Noble Vision (37 page)

Warren’s eyes sunk to the floor. “But, Mack,” he said timidly, “David’s a brilliant surgeon. I wouldn’t defend him if he were a quack. I’d throw the book at him.”

“Are they quacks, those other doctors you throw the book at?”

Warren recalled the dentist, the psychologist, and the director of cardiology whom he’d ruled against that day. A thin line of perspiration darkened the collar of his custom-made shirt.

“What about your duty to the public, Warren? Forgot about that, did you?”

“But David’s work is in the public interest. Society needs surgeons like him. Do you remember the conjoined twins he separated? That was a brilliant feat!”

“How many votes does that count for?”

“But, Mack, this is science!”

“That’s right, science for the public interest.”

“The public needs David’s new treatment,” said Warren.

“The public needs pills for its ulcers,” answered Burrow.

“The public needs medical research.”

“The public needs salves for its muscle aches.”

“The public needs breakthroughs that carry mankind forward.”

“The public needs a lot of things, Warren. But what it doesn’t need is a doctor who thinks he’s above the law. Where’s your fiber, man? You have to set aside your own narrow interests for the sake of the greater good, which you so pompously refer to in all your speeches.”

“I
am
concerned about the public.” Warren leaped to the window and pulled back the lace curtain. “I’m sure you’ve seen the protesters out there. That’s public opinion, Mack. The voice of democracy is on David’s side!”

Burrow leaned back in his chair, folded his hands, and laughed, like a player holding the aces. “Your voice of democracy is clamoring for more state funding of research and more CareFree. How can you say the picketers are on your son’s side, when the thing they want more of is me?”

Warren dropped the piece of curtain he had crumpled in his fist and slowly returned to his seat. “Okay, Mack, what would you have me do?” he whispered, defeated.

“Wasn’t it
you
who said we were being too lenient with the doctors? That we needed to teach them a lesson?”

Warren’s sigh was audible.

“Wasn’t it
you
who just last week solemnly proclaimed,” the governor contemptuously placed his hands over his heart, “that you would personally punish the medical delinquents who flagrantly and willfully break the law? Wasn’t it
you
who said those things?”

Warren’s face was a stark white sheet stripped of all emotion except fear. He strained to hold his voice steady. “Yes.”

“Look at you trembling—the man of integrity! I want you to practice what you preach and publicly smack your son’s face by giving him a hefty fine and a year’s suspension. He’d better thank his lucky stars I’m not asking for his license this time. I don’t want to appear heavy-handed; that could backfire on me. If he drops the matter of nerve repair until CareFree has the resources to allow it, he can keep his license.”

“But what about the case he started? He needs to perform a second surgery.”

“Oh, does he now?”

“For the patient’s sake, he has to finish what he’s started,” Warren pleaded.

“He should have thought of the patient’s sake before he began. Letting him continue would be like cutting my own throat.”

“But, Mack, if you’re worried about the patient’s safety, I guarantee you that in David’s hands—”

“Warren, you silly fool, wake up! It’s us against them. I want you to make a test case of CareFree’s power for all the doctors to see. And I believe this is also a test for
you
.”

“For me?” Warren asked suspiciously. “What do you mean? I can’t be involved in David’s case. One of my administrators will hear it and render a decision. For me to influence the verdict would be a conflict of interest. It would be favoritism.”

“Not if you found him guilty, it wouldn’t.”

“What are you talking about?” Warren whispered timidly. “What test do you have in mind for me?”

“
I’m
not testing you, Warren,
fate
is. It’s as if fate brought you your greatest challenge to elevate your public stature right before holding your first elected office.” The governor paused to see Warren’s eyebrows arch. “I’m talking, of course, about the office of
lieutenant
g
overnor
.”

The two words waltzed in the air around Warren.

“You do want the post that I’m considering you for, don’t you, Warren?”

“Why yes, Mack,” Warren said breathlessly. “It would be the highest honor of my life!”

“There’s real drama here, Warren, real press appeal. It’s your historic moment. You pledged to uphold CareFree and punish the lawbreakers. Then right before the election, you hear a case of great importance that’s captured media attention, a case involving your own son. You and only you can hear that case! And you prove that you’re everything the public thinks you are, a man of integrity who practices what he preaches. You, the great leader, put aside your personal interests and make the right decision for the public. After all, it’s an open-and-shut case. Your darling boy broke the law—flagrantly, willfully, arrogantly. You uphold it, even at the price of great personal suffering.”

Warren stared at the wainscoting on the wall, seeing nothing.

“Everyone will sing your praises,” the governor continued. “And with your exemplary leadership, I’ll announce you as my running mate, and we’ll ride to victory. Then in two years—or whenever I make my bid for the presidency—you will become the next
governor of New York
.” Burrow paused to let the words perfume the room. “That’s what I’m offering you, a place on my ticket and a page in history. All I ask is that you do what you’ve already vowed do, uphold the law and protect CareFree from its enemies. If you stay true to your ideals, you’ll grab the deed to immortality.”

Warren’s face held the rapture of someone being granted his greatest wish—and the fear of making a pact with the devil for it.

Burrow smiled contemptuously. “If anyone but your son had performed that illegal surgery, you’d throw the book at him. Now’s your chance to be the man you claim to be. Remember the biblical story of Abraham? He was ready to cut the throat of his son Isaac for the sake of his moral ideal, and he became a better man for it. I expect you to be the same man Abraham was. The public expects it, too.”

