On an impulse, Noah followed the signs directing him to the emergency area. There were a few empty ambulances backed up against a loading dock, but no people visible. Pulling his rental car to a stop in the ER visitor’s parking area, Noah debated if he should go in or wait until he’d returned when the hospital was in full swing as he had originally planned. Following the same impulse that had directed him to drive into the ER parking, Noah got out of the car. His thought was that if things were quiet, which they appeared to be, it might be a good time to have a preliminary conversation with the surgical resident assigned to the ER. Having the name of someone might make his job significantly easier tomorrow when the hospital was busy.
The emergency room was as quiet as it was outside. There were only five people in the sitting area looking at cell phones, flipping through magazines, or reading newspapers. Most of the activity was behind the check-in desk, where a number of nurses, orderlies, and a few residents were relaxing and socializing. As Noah approached, he wondered when the last time the BMH emergency room looked equally calm.
“Excuse me,” Noah said to the admitting clerk who’d greeted him. “I’m a surgical resident from Boston, and I am interested in talking to someone about fellowships at this hospital. Is there a surgical resident who might be willing to talk with me?”
“I don’t know,” the woman said. She seemed mildly flustered by the unexpected request. “Let me ask one of the doctors.”
Five minutes later Noah found himself in the hospital coffee shop with a third-year surgical resident from Argentina by the name of Dr. Ricardo Labat, who was very impressed that Noah was training at the BMH. He was a handsome, friendly fellow with a charming accent. Noah commented how quiet the emergency room seemed. Ricardo’s response was to explain that Lubbock had no shortage of hospital beds, naming Texas Tech’s medical center, Methodist, and Convenant as just a few of the hospitals with significant capacity and emergency room services.
“How is the anesthesia department here?” Noah asked casually.
“It gets high marks, as far as I am concerned,” Ricardo said.
“I’d be interested in talking with a couple of their residents,” Noah said.
“I could go up to the OR and see if any of the on-call residents are available,” Ricardo said. “But I doubt it. I happen to know there are several emergency cases under way.”
“No problem,” Noah said. “I plan on coming back tomorrow. Let me ask you something else. We have a staff anesthesiologist who trained here, finishing up about five years ago. Her name is Dr. Ava London. Does that name ring a bell? My thought is that she must have been a local celebrity of sorts, coming directly from here to the BMH.”
“I never heard of her,” Ricardo said. “But I’m not surprised. This entire university, including the medical center, has been expanding so fast with residents coming from all over the world. The training is excellent, in my estimation, which is why I am here. Last year one of the surgical residents went to Johns Hopkins for a fellowship, and the year before one went out to Stanford and one to Columbia-Presbyterian.”
“I’m impressed,” Noah said, and he was.
“I could call upstairs if you want and see if the staff anesthesiologist on call knows of her.”
“No need, but thanks,” Noah said. “I’ll ask about her tomorrow.”
Fifteen minutes later Noah was back in the rental car setting up the GPS to get him to his hotel. He had been encouraged by his short conversation with Dr. Labat. Learning that recent resident graduates had been going to big-name tertiary-care institutions suggested that Ava’s jump from Brazos to BMH wasn’t all that exceptional. His assumptions that her training had been totally satisfactory seemed to be on the mark.
His room was as generic as Noah expected and far more spacious and luxurious than he needed. After taking a quick shower, he went down to the business center to use the computer. He wanted to go on the Brazos University Department of Anesthesiology website to get the names of the principal faculty members who had been there for more than five years. He also wanted to write down the names of the current residents. The more information he had, the more rewarding he thought his visit would be.
Noah was about to leave the website when he thought he’d see if there was a photo of the current residents. There was, and it looked to him like an impressively cosmopolitan group. He then noticed something else of interest. There were archived photos going back to the first year of the residency program. Noah brought up the photo for 2012, the year Ava had finished, and began searching for her. At first he didn’t find her, but then he did. She was in the back row peering directly at the camera between two much larger male colleagues. To Noah, she looked exactly as she did currently, although her hair seemed significantly blonder.
After closing down the computer, Noah exited the business center. His plan was to go back to his room and attempt to sleep. As keyed up as he was, he knew it was going to be a struggle, especially in unfamiliar surroundings. In many ways, Noah was a creature of habit. Even when it came to the on-call room in the hospital, he usually always slept in the same one. Not relishing lying in the bed for hours tossing and turning and giving his paranoia free rein, Noah decided to go to the hotel’s bar for a beer. It was out of the ordinary for him to do such a thing, but this was not an ordinary time. He thought the diversion and the small amount of alcohol might help calm him.
39
THURSDAY, AUGUST 17, 6:13 A.M.
“A bit more than twenty-four hours ago, I had never even heard of Lubbock, Texas,” Keyon complained. “Now I’ve been here twice.”
“Who would have guessed,” George said.
The same Citation X plane that had taken the two men back and forth the previous day had again been pressed into service by ABC Security and had just touched down at the Preston Smith Airport. The urgency for the second trip was considered just as critical as it had been for the first. Dr. Noah Rothauser had to be sanctioned immediately.
As soon as George had determined Noah had left Boston on a plane bound for Dallas, Texas, the previous morning, he assumed that Noah’s ultimate destination had to be Lubbock. Rushing back to Keyon in the van, they had immediately called their controller at the home office to give him the surprising and disturbing news. At first it gave them a sense of vindication, since they had been complaining about Noah for a week without getting the go-ahead to take care of him. But any pleasure was short-lived because they were ordered to return to Lubbock and do what needed to be done. The only problem was that the pilots who were cleared to work for ABC Security had to take their FAA-required rest. To add to the delay, there was a minor mechanical problem with the aircraft that had to be fixed. The result was that Keyon and George had not left Bedford, Massachusetts, until a little after 2:00 A.M.
They had used the delay to good advantage, getting some needed rest and then using their resources in their Boston office to locate Dr. Noah Rothauser at room 504 at Embassy Suites Hotel. They also used the time and the equipment they had to make up a fake Massachusetts driver’s license using George’s picture.
Again, there was a Chevrolet Suburban waiting for them at the General Aviation terminal, and within twenty minutes of touchdown they were on the Interstate, heading toward Lubbock.