“That might be an idea, Susan,” said Stark. “But I’d have to hear the particulars that brought you to your fantastic conclusions. Are you in any danger now? I can come and pick you up.”
“No, I’m all right,” said Susan, glancing into the diner. “It would be easier if I met you somewhere. I can catch a cab.”
“Fine. Meet me at my office in the Memorial. I’ll leave immediately.”
“I’ll be there.” Susan was about to hang up.
“Susan, one more thing. If what you say is true, then secrecy is tremendously important. Don’t say anything to anybody until we’ve talked.”
“Agreed. See you in a few minutes.”
Replacing the receiver, Susan looked up a cab company. She used her last dime to order a cab. She gave the name Shirley Walton. They said it would take ten minutes.
Dr. Harold Stark lived in Weston, along with nine-tenths of Boston’s other doctors. He had a sprawling Tudor house which also boasted a Victorian library. After speaking with Susan, he replaced the receiver on the phone on top of his desk. Then he pulled open the right-hand drawer and extracted a second phone, a phone carefully maintained and checked electronically for any additional resistance or interference. It could not be tapped without Stark’s knowledge. He dialed quickly, watching the tiny oscilloscope in the drawer. It functioned normally.
In the control room of the Jefferson Institute a manicured man, slight of build, reached for the ringing red telephone.
“Wilton,” yelled Stark, only partially concealing his anger, “for a whiz kid with figures and an aptitude for business, you’re pretty impotent when it comes to catching young, unarmed girls in a building built like a castle. I cannot understand how you could allow this matter to get so far out of hand. I warned you about her days ago.”
“Don’t worry, Stark. We’ll find her. She got out on the ledge but obviously has to return to the building. All the doors are sealed, and I’ve got ten men here now. Don’t worry.”
“Don’t worry,” snarled Stark. “Well, let me tell you something. She just called me on the phone and outlined the entire core of our program. She’s already out, you ass.”
“Out! Impossible!”
“Impossible. What kind of statement is that? I said she just called me. What do you think, she’s using one of your phones? Christ, Wilton. Why didn’t you take care of her?”
“We tried. Apparently she’s eluded a very reliable hit man. The lame man who took care of Walters.”
“God, that was another thing. Why didn’t you just dispose of him rather than stage that suicide?”
“For your benefit You’re the one that was so uptight when the drugs that old codger was hoarding were found. I mean you were the one who was so worried that it might drag in the authorities for some sort of grand investigation. We not only had to get rid of Walters but we had to associate him with his goddamn drugs.”
“Well, this whole affair has made up my mind for me, I think it’s time we wind down this operation. Do you understand, Wilton?”
“So the great doctor wants out, does he? At the first ripple of trouble in almost three years, you want out. You got all the money to rebuild that whole hospital of yours. You got yourself appointed Chief of Surgery. And now you want to leave us dry. Well let me tell you something, Stark, something that you’re going to find hard to take. You are not giving orders anymore. You’re going to follow them. And the first order is to get rid of this girl.”
Stark found himself holding a dead connection. He slammed the phone down and replaced it in the drawer. He was trembling with rage. He had to hold himself back from smashing his own belongings. Instead he gripped the edge of the desk until his fingers turned milky white. Then his fury began to abate. Anger per se had never solved anything, Stark knew. He had to rely on his analytical powers. Wilton was right. Susan represented the first ripple of trouble in his progress in almost three years. The progress that had been made was beyond Stark’s wildest dreams. It had to go on. Medical science demanded it. Susan had to be eliminated. That was certain. But it had to be done in a way so as not to cause suspicion or alarm, especially from some narrow-minded people like Harris or Nelson, who lacked the vision Stark knew he had.