Fatal Cure

21

At first David had no idea where he was when he opened his eyes in the dark. Fumbling with the unfamiliar bedside lamp, he finally managed to turn it on. He looked around in a daze at the unfamiliar furniture. It took him almost a minute to realize he was in the guest room. As soon as he did, the previous night's unpleasantness came back in a flash.

David picked up his wristwatch. It was quarter to five in the morning. He lay back on the pillow and shuddered through a wave of nausea. On the heels of the nausea came cramps followed by a bout of diarrhea.

Feeling horrid, David limped from the guest bath to the master bath in search of some over-the-counter diarrhea medication. When he finally found a bottle, he took a healthy dose. Then he searched for a thermometer and stuck it in his mouth.

While waiting for an accurate reading to register, David searched for aspirin. As he was doing so, he realized that he had to keep swallowing, just as some of his now dead patients had.

David stared at his reflection in the mirror as a new fear made itself known to him. What if he had caught the mysterious illness that had been killing his patients? My God, he thought, they had the same symptoms I'm manifesting now. With trembling fingers he took out the thermometer. It read one hundred degrees. He stuck out his tongue and examined it in the mirror. It was as pale as his face.

"Calm down!" he ordered himself harshly. He took two aspirins and washed them down with a glass of water. Almost immediately he got another cramp and had to hold onto the countertop until it had passed.

In a deliberately calm manner, he considered his symptoms. They were flu-like, similar to those of the five nurses he'd seen. There was no reason to jump to hysterical conclusions.

Having taken the diarrhea medication and the aspirin, David decided to take the same advice he'd given those nurses: he went back to bed. By the time the alarm in the master bedroom sounded, he was already feeling better.

He and Angela first eyed each other warily. Then they fell into each other's arms. They hugged each other for a full minute before David spoke.

"Truce?" he asked.

Angela nodded her agreement. "We're both stressed out."

"On top of that, I think I'm coming down with something," David said. He told her about the flu symptoms which had awakened him. "The only thing that's still bothering me is excessive salivation," he added.

"What do you mean by excessive salivation?" Angela asked.

"I have to keep swallowing," David said. "It's something like the feeling you get before vomiting, but not as bad. Anyway, it's better than it was."

"Have you seen Nikki?" Angela asked.

"Not yet," David said.

After they had washed they went down to Nikki's room. Rusty greeted them eagerly. Nikki was less enthusiastic. She was a little more congested despite the oral antibiotics and the added effort at respiratory therapy.

While Angela made breakfast, David called Dr. Pilsner and told him about Nikki's status:

"I think I should see her right away," Dr. Pilsner said. "Why don't I meet you in the emergency room in half an hour?"

"We'll be there," David said. "And thank you. I appreciate your concern." He was about to hang up when he thought to inquire about Caroline.

"She died," Dr. Pilsner said. "The end came around three this morning. Her blood pressure could no longer be maintained. At least she didn't suffer, though that's not much consolation."

The news, though expected, hit David hard. With a heavy heart, he went into the kitchen and told Angela the news.

Angela looked as though she might burst into tears, but instead she lashed out. "I can't believe you let Nikki go in and visit her like you did," she said.

Stunned at the sharp rebuke, David came back. "At least I came home at lunch yesterday to be sure Nikki got her antibiotic." That said, he did feel guilty for having let Nikki spend time with Caroline.

David and Angela eyed each other, struggling with their irritation and fear.

"I'm sorry," Angela said finally. "I forgot about our truce. I'm just so worried."

"Dr. Pilsner wants to see Nikki in the ER right away," David said. "I think we better go."

They bundled Nikki up and went out to the car. David and Angela meticulously refrained from saying anything to provoke the other. They knew the other's weaknesses and vulnerabilities too well. Nikki didn't say anything either; she coughed most of the way.

Dr. Pilsner was waiting for them and immediately took Nikki into one of the examining stalls. David and Angela stood to the side while Dr. Pilsner examined Nikki. When he was finished he drew them aside.

"I want her in the hospital immediately," he said.

"Do you think she has pneumonia?" David asked.

"I'm not sure," Dr. Pilsner said. "But it's possible. I don't want to take any chances after what happened…" He didn't finish his sentence.