“But
God
demanded that sacrifice, Mack. Is that what CareFree does for you? Allows you to play God?”

Burrow laughed easily, like a consummate professional enjoying the work he does best. “Me, Warren? Who issued the edicts against the doctors? You know what they say about people in glass houses.”

Chapter 20

The Doctor and the Dancer

Nicole awoke after a long nap, her head sagging into an old pillow whose case smelled of fresh laundry. She had lain on a small cot merely to think quietly for a few minutes, but the fatigue of the day’s events overtook her, and she had drifted into a sound sleep.
How long have I been out?
she wondered. She reached down to her purse by the bed and slipped her hand inside. It brushed against her first ballet slippers. Then she felt the envelope that had come with the Phantom’s letter. She pulled the envelope out, wanting to hold the crisp page it contained and, with it, a moment of pleasure. But there was nothing inside! Where was the Phantom’s letter? Her hand rummaged through the clutter in her purse, but she could feel no letter. She spilled the contents onto the bed and touched each item. Still no letter. Had she put it back in the envelope after David had read it to her? She thought not. Had she taken only the envelope from beneath her pillow in the hospital, leaving the letter behind? Later she would inquire.

Her hand touched a cold metal object that linked her to a hostile world—her cell phone. It also tied her to the man she must call. She had turned off the ringer when she lay down. Now she dialed a number to check her messages. Many had come while she was asleep. She played them and listened painfully to someone whom she had caused to suffer.

The first message contained a voice she barely recognized, stripped of all texture except anguish: “Nicole, it’s David. We know you took your phone. Call and tell me you’re okay. Tell me who and what frightened you, and let me help.”

He left a phone number that she recognized; it was the number to his cell phone, which he had made her memorize in the first moments after her surgery.

There were other messages, all from the man who seemed as much her friend as her doctor. Although his behavior toward her had consistently been professional mixed with some friendliness, she felt an intimacy toward him that went beyond their dealings. Perhaps she was responding to the softness in his voice when he addressed her, a quality that she noticed was missing when he spoke to others. She warned herself that after what she knew, she could no longer lean on him. The thought of losing the man who was her only hope was too terrifying to conceive, yet letting him go was precisely what she must do.

Playing his last message, she sensed in his voice a tortured mix of caring and fear and the strain of trying to control them: “Nicole, I’m beginning to think that . . . maybe . . . you were . . . kidnapped. Let me know that you’re okay and that you left of your own will. I won’t try to force you to come back if you don’t want to. Just let me know you’re safe.”

She held the phone for a long moment before she could stop shaking to dial.
Your mind’s made up
, she lectured herself.
You know what you have to do. Be very formal, and don’t feel anything. Just do it. After it’s done, you can feel anything you want to, but not now.

She dialed.

“Hello.”

“David, I’m all right.” For the first time, she found herself using his given name—despite her resolve to be formal.

A moment passed. “Nicole!” he finally said.

She had never heard her name sound like a hymn. “I was tired and fell asleep. I didn’t mean to worry you.”

“Forget that. Tell me again—you’re okay?”

“I’m fine.”

“Where are you?”

“In a safe place.”

“Where?”

“I’m not saying.”

“Why not?”

“People need to be alone sometimes, where no one can find them.”

“Why did you run away?”

“Because—” Her voice broke, and there was nothing but the silent struggle of someone trying not to feel anything.

“I know you want to cry.” The baritone voice seemed to caress her. “Let it out, Nicole. You’ll feel better if you do.”

“I need to be . . . tough,” she said, more to herself than to him.

“The tough cry, too, you know.”

“David, I’m not having the second surgery.”

“Why not?” he asked, astonished.

“Is it true you were suspended by the state and can’t practice medicine anymore?”

“So
that’s
it. Who told you?”

“Is it true?”

“Yes. I could kick myself for not telling you sooner! I figured I’d get suspended when I offered you the surgery, so it came as no surprise to me.” A hint of anger crept into the voice. “Who told you?”

“And your father’s the head of CareFree, so this thing’s splitting your family apart, too.”

“My break with my father happened years ago and has nothing to do with you. If it weren’t your case that brought me to an impasse with him, it would’ve been another.”

“Then let it be another. I won’t let you destroy your career over my case. If you think I could ever enjoy seeing again, knowing that—”

“You’re wrong, Nicole,” he said softly. “Your case isn’t destroying my career. It gave me my greatest moment in the OR. It’s what I’ve trained for since med school and dreamed about my entire life. Doing your surgery was like getting the lead role in a Broadway show.”

“And then breaking your legs so you couldn’t perform. Even if I allowed the second surgery, which I won’t, you couldn’t do it anyway. It’s prohibited, isn’t it?”

“If I’m alive, I’ll do it. The only two things I need are your brain and mine. The rest are details I’ll work out.”

“But you’ll lose your license if you do that surgery, won’t you?”

“Maybe not. CareFree is going to have a hearing on the case.”

“Oh?”

“Even though my father has . . . changed,” he said painfully, “he was once a neurosurgeon. That work takes a different sort of person than he is now. When you’re inside someone’s brain, there are no public opinion polls to tell you what to do, no media to impress, no hands to shake. The brain doesn’t wheel and deal with you, it doesn’t accept your promises, and it’s unforgiving of your mistakes. It’s you and the best stuff you have against the forces of nature. My father once loved that kind of work—and he loved me. There was a different principle inside him than I see today.”

“I’m sorry he let you down.”

“I can’t believe he could change so radically. Some remnant of his old self must still remain.”