Insatiable Appetites

60

Stone reached into his briefcase, opened the small plastic box, and removed the syringe. He uncapped it, squirted out a little of the liquid to get rid of the air bubbles, and moved quickly toward Dolce, who still stood, facing the kitchen door, the knife out in front of her.

Stone reached around her shoulders and held her still. “Relax, Dolce, just relax.” He stabbed the syringe into her upper thigh and emptied it into her. At the same moment, he felt a searing pain in his upper left arm. Dolce pulled away from him; Stone looked and found his left arm gushing blood down his sleeve and onto the floor. She had cut right through his suit.

“Holy mother of God!” Mary Ann shouted.

Dolce looked dazed and swayed on her feet.

Mary Ann ran to Stone, grabbed his necktie, and in one motion, tore it off him. She wrapped it twice around his upper arm and pulled it tight. “Hold this in place,” she said. “She’s cut a major artery. If you don’t keep the tourniquet tight, you’ll bleed out in no time.”

Stone kept the necktie tight. Dolce started for him with the knife, but she was unsteady on her feet. Then she stopped, her eyes wide, and fell forward like a tree onto her face.

“What was that?” Mary Ann asked.

“Thorazine,” Stone replied. “The gift of a friend.” He sat down heavily on a chair, dizzy.

Then Pietro burst into the room, a knife in his hand, and ran toward the hallway doors at a dead run, with two SWAT officers in hot pursuit. Stone heard the front door slam and looked out the windows toward the front lawn. Pietro disappeared into the heavy rainstorm, running like a deer, with the cops hard on his heels.

Mary Ann ran into the kitchen. “Dino!” she yelled at the top of her lungs.

An officer came to her. “The commissioner isn’t here. What is it?” he asked.

“Mr. Barrington needs an ambulance right away — he’s had an artery severed.”

“We have a medical team on the way,” the man said, and he spoke into a handheld radio. “They’ll be here in one minute.”

“Tell them they’re going to need two gurneys,” Mary Ann said.

Stone was impressed with the way she had taken charge, saving his life into the bargain. “How’d you know about the artery?” he asked.

“I was a Girl Scout — we took a first-aid course.”

Four people in hospital scrubs burst into the room, one of them pushing a gurney.

“Treat him first,” Mary Ann said, pointing at Stone. “He’s got a severed artery in his arm.”

Two of them went to work on Stone, cutting off his sleeve and tending to the wound. “We’ve got to get him to a hospital,” one of them said. “He’ll need surgery to repair the artery.” He turned back to Stone. “Do you know your blood type?”

“O positive,” Stone said. The two men helped Stone onto a gurney.

Two more people appeared with another gurney and lifted Dolce, now semiconscious, onto it. They made a little procession toward the front door. When they opened it the rain was still pouring. They grabbed Stone’s two umbrellas from the stand and sheltered the two gurneys as they got them both into a large ambulance. Mary Ann and an EMT got in with them, and the doors were closed.

“Let’s get this guy to the hospital first,” the man shouted at his driver.

“No!” Stone said. “Get to Floyd Bennett first. I’ll be fine.”

He didn’t feel fine, but he wanted Dolce on her way.

“I guess it’s okay,” the nurse said. “It’s on the way to the hospital, and he’s stable.” In minutes they were at Floyd Bennett Naval Air Station, a former base in Brooklyn that was little used these days. The Strategic Services G-650 waited on the tarmac with one engine running.

“How long is the flight?” Mary Ann asked.

“Nine or ten hours — it’s a good forty-five hundred miles. The mother superior will meet you with an ambulance and her own medical team, and these guys will be with you all the way.

“Once there, you’ll have a few words with the mother superior, so that she will have an official request from a family member of Dolce’s, then you’ll take off for Rome, where the aircraft will pick up some passengers for the trip back. That way, you only have to pay for the leg to Palermo.”

“Thank God for that,” she said.

The doors to the ambulance opened, and they made to remove Dolce and her gurney. But Dolce was hanging on to Stone’s remaining coat sleeve.

“You!” she managed to say. “You!”

“Somebody had to do it, Dolce,” Stone said. “You are a danger to yourself and others.”

“You!” she said again, then the gurney was out of the ambulance. Mary Ann ran alongside it toward the big jet. The rain had let up considerably, and there was no more thunder.

Stone sat up, braced on his good elbow, and watched through the open ambulance doors as the EMTs loaded Dolce’s gurney onto the airplane. They already had her strapped down and an IV running as she disappeared into the aircraft. The door was closed, and the second engine began to spool up with a loud whine. In a moment the airplane was taxiing.

“Now you can get me to a hospital,” Stone said, then he fainted.

He was out until the following morning, and sun was streaming through the windows of his room as his eyelids fluttered. A nurse sat by his bed, and Carla sat on the other side.

“Just take it easy,” the nurse said. “You’ve been sedated. The doctor will be here in a moment.”

“Dino called me,” Carla said, looking at her watch. “I’ve got to be at a meeting in my publisher’s office in forty-five minutes. There are rumors that the executive editor is retiring, and I expect it’s about that.”

“You’re going to get it,” Stone said.

“There’s stiff competition from Ed Rodgers, the editorial page editor.”

“Nevertheless. You’re going to get a Pulitzer and the job. You’d better get going, you don’t want to be late for this one.”

“I’ll call you later,” she said. She kissed him and fled.

A young man in scrubs and a white coat strode into the room. “Good morning. I see you’re awake,” he said cheerfully. “I’m Dr. Lefkowitz, your surgeon.”

“How old are you?” Stone said.

Lefkowitz laughed. “I get that a lot. Older than you think. You were in surgery for a couple of hours. We repaired the artery and you took three units of blood. We kept you sedated through the night to keep you from moving around. You’ve had a tetanus shot and an IV antibiotic, too.”

“When am I getting out of here?” Stone asked.

“We’ll keep you another night, just to be sure there’s no further bleeding or infection. You should be out of here this time tomorrow. Move your arm as little as possible. I’ll check on you again later today.” He turned on his heel and strode out of the room.

“I need my phone,” Stone said to the nurse. “It should be in my jacket pocket.”

“You’re going to need a new jacket,” she said, going to the closet and finding the phone. “And a new shirt, too. And some pants. Everything was soaked with blood.” She handed him the phone, and he pressed a speed dial button.

“Woodman & Weld,” Joan said. “Stone Barrington’s office.”

“It’s me,” Stone said.

“Thank God. Fred told me they took you away in an ambulance, but he didn’t know where, and I couldn’t get ahold of Dino.”

“In a hospital somewhere in darkest Brooklyn. I had an accident, but I’m fine. I’ll be home tomorrow morning.”

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m just a little fuzzy around the edges,” he said. “It’s the drugs. I’m going to need a change of clothes — suit, shirt, tie, shoes, socks, and underwear.” He handed the phone to the nurse. “Tell her where I am.”

Dino burst into the room. “You’re awake!” he said. “I was here last night when you came out of surgery, but they said you’d be out for a while.”

“More than awake, I’m alive,” Stone said.

“Mary Ann called. They made it to Palermo okay.”

“And Pietro?”

“Suicide by cop. Did us all a favor.”

“Is Dolce safely in the convent?”

“Yes, the transfer went well.”

“Do you think they can hang on to her for a while?” Stone asked.

“For the rest of her life, I hope.”

“We can hope,” Stone said.