"I'll stay here with Nikki," Angela said to David. "You go do your rounds."

"All right," David said. "Page me if there's any problem." David was still feeling poorly himself; this latest development with Nikki only made him feel worse. He kissed his daughter goodbye, promising that he'd be by to see her all through the day. Nikki nodded. She'd been through this routine before.

David got several aspirins from an ER nurse, then headed upstairs.

"How is Mrs. Hascher?" David asked Janet Colburn as soon as he saw her. He sat down at the desk and pulled his patients' charts.

"Nothing much said at report," Janet said. "I don't think any of us have been in there yet this morning. We've been concentrating on getting the seven-thirty surgical cases down to the operating room."

David opened Sandra's chart hesitantly. First he looked at the temperature chart. There had been no spikes of fever. The last temperature taken was just over one hundred. Turning to the nurses' notes he read that Sandra had been sleeping each time a nurse had gone into her room.

David breathed a sigh of relief. So far so good. When he was finished with the charts he began seeing the patients. All were doing well except for Sandra.

When David entered her room he found her still asleep. Moving to the bedside, he glanced at the swelling on her jaw. It appeared unchanged. He gave her shoulder a gentle shake, calling her name softly. When she didn't respond, he shook her more vigorously and said her name more loudly.

Finally she stirred, lifting a trembling hand to her face. She could barely open her eyes. David shook her yet again. Her eyes opened a bit wider and she tried to speak, but all that came out was disconnected jabber. She was clearly disoriented.

Trying to remain calm, David drew some blood and sent it off for some stat lab work. Then he devoted himself to a careful examination, concentrating particularly on Sandra's lungs and the nervous system.

When David returned to the nurses' station a short time later he was handed Sandra's stat laboratory values. They were all normal, including the blood count. The white cells, which had been elevated from her abscessed tooth, had fallen with the antibiotics and were still low, ruling out infection as an explanation for her current clinical state. That said, the sound of her lungs suggested incipient pneumonia. David wondered again about a possible failure of her immune response.

Once again David was presented with the same trio of symptoms affecting the central nervous system, the GI system, and the blood or immune system. He was seeing a complex, but he had no idea what the underlying factor could be.

David agonized over what to do next. The life of a thirty-four-year-old woman hung in the balance. He was afraid to call any consults, partly because of Kelley and partly because the consults had not provided any help in the three similar cases. And calling in consults for Eakins had resulted in David's removal from the case. David was even reluctant to order further diagnostic or laboratory tests since nothing had proved to be of any value with the other patients. He was at a loss.

"We have a seizure in room 216," one of the nurses shouted from down the hall. David went running. Room 216 was Sandra's room.

Sandra was in the throes of a full-blown grand mal seizure. Her body was arched back as her limbs contracted rhythmically with such force that the whole bed was bouncing off the floor. David barked orders for a tranquilizer. In an instant it was slapped into his hand. He injected it into Sandra's IV. Within minutes the convulsions stopped, leaving Sandra's body spent and comatose.

David stared down at his patient's now peaceful face. He felt as if he was being mocked for his intellectual impotence. While he had been indecisively sitting at the desk puzzling over what to do, the seizure had taken over Sandra's body in a dramatic gesture.

David erupted in a whirlwind of activity. Anger replaced despair as he pulled out all the diagnostic stops. Once again he ordered everything: consults, lab tests, X rays, even an MRI of the skull. He was determined to figure out what was happening to Sandra Hascher.

Fearing a rapid downhill course, David also made immediate arrangements to transfer Sandra to the ICU. He wanted continuous monitoring of her vital signs. He did not want any more surprises.

The transfer occurred within half an hour. David helped push Sandra down the hall to the ICU. Once she was moved off the gurney, David started for the ICU desk to write new orders, but he stopped short of his goal. In a bed directly across from the central desk was Nikki.

David was stunned. He'd never expected to see Nikki in the ICU. Her presence there terrified him. What could it mean?

David felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned to see Dr. Pilsner. "I can see you're upset about your daughter being in here," he said. "Calm down. I just don't want to take any chances. There are some fabulously skilled nurses in here who are accustomed to taking care of patients with respiratory problems."

