Silent Treatment

Chapter30

Each patient was allowed two visitors inthe Memorial Hospital ICU. When Kevin Loomis arrived there at two-fifteen thefollowing afternoon, James Stallings already had his quota. He was directed toa small family room with overstuffed furniture, a selection of religious andinspirational reading material, and a television that was turned to the cartoonchannel.

Visiting hours were from noon until eight,but this was Kevin's first opportunity to get to the hospital since receivingthe call from Harry Corbett. As soon as he had hung up on Corbett, Kevin hadcalled Memorial. Patient information could tell him nothing more than thatJames Stallings was a patient in the ICU, and that his condition was critical.He dialed Stallings's office at Interstate Health, hoping to learn more, buthung up as soon as the secretary asked his name. Badly shaken, he managed tomake it through an hour-long meeting at work — a meeting in which Burt Dreisersat directly across the table, smiling at him benevolently.

Burt, you know Sir Gawaine, thetall, good-looking guy who came on board The Roundtable about six or sevenmonths before I did? You wouldn't happen to know how he ended up in criticalcondition in the Memorial Hospital ICU, would you?

After the meeting, Kevin had barely hadtime to make it home for Julie's dance recital. He would have preferred to havebeen assigned to Nicky's Little League game, but his deal with Nancy was thatthey would alternate. Now, with little Brian scheduled to begin various lessonsas soon as they were settled in Port Chester, the formula would have to berevamped.

By the time he caught up with Nancy, itwas almost nine. The kids were finally all in their rooms. With Kevin havingspent the previous night at the Garfield Suites, it had been a day and a halfsince he and Nancy had said more than a few words to one another. She hadpicked up on his uncharacteristic tenseness and asked about it. He made noattempt to disagree. Work had been unusually heavy, he said. When she asked howhe had made out in his poker game, he chose the 'won a few dollars' lie. Thenshe ran down two days' worth of family news, and began flirting with him,stroking the inside of his leg. It had been a couple of weeks since they hadmade love — since before the previous Roundtable meeting, in fact. But thisjust wasn't going to be the night. He begged off, citing a splitting headache,exhaustion, and a phone call he had to make to Burt. He forced himself not tolook at her hurt and concern, and shuffled down to his basement office. Therehe called Memorial Hospital once again. ICU, critical.

'Excuse me.'

'Huh?'

Kevin had been staring unseeing at a BugsBunny classic. A woman stood in the doorway of the family room. She was talland slender with sandy hair cut short. Her narrow face was attractive, andmight have been beautiful were it not for the dark circles under her eyes.

'You're here to see Jim Stallings?'

'I am, yes.'

The woman stepped forward and extended herhand.

'I'm Vicki Stallings. Jim's wife.'

Kevin stood.

'Kevin Loomis. I'm with Crown Health. I… I play cards with Jim.'

'Oh, then you saw him just the nightbefore. . before this happened. Did he seem all right?'

'Perfectly normal.'

'He was in the subway when he collapsed,'she said, talking as much to herself as to Kevin. 'City Hall station. Hissecretary said he had some sort of appointment downtown, but she had no ideawhat. How did you say you knew Jim?'

'I … um … I play cards in the samegame he does.'

'Oh, yes. You just said that, didn't you.I can't seem to keep a thought in my head. I assume he lost again,' she said,desperately distraught, but still trying for civility. 'Jim never was veryinterested in card games, or very good at them from what I could tell. But hewould never miss that game. I gather it was as much about business as aboutpoker.'

Kevin felt strange hearing the lie fromsomeone else's wife.

'I'm really sorry about what's happened,'he said. 'I couldn't get any information from the hospital other than that hiscondition was critical. Is he … I mean, does he. .'

Vicky Stallings shook her head and thensuddenly and rapidly unraveled. Kevin stood by awkwardly until she had regainedsome control. Her sobbing let up. Embarrassed, she apologized. He told herthere was nothing to apologize for.

'My sister just left,' she managed. 'Why don'tyou go on in there alone. I'll be by in just a bit. Jim hasn't mentioned you,but he kept that poker game pretty much to himself. It's very good of you tocome.'

'I'm sorry this has happened,' Kevin saidagain.

For as long as he could remember, Kevinhad had an intense aversion to hospitals. He disliked intensive care units evenmore. He checked in with the nurse at the desk and was directed to cubicle 3, aglass-enclosed box with drapes partially blocking the windows. The patient inthe cubicle bore scant resemblance to the urbane executive who had sat acrossfrom him through nearly five months of Roundtable meetings. Tape across hispuffy face held tubes in place through his nose and mouth. Beside the bed, alarge respirator hissed and whirred, its display flashing like some obsceneelectronic game. Stallings's lips — what Kevin could see of them — wereswollen, cracked, and bruised. His eyes were taped shut. Periodically, everymuscle in his body seemed to go into spasm, with his rigid arms twisting inwarduntil his palms faced away from his sides. Overhead, the monitor screendisplayed a heart rhythm that was quite regular. Kevin knew the innocentpattern was deceiving.

Brain-dead. That's how Dr. Harry Corbetthad put it. Brain-dead.

Kevin pictured Evelyn DellaRosa as shownin the newspapers and as he remembered her. Such a remarkable looking woman — so classically stunning. Was this how she ended up, too? Tubes coming out ofevery body orifice? Puffed and brain-dead on artificial ventilation, alive onlyuntil some doctor finally strolled in and simply pulled the plug? Was this whatwas in store for Kevin Loomis as well?

He moved closer to the bedside.

