Read Online Skin Trade by Reggie Nadelson - Free Book Online Page B

corridor.
    I dug in my pants for some cigarettes. “Can I take her home?”
    â€œAbsolutely not. You can’t smoke in here either.”
    â€œWhy not?”
    â€œIt’s terribly risky, moving her. Please believe me, this is not a good idea.”
    Holding the unopened pack of cigarettes, I stood in the corridor and looked at him.
    â€œLet’s go outside,” he said. “I could use one of those.”
    In the hospital courtyard, in a garden where there was frost on the grass, we smoked and walked. It was after eleven, but barely light; only a smudge of gray showed in the sky. Winter.
    â€œWhat if it helps her? What if it helps to be at home?”
    â€œI’m afraid you’ll have to face it one way or another. I think it’s going to be an enormous battle just to keep her alive. And even then it will be difficult.”
    â€œEven then what?”
    â€œEven then there’s a lot to cope with.”
    â€œYou don’t think she’ll make it, you mean.”
    â€œI don’t know.”
    â€œShe’ll make it.” I wanted to grab his lapels and shake him and make him agree with me.
    â€œThere’s a child? In America?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œYou’ll need some help.”
    â€œI could use your help.”
    â€œWe’re doing everything we can,” he said in an officious voice.
    â€œHow?”
    He tossed the cigarette into a patch of snow. “I’m sorry you’re unhappy.”
    â€œEveryone’s just sitting around, and she’s lying there.”
    â€œThere’s nothing we can do except wait.”
    â€œI can’t do that. I can’t do nothing. Maybe there’s some other doctors I can talk to. There has to be someone.”
    He was offended. “If you like,” he said. “That’s fine. Do as you like, Mr Cohen, but it won’t make any difference.”
    â€œThat’s pretty fucking harsh.”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œHow the hell do you know what’s inside her head?”
    Lariot stiffened. He crossed his arms over his white coat. “It’s all about time, and to tell you the truth,” he said, his voice edgy now, irritated, angry at me, “if she doesn’t come out of the coma soon, she may not come out at all.”
    â€œJust another number to you guys, win some, lose some. Right?” I was mad at Lariot because I knew he was telling the truth.
    I left the courtyard and went through the hospital to the street entrance. My phone rang. It was Carol Browne.
    Christ, I thought. Just what I need. Carol fucking Browne, European chief for Keyes Security. She worked out of London, where I’d met her, and she was coming to Paris. She wanted a meeting.
    She was a frosty little woman and she sounded pissed off. In the street I leaned against the hospital wall and listened to Browne and pictured her at the other end.
    She was twenty-nine, small and efficient with big glasses and a faint, patronizing smile. Some of the guys atthe Keyes London office referred to her, behind her back, as the Garden Gnome. She talked the language of focus groups and marketing. She looked like a woman who went to the gym every day.
    Carol Browne’s smug voice dripped into my ear. Coming out of the hospital where I’d already offended the doctor, I thought: let it lie, man. It’s a job. You need the money. You’re freelance. Suck up a little.
    â€œHow are you, Carol?”
    â€œLook, I’m not going to mince words. I’m coming over.”
    â€œThat’s nice.”
    â€œDon’t bullshit with me, Artie. I’m terribly sorry about Lily. It’s dreadful. The New York office is sorry. If there is anything we can do to help her, we will. So I thought I’d better say that first of all.”
    In my jacket pocket I found another cigarette, lit it with one hand, inhaled it like a drug while I listened to her and watched people mince past cautiously, trying not