"Are you sure it's necessary?" David asked nervously. He knew how tough the ICU environment was on a patient's psyche.

"It's for her benefit," Dr. Pilsner said. "It's purely precautionary. I'll be moving her out of here just as soon as I can."

"Okay," David said. But he was still anxious about this latest turn of events.

Before writing the new orders on Sandra, David went over to talk with Nikki. She was far less concerned about the ICU than David was. David was relieved to see her taking it so well.

Returning his attention to Sandra Hascher, David sat down at the ICU desk and began writing her orders. He was nearly through when the unit clerk tapped his arm.

"There's a Mr. Kelley out in the patient lounge to see you," he said.

David felt his stomach tighten. He knew why Kelley was there, but he wasn't eager to see him and didn't go immediately. He finished writing the orders first and gave them to the head nurse. Only then did he go out to meet Kelley.

"I'm disappointed," Kelley said as David approached. "The utilization coordinator called me a few minutes ago…"

"Just a minute!" David snapped, cutting off Kelley. "I've got a sick patient in the ICU and I don't have time to waste with you. So for now stay out of my way. I'll talk to you later. Understand?"

For a second David glared up into Kelley's face. Then he spun around and started out of the room.

"Just a minute, Dr. Wilson," Kelley called. "Not so fast."

David whirled around and stormed back. Without warning he reached out and grabbed Kelley by the tie and the front of his shirt and roughly pushed him back. Kelley collapsed into the club chair behind him. David shook a clenched fist in Kelley's face.

"I want you to get the hell out of here," David snarled. "If you don't, I don't take responsibility for the consequences. It's as simple as that."

Kelley swallowed, but he didn't move.

David spun on his heels and marched out of the lounge. Just as he was about out the door, Kelley called out to him, "I'll be talking with my superiors."

David turned back. "You do that," he said. Then he continued into the ICU. Returning to the desk, he paused. His heart was pounding. He wondered what he really would have done if Kelley had stood up to him.

"Dr. Wilson," the unit clerk called out. "I have Dr. Mieslich on the phone. He's returning your call."

"My husband teaches at the college," Madeline Gannon explained. "He gives courses in drama and literature."

Calhoun had been eyeing the many shelves of books that lined the Gannons' library walls.

"I'd like to meet him sometime," Calhoun said. "I read a lot of plays. It's been my hobby since retiring. Especially Shakespeare."

"What is it you wanted to talk to me about?" Madeline asked, diplomatically changing the subject. From Calhoun's appearance she doubted if Bernard would be terribly interested.

"I'm investigating Dr. Dennis Hodges' murder," Calhoun said. "As you know his body was recently found."

"That was distressing," Madeline said.

"I understand you worked for him for some time," Calhoun said.

"Over thirty years," Madeline said.

"Pleasant work?" Calhoun asked.

"It had its ups and downs," Madeline admitted. "He was a headstrong man who could be stubborn and cranky one minute and understanding and generous the next. I loved him and disliked him at the same time. But I was devastated by the news when they found his body. I'd secretly hoped he'd just had enough of everybody, and had gone to Florida. He used to talk about going to Florida every winter, particularly the last few."

"Do you know who killed him?" Calhoun asked. He glanced around for an ashtray but didn't see one.

"I haven't the slightest idea," Madeline said. "But with Dr. Hodges, there sure are a lot of candidates."

"Like who?" Calhoun asked.

"Well, let me take that back," Madeline said. "To be perfectly honest, I don't think that a single one of the people Dr. Hodges regularly infuriated would have actually done the man harm. In the same way Dr. Hodges would never had carried out any of the threats he voiced so frequently."

"Who did he threaten?" Calhoun asked.

Madeline laughed. "Just about everybody associated with the new administration at the hospital," she said. "Also the police chief, the head of the local bank, the Mobil station owner. The list goes on and on."

"Why was Hodges so angry with the new administration at the hospital?" Calhoun asked.

"Mostly on behalf of his patients," Madeline said. "Rather, his former patients. Dr. Hodges' practice fell off when he took over the directorship of the hospital, and then again when CMV came into the picture. He wasn't all that upset about it because he knew the hospital needed the HMO's business and he was ready to slow down. But then his former patients started coming back to him, complaining about their health care under CMV. They wanted him to be their doctor again, but it wasn't possible because their health care had to come through CMV."

