You touch your eyes after handling the Scotch Bonnets, you’ll be blind for three days or maybe even forever.”
I kiss Willie on his forehead, what we call a head kiss.
“See you later,” Willie says. Then he glances at the small burlap sack of peppers and adds, “At least I sure hope so.”
TWO NEW YORK CITY police officers are at the employees’ entrance of GUH.
What the hell is going on? And then, of course, I start to think about the missing baby. I’d been so focused on getting here for the birth of Val’s babies that I’d managed to forget the horrible news.
It takes a full minute of plowing through my bag to find my employee ID card. Both officers glance back and forth a few times between my face and my card. One of the guards says, “Okay. Go to second check.”
I walk about ten yards and run into Caspar, the hospital guard who usually sits weekdays at the employees’ entrance.
“Morning, Caspar,” I say. But this is serious business.
Caspar, who is usually full of jokes and smiles and weather predictions, is stern. “May I please see your identification card, Ms. Ryuan?” He usually would have just called me Lucy, but these are clearly dangerous times.
I smile. Caspar does not. I realize that Caspar’s only doing what he’s been told to do, and that it makes no difference that fifteen seconds ago I presented my ID to two New York City police officers.
Caspar looks at my ID. He says, “Thank you, ma’am.”
“‘Thank you, ma’am’?” I ask. “Caspar, it’s me. Lucy.”
“Sorry, orders from Dr. Katz. We gotta do it all by the book.”
I walk a few more yards and … Hold on, what the hell is this?
At the end of the entrance corridor stands Dr. Barrett Katz himself, the pompous, self-important, arrogant, despicable—Am I making my feelings clear?—CEO of Gramatan University Hospital. Katz has been called the Invisible CEO. He is almost always in a meeting, in a conference, with an important donor, out of town. Right now he is flanked by two other physicians: Dr. Rudra Sarkar, one of the hospital’s few male ob-gyn doctors, and Dr. Maureen Mahrlig, a radiologist who may or may not be on track to becoming the fourth Mrs. Katz.
A short line has formed in front of this gang of three. The line moves quickly, and whatever Katz is telling each individual brings a serious expression and a strong nod of the head from each person. Most of us never see Dr. Katz regularly, and until today, none of us, I venture, has ever been greeted by him on our way into work.
My turn.
“Ms. Ryuan,” Katz says. “I’m telling every employee that it’s very important that there be no communication with the press about the absent patient.”
I can’t resist. “You mean the missing baby or are you referring to the ‘absent patient’ that somebody kidnapped?”
“Do not try to corral me into an angry, sarcastic discussion, Ms. Ryuan, and in the future, I’d ask you to leave your bad attitude in the parking lot. Whatever the circumstances,” he says, his eyes filled with the irritation that always shows up during our very rare encounters. “Discretion is very important while the police investigate the absence.”
Again, I can’t resist. But this time I’m serious. So serious that I ignore my buzzing cell phone. “I’m no expert, Dr. Katz, but I’d think the more information that’s out there, names and photos and facts, then the better the chances of somebody who knows something coming forward and helping us find—”
“Thank you for your thoughts, Ms. Ryuan, but as I just said, there’s no need for a discussion. Right now everything is in the very capable hands of—”
“Lucy!” I hear someone shout. Then almost immediately again, even louder, “Lucy!”
Within seconds Tracy Anne Cavanaugh is standing next to me. Young and blond and almost too perfectly pretty, Tracy Anne completely ignores Katz.
“I’ve been trying to reach you. I’ve been calling and calling. Val is ready to go. And Troy is with her. But there’s a problem, a real problem, with Val.”
Great. Now my problem is that Val has a problem.
Tracy Anne and I take off. If we had left a cloud of dust, Barrett Katz would be covered with it.
‘CLINTON’S INSIDER SECRETS AND PATTERSON’S STORYTELLING GENIUS MAKE THIS THE POLITICAL THRILLER OF THE DECADE’
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James Patterson & Howard Roughan
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