She looked at herself in the mirror. Except for her underwear, she had been wearing the same clothes for two days, and she realized she’d have to stop somewhere and get some fresh things.
She put up the Do Not Disturb sign as she left the room, less nervous here than in New York since she was certain she was several jumps ahead of her pursuers.
The site of San Francisco General was gorgeous, but once inside,
the hospital was like any other large city hospital, with the same random mixture of old and modern. There was also that overwhelming sense of bustle and disorganization characteristic of such institutions. It was easy for Marissa to walk unnoticed into the doctor’s locker room.
As she was selecting a scrub suit, an attendant came over and asked, “Can I help you?”
“I’m Dr. Blumenthal,” said Marissa. “I’m here to observe Dr. Tie-man operate.”
“Let me give you a locker,” said the attendant without hesitation, and gave her a key.
After Marissa changed, her locker key pinned to the front of her scrub dress, she walked to the surgical lounge. There were about twenty people there, drinking coffee, chatting and reading newspapers.
Passing through the lounge, Marissa went directly into the operating area. In the vestibule, she put on a hood and booties, then stopped in front of the big scheduling board. Tieman’s name was listed for room eleven. The man was already on his second hysterectomy.
“Yes?” inquired the nurse behind the OR desk. Her voice had that no-nonsense tone of a woman in charge.
“I’m here to watch Dr. Tieman,” said Marissa.
“Go on in. Room eleven,” said the nurse, already devoting her attention to another matter.
“Thank you,” said Marissa, starting down the wide central corridor. The operating rooms were on either side, sharing scrub and anesthesia space. Through the oval windows in the doors, Marissa caught glimpses of gowned figures bent over their patients.
Entering the scrub area between rooms eleven and twelve, Marissa put on a mask and pushed into Tieman’s operating room.
There were five people besides the patient. The anesthesiologist was sitting at the patient’s head, two surgeons were standing on either side of the table, a scrub nurse perched on a footstool and there was one circulating nurse. As Marissa entered, the circulating nurse was sitting in the corner, waiting for orders. She got up and asked Marissa what she needed.
“How much longer for the case?”
“Three-quarters of an hour,” shrugged the nurse. “Dr. Tieman is fast.”
“Which one is Dr. Tieman?” asked Marissa. The nurse gave her a strange look.
“The one on the right,” she said. “Who are you?”
“A doctor friend from Atlanta,” said Marissa. She didn’t elaborate. Moving around to the head of the table and looking at Dr. Tieman, she understood why the nurse had been surprised by her question:
the man was black.
How odd, thought Marissa. She would have suspected that all the PAC officers were old-guard, white and probably racially prejudiced.
For a while she stood above the ether screen and watched the course of the operation. The uterus was already out, and they were starting repair. Tieman was good. His hands moved with that special economy of motion that could not be taught. It was a talent, a gift from God, not something to be learned even with practice.
“Start the damn car,” said Al hanging up the cellular phone. They were parked across from a sprawling redwood house that clung to the hillside above the town of Sausalito. Between the eucalyptus trees they could see blue patches of the Bay.
Jake turned the key in the ignition. “Where to?” He knew Al was pissed, and when he was in that kind of mood, it was better to say as little as possible.
“Back to the city.”
“What did Tieman’s office say?” asked George from the backseat. Jake wanted to tell George to shut up, but he was afraid to speak. “That the doctor was in surgery at San Francisco General,” said Al, almost white with anger. “His first operation was scheduled for seven-thirty, and he’s not expected at the office until three.”
“No wonder we missed him,” said George disgustedly. “The guy must have left his house an hour before we got here. What a waste of time. We should have gone to a hotel like I said.”