"Sounds like Hodges should have been angry at CMV," Calhoun said. Before Madeline could respond, Calhoun asked if he could smoke. Madeline said no but offered to make him coffee. Calhoun accept her offer, so they adjourned to the kitchen.

"Where was I?" Madeline asked while she put water on the stove to boil.

"I was suggesting Hodges should have been angry with CMV," Calhoun said.

"I remember," Madeline said. "He was angry with CMV, but he was also angry with the hospital because the hospital was agreeing to everything CMV proposed. And Dr. Hodges felt he carried some weight at the hospital."

"Was he angry about anything specific?" Calhoun asked.

"It was a bunch of things," Madeline said. "He was angry about the treatment, or the lack of it, in the emergency room. People couldn't go to the emergency room any more unless they paid cash up front. Other people couldn't get into the hospital when they thought they needed to. The day he disappeared he was really upset by the death of one of his former patients. In fact, several of his former patients had recently died. I remember it specifically because Dr. Hodges used to yell and scream that CMV physicians couldn't keep his patients alive. He felt they were incompetent and that the hospital was abetting their incompetence."

"Can you remember the name of the patient Hodges was upset about the day he disappeared?" Calhoun asked.

"Now you're expecting miracles," Madeline said as she poured the coffee. She handed a cup to Calhoun who helped himself to three heaping teaspoons of sugar and a dollop of cream.

"Wait a minute! I do remember," Madeline said suddenly. "It was Clark Davenport. No doubt in my mind."

Calhoun fished out his set of the copies he and Angela had obtained in Burlington. "Here it is," he said after leafing through. "Clark Davenport, fractured hip."

"Yup, he's the one," Madeline said. "The poor man fell off a ladder trying to get a kitten out of a tree."

"Look at these other names," Calhoun said. He handed the papers to Madeline. "Any of them mean anything to you?"

Madeline took the papers and shuffled through them. "I can remember each and every one," she said. "In fact, these are the patients I mentioned: the ones Dr. Hodges was irritated about. They had all died."

"Hmmm," Calhoun said as he took the papers back. "I knew they had to be related somehow."

"Dr. Hodges was also upset at the hospital people because of the attacks in the parking lot," Madeline added.

"Why was that?" Calhoun asked.

"He felt the hospital administration should have been doing a lot more than they were," Madeline said. "They were more concerned about keeping the incidents out of the news than they were about catching the rapist. Dr. Hodges was convinced that the rapist was part of the hospital community."

"Did he have anybody specific in mind?"

"He indicated that he did," Madeline said. "But he didn't tell me who."

"Do you think he might have told his wife?" Calhoun asked.

"It's possible," Madeline said.

"Do you think he ever said anything to the person he suspected?" Calhoun asked.

"I haven't the slightest idea," Madeline said. "But I do know that he planned to discuss the problem with Wayne Robertson even though he and Wayne did not get along. In fact, he'd planned to go see Robertson the day he disappeared."

"Did he go?" Calhoun asked.

"No," Madeline said. "That same day Dr. Hodges learned that Clark Davenport had died. Instead of seeing Robertson, Dr. Hodges had me make a lunch date for him with Dr. Barry Holster, the radiotherapist. The reason I remembered Clark Davenport's name was because I remember making the lunch arrangements."

"Why was Hodges so eager to see Dr. Holster?" Calhoun asked.

"Dr. Holster had recently finished treating Clark Davenport," Madeline said.

Calhoun put down his coffee cup and stood up. "You've been wonderfully cooperative and most gracious," he said. "I'm appreciative of both your coffee and your excellent memory."

Madeline Gannon blushed.

Angela had finished her work and was leafing through a laboratory journal just prior to her lunch break when the chief medical examiner called.

"I'm glad I caught you," Walt said.

"Why?" Angela asked.

"Something extraordinary has happened," Walt said. "And you are responsible."

"Tell me," Angela said.

"It's all because of your surprise visit yesterday," Walt said. "Would you be able to jump in your car and come up here?"

"When?"

"Right now," Walt said.

Angela was intrigued. "Can you give me an idea of what this is about?" she asked.

