We'll Meet Again

5

The corporate headquarters of Remington Health Management Organization was located on the grounds of Lasch Hospital in Greenwich. Chief Executive Officer Dr. Peter Black always arrived at his office there at 7 A.M. sharp. He claimed that the two hours of work he got in before the staff arrived were the most productive of his day.

Uncharacteristically on that Tuesday morning, Black had turned on the television to NAF.

His secretary, who had been with him for years now, had told him that Fran Simmons had just started working for the network, and she had reminded him of who Fran was. Even so, it had been a surprise to see that she was the reporter covering Molly’s release from prison. Fran’s father’s suicide had occurred only weeks after Black accepted Gary Lasch’s offer to join the hospital, and for months the scandal had been the big story in town. He doubted that anyone who had lived in Greenwich at the time had forgotten it.

Peter Black had been watching the news program this morning because he’d wanted to see his former partner’s widow.

Frequent glances at the screen to be sure he did not miss the segment he was awaiting had finally forced him to put down his pen and take off his reading glasses. Black had a thick head of dark brown hair, prematurely gray at the temples, and large gray eyes, and conveyed a friendly demeanor that newly hired members of his staff found comforting-that is, until they made the serious mistake of crossing him.

At 7:32, the event he’d been anticipating began. With somber gaze he watched Molly walk beside her lawyer’s car to the gate of the prison. When she spoke into the microphones, he pulled his chair closer to the set and leaned forward, intent on taking in every nuance of her voice and expression.

As soon as she began to speak, he raised the volume on the set, even though he could hear her words perfectly. When she was finished, he leaned back in his chair and folded his hands. An instant later he picked up the phone and dialed.

“ Whitehall residence.”

The maid’s slight English accent always annoyed Black. “Put me through to Mr. Whitehall, Rita.” He deliberately did not give his name, but there was no need to-she knew his voice. He heard the phone being picked up.

Calvin Whitehall did not waste time in greetings. “I saw it. At least she’s consistent about denying she killed Gary.”

“That’s not what worries me.”

“I know. I don’t like having the Simmons woman in the picture either. If necessary, we’ll deal with it,” Whitehall said, then paused. “I’ll see you at ten.”

Peter Black hung up without saying good-bye. The prospect of something going wrong haunted him for the remainder of the day as he attended a series of high-level meetings concerning Remington’s proposed acquisition of four other HMOs, a deal that would make Remington one of the major players in the remarkably lucrative health maintenance field.