The Judas Virus Page 5

  “There’s a note on his physical that his teeth have a couple of cavities,” Ash said. “We need to be sure those are taken care of before we start him on immunosuppressives.”

  “I was planning on that,” Boyer said. “But I appreciate the heads-up. Anything else? Okay, thanks, everybody. I’d like to be the one to give Wayne the good news, so please don’t say anything to him on your way out.”

  As the others left, Boyer said to Chris, “Or would you rather tell him?”

  “You can do it. I’ll watch.”

  When they walked into the hall, Wayne eagerly came toward them.

  Boyer put out his hand. “Wayne, welcome to the program.”

  They sealed their new relationship with a quick handshake, and Wayne said, “When do we do it?”

  “You need to see a dentist first. We can’t have bugs from a dental cavity taking advantage of you when you’re immunosuppressed. I’m sure I can get you in to see somebody tomorrow. Give me a call later, and I’ll tell you the time and place. So let’s admit you on Sunday evening around seven o’clock, and we’ll give you your new liver Monday morning. That’ll allow you most of the weekend to get ready. We’ll have a little chat after you’re admitted, and I’ll let you know exactly what the schedule is going to be. If you have any questions before then, feel free to call me. Or maybe you have some now?”

  “I don’t know. I’m still kind of shell-shocked over being accepted.”

  “Well, you know how to contact me. Chris, thanks. I’ll talk to you later.”

  Then it was just the two of them.

  “Do you know what?” Wayne said. “I’m scared.”

  Seeing him so obviously unnerved and looking so frail, Chris suddenly heard herself say, “There’s no need for you to stay by yourself. The sofa in my study opens into a bed. If you want it, it’s yours.”

  Wayne reached out and tugged on the sleeve of her blouse. “You don’t know how good that makes me feel.”

  Chapter 5

  FROM MONTEAGLE HOSPITAL, Chris and Wayne returned to Good Samaritan, where they parted until Wayne showed up again at her apartment at six thirty with his suitcase.

  “Your room is back here,” Chris said, leading Wayne down the hall. In her study, she had already pulled the sofa bed out and dressed it. Wayne was drawn immediately to the French doors leading to the balcony.

  “May I?” he asked, his hand on the doorknob.

  “If you like.”

  He opened the door and stepped outside, where Chris had created a small strip of forest with potted hollies and ferns arranged so the plants divided the balcony into a series of little enclosures, one outside each of the apartment’s three main rooms. Wayne glanced briefly at the parking lot ten floors below, then looked across