Silent Treatment

'I'm actually glad he didn't. Do we haveany phone number for him?'

'We do. He didn't put one on hisquestionnaire, but he left one later. I think the phone's in the hallway of arooming house of some kind.'

'Copy it and his address for me, will youplease? I might try and get in touch with him.'

At that moment, the private line in theback office began ringing. Harry tensed.

'Quick, Mary,' he said, whisperingalthough there was no one around to hear, 'follow me in case it's him.'

They hurried down the hall to the office.He motioned her to a spot where they could share the receiver. The phone was inits fourth ring when he snatched it up.

'Dr. Corbett,' he said.

'Harry, hey, I'm glad I found you. It'sDoug.'

Harry covered the mouthpiece.

'It's Doug Atwater,' he said, obviouslydisappointed. 'The killer hasn't made any mistakes yet. I guess it was wishfulthinking, expecting him to make one now.' He waited until Mary had left, thentook his hand off the mouthpiece. 'Hi, Doug,' he said.

Atwater was just about the only personaffiliated with the hospital that he could deal with hearing from at thispoint.

'Harry, I just got a call from Owenwanting to know if I had heard from you. He told me about that poor guy onAlexander Five. It's terrible. Just terrible. And I know you aren't responsiblein any way.'

'Doug, there's a madman loose in thehospital. He killed Evie, and now he's trying to hurt me any way he can.'

'Owen told me that's what you believe isgoing on.'

'That is what's going on.'

'Hey, there's no need to bite my head off.This is the first time you've said a thing to me about any madman in thehospital.'

'Sorry.'

'Harry, the nursing service has beenbugging Owen that you were supposed to have called and taken yourself off thestaff. Is that so?'

'No, it's not. Doug, I've spent twentyyears establishing myself as a doctor. I'm not going to just chuck it now.Besides, if I don't hang in there and fight, they're never going to find theguy who's doing this. As things stand, finding him is my only chance.'

Hang in there and fight. Harry thought back to themorning just a few weeks ago when he complained to Phil that he didn't have anychallenges in life.

'You coming in to talk with Owen aboutthis?' Atwater asked.

'Yes. I was going to do it a couple ofhours ago, but I've been tied up with one of the detectives. Oh, you know theguy — Dickinson, that same one from when Evie died.'

'Oh, no. That guy's an idiot. Does hethink you're responsible for this man's death, too?'

'Of course.'

'Oh, shit, Harry. I'm sorry. Listen, isthere anything I can do?'

'I wish there were.'

'You don't have any idea who's doing thisto you?'

'Not a clue.'

There was an uncomfortable silence.

'You know, Harry,' Atwater said finally,'maybe you should consider taking a little time off from the hospital.At least until this business cools down — until the dust settles. I've beenbehind you one hundred percent in this thing, you know I have. But with thenurses on the warpath, and Owen having a meltdown, it's getting hot, damn hot.'

'You don't believe me either, do you. Ican tell from your tone of voice.'

'Harry, you've got to be reasonable. Thereare other sides to this thing.'

'Thanks for calling, Doug. Every singleone of you might vote to throw me out, but I'm not quitting.'

Harry set the receiver down withoutwaiting for a reply and sank into his chair. His long-standing friend andpossibly his last ally at the hospital had just bailed out. Atwater lacked theauthority to get him lifted from the staff at the hospital, but he couldsuspend him as a provider for the Manhattan Health HMO. Manhattan Healthpatients probably represented 40 or 50 percent of his practice. Without them,it was doubtful he could stay in business for long.

Mary Tobin returned to his office doorwayand announced that she had done as much as she could and was leaving for theday to run some errands. Harry thanked her, told her with too little convictionnot to worry, and watched as she left the office. Tomorrow he would share thenews of the body blow that Atwater seemed poised to deliver. He had no desireto heap more worry on her today than he had already.

He scanned his desk and the floor aroundit for any charts that needed dictating. There were none. He dialed Maura'sapartment number and then his own, but got answering machines in both places.

Harry told each machine that he would behome by four. Then he called Owen Erdman and set up yet another appointment todiscuss his future at Manhattan Medical Center. Finally, he straightened hisdesk, set his feet up on one corner, closed his eyes, and tried desperately tothink of something, anything, he could do to cut through the insanity that wassmothering him. The ringing phone nearly startled him out of the chair. Onceagain, it was his private line. He lifted the receiver, but said nothing. Inthe brief silence that followed, Harry knew. The killer was back. Back togloat.

'The autopsy on your patient will benegative,' the unmistakable voice said.

'How do you know?'

'I have access to a neurotoxin so powerfuland so shortlived that by the time it kills, it has already begun disappearingfrom the body. The final metabolism of the poison actually occurs after death.And here we have the temerity to call the Indians in the Amazon basin savages.I tell you, when it comes to killing, they are virtuosos.'

Harry could feel the killer's arroganceand enormous ego. Having witnessed the unspeakable consequences of angeringhim, he chose his words carefully.

'What do you want from me?'

'Closure. That's all. Same as before. I'dprefer you did it with a note — ideally with a note admitting to theill-advised administration of — what was it you used? — oh, yes, Aramine. Theill-advised administration of Aramine to your wife. You will at last be atpeace. And I will have my closure.'

'I'm no threat to you at all,' Harrycountered. 'No one is. I can't even get anyone to believe that you exist.'

Can't even get anyone tobelieve that you exist. .

Harry's thoughts were suddenly racing. Theman was insane, true, but he was also smart. Why was he taking a chance likethis, calling Harry in the office when anyone might overhear his confession?All Harry needed was one reliable ally with firsthand knowledge, just one. Heknew about the private line, and apparently, he also knew there was no wayHarry could signal one of his office staff to pick up an extension. But howcould he know that someone wasn't standing by, listening as Mary Tobin had whenDoug Atwater called? He was bold and arrogant, but he was certainly notcareless. Why would he chance it? Harry struggled to understand. Thensuddenly he knew. The bastard was watching the office! Right now, somewherenearby, watching! No other explanation made sense.

'Listen, a delivery man just came downfrom one of the upstairs offices,' Harry said. 'I just have to give him apackage. If you have anything further to say to me, stay on. I'll be rightback.'

He set the receiver on his desk andsprinted down the hall to the front door. There was a pay phone on the otherside of the street, two buildings down. His tormentor had to be there!

Harry charged from the building into thelate afternoon glare, narrowly avoiding a yellow cab as he raced across thestreet. The half kiosk housing the pay phone was deserted. But it hadn't been.The receiver dangled down, swinging to and fro like a pendulum. The white handkerchiefresting on the small metal counter promised that there would be nofingerprints. Harry raced to Fifth Avenue, the nearest corner. Pedestriantraffic was heavy. He scanned the street, searching for someone who looked outof place or interested in him. Nothing. Carla Dejesus, the elderly proprietorof a small variety store, stopped sweeping the sidewalk by her shop and waved.Harry waved back, walked over, and asked if she had seen anyone unusual oranyone running down the street. She had seen no one.