"I'd rather show you," he said. "It's really unique. I'll have to write this up or at least present it at the annual forensic dinner. I want you to be in on it right away. Consider it part of your education."

"I'd love to come," Angela said. "But I'm worried about Dr. Wadley. We've not been on the best of terms."

"Oh, forget Wadley," Walt said. "I'll give him a call. This is important."

"You're making it hard to refuse," Angela said.

"That's the whole idea," Walt said.

Angela grabbed her coat. On her way out she glanced into Wadley's office. He wasn't there. She asked the secretaries where he was. They told her that he'd gone to the Iron Horse Inn for lunch and wouldn't be back until two.

She asked Paul Darnell to cover for her again in case there was any type of emergency. She told him that she'd gotten a specific request from the chief medical examiner to come to see something extraordinary.

Before she left for Burlington, Angela dashed up to the ICU to check on Nikki. She was pleased to discover that her daughter was doing much better and was in fine spirits.

Angela made it to the chief medical examiner's office in record time. "Wow!" Walt said when she appeared at his office door. He glanced at his watch as he stood to greet her. "That was fast. What kind of a sports car do you drive?"

"I have to admit your call whetted my curiosity. I was eager to get here," Angela said. "And to tell you the truth, I haven't much time."

"We won't need much time," Walt said. He led her to a microscope set up on a workbench. "First, I want you to look at this," he said.

Angela adjusted the eyepieces and looked in. She saw a specimen of skin. Then she saw black dots in the dermis.

"Do you know what that is?" Walt asked.

"I think so," Angela said. "This must be the skin from under Hodges' nails."

"Precisely," Walt said. "See the carbon?"

"I do," Angela said.

"All right. Take a look at this."

Angela lifted her eyes from the microscope and accepted a photograph from Walt.

"This is a photomicrograph I obtained with a scanning electron microscope," Walt explained. "Notice that the dots don't look like carbon any longer."

Angela studied the photo. What Walt was saying was true.

"Now look at this," Walt said. He handed her a printout. "This is the output of an atomic spectrophotometer. What I did was elute the granules with an acid solvent and then analyze them. They aren't carbon."

"What are they?" Angela asked.

"They're a mixture of chromium, cobalt, cadmium, and mercury," Walt said triumphantly.

"That's wonderful, Walt," Angela said. She was completely baffled. "But what does it mean?"

"I was just as perplexed as you," Walt said. "I had no idea what it meant. I even started to think that the atomic spectrophotometer had gone on the fritz until I suddenly had an epiphany. It's part of a tattoo!"

"Are you sure?" Angela questioned.

"Absolutely," Walt said. "These pigments are used for tattooing."

Angela immediately shared Walt's excitement. With the power of forensics they'd made a discovery about the killer. He had a tattoo. She couldn't wait to tell David and Calhoun.

Returning to Bartlet, Angela ran into Paul Darnell. He'd been waiting for her.

"I got some bad news," Darnell said. "Wadley knows you left town and he's not happy about it."

"How could he know?" Angela asked. Darnell was the only person she'd told.

"I think he was spying on you," Darnell said. "That's the only explanation I can think of. He came in to see me fifteen minutes after you left."

"I thought he'd gone out for lunch," Angela said.

"That's what he told everybody," Darnell said. "Obviously he hadn't. He asked me directly if you had left Bartlet. I couldn't lie. I had to tell him."

"Did you tell him I went to see the chief medical examiner?" Angela asked.

"Yes," Darnell said.

"Then it should be fine," Angela said. "Thanks for letting me know."

"Good luck," Darnell said.

No sooner had Angela returned to her office than a secretary appeared to let her know that Dr. Wadley wanted to see her in his office. That was an ominous turn of events. Wadley had never used an intermediary before.

Angela found Wadley sitting at his desk. He stared at her with cold eyes.

"I was told you wanted to see me," she said.

"I did indeed," Wadley said. "I wanted to inform you that you are fired. I would appreciate it if you would pack up your belongings and leave. Your continued presence is bad for morale."

"I find this hard to believe," Angela said.

"Nonetheless, it is so," Wadley said coldly.

"If you're upset because I was gone at my lunch hour, you should know that I drove to Burlington to visit the chief medical examiner," Angela said. "He'd called to ask me to come as soon as I could."

