“Okay?” the husband asked, his anxiety a physical thing.
“Everything went perfectly,” Cathy said. “No problems at all. She’ll be fine.”
“When will she be able –”
“A week. We have to be patient on this. You’ll be able to see her in about an hour and a half. Now, why don’t you get yourselves something to eat. There’s no sense having a healthy patient if the family is worn out, I –”
“Doctor Ryan,” the public address speaker said. “Doctor Caroline Ryan.”
“Wait a minute.” Cathy walked to the nurses’ station and lifted the phone. “This is Doctor Ryan.”
“Cathy, this is Gene in the ER. I’ve got a major eye trauma. Ten-year-old black male, he took his bike through a store window,” the voice said urgently. “His left eye is badly lacerated.”
“Send him up to six.” Cathy hung up and went back to the Jeffers family. “I have to run, there’s an emergency case coming up. Your wife will be fine. I’ll be seeing you tomorrow.” Cathy walked as quickly as she could to the OR.
“Heads up, we have an emergency coming in from ER. Major eye trauma to a ten-year-old.” Lisa-Marie was already moving. Cathy walked to the wall phone and punched the number for surgeons’ lounge. “This is Ryan in Wilmer six. Where’s Bernie?”
“I’ll get him.” A moment later: “Doctor Katz.”
“Bernie, I have a major eye trauma coming into six. Gene Wood in ER says it’s a baddie.”
“On the way.” Cathy Ryan turned.
“Terri?”
“All ready,” the anesthesiologist assured her.
“Give me another two minutes,” Lisa-Marie said. Cathy went into the scrub room to rewash her hands. Bernie Katz arrived before she started. He was a thoroughly disreputable-looking man, only an inch taller than Cathy Ryan, with longish hair and a Bismarck mustache. He was also one of the best surgeons at Hopkins.
“You’d better lead on this one,” she said. “I haven’t done a major trauma in quite a while.”
“No problem. How’s the baby coming?”
“Great.” A new sound arrived, the high-pitched shrieks of a child in agony. The doctors moved into the OR. They watched dispassionately as two orderlies were strapping the child down. Why weren’t you in school? Cathy asked him silently. The left side of the boy’s face was a mess. The reconstructive teams would have to work on that later. Eyes came first. The child had already tried to be brave, but the pain was too great for that. Terri did the first medication, with both orderlies holding the child’s arm in place. Cathy and Bernie hovered over the kid’s face a moment later.
“Bad,” Dr. Katz observed. He looked to the circulating nurse. “I have a procedure scheduled for one o’clock. Have to bump it. This one’s going to take some time.”
“All ready on this side,” the scrub nurse said.
“Two more minutes,” the anesthesiologist advised. You had to be careful medicating kids.
“Gloves,” Cathy said. Bernie came over with them a moment later. “What happened?”
“He was riding his bike down the sidewalk on Monument Street,” the orderly said. “He hit something and went through an appliance-store window.”
“Why wasn’t he in school?” she asked, looking back at the kid’s left eye. She saw hours of work and an uncertain outcome.
“President’s Day, Doc,” the orderly replied.
“Oh. That’s right.” She looked at Bernie Katz. His grimace was visible around the mask.
“I don’t know, Cathy.” He was examining the eye through the magnifying-glass headset. “Must have been a cheap window — lots of slivers. I count five penetrations. Jeez, look at how that one’s extended into the cornea. Let’s go.”
The Chevy pulled into one of Hopkins’ high-rise parking garages. From the top level the driver had a perfect view of the door leading from the hospital to the doctors’ parking area. The garage was guarded, of course, but there was plenty of traffic in and out, and it was not unusual for someone to wait in a car while another visited a family member inside. He settled back and lit a cigarette, listening to music on the car radio.
Ryan put roast beef on his hard roll and selected iced tea. The Officer and Faculty Club had an unusual arrangement for charging: he set his tray on a scale and the cashier billed him by weight. Jack paid up his two dollars and ten cents. The price for lunch was hardly exorbitant, but it did seem an odd way to set the price. He joined Robby Jackson in a corner booth.
