Sonya rose to her feet, a bit too quickly for a person who wanted to appear calm and collected, and walked behind Irene, who knocked on the door and opened it for her. Fredericks was seated behind his desk, jotting notes on several documents. His hair was slicked down on his balding head, his sideburns perfectly trimmed, and his face sported a 5:00 shadow consistent with the latest style in Gentlemen’s Quarterly. A tailored, freshly ironed white shirt with an open neck showcased his upper body as well as any garment could, while whiffs of Cardin cologne tried to make up the difference.
“Come in and have a seat,” Fredericks said without looking up. After more shuffling of papers, he sat back in a self-satisfied fashion and asked in a patronizing voice, “What can I do for you?”
“I received your letter of dismissal, Dr. Fredericks, and wanted to ask when my duties would be terminated.”
“I thought the letter was quite clear—the end of this month.”
“Do you expect me to continue with my case load and staff responsibilities until then?”
Fredericks stared at her coldly, like he did to the fly he had captured wandering into his microwave just before he shut the door and fried it. “Of course. You’re under contract to do so.”
“The reason I asked,” Sonya continued, “concerns my scheduled case presentation at the Barrett Conference. Am I still expected to appear for that?”
“Not only to appear, my dear,” said Fredericks. “You are expected to present in a professional manner that will reflect well on our entire department. I expect your case study of Mr. Lundeen to be thorough, objective and a clear demonstration of his having received maximum hospital benefit from our facility and his need to be transferred immediately to a Veterans Administration Domiciliary. To do less would be to court disaster for you and your future.”
“Recommend sending Lumpy to a retirement home?” she gasped.
Fredericks reached for another paper, took it from the pile of forms stacked up on his desk, casually looked at her and smiled again in affected pleasantness. Clicking his ballpoint pen and preparing to write, he said, “Of course. His clinical status provides no other rational alternative for his future treatment.” He paused for effect, like he did before closing the microwave door on the bug. Clipping off his words, he hissed “Am I clear on this matter?”
“You are.”
“Any further discussion?”
“I would like to have you reconsider his—”
Fredericks lashed at her with a swiftness that took her breath away. His eyes collapsed into venomous slits. “Am I clear on this matter?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Then you are dismissed. Please close the door quietly behind you.”
Boiling inside, Sonya abruptly got up and headed for the door. She turned back toward Fredericks, and began the speech she had rehearsed so carefully.
“Oh, excuse me for not asking before. Do you plan to attend the conference?”
Fredericks glared at her from across the room. “Of course.”
“Would you object if I invited several colleagues to attend. After all, it is my last case conference.”
Busying himself behind his paper work, Fredericks projected bored disinterest as he kept writing. “My dear, you must be aware that I’m quite busy with other matters right now. Your case presentation plans are the least of my concerns. Invite whomever you like. Now if you would excuse me . . . ”
“Certainly,” Sonya smiled, as she closed the door.
* * *
Lundeen grimaced at the news he had just received from him. “You mean Fredericks’ personnel file was clean?”
Proctor nodded his head. “As a whistle. It’s been sanitized.”
“No mention of any staff complaints? No problems noted about his tour of duty in Vietnam?”
“No formal complaints or charges. Some damning with faint praise from his commanding officer when Fredericks was managing a field psych unit, but nothing you could hang your hat on.”
“Nothing about any deviant behavior, sexual acting out, antisocial personality symptoms—nothing like that?”
“Sorry, sir. I’d didn’t have a lot of time to study his “C” File, but there wasn’t much to study. Unusual, really. Given his years in the Army, you’d have guessed that there would have been a longer paper trail. But Nam was a long time ago.” Proctor’s face sagged into a sneer. “Yeah, it was a long time ago, but I’m betting those records didn’t go away by themselves. Fredericks’ file has the smell of having been sanitized real well. What’s left reads like a virgin’s diary.”
Lundeen’s expression grew hard and his frown deepened. “How about his computer hard drive?”
“That’s next on my list, but it’s going to be tricky. Fredericks takes his computer home with him every night, so I’ll need to access it during the day after I come on shift. I come on duty at 3:30, so that only gives me one hour to copy his hard drive. If he hangs around his office, I’m out of luck, but maybe we can create a diversion that would take him off the ward.”