"Dr. Walter Dunsmore does not run this department," Wadley said. "I do."

"Didn't he call you?" Angela asked. She felt desperate. "He told me he would call you. He was excited about something he'd discovered concerning the body found in my home." Angela quickly related the details, but Wadley was unmoved.

"I've only been gone for a little over an hour," Angela said.

"I'm not interested in excuses," Wadley said. "I warned you just yesterday about this very same thing. You chose to ignore my warnings. You've demonstrated yourself to be unreliable, disobedient, and ungrateful."

"Ungrateful!" Angela exploded. "Ungrateful for what? For your sniveling advances? For not wanting to rush off to Miami for a weekend of sun and fun with you? You can fire me, Dr. Wadley, but I'll tell you what I can do: I can sue you and the hospital for sexual harassment."

"You just try it, young lady," Wadley snapped. "You'll be laughed out of the courtroom."

Angela stormed out of Wadley's office. She was beside herself with rage. As she passed through the outer office, the secretaries quickly scattered in her wake.

Angela went to her office and gathered up her belongings. There wasn't much. All the equipment belonged to the hospital. Packing her things into a canvas tote bag, she walked out. She didn't talk to anyone for fear of losing her composure. She didn't want to give Wadley the satisfaction of making her cry.

She intended to go directly to David's office, but then she changed her mind. After her recent argument with David, she was afraid of his reaction to her losing her job. She didn't think she could handle a confrontation in the hospital. So instead she went directly to her car and drove aimlessly toward town.

Just as she was passing the library she put on the brakes and backed up. She'd spotted Calhoun's inimitable truck in the parking lot.

Angela parked her car. She wondered where Calhoun might be. She decided to check the library, recalling that Calhoun had mentioned he knew the librarian.

Angela found Calhoun reading in a quiet alcove overlooking the town green.

"Mr. Calhoun?" Angela whispered.

Calhoun looked up. "How convenient," he said with a smile. "I've got some news."

"I'm afraid I've got some news as well," Angela said. "How about meeting me up at the house."

"I'll look forward to it," Calhoun said.

As soon as Angela got home she put some water on to boil. While she was getting out cups and saucers, Calhoun's truck came up the drive. Angela called out that the door was unlocked when he knocked.

"Coffee or tea?" Angela asked when Calhoun came into the kitchen.

"Whatever you're having," Calhoun said.

Angela got out the teapot and busied herself getting the tea and the honey.

"You're off kinda early," Calhoun said.

Having reined in her emotions ever since she'd fled Wadley's office, Angela's response to Calhoun's innocent comment was overwhelming. She covered her face and sobbed. At a loss for what he had said or what to do, Calhoun stood helpless.

When Angela's tears reduced to intermittent choking sobs, Calhoun apologized. "I'm sorry," he said. "I don't know what I did, but I'm sorry."

Angela stepped over to him and put her arms around him and her head on his woolly shoulder. He hugged her back. When she'd finally stopped crying he told her that she better tell him what happened.

"I think I'll have some wine instead of tea," Angela said.

"I'll have a beer," Calhoun said.

Sitting at the kitchen table Angela told Calhoun about getting fired. She explained how dire the consequences could be for her family.

Calhoun turned out to be a good listener, and he had the intuitive sense of what to say. He made Angela feel better. They even discussed her concerns about Nikki.

When Angela had talked herself out, Calhoun told her that he'd made some progress in the investigation.

"Maybe you're not interested anymore," Calhoun said.

"I'm still interested," Angela assured him. She dried her eyes with a dish towel. "Tell me."

"First of all, I discovered how the eight patients whose admission summaries Hodges was carrying around are related," he said. "All of them were former patients of Hodges' who had been shifted to CMV and had subsequently died in the months preceding Hodges' murder. Apparently each death came as a surprise for Hodges. That's why he was so furious."

"Did he blame the hospital or CMV?" Angela asked.

"Good question," Calhoun said. "As far as I could find out from his secretary he blamed both, but his main beef was with the hospital. It makes sense: he still thought of the hospital as his baby. So he was more disappointed with its perceived faults."

"Does this help us find out who killed him?" Angela asked.

