talked about HIPAA. She only told me things she was certain I already knew or could find out by reading the papers.”
“Tell me something, Thea. While you were there, did Thibideau refer to anything in a yellow file folder?”
Thea shook her head.
“No,” she said. “There was nothing about that.”
“Well, they exist—at least for me one exists, and I’m pretty sure I caught sight of a lot more of them. They’re in a walnut or oak file cabinet behind her desk.”
“Four drawers tall. I saw it,” Thea said, closing her eyes to bring the image of Thibideau’s office into shaper focus. “Brass handles and a little statue of . . . of a ballerina on top.”
“Aren’t you something.”
“I remember thinking that Dr. Thibideau was one of the least ballerina-like women I have ever met. I almost asked her about it.”
“Probably just as well that you battled that particular impulse back, kiddo. Your Asperger’s therapist would be proud.”
Thea managed a thin smile.
“So Dr. Thibideau was using a folder and not an electronic record?”
“Actually, she had her computer going, too, but mostly she paid attention to me and referred to the yellow folder.”
“So, do you think she has a folder for Jack Kalishar?”
“I wouldn’t be surprised.”
“Maybe I could talk to her about that.”
Hayley smiled at her patiently.
“If she didn’t pull Kalishar’s file out when you were there in her office, do you think she’d do it just because you went back there and asked?”
“Just a thought.”
“And a very excellent thought, too. . . . But I might have a better one.”
“What?”
“Flowers.”
“But what would giving her flowers accomplish?”
Hayley laughed out loud.
“Not those kind of flowers, Dr. Thea. Sean Flowers. He works for me.”
Thea didn’t understand why Hayley had found that miscommunication so funny.
“How can this Flowers help us with Dr. Thibideau?” she asked.
Hayley sighed and cast about as if searching for guidance in picking her words.
“There are times in various aspects of my business enterprises,” she began, “where a rival company might have hidden away information that would help our company make important decisions.”
Thea looked at her blankly.
“Such as?”
“Such as whether that company plans to release a product that we have only recently begun to research at the cost of tens of millions of dollars. It would be worth a great deal to us to have that information. Sometimes, the secret to getting it is Sean Flowers.”
“I think I’m beginning to understand.”
“Good. Sean is an expert at getting a hold of information. Other companies have their version of Sean also.”
“You mean like industrial spies.”
“Well, I suppose that’s one way to put it.”
“Is there another?”
There was admiration in Hayley’s expression.
“No,” she said. “No, I don’t suppose there is.”
“So you want to have this Mr. Sean Flowers of yours break into Dr. Thibideau’s office.”
“He does have that ability. Yes.”
“And he would know what he was looking for?”
“Well, Thea, that depends on precisely what we want. It may be that you would have to go in there with him and review the charts right there.”
“I wonder how many of them there are.”
“Altogether? Hundreds, I would bet. I mean, pancreatic cancer is one of the most common, and she is one of the most referred- to experts in the field. The cases come rolling in to her. You think you could learn stuff from studying charts other than mine and Jack Kalishar’s?”
“Quite possibly. I wish I knew exactly what I’d be looking for.”
“I think when you see it, you’ll know. Somewhere in that locked-in brain of his, I think your father feels the same way.”
“Maybe. Maybe so.”
“Okay, then,” Hayley said, “we’re on?”
Thea thought for a few moments, then shook her head.
“I don’t think so,” she said. “Earlier today, I told the president of the hospital a lie about why I wanted staff privileges here. I don’t remember the last time I lied to someone like that. Then, just a little while later, I lied to her again. It wasn’t as hard the second time.”
“I promise you, Thea, companies do this sort of thing all the time, even companies like ours that have a reputation for high standards and ethical practices. The last thing I want is for you to think badly of me and the way I do business, but getting this information seemed important to you, and in case you forgot, it might turn out to be sort of important to me as well.”
“You have a point there.”
“So are we a go?”
Thea considered the question again.
“There are a lot of aspects of my Asperger syndrome that I wish I didn’t have,” she said finally, “but on the other hand, there are a lot of aspects I like having. It’s hard to explain.”