Lundeen shook his head. “No need to make this anymore complicated than it already is. You’ve done your job. It’s my turn to do mine.”
Mopsy nodded. “My visit may not have been a total loss. I left a present for ‘Polly.’ We’ll just have to see if she thanks us.”
Lundeen seemed lost in his thoughts and not listening, as he gave Mopsy a perfunctory grunt and launched into his own plans.
* * *
“Now” seemed to be the right moment. Irene was at a going away party for one of the staff this noon, and planned to be absent from her desk for the entire lunch hour. Fredericks had been talking on the ward about the VA review team arriving that morning and his taking them out for lunch at one of his off-campus hideaways. That left their offices vacant from noon until 1:00. Proctor had supplied him with an office master key, so getting through the locked office doors would not present a problem.
Lundeen had excused himself early from a ward billiard game, claiming an upset stomach that needed some attention at the nurses’ station. The station was conveniently situated next to Fredericks’ office. The hallway was deserted, except for a lone nurse busily handing out medications to several veterans. Since Fredericks’ office was at a right angle to the station, it was an easy matter for Lundeen to walk in front of the station and turn quickly around the corner and be at the front of the Psychiatry and Behavior Sciences office. A quick insertion of Mopsy’s master key into the main door and he was inside.
The lights had been turned off in both offices for lunch, a routine practice designed to conserve energy. Rather than risk attracting attention, Lundeen decided to feel his way around as best he could in the semi-darkness. Moving quickly past the receptionist’s desk, which was vaguely outlined by a stream of light from the transom above the main door, he groped for the doorknob leading into Fredericks’ inner sanctum. With his left hand, he felt for the keyhole opening and then pushed the master key into place with his right hand. The door opened in front of Fredericks’ executive desk, which was covered with piles of papers as best Lundeen could tell. Fredericks had insisted on an office with no windows “for security reasons,” although he had allowed Irene to have glass put in the transom above the main door. Slivers of light did filter into her space, but Fredericks’ space bordered on pitch black.
Damn, thought Lundeen, I should have brought a flashlight. But, for better or for worse, he was here and had to make do. Touching the outer edges of the desk, he worked himself around to the chair and leaned closer to the desk to see if he could identify where the computer might be. He knew it was black, probably turned off and closed, so it would not present much of a profile to detect. He’d have to feel his way around the room and furniture. The black laptop could be in one of the drawers, on a table or file cabinet or in a dozen other places. The possibilities reached troubling proportions as the clock kept ticking.
Edging himself past the desk to what seemed to be Fredericks’ leather recliner, Lundeen used the back of the chair as a reference point to find the side table. He gingerly patted his hand around the side table’s lamp and then groped back to the chair itself. As he moved down the armrest, his breathing stopped and his body froze. There was someone in the chair.
Lundeen slowly withdrew his hand from the armrest, like he would have after suddenly discovering a sleeping rattlesnake. The dim light obscured his vision, but it seemed to heighten the rest of his senses. His hearing traced the slow, deep breathing of a quiet figure that had to be Fredericks. The good news was that he wasn’t moving a muscle.
Fighting the impulse to panic and “cut and run,” Lundeen continued to back cautiously away from the sleeping body and crept toward the door. He stubbed his toe on the bottom of the desk, but regained his balance without making a sound. Taking small, well-placed steps toward the door, he slid through the opening and started to close the door behind him. A stirring from the chair galvanized his attention.
“Lumpy, next time knock,” came a crisp voice from the chair. “I’ll see you at the Barrett Conference on your way to the Old Soldiers’ Home. With this sad display of breaking and entering, which is a felony, by the way, I’m sure you won’t object.”
“Go to Hell, Fredericks,” growled Lundeen.
“Verbally assaulting a superior won’t go down well either. Particularly coming from a psychotic patient with a history of violence.”
* * *
“I’m glad you agreed to see Dr. Barrett with me, Brad,” said Sonya. “I just could not survive this alone.”
“We might as well start at the top,” said Brad.
The VA Administration Building’s elevator zipped to the fourth floor, well before Brad and Sonya had their game plan firmed up. But ready or not, it was show time.
