'Any problems?' Harry asked.
'He wants me to give him a bed bath,'Maura said.
'Hey, I got one a couple of times a dayfrom the nurses the last time I was in hospital,' Ray whined. 'Just because I'mnot sick is no reason I shouldn't get tender loving care.'
'No bed baths,' Harry said, 'but I willwrite orders for three enemas a day instead.'
'And to think, I was embarrassed even toask for one.'
'I assume there haven't been anysightings.'
'Not even of a nurse. It's like they thinkthe plague is in here.'
'They do. Maura, anything I can do foryou?'
'Just find a way to have you-know-who makean appearance.'
Harry motioned to Ray's pillow.
'No problem keeping that concealed?'
'Not as long as my nurse, here, keepsvolunteering to do things so the people out there don't have to. They'vealready thanked her so many times, I wouldn't be surprised if they took up acollection for her. Any progress in the outside world?'
'The calls have slowed down, but they'restill coming in. One lab tech from Good Samaritan swears our man was a baldingmedical resident from Poland. A nurse from University Hospital is certain he'san orderly there, only with dark hair and an earring.'
'He probably was both,' Santana said. 'Ifwe could ever pinpoint what days he was spotted in those hospitals, I'd betwe'd find a death or two in patients insured by The Roundtable companies.'
'Well, if what we're doing here doesn'twork, I promise I'll help you put those posters back up. By that time, I'llhave nothing to lose.'
'True enough. But if something goes wronghere and we get caught, I'd be surprised if they'd even let you back in thishospital as a patient.'
'But hey, amigo, we've got our system downpat,' Harry said with comic bravado. 'What on earth could possibly go wrong?'
All day Ray Santana had been having a moredifficult time than usual with pain, primarily behind his eyes and in hisfingertips. He had received a Percodan at ten in the morning and required ashot of Demerol five hours later. Finally, fifteen minutes after the shot, hedrifted off into a fitful sleep. A powerful antibiotic, ordered to treat hisheart-valve infection, was dripping from a plastic IV bottle into the thickgauze bandage wrapped around his arm.
Maura was washing her face in preparationfor her sixth eight-hour shift in three days, and her second one in a row. Shefelt tired, but still keyed up. Their trap had been a long shot from the verybeginning. But it hadn't collapsed around them yet.
Santana was beginning to breathe moredeeply and regularly as Maura settled down in her chair with the latest People.Next to alcohol, the magazine remained the most addictive thing she hadever found. And like booze, it was perfectly easy to keep away from — as longas she didn't start. The door to the room was nearly closed. From out on thefloor, she heard the footsteps and multiple conversations of a group of peopleapproaching. Then there was a man's voice.
'. . The hospital has three rooms withthe reverse ventilation necessary for proper infectious-disease isolation,' hewas saying. 'The new wing will be connected through this floor, and willprovide three more. That will make this hospital number one in the city in theevent of an infectious epidemic …
Maura, her concentration split between themagazine and the lecture, did not realize that Santana was suddenly awake, upon one elbow, rubbing at his eyes.
'Maura,' he rasped, 'can you see him?'
'Can I see who?'
'The man, dammit! The man who's talking!'
His eyes were wild from the drug, hismouth cotton-dry.
'. . But you say the cost per day ofthese rooms is now more than double a standard room?' a second voice was asking.
'Yes, but compared with what's charged atmedical centers comparable to this one, that's still a bargain. Now, if youladies and gentlemen will follow me this way, I'll show you the latest in..'
Santana was sitting bolt upright now, thepillow on his lap shielding his gun. Panicked, Maura threw her magazine asideand moved toward him. Ray, perspiring profusely now, was clumsily trying todisengage himself from the bedclothes and IV line at the same time.
'Open the door!' he demanded in a gravellywhisper. 'Open it now!'
'Please, tell me what's going on.'
'Dammit, Maura, hurry! Open the fuckingdoor!'
Santana was on his feet now, stillshielding his pistol. Maura swung the door open. About ten yards down the hall,amidst the usual midday crowd of nurses, patients, and visitors, a group of tenor eleven well-dressed men and women were moving slowly away from them.
'Excuse me,' Maura called out to them.'Excuse me, please.'
The speaker stopped and the group turnedin unison. For several frozen seconds, they stood there as Santana peered outat them from beside his bed. Maura scanned the group, too. But at that distanceshe was unable to determine which of them, if any, was Anton Perchek.
'You son of a bitch!' Santana suddenlyyelled, raising his gun. 'You fucking son of a bitch!'
Instantly, there was screaming and chaosin the hallway as the business people and perhaps a dozen others dove for coveror turned to run.
The IV line pulled away from the plasticbottle as Santana bolted toward the door. The portable pole on which it hungclattered to the floor. He stumbled over it and lurched against Maura, knockingher to one knee and momentarily losing his balance at the same time.
'You son of a bitch!' he hollered again.
The IV line dangling from beneath the bandageon his arm, he braced himself against the doorway, leveled his gun, and firedthe length of the hallway. The shot reverberated like a cannon blast. Everyonewho was still standing dove to the floor. The screaming intensified. Scramblingto her feet behind Santana, Maura saw the glass that was covering a largefloral print at the very far end of the hallway shatter from the bullet.Several feet to the right of the picture, three of the businessmen jammedthrough the door to the stairway. Waving his gun wildly with his IV linesnapping like a whip, Santana sprinted barefoot after the men, down a gauntletof screaming, terrified visitors, staff, and patients.
'Call security!' someone shouted.
'Get him!' someone else yelled.
Several men had gotten to their feet andwere running — though with some caution — after Ray, who had now reached theend of the corridor and exploded through the stairway door. Another gunshotechoed back through Grey 2, then another.
Maura stripped off her gown and mask. Heronly thought was to get away before anyone remembered her and started askingher questions. She was wearing a store-bought nurse's uniform and ashoulder-length wig. While the action and attention were still fixed on the farend of the hallway, she moved quickly in the opposite direction, to thestairway past the elevators. Once on the stairs, she raced down to the firstfloor, then took a calming breath and stepped into the main corridor of thehospital. She had gone less than ten feet when two uniformed security mencharged past her and up the stairs. Moments later, two NYPD officers, one ofthem shouting into a radio, ran past, heading for the far end of the hospital.
The response to the crisis was rapid andwell coordinated. Maura felt certain that it would be only a few minutes beforeRay Santana was captured … or worse. She found herself hoping that before hewas taken or killed, he at least got a clean shot at The Doctor.
Battling to maintain her composure, shestrolled through the crowded front lobby. There was a mounting electricity inthe air, along with an urgent exodus through the main doors, as word spread ofa crazed gunman loose in the hospital.
'Not another one,' she heard someone sayas she exited with the crush into bright late-afternoon sunlight. 'It seemslike every time you turn around some wacko is shooting up a post office orhospital.'