Read Online Patient One by Leonard Goldberg - Free Book Online Page A

awfully crowded. Of course, the final decision will be up to the gastroenterologist who will be performing the endoscopy.”
    “He’ll do exactly what we tell him to do,” Warren asserted. “We’ll need the name of the gastroenterologist so the Secret Service can run a security check.”
    There was a quick rap on the door.
    “Yes?” Warren called out.
    Aaron Wells walked in and hurried over to the President. “Sir, we’ve located your daughter and her date. They had gone to the emergency room at Cedars-Sinai. We’re having them transported over here by helicopter. They should be arriving shortly.”
    “Thanks, Aaron,” Merrill said with genuine gratitude.
    Wells nodded, trying not to stare at the bloodstained sheet covering the President. “Sir, your daughter will probably ask to see you as soon as she gets here.”
    “Check with Dr. Warren first,” Merrill directed.
    “Yes, sir.”
    Merrill waited for Wells to leave, then looked over to his personal physician. “Find out how ill she is.”
    “Yes, Mr. President,” Warren said.
    “And I want all the blood cleared off of me,” Merrill ordered. “I don’t want my daughter seeing me like this.”
    “It’ll be done, Mr. President.”
    Merrill lay back on his pillow, feeling weak and lightheaded. Another wave of nausea came and went. “Let’s get this endoscopy done ASAP.”
    Warren rapidly checked the cardiac monitors next to Merrill’s bed. The President’s blood pressure was 98/68, his pulse 96 beats per minute. The pulse rate was fast, but not that fast, considering how much blood had been lost. “Mr. President, Dr. Ballineau and I will be just outside if you need us.”
    As they headed for the door, Merrill called after them, “When can I have this damn tube removed from my nose?”
    “As soon as the endoscopist arrives, Mr. President,” Warren called back.
    Out in the corridor Warren turned to David and asked, “Who is the best endoscopist at University Hospital?”
    “Jonathan Bell,” David replied. “He runs the endoscopy unit and is co-chairman of the gastroenterology department.”
    “Get him up here,” Warren said, then signaled Wells over. “Aaron, the President will have to be seen by a specialist whose name is Jonathan Bell. Check him out.”
    Wells spoke hurriedly into the microphone on his lapel, fully aware there wasn’t enough time to obtain a complete security profile on the specialist. But using the Secret Service’s computerized system, which checks through all the national intelligence indices, they’d rapidly get whatever information was available quickly on Jonathan Bell, and his wife, his children, and his associates. If the specialist’s background wasn’t spotless, he wouldn’t be allowed to come anywhere near the President.
    Warren watched David click off his cell phone and asked, “Did you reach Dr. Bell?”
    David nodded. “He’s on his way in. He lives in Pacific Palisades, so it’ll take him about twenty minutes to get here.”
    Warren asked, “How many people will be involved in the endoscopy?”
    David thought briefly and replied, “Three altogether. There’ll be the endoscopist, an anesthesiologist, and someone experienced in the treatment of shock in case the President has further complications.”
    “And who will that someone be?”
    “Me.”
    David checked his watch. It was 10:10 p.m. He’d never make it home in time to tuck his daughter, Kit, in bed and kiss her goodnight and tell her to have sweet dreams. It was a reassuring ritual he did every night, without fail for eight years, since the death of Kit’s mother from leukemia. His kiss always brought a smile to the girl’s face, and that made everything in the world seem right—at least for a moment. He reached for his cell phone and said, “I have to call home and tell them I’ll be late.”
    “Don’t mention the President,” Warren said. It wasn’t a request.
    “I won’t.” David stepped away and punched in his home