“I think I understand.”
“Then you understand why at this point at least, I don’t feel comfortable breaking into Dr. Thibideau’s office.”
Hayley stared down at her hands as she picked at a cuticle.
“We’ll see if we can find another way,” she said at last. “Now, when are you bringing this acupuncturist of yours over to see me?”
“Tomorrow evening. Not a word to Dr. Thibideau if you can help it.”
“Not a word.”
“Do you think that omission is a form of lying?”
“I think you’re a really terrific person, Thea. That’s what I think.”
“Professor Fang and I will be here right after dinner, I think.”
“I’ll be right here. And don’t worry, darling, I’m not the least bit disappointed in you for choosing not to involve Sean Flowers in this.”
“Actually,” Thea said, “I hadn’t even considered that you would be.”
CHAPTER 24
Before heading out to Wellesley, Thea took the tunnels back to the step-down unit. Visitors’ hours were over, and the hospital, like a beast with a thousand hearts, was stretching and yawning, settling into the night. The SDU seemed quiet, but Thea was disturbed that there were no security people on watch, and no private-duty nurses tending to her father.
He looked peaceful enough, lying there by his ventilator, but Thea couldn’t help but wonder if the two of them had communicated for the last time.
“Dad?” she whispered. “Dad, it’s me.”
The monitor overhead continued to record a pattern of stability, which it then transmitted to the nurses’ station. Thea removed the paper tape from Petros’s eyes and inserted the lubricating drops. Melancholy had rarely been an emotion that was a part of her, but she had talked about the feeling from time to time with her neurotypical friends. At the moment, there was a heaviness in her chest and a fullness in her throat that felt foreign and strange, and that she suspected might represent melancholy.
So much was confusing to her. So little of what was swirling about her father made sense.
“Dad, it’s Thea. Move your eyes if you can hear me. Just look up.” The Lion’s dark eyes stared ahead, fixed on a spot somewhere on the ceiling. “Dad, what’s going on? Please tell me what’s happening?”
It was only then that she recalled the slight change in his pupils. They were smaller than they had been—not quite the pinpoint pupils of a narcotics overdose or certain brain stem disasters, but headed in that direction. She made a mental note to call the finding to the nurse’s attention, and to review his meds and the reports on his hourly neuro checks, which would include pupil size and reactivity.
The unpleasant fullness in her chest intensified.
Melancholy.
Maybe she shouldn’t have been so quick to turn down Hayley’s offer of help from Sean Flowers. Her father’s tenuous, spiderweb connection with the world seemed to have snapped. Was this the natural progression of his brain injury? If not, who did this to him? Who was responsible? What did Jack Kalishar have to do with anything? What was she willing to do, what principles was she willing to sacrifice to get to the bottom of things?
“Please. If you can hear me, Dad, let me know. Move your eyes.”
Thea blinked back a sudden rush of tears. Things might have been better if Niko had never been able to reach her in the Congo. This was going to be a nightmare. No, no. It was a nightmare already.
Replacing the paper tape, Thea bent forward and kissed her father on the forehead. He wasn’t going to wake up again. She felt it in the deepest part of her. If this was melancholy she was experiencing, she wanted no part of it. She stopped by the nurses’ station and was allowed to review her father’s medications. None of them could have caused his pupillary constriction. Perhaps it was time for another MRI, or at least a recheck by the neurologist.
What difference does it make? Thea found herself thinking as she cut through the deserted lobby of the Sperelakis Institute and out into the parking lot where she had left Petros’s Volvo.
What difference does any of it make?
The lighting in the lot wasn’t the best, but there were still a number of cars. It would be good to spend a little time with Dimitri, who had left her a note that he would be up late as usual.
Thea fumbled through her purse for her keys and opened the lock with the remote. At the instant she was about to open the driver’s side door, she became aware of movement behind her, but there was no time to react. A plastic bag was pulled over her head and a drawstring at its mouth was tightened around her neck. At the same instant, she was slammed against the Volvo, a man’s full weight pressing against her from behind.
