London
“What do you mean, she left town?” Dr. Julian Marcus shouted into the phone.
“My mother decided to go back to the States.” Maryann was slightly embarrassed that her mother had not contacted the doctor personally.
“But the treatment! The protocol!” He sounded frantic. “This will not bode well for the scientific legitimacy of our findings if she does not complete the series of treatments!” He sounded as if he were close to foaming at the mouth.
“Dr. Marcus, I am very sorry, but there was nothing I could do to stop her from leaving.” Maryann was starting to get her bearings. Who the hell does he think he is, yelling at me like this?
“You should have phoned me,” he said, softening his voice. He knew that if he didn’t get his hands on some cocaine soon, he was going to lose it entirely.
“I thought I could talk her out of leaving, but she insisted. She packed her bags and left yesterday.” Maryann waited for the next barrage of criticism.
“Very well, then. I trust she will continue the protocol with Dr. Steinwood in Aspen?” He was hoping their latest cash cow would continue her treatment once she returned to the States.
“I suppose, but she is spending time with some friends in Virginia before she heads home.”
Marcus erupted again. “Did she at least take her supplements with her? I warned you that patients can get disoriented. This is not good, Maryann. You gave me your assurance you would monitor her.”
“Dr. Marcus, I appreciate your concern, but I can do nothing more than try to convince her to act in a certain way. I am neither her jailer nor her caregiver. My mother is a grown woman with her own mind. And given her list of accomplishments, it is clearly a very fine mind indeed.”
“The very state of her mind is the issue!” He continued to rant. “I cannot be held responsible should something happen to her.”
Maryann was growing frustrated but held her ground. “I totally understand, Dr. Marcus. Will you contact Dr. Steinwood, or shall I?”
“That’s all right. I’ll handle this. Good day!” He slammed the phone down on his desk so hard that it scratched the leather inlaid surface. “Damn it,” he shouted to no one. He picked the phone up and scrolled through his contacts, looking for the “delivery boy”—the one who would bring him his weekly supply of the intoxicating white powder.
After punching in the numbers, he sent a text: Coffee. Three sugars. That was code for an eighth of an ounce of cocaine, although he thought he should probably get more. It seemed he was running out of it faster lately. He sent a second text: Coffee. Six sugars. He hoped the idiot understood what he meant.
He drummed his fingers on his desk and looked at his Rolex. It was still too early to call Aspen. He started pacing. What’s taking that moron so long to get here? Deep in thought as to how he was going to make up the twenty-five thousand dollars he had been counting on from Charlotte Hansen, he nearly jumped out of his Armani suit when his cell phone rang. “What?” he screamed into the receiver. “I thought I told you never to call me!”
“Sorry, Doc, but my man says you owe him over five K. He wants his money before he’ll serve you any more ‘coffee.’” The whiny voice on the other end was almost snickering.
“Tell him I’ll have it to him this afternoon.” Marcus was careful not to spook his connection.
“Uh . . . I don’t think that’s gonna work. Ya see . . . he’s all fired up today, so I can’t brew the blend without some cash.” The cockney accent talking in drug code was infuriating Marcus, but he knew better than to challenge his supplier. He checked his wallet, then the office safe. Only two thousand.
“Okay, listen, I have almost half of that here now. What if you bring me one coffee with three sugars?” Marcus needed his fix, sooner rather than later.
“Dunno, mate. I’ll have to check.” The delivery boy ended the call abruptly.
Marcus continued to pace, his anxiety growing with each passing minute. He knew he had been going through about $250 a day with his habit, which at times seemed like chump change. But the more he sniffed the white powder, the more he wanted. Maybe it was time to step it up. Try something different. Again, the phone made him jump.
“Okay, Doc. Half now, but then you pay the other half by the end of the day, or the party is over.” Ultimatum having been delivered, the call ended abruptly.
Marcus was starting to perspire. Yes, he needed to change up his game. He checked his watch again. Time is moving much too slowly.