It was just after six p. m. when Jack and Madison’s flight touched down in West Palm Beach. With no luggage to claim, they made their way directly through the terminal and then to the same-day parking lot.
“I understand that most of the key treating physicians will be at dinner tonight,” Jack said, buckling up his seat belt. “Have you worked with Dr. Sinclair very much?”
“Our specialties don’t really overlap, but we’ve consulted on a few cases together.”
“How have you found working with him?”
With an intrigued look on her face, she said, “That’s kind of a strange question.”
“Really? In what way?”
“I’m not sure, but I’m getting the feeling you and Marc must be getting pretty chummy. So what it is that you’re really asking me?”
“Nothing,” he insisted, trying to deflect her question by sounding as vague and nonchalant as possible. With Madison already having misgivings about his integrity, the last thing he wanted was to be caught flirting with the truth.
“It sounds more to me as if you already have a preconceived notion about him.”
“I wouldn’t exactly put it in those terms.”
“Really? Then what terms would you put it in?”
“From what little I’ve heard, I get the impression he feels comfortable managing the GNS cases without a great deal of assistance.”
“Hollis Sinclair’s a well-trained neurologist, and he’s an excellent clinician. There are some who think he’s a tad inflexible and self-important at times.” She paused just long enough to cast a cautionary glance his way. “I guess we’ve all been guilty of that from time to time in our careers.”
A few more minutes passed and they pulled up to the hotel. With no further mention of Dr. Sinclair, they strolled past the concierge’s desk and down a carpeted hallway. The walls were decorated with grainy photographs of Boca Raton’s high society and dignitaries from the turn of the twentieth century.
They reached a group of meeting suites. A cardboard announcement resting on an easel identified the dining room reserved by Helen Morales. Jack opened the door for Madison and they walked into a room heavily steeped in history. The royal blue carpet was as thick and lavish as the antique satin drapery. But the showpiece of the room was an eighteenth-century exquisitely crafted crystal chandelier. Helen Morales greeted them immediately and began introducing Jack and Madison to the fifteen other physicians in attendance.
After a few minutes, Helen left Jack and Madison to chat with a few of the latecomers. It was at that moment that Hollis Sinclair strolled up.
“Good evening,” Madison said. “Hollis, I’d like you to meet Jack Wyatt.”
“Ah, the prophet from Ohio State,” he said, removing the two impaled olives from his martini and popping them into his mouth. Jack extended his hand. Sinclair stared at it for a few seconds before giving it a hasty shake. The limp-wristed greeting had all the warmth of a get-well card from one’s worst mortal enemy.
“It’s nice to meet you,” Jack said.
“I haven’t had the opportunity to ask you, but when exactly did you arrive?”
“Yesterday morning,” Jack said, suspecting Sinclair already knew the answer to his question.
Appearing uninterested in Jack’s answer, Sinclair held up his glass and motioned the bartender.
“Have you got it figured out yet?” he asked Jack.
“I beg your pardon?”
“Do you have any idea what’s causing GNS?”
“I’m afraid not, but I’d certainly like to compliment you and your team on the way you’re managing these difficult cases.”
“Speaking on behalf of all the second-stringers,” he said with a smile that displayed thirty-two perfect teeth, “we thank you.”
Jack could recall getting off to a stilted start with a colleague a couple of times in his career, but the last two days had been unprecedented. He wasn’t one to make snap judgments about people, but in the case of Hollis Sinclair he was ready to make an exception. He found his pompous and sarcastic manner repugnant. Jack had no way of being certain but he strongly suspected Sinclair had a privileged life growing up and believed pedigree trumped civility. “So, Dr. Wyatt. You were about to share your impressions of GNS with me.”
“Hollis,” Madison said, “this is supposed to be the social part of the evening. There’ll be plenty of time to discuss GNS after dinner.”
The bartender walked over and handed Sinclair another vodka martini.
“Nonsense. You don’t mind talking about the cases now, do you, Dr. Wyatt?” he asked, taking two swallows of the premium alcohol.
“Not at all but I’d prefer hearing your thoughts first. And please, call me Jack.”
“Okay, Jack” he said, raising his glass in a pseudo toast. “Everybody has made two assumptions, both of which I believe to be totally erroneous and both of which have led all of the investigators down the path of misdiagnosis.”
“Interesting,” Jack said. “What assumptions are those?”
He raised his hand and with a wry smile wagged his finger. “I’m close to finalizing my theory regarding the cause of this disease, so I’d prefer not to say anything at this time. I will mention, however, I’ve been speaking to some of the brightest minds on three continents. I find it interesting that nobody besides myself appears to be intrigued by the fact that there are no cases of GNS reported outside of the United States.”
“Will you be recommending a treatment plan?” Jack asked.
“Naturally.”
“I hope it doesn’t include termination of the pregnancies,” Madison said.
“I’m a doctor. I don’t have the luxury of addressing the moral and religious matters of this disease. I’m far too busy trying to cure it. I suggest we leave the spiritual issues to the clergy. The plan of treatment I’ll be suggesting will be both unconventional and aggressive.” He shifted his gaze to Madison. “With respect to termination, I’m not ruling out any possibility. But I think you would have to agree that common sense would dictate there’s no point prolonging a pregnancy if it means certain death for the mother and baby. In any event, termination is a matter for the families to decide, not their doctors.” The conversation was rapidly heading south. Jack had enough political savvy to remain a listener. Sinclair was acting as if he had just shared a point of profound wisdom with them that neither of them had the insight to see on their own.
“We’re physicians, Hollis. There’s a humanistic side to what we do. I could agree with you on your theory of termination, but then we’d both be wrong.” Madison took a few seconds to regard him with a glassy stare. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to join the others.”
Sinclair didn’t respond to Madison’s comment. Instead, he continued to hold Jack captive, droning on endlessly about his accomplishments and the inevitability that he’d be named the new chief of neurology at Southeastern State School of Medicine. Every minute or so Jack found himself glancing over at the table. Madison was seated between two colleagues, apparently involved in an amusing conversation. She never once looked in his direction.
A few more minutes passed and at Helen Morales’s behest everybody began to find his or her place at the table. A young woman entered the room and handed Helen Morales a folded note. She took a moment to read it, sighed deeply and then raised her eyes.
“Excuse me,” she began, “but I’m sorry to have to report that I just received word that there’s been another death. A twenty-five-year-old woman in Reno, Nevada, suffered a cardiac arrest approximately an hour or so ago. They were able to deliver the baby by C-section. The infant weighed three pounds and was transferred immediately to the neonatal ICU.” After a hushed pause, she added, “As soon as additional information becomes available, it will be posted on the National Patient Data Record.”
The dining room was noticeably quiet for the next few minutes. But eventually, the conversation picked up and Jack found himself inundated with questions from his colleagues. He didn’t particularly mind, but he was relieved when Helen stood up and reminded everybody there would be plenty of time to discuss GNS and any other medical topics of interest later. Before retaking her seat, she strongly suggested a brief moratorium on the topic of GNS in favor of lighter conversation and enjoying their dinner.