“The hospital has assigned me a lawyer,” Noah said. “I haven’t called him yet. I’ll do that on Monday. I suppose it will be interesting to get his take. But it scares me the hospital thought I needed a lawyer. It certainly suggests they are taking this seriously. They even have me under surveillance.”
“What do you mean?”
“Every time I go out there’s a guy in a suit following me. There’s two of them and they trade off.”
“Are you sure they’re following you?”
“I’m pretty sure,” Noah said.
“You think it is the hospital?”
“I do. Who else would it be? The only problem is that I think it might have started before my suspension.”
“That doesn’t make any sense.”
“Tell me something I don’t know.”
“But why would they be watching you?”
“Your guess is as good as mine,” Noah said. “I guess they want to keep tabs on me to make sure I don’t sneak back into the hospital. It’s true that I considered doing it. I can’t imagine what my patients are thinking. I don’t know what they have been told. Maybe there are some serious legal issues I don’t understand.”
“I’m so sorry all this is happening to you,” Leslie said. “You don’t deserve it. I still think it will work itself out, at least in respect to the hospital. I’m afraid your girlfriend might be another story.”
“I appreciate your listening to me,” Noah said.
“Call me whenever,” Leslie said. “And good luck. I hope everything turns out okay. I really do.”
After appropriate goodbyes, Noah disconnected the call. For a moment, he sat staring at the blank wall. His calling Leslie had been a toss-up emotionally. He appreciated her sympathy and support, but she’d aggravated his concern for Ava’s possible involvement in his suspension.
Thinking about his thesis got him up from the couch. He went into the surprisingly large walk-in closet where he kept several heavy cardboard storage boxes. He rummaged through them until he found the large portfolio with an elastic closure containing all the material relating to his thesis — all his notes and copies of the various drafts. He brought it out into the living room and began to go through it to refresh his memory. He hadn’t opened the file for more than ten years.
30
MONDAY, AUGUST 14, 3:34 P.M.
The lawyer that the hospital had retained for Noah was not the warm-and-fuzzy person Noah had hoped for. His name was John Cavendish, a thin, young man with gaunt features and lank blond hair who Noah guessed was in his late twenties. He was not particularly personable. Although he was a member of a large law firm housed on the fiftieth floor in an elegant high-rise building on State Street, he had only junior status. His office was an interior one without a window and was as small as Noah’s living room.
Noah’s appointment had been for 3:00, but as eager as he was, he’d arrived around 2:30 and had been kept waiting for forty-five minutes. John had come out to the waiting room when he was ready to see Noah and had stiffly introduced himself. The lawyer was now going through Noah’s Ph.D. file page by page, his expression neutral.
Taking a deep breath, Noah settled back into his chair. It was the first time he’d ventured out of his apartment since going to Whole Foods Saturday afternoon. He was still depressed and anxious, hoping the visit to the lawyer might buoy his mood. So far it didn’t seem promising.
The weather was as hot as it had been on Saturday, and Noah felt it more acutely, because he was now dressed in his only jacket and tie. As he had expected, he’d been followed, this time by the Caucasian, who was significantly more subtle in his surveillance technique than his African American colleague.
“Thank you for bringing in this material,” John said as he slid the papers back into their folder. “Unfortunately, there doesn’t seem to be anything of particular value in the present circumstance.
“Let me ask you again, just to be sure. It is my understanding that you stated in front of witnesses that the bound volume of your thesis contained falsified information. Is that correct?”
“It is,” Noah said. He then went over the entire problem for the second time to make sure the lawyer knew all the details. Watching the man’s expression as he talked made Noah feel he was trying to go up a down escalator.
“I can appreciate what you are saying,” John said when Noah finished, “but you did admit to falsifying data. It would have been far better if you hadn’t done that.
“Just so I am not blindsided, have there been any other similar ethical lapses in your academic career that if revealed would influence this current problem?”
“Only one,” Noah admitted. “Once while I was a freshman at Columbia University, I bought a paper off the Internet and handed it in as my own work.”
“Was there any fallout at all at the time?”
“No,” Noah said.
“Does anyone know of this incident?” John asked.
“No,” Noah said. “I don’t believe I’ve ever mentioned it to anyone other than you.”
“Good,” John said. “If the question of other ethical lapses comes up during the Advisory Board meeting, I don’t want you to answer. I will answer for you. Understand?”
“I suppose,” Noah said. The meeting with the lawyer was not helping his anxiety.
“All right,” John said, standing up behind his desk. “I will do my best. Thank you for coming in. If you think of anything else germane, please let me know. Otherwise, I will see you on the twenty-third of August.”
A few minutes later Noah walked out into the August heat onto State Street. He felt so depressed he didn’t even bother to look for his tail until Court Street. He wasn’t sure what prompted him to look back over his shoulder, but he was surprised not to see the Caucasian, so he stopped to look more carefully. When he still didn’t see him, he felt somehow let down, like his life was in such dire straits that even his mysterious followers were abandoning him.
Thinking the man was being more subtle than usual, Noah continued at a slower pace to the northeastern end of the Boston Common. The route required a number of uniquely Boston twists and turns, due to the city having been designed more for horseback than cars. On each corner, Noah checked behind him, expecting to see his follower, but he was nowhere to be seen.
Suddenly feeling relieved rather than abandoned, Noah wondered what he should do to take advantage. Since he had no idea why he was being followed, it wasn’t a totally rational thought. Nonetheless, the idea of visiting Louisburg Square occurred to him, maybe even ringing Ava’s doorbell. What could he lose? Since his conversation with Leslie Saturday afternoon, his confusion about Ava had weighed on him. Although he had thought about trying to contact her again, he hadn’t. The idea of confronting her seemed appropriate, although there was the question if she would even talk to him. He decided it was worth the risk.
Arriving outside her house, Noah climbed the half-dozen stairs of her stoop and entered her foyer. Since he knew she had a camera at her front door as part of her security system, he purposefully stood to the side to avoid being seen. He rang the bell. Staying perfectly still, he could hear a phone ring in the distance. When she didn’t respond, he tried again. This time he heard her voice from a hidden speaker asking who was there.
“FedEx,” Noah said in a falsetto, making him cringe at the absurdity of it all.
“Just leave it,” Ava’s voice said.
“I need a signature,” Noah said in the same falsetto. He was embarrassed for himself and suppressed a nervous chuckle about the antics he was capable.
A moment later the door swung open. Ava was back to her yoga pants and tank top, presumably in anticipation of her afternoon workout. Within a fraction of a second her expression morphed from ennui to irritation when she caught sight of Noah. She started to close the door, but Noah inserted his foot like an old-fashioned door-to-door salesman.