“No, not at all,” Kathy said. “When did you have in mind? I’m afraid I have meetings scheduled for most of the afternoon.”
“How about right now?” Jack said. “I’ll pass up lunch.”
“Now that’s dedication,” Kathy said. “How can I refuse? My office is in administration on the first floor.”
“Uh-oh,” Jack voiced. “Is there a chance I’d run into Mr. Kelley?”
“The chances are slim,” Kathy said. “There’s a group of bigwigs in from AmeriCare, and Mr. Kelley is scheduled to be locked up with them all day.”
“I’m on my way,” Jack said.
Jack exited from the front entrance 6n First Avenue. He was vaguely aware of Slam straightening up from where he was leaning against a neighboring building, but Jack was too preoccupied to take much notice.
He flagged a cab and climbed in. Behind him he saw Slam following suit.
BJ had not been entirely confident he’d recognize Jack from the visit to the doc’s apartment, but the moment Jack appeared at the door of the medical examiner’s office, BJ knew it was him.
While he’d been waiting BJ had tried to figure out who was supposedly protecting Jack. For a while a tall muscular dude had loitered on the corner of First Avenue and Thirtieth Street, smoking, and intermittently looking up at the medical examiner building’s door. BJ had thought he was the one, but eventually he’d left. So BJ had been surprised when he’d seen Slam stiffen in response to Jack’s appearance.
“He’s no more than a goddamn kid,” BJ had whispered to himself. He was disgusted. He expected a more formidable opponent.
No sooner had BJ gotten his hand around the butt of his machine pistol, which he had in a shoulder holster under his hooded sweatshirt, than he saw first Jack and then Slam jump into separate cabs. Letting go of his gun, BJ stepped out into the street and flagged his own taxi.
“Just head north,” BJ told the cabdriver. “But push it, man.”
The Pakistani cabdriver gave BJ a questioning look, but then did as he was told. BJ kept Slam’s cab in sight, aided by the fact that it had a broken taillight.
Jack jumped out of the cab and dashed into the General and across the lobby. The masks had been dispensed with now that the meningococcal scare had passed, so Jack couldn’t use one to hide behind. Concerned about being recognized, he wanted to spend the least time possible in the hospital’s public places.
He pushed through the doors into the administrative area, hoping that Kathy had been right about Kelley’s being occupied. The sounds of the hospital died away as the doors closed behind him. He was in a carpeted hall. Happily, he saw no one he recognized.
Jack approached the first secretary he came upon and asked for Kathy McBane’s office. He was directed to the third door on the right. Losing no time, Jack hustled down there and stepped in.
“Hello,” Jack called out as he closed the door behind him. “I hope you don’t mind my shutting us in like this. I know it’s presumptuous, but as I explained there are a few people I don’t want to see.”
“If it makes you feel better, by all means,” Kathy said. “Come and sit down.”
Jack took one of the seats facing the desk. It was a small office with barely enough room for a desk, two facing chairs, and a file cabinet. The walls had a series of diplomas and licenses attesting to Kathy’s impressive credentials. The decoration was spartan but comfortable. There were family photos on the desk.
Kathy herself appeared as Jack remembered her: friendly and open.
She had a round face with small, delicate features. Her smile came easily.
“I’m very concerned about this recent case of primary influenza pneumonia,” Jack said, losing no time. “What’s been the reaction of the Infection Control Committee?”
“We’ve not met yet,” Kathy said. “After all, the patient just passed away last night.”
“Have you spoken about it with any of the other members?” Jack asked.
“No,” Kathy admitted. “Why are you so concerned? We’ve seen a lot of influenza this season. Frankly, this case hasn’t bothered me anywhere near the way the others did, particularly the meningococcus.”