“Mondays!” he observed to his friend.
“Are you kidding? I can relax today. I was up flying Saturday and Sunday.”
“I thought you liked that.”
“I do,” Robby assured him. “But both days I got off before seven. I actually got to sleep until six this morning. I needed the extra two hours. How’s the family?”
“Fine. Cathy had a big procedure today — had to be up there early. The one bad thing about being married to a surgeon, they always start early. Sometimes it’s a little hard on Sally.”
“Yeah, early to bed, early to rise — might as well be dead,” Robby agreed. “How’s the baby coming?”
“Super.” Jack smiled. “He’s an active little bugger. I never figured how women can take that — having the kid kick, turn and like that, I mean.”
“Mind if I join you?” Skip Tyler slipped into the booth.
“How are the twins?” Jack asked at once.
The reply was a low moan, and a look at the circles under Tyler’s eyes provided the answer. “The trick is getting both of them asleep. You just get one quieted down, then the other one goes off like a damned fire alarm. I don’t know how Jean does it. Of course” — Tyler grinned — “she can walk the floor with them. When I do it it’s step-thump, step-thump.”
All three men laughed. Skip Tyler had never been the least sensitive about losing his leg.
“How’s Jean holding up?” Robby asked.
“No problem — she sleeps when they do and I get to do all the housework.”
“Serves you right, turkey,” Jack observed. “Why don’t you give it a rest?”
“Can I help it if I’m hot-blooded?” Skip demanded.
“No, but your timing sucks,” Robby replied.
“My timing,” Tyler said with raised eyebrows, “is perfect.”
“I guess that’s one way to look at it,” Jack agreed.
“I heard you were out jogging this morning.” Tyler changed subjects.
“So did I.” Robby laughed.
“I’m still alive, guys.”
“One of my mids said tomorrow they’re going to follow you around with an ambulance just in case.” Skip chuckled. “I suppose it’s nice for you to remember that most of the kids know CPR.”
“Why are Mondays always like this?” Jack asked.
Alex and Sean Miller made a final run along Route 50. They were careful to keep just under the speed limit. The State Police radar cars were out in force today for some reason or other. Alex assured his colleague that this would end around 4:30. Rush hour had too many cars on the road for efficient law enforcement. Two other men were in the back of the van, each with his weapon.
“Right about here, I think,” Miller said.
“Yeah, it’s the best place,” Alex agreed.
“Escape route.” Sean clicked on a stopwatch.
“Okay.” Alex changed lanes and kept heading west. “Remember, it’s gonna be slower tonight.”
Miller nodded, getting the usual pre-op butterflies in his stomach. He ran through his plan, thinking over each contingency as he sat in the right-front seat of the van, watching the way traffic piled up at certain exits off the highway. The road was far better than the roads he was accustomed to in Ireland, but people drove on the wrong side here, he thought, though with pretty good traffic manners compared to Europe. Especially France and Italy . . . he shook off the thought and concentrated on the situation at hand.
Once the attack was completed, they would reach the getaway vehicles in under ten minutes. The way it was timed, Ned Clark would be waiting for them. Miller completed his mental run-through, satisfied that his plan, though a hasty one, was effective.
“You’re early,” Breckenridge said.
“Yeah, well, I have a couple of mids coming in this afternoon to go over their term papers. Any problem?” Jack took the Browning from his briefcase.
The Sergeant Major grabbed a box of 9mm rounds. “Nope. Mondays are supposed to be screwed up.”
Ryan walked to lane three and pulled the gun from the holster. First he ejected the empty clip and pulled the slide back. Next he checked the barrel for obstructions. He knew the weapon was fine mechanically, of course, but Breckenridge had range-safety rules that were inviolable. Even the Superintendent of the Academy had to follow them.
“Okay, Gunny.”
“I think today we’ll try rapid fire.” The Sergeant Major clipped the appropriate target on the rack, and the motorized pulley took it fifty feet downrange. Ryan loaded five rounds into the clip.