Was there any way Stallings's cardiacarrest on the IRT could have been a coincidence. The man was incrediblystressed over the situation with The Roundtable. It was a hundred degrees onthe subway platform and not much better in the cars. And what if he was unluckyenough to get one of the old un-air-conditioned ones? Perhaps some pre-existingcondition caused his heart to just crap out. On the other hand, perhaps theywere being watched all the time at Battery Park. Perhaps Stallings hadrecognized someone from The Roundtable in the subway. Perhaps they had donesomething to him.

Dammit, James, what in hellhappened? hismind screamed. What am I supposed to do?

'Thank you for being so patient, Mr.Loomis.'

Vicky Stallings had washed her face andput on a bit of makeup.

'It's Kevin,' he said. 'This is so sad. Dohis doctors have any idea what could have happened?'

'I'd be happy to talk with you, Kevin,'she whispered. 'But I would prefer doing it in the family room. It's doubtfulJim can hear, but there's always the chance.'

'I understand.'

They returned to the small room. Wile E.Coyote was lashing himself to a huge rocket just as the Road Runner wasflashing past. Kevin reached up and flicked the set off.

'You don't have to talk about this with meif it's too painful,' he said.

'There's not much to say, actually. Thedoctors have said there's no hope. They estimate his heart stopped for eight ornine minutes. People were doing CPR, but I guess it wasn't enough. The rescuesquad finally got him going.'

'Was he, I mean, did he have any heartproblems before?'

Kevin sensed how desperate he was hopingfor a positive answer.

'Kevin, Jim ran last year's New YorkMarathon in three and a half hours. About six months ago he took out a largeinsurance policy. They required a stress test. Jim said he did so well that thedoctor who performed it eventually had to stop the test to go on to the nextpatient.'

A large insurance policy. Reflexively, Kevin ran throughhis own coverage. As soon as he joined The Roundtable, he had beefed it up. Twomillion five with an additional half a million for accidental death.

'He always looked fit to me,' he said.

'The doctors say that maybe it was hispotassium dropping due to the heat and sweating. Apparently the heart is verysensitive to potassium. It depends on what he was doing for the hour or sobefore. .'

Vicky Stallings's voice once more grewstrained. Kevin could see that she was precariously close to coming apartagain. In fact, he was rather close himself. Stallings's death was nocoincidence, any more than Evelyn DellaRosa's or the knight named Sir Lionel'swas a coincidence. Somehow, they had followed Stallings, or perhaps even Kevin,to Battery Park. Then somehow they had gotten to him. Now, he was a vegetable.The unflappable Sir Gawaine. Kevin wondered if he, too, had gone out and boughta new house as soon as his appointment to The Roundtable was a fact.

Kevin wanted to scream. He made a pretenceof glancing at his watch. Vicky Stallings saved him any embarrassment.

'I really appreciate your coming likethis, Kevin,' she said, again reaching out to shake his hand. 'And who knows?It will take a miracle, but there have been miracles before. Many of them.'

'I'll be praying for him,' Kevin said,backing out of the room. He felt light-headed and desperately wanted a drink.

Kevin stopped in the first bar he passed,downed a couple of quick vodka tonics and then returned to Crown. BrendaWallace had some letters for him to sign and a list of calls to return. Hewatched her move about her office, tanned and lithe and utterly sensual. BurtDreiser had the corner office, the yacht, and Brenda Wallace. When hadBurt decided he could handle whatever The Roundtable wanted of him? Had he beenpart of the planning that put the whole program together? And most important,why in the hell couldn't Kevin be like him?

He finished his work and sat for a time,staring out at the city. Then he picked up the phone and called George Illych,the underwriter at Crown who had handled all of his policies.

'George, Kevin Loomis is here. How goesit?'

'Hey, fine, Kevin. What can I do for you?'

Kevin pictured George Illych leaning backin his chair, looking longingly at his beloved Winstons. A jovial, overweightbilliard and golf hustler, Illych smoked two packs a day and was one of thepoorest insurance risks Kevin knew.

'Nancy and I have just bought a house inPort Chester.'

'Hey great, that's great. First the bigpromotion, then the big house.'

'Then the big coverage. George, I'vedecided, with the new house and my income up near $300,000 counting bonuses,that I want a bit more coverage.'

'Hey, no problem. What did we write for you recently?'

'A million. That was four months ago. Myphysical's still good, yes?'

'Up to six months. How much do you havetotal?'

'This million would make it three and ahalf.' Plus an additional $500,000 accidental, he added, but didn't say.

'All to Nancy?'

'Yes.'

'Hey, pal, no problem. I'll have thepaperwork up to you within a couple of days.'

'Perfect. Thanks, George.'

'How about shooting a little pool afterwork sometime soon?'

'Pool against you? I couldn't afford it,George.'

'Hey, wait a minute. You just became thethree-and-a-half-million-dollar man.'

'That's only if I'm dead, George.' Oh,yeah. You've got a point there.'

Half an hour later Brenda Wallace stoppedby to say goodnight. Kevin quickly stacked the papers he had been working onand slid them inside his desk drawer. There was nothing further, he toldBrenda. She gave him one of her most dazzling smiles before heading home.

Kevin opened his briefcase and took out anewspaper clipping about Evelyn DellaRosa. He was looking at her picture whenhe dialed Harry Corbett's line.

'Corbett, this is the man you calledearlier,' he said to Harry's answering machine. 'I want to talk to you. Be hometomorrow morning at nine. I'll call.'

He set the articles back in his briefcaseand then tossed the drawings he had been making in on top of them. They were aseries of diagrams and sketches of the basement of his house in Queens, mostparticularly emphasizing the position of the washing machine, dryer, bulkheadentryway, and especially the electrical power source.