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smirked. "How's this? If he doesn't perform, he can expect more than the loss of all those perks. We'll get the word out that, although his research was valid, it was the work of others, and he stole it. We'll systematically destroy his reputation."

"Good idea. I'll call him in a day or two, see how things are going, and squeeze him with this."

Patel pulled a stack of papers toward him and began signing them. As Wolfe pushed back his chair, obviously dismissed, the CEO muttered under his breath, "That's what they pay me for, Bob. That's what they pay me for."

 

 

"Dr. Ramsey, I'm Verna Wells. I'll be working with you on the days you're here in the clinic."

The woman sitting at the clinic nurses' station smiled, showing a row of white teeth in a face dark as rich chocolate. Her royal blue clinic jacket had a floral pattern, and there was a small gold cross on the lapel. Her only jewelry was a plain gold wedding band and a simple watch with a leather strap.

"Thanks. I'm looking forward to being here. You're probably going to have to answer a ton of questions for me until I get my feet on the ground."

"You'll pick up the routine fast enough. Let me show you which exam rooms you'll be using."

After a half hour, John's head was spinning. "Verna, I give up. Do you think that's enough to let me function for my first day or so?"

She laughed, a hearty sound that seemed to come from deep inside her. Never had the term belly laugh seemed so appropriate, because once Verna came out from behind her desk John realized she carried about two hundred pounds on a five-footfour-inch frame. "I think you'll do just fine. And if you have any questions or problems, buzz for me. Remember where the buttons are in the treatment rooms?"

"I remember. Now how long do I have before I start?"

She glanced at her wrist. "You've got about half an hour before your first appointment. You might want to get some coffee." Verna looked over John's shoulder. "Here comes Dr. Goodman. She generally goes for coffee every morning. Maybe she'll show you the way."

"Verna," Lillian Goodman said, "are you getting Dr. Ramsey squared away?"

"Well, he doesn't seem to know much, but I think he's teachable." She grinned. "Bring me back my usual?"

"Coffee with double cream and three sugars. Got it." Lillian looked at John. "Want to come along?"

John followed her through a maze of corridors, and soon they were walking into a moderate-sized cafeteria. "I give up. Where are we?"

"University Hospital. Really not too far from the faculty clinic where we started, and they have a great cafeteria."

He shook his head. "I staffed residents at Parkland Hospital for years, but I've never been in a lot of these buildings."

"Don't worry. You'll be able to find your way around real soon."

They ordered, including coffee for Verna, and John insisted on paying. "Do we have time to sit down and drink this, or do we need to hurry back?"

"We've got a few minutes." She pointed to a door in the far wall. "That's the staffdining room. It's quieter there."

"What do you hear about the lady who had the stroke outside the elevators the other day?"

Lillian's face clouded over. "She never regained consciousness. Died within an hour. MRI confirmed an embolic stroke, but while she was in the radiology department she had a cardiac arrest. We couldn't resuscitate her."

"Autopsy?"

"The family refused one. And since there were at least two possible causes of death, we chose not to push."

John grimaced. "I guess I've lost my first patient since joining the staffhere."

"Not really. All you did was take her blood pressure and start an IV. She wasn't really your patient." Lillian blew across the surface of her paper cup, then sipped. "And I guess you can be glad of that."

"Why?"

"Her family is threatening to file a malpractice suit against the medical center and every doctor who had anything to do with her treatment."

 

 

In the midnight darkness, the lamp spilled a pool of yellow