Under the Knife(31)

The site teemed with workmen in hard hats, clambering through open spaces in the superstructure and swarming over naked girders. Some were welding steel beams, and showers of sparks tumbled from their torches; others were hammering away at walls, or laying electrical wiring; while still others assisted a large crane as it lifted an immense I-beam into place.

It was to be the jewel in Turner’s crown. Three hundred luxurious beds, all in private rooms. The most advanced ICUs and operating rooms money could buy. A birthing center designed by a world-famous architect specializing in wellness and spatial warmth, whatever the hell that meant. Spencer was of two minds about the Trinity: On the one hand, the prospect of practicing medicine in a brand-new, kick-ass facility excited him; on the other, the shameless marketing trumpeting its grand opening made him wonder if they’d soon need to substitute the word customer for patient in the Hippocratic Oath.

Spencer had reached one of the employee entrances, an unmarked door on a quiet side of the hospital. He swiped his ID badge across the card reader next to the door. A light at the bottom of it turned from red to green, accompanied by a loud clicking sound. He pulled the door open and walked inside.

Just inside was a security guard squeezed into a small wooden booth. She was monitoring the adjacent ER waiting room, which was currently empty. “Norma!” he called to her. “How you doing this morning?”

“Dr. Cameron,” she said, grinning. She set down her frayed paperback novel and grinned. “I’m doin’ real good. How ’bout you?”

“Great. Broke up with that boyfriend of yours yet, Norma?”

Norma shifted in her seat. The booth she was sitting in swayed and groaned. She was tall, almost as tall as Spencer, and with nearly as much girth. She had an open face and friendly eyes.

“Nah. Not yet. He’s still got some use left to him. But when I do, you’ll be the first to know.” She spoke with a slight lisp.

“I’d better. I’m not waiting around forever, you know. Somebody’s gotta make an honest man of me, Norma.”

She threw her head back, let loose a big belly laugh, and pounded the small wooden lectern in front of her with a meaty fist. The booth around her looked ready to collapse. “You have a blessed day, now, Dr. Cameron.”

“You too, Norma.”

He strode a short distance down a busy corridor toward a set of stairs. As he started up them, a bolt of pain rumbled up his right leg from his knee. It grew a little worse with each step. He wondered, grumpily, if his knee was getting swollen.

But the pain diminished as he reached the second floor and left the stairs behind him. He headed toward pre-op, located next to the operating rooms, to see his patient before the operation.





SEBASTIAN


There she was.

He saw her stop just outside the locker-room door and glance around. Sebastian recognized the blank, fixed stare on her face right away and unwound the tight coil of his muscles an infinitesimal amount. He’d seen that expression before, many times.

The embedding had worked.

He observed with detached professionalism that, despite everything she’d been through, she actually looked pretty good. An attractive woman, of medium height, with intense brown eyes and an athletic build, she seemed to be holding up okay.

Still, appearances could be deceiving.

She took a few hesitant steps and stopped. Then she spun around in a small circle, and he saw her lips moving, as if she were having a conversation with herself.

That disturbed him because it reminded him of the girl in the cell, curled in the fetal position. Maybe she wasn’t holding up as well as he’d thought. Training and discipline compelled him to hide his consternation.

Shit.

If she lost it now, he wouldn’t finish this job, and he’d never get his money.

Sammy and Sierra’s money.

But maybe she was just talking to Finney. He tamped down the uneasiness (not anxiety, never anxiety, because anxiety, like guilt, was unprofessional) rising in his belly and casually pushed himself off the wall to get an unobstructed view of her. He again pretended to text someone, for good measure adding a few shakes of the head, as if unhappy with what he was seeing on his screen. But his attention remain fixed on her.

Rita took a few hesitant steps, lifted her hand to her left ear, and started walking briskly away.

He was about to follow when the tiny headset hidden in his ear crackled.

“Sebastian.”

Finally. About goddamn time.

He stopped and faced the wall, shielding his lips from any onlookers.

“Mr. Finney. Yes, I see her. I’m assuming that you successfully embedded the impulse to operate with the auto-surgeon this morning?”

“Yes. She’s on her way to talk to the patient now.”

“Took some time.”

“Yes.”

Sebastian waited. No additional explanations were forthcoming.

Cagey son of a bitch.

“Any problems, boss? Persuading her?”

“No.”

So then what were you two talking about all that time?

“You mind, then, if I patch back into the feed?”

“No. I don’t mind.”

“Will you please grant me access?”

Please. Groveling to Finney like he was some little bitch. Sebastian hated that. The day this job ended and he got his money (Sammy and Sierra’s money) couldn’t come soon enough.