Pulling open the “Super Chief’s” door felt like entering the cage of a lion. The tall, spindly receptionist, her eagle eyes framed with blue turquoise readings glasses, was in the middle of attacking her keyboard, and scarcely acknowledged the two anxious interns staring at her. Her spectacles shifted slightly on her nose as she peered over their rims with an impatient grimace. “May I help you?” she asked, in a tone clearly indicating that she wanted them to evaporate.
“We have a 2:00 appointment with Dr. Barrett,” said Brad.
“Your names?” Several drops of irritation dripped from her question.
“Sonya Layton and Brad Metzger.”
“And you are from . . . ?”
Brad butted in before Sonya’s frustration became clearly visible. “Two North Psych Unit.”
“Hmm,” the receptionist mused, “You’re the second appointment from Two North today.” She sniffed with sarcasm. “We must be becoming popular with the Mental Health set.” Leaning over her desk, she punched an intercom button with a poke that could have put an eye out. “Dr. Barrett, your 2:00 appointment has arrived.” She popped the button again, returned to her typing, and announced in an officious tone, “Dr. Barrett will see you now.”
Circling the huge office were layers of oak bookshelves struggling to support volumes of scholarly tomes and wisdom from the ages. A polished executive desk, crafted from burled mahogany and inlaid ebony, burst alive with multi-colored beams of reflected light from a Tiffany lamp. Dr. Barrett’s furniture was clearly not VA issue.
Dwarfing the elegant furnishings, a portly aristocrat, with wavy hair sculpted around his neatly trimmed eyebrows, leaned back in a dark leather chair, inspecting them as they entered the room. His cobalt blue eyes, although pleasant and inviting, also seemed capable of igniting at a moment’s notice. His whole demeanor broadcast a clear message: “no nonsense allowed.” Waving for the interns to have seats in two wingback chairs, he rose to his feet, “Welcome, Sonya and Brad,” he said, in a voice resonating with timber reminiscent of James Earl Jones. “How might I be of service?” He leaned over his desk, and grasped each of their hands with a firm but friendly handshake. Both interns forgot to breathe as they struggled with being in “The Room” with “The Man.” Smiling warmly, Dr. Barrett motioned again for them to take their seats. “Please, make yourselves comfortable and let me hear what you have to say.”
Both seemed riveted to Barrett’s hypnotic eyes and sat spellbound for a few moments. Sonya broke the silence. “I’ve found myself in a most difficult situation and need to clarify my position.”
“With Dr. Fredericks and the charges brought against you? I’ve talked with him and have read the complaint.”
Sonya tightened her jaw and spoke as calmly and as evenly as she could. “The charges are not true, Dr. Barrett. Further,” she stated, “I do not deserve to be have my traineeship terminated.”
“What do you suggest?” asked Barrett.
The directness of his question caught her off guard. “What do I suggest?” she repeated.
“That’s what I asked.”
Like a blister popping, Sonya burst out. “That I get a fair hearing and have this nightmare put to rest.”
“Done,” said Barrett. “Let me make the arrangements. It’s premature to discuss with you the details, but rest assured that the arrangements will be fair, discrete and thorough. You have my word.”
“Sir,” said Brad, “There are also serious charges we intend to bring against Dr. Fredericks, charges which include sexual harassment and violation of Sonya’s civil rights.”
“I assumed as much. Those will be considered too.”
Sonya looked at Barrett hopefully. “I know that this may be an unfair question, but do you think that I might have a chance to remain at the VA?”
“Yes.”
“Or that I could be dismissed?”
“Yes. It depends on the evidence, some of which has not been gathered yet and some of which I am not in a position to discuss right now.” Barrett paused for a moment and then looked directly at Sonya. “I will say that you have considerable support among the staff and patients for the quality of your work and the integrity of your behavior.”
With tears building in both of their eyes, Sonya and Brad tried to thank him, but raw emotion muted their attempts. Barrett’s eyes shifted again into a smile and he said, “On a less weighty note, I must say that I look forward to your patient presentation this Friday. I’m sure you will be relieved when that’s over.” With a disarming grin, he added, “You might even find out that I don’t bite. Interns, at least.”