"Probably not," Calhoun admitted. "But it's another piece to the puzzle. I also discovered another one: Hodges believed he knew the identity of the parking lot rapist. What's more, he thought the perp was connected to the hospital."

"I see where you are going," Angela said. "If the rapist knew Hodges suspected him, then he might have killed Hodges. In other words, the rapist and Hodges' murderer could be the same person."

"Exactly," Calhoun said. "The same person who tried to kill you the other night."

Angela shuddered. "Don't remind me," she said. Then she added: "I learned something specific about this person today, something that could make finding him a bit easier: he has a tattoo."

"How do you know that?" Calhoun asked.

Angela explained why she had gone to Burlington. She told Calhoun that Walter Dunsmore was absolutely convinced that Hodges had scraped off part of his killer's tattoo.

"Hell's bells," Calhoun said. "I love it."

When yet another nurse from the second floor called and asked to be seen for the flu, David was eager to see her. When she arrived, she was surprised that she didn't have to describe her symptoms; David described them for her. They were the same as his, only more pronounced. Her gastrointestinal problems had not responded well to the usual medications. Her temperature was one hundred and one.

"Have you had increased salivation?" David asked.

"I have," the nurse said, "and I've never had anything like it before."

"Nor have I," David said.

Seeing how uncomfortable this nurse was, David was thankful his own symptoms had waned during the day. He sent the nurse home for bed rest and told her to drink plenty of fluids and take whatever antipyretic medication she preferred.

After the last office patient had been seen, David started off to the hospital to see his patients. He'd been back and forth all day, checking on both Nikki and Sandra, so he expected no surprises.

When he entered the ICU, Nikki saw him immediately and beamed. She was doing remarkably well. She'd responded to the IV antibiotics and ministrations of the respiratory therapist. She hadn't even minded the hustle and bustle of the ICU. Still David was happy to learn that she was scheduled to be transferred out of the unit the following morning.

Sandra's condition was just the opposite, following a relentless downhill course. She'd never awakened from her coma. The consults had been no help. Hasselbaum said she didn't have an infectious disease. The oncologist merely shrugged and said there was nothing he could do. He insisted she'd had a good result from the treatment of her melanoma. It had been six years since the primary lesion on her thigh had been diagnosed, then removed along with a few malignant lymph nodes.

David sat at the desk in the ICU and leafed through Sandra's chart. The MRI of her skull had been normal: no tumor and certainly no brain abscess. David looked at the laboratory tests he'd ordered. Some were not back yet and wouldn't be for days. He'd ordered all body fluids to be cultured despite the infectious disease consult's findings. David had also ordered sophisticated searches of these same body fluids for viral remnants using state-of-the-art biotechnological techniques.

David had no idea what to do. The only possible alternative was to try to get Sandra transferred to one of the big teaching hospitals in Boston. But he knew CMV would take a dim view of such a proposition because of the expense, and David could not do it on his own.

While David was agonizing over Sandra, Charles Kelley came into the unit and approached the desk. His visit took David by surprise; the medical bureaucrats usually stayed clear of places like the ICU where they'd be forced to confront the critically ill. They much preferred to sit in their tidy offices and think of patients as abstractions.

"I hope I'm not disturbing you," Kelley said. His slick smile had returned.

"Lately you've disturbed me every time I've seen you," David said.

"Sorry," Kelley said condescendingly. "But I have a bit of news. As of this moment, your services here are no longer needed."

"So you think you can take Sandra Hascher away from me?" he said.

"Oh, yes," Kelley said with satisfaction. His smile broadened. "And all the other patients as well. You are fired. You're no longer employed by CMV."

David's mouth fell open. He was aghast. With bewilderment he watched as Kelley gave him a wave as if he were waving to a child, then turned around and left the unit. David leaped up from his chair and stumbled after Kelley.

"What about all the patients I'm scheduled to see?" David called out.

Kelley was already on his way down the hall. "They're CMV's concern, not yours," he answered without looking back.

"Is this decision final?" David called. "Or is it temporary, pending a hearing?"

"It's final, my friend." With that, he was gone.

David was in a daze. He couldn't believe he'd been fired. He stumbled into the patient lounge and collapsed into the same chair that he'd pushed Kelley into that morning.

David shook his head in disbelief. His first real job had only lasted four months. He began to consider the awful ramifications his firing would have on his family, and he began to tremble. He wondered how he would tell Angela. It was horribly ironic that only the night before he'd warned her about putting her job in jeopardy. Now here he was the one to get fired.

From where he was sitting, David suddenly spotted Angela entering the ICU. For a moment, David didn't move. He was afraid to face her but he knew he had to. He got up from the chair and followed Angela into the unit. She was standing alongside Nikki's bed. David slipped in along the opposite side.

Angela acknowledged David's arrival with a nod but continued her conversation with Nikki. David and Angela avoided each other's eyes.

"Will I be able to see Caroline when I leave the ICU?" Nikki asked.

David and Angela looked at each other briefly. It was clear neither knew what to say.

"Is she gone?" Nikki asked.

"She's gone," Angela said.

"She's already been discharged," Nikki cried. Her eyes began to fill with tears. She'd been looking forward to seeing her as soon as she got into a regular room.

"Maybe Arni will want to come in and visit," David suggested.

Nikki's disappointment made her moody and disagreeable. David and Angela knew that the ICU was taking its toll. They were afraid to tell her the truth about Caroline.

After David and Angela did what they could for Nikki's spirits, they left the ICU. They were chary with each other as they exited the hospital. Their conversation focused on Nikki and how pleased they were her clinical course was so smooth. Both of them were certain her emotional state would improve as soon as she was transferred out of the unit.

On the route home, Angela drove slowly to keep David in sight as he pedaled his bicycle. They arrived home at the same time. It wasn't until they were seated in the family room, ostensibly to watch the evening news, that David nervously cleared his throat.

"I'm afraid I have some rather bad news," he said. "I'm embarrassed to tell you I was fired this afternoon." David saw the shock registered in Angela's face. He averted his eyes. "I'm sorry. I know it'll be difficult for us. I don't know what to say. Maybe I'm not cut out to be a doctor."

"David," Angela said, reaching out and grabbing his arm. "I was fired, too."

David looked at Angela. "You were?" he asked.

She nodded.

He reached out and pulled her close. When they leaned back to look at each other again, they didn't know whether to laugh or cry.

"What a mess," David said at last.

"What a coincidence," Angela added.

They each shared the sorry details of their last acts at Bartlet. In the process, Angela also filled David in on Walt's latest discovery and her impromptu meeting with Calhoun.

"He thinks the tattoo will help find the murderer," Angela said.

"That's nice," David said. He still didn't share Angela's enthusiasm for the case, especially with the new turmoil in their lives.

"Calhoun had some intriguing news as well," Angela said. She explained Calhoun's theory that the hospital rapist and Hodges' killer were one and the same.

"Interesting idea," David said. But his thoughts were already elsewhere. He was wondering what he and Angela would do to support themselves in the immediate future.

"And remember those admission summaries Hodges was waving around? Calhoun figured out how they're related," Angela said. "They'd all died, and apparently all the deaths came as a surprise to Hodges."

"What do you mean a surprise?" David asked, suddenly becoming interested.

"I guess he didn't expect them to die," Angela said. "He had treated them before they transferred to CMV. Calhoun was told that Hodges blamed both CMV and the hospital for their deaths."

"Do you have any of the histories on these patients?" David asked.

"Just their admission diagnoses," Angela said. "Why?"

"Having patients die unexpectedly is something I can relate to," David said.

There was a pause in the conversation while David and Angela marveled at the day's events.

"What are we going to do?" Angela asked finally.

"I don't know," David said. "I'm sure we'll have to move, but what happens to the mortgages? I wonder if we'll have to declare bankruptcy. We'll have to talk to a lawyer. There's also the question of whether we'll want to sue our respective employers."

"There's no question in my mind," Angela said. "I'll sue for sexual harassment if not wrongful dismissal. There's no way I'll let that slime Wadley get off scot free."

"I don't know if suing is our style," David said. "Maybe we should just get on with our lives. I don't want to get bogged down in a legal morass."

"Let's not decide now," Angela said.

Later they called the ICU. Nikki was continuing to do well. She was still without a fever.

"We might have lost our jobs," David said, "but as long as Nikki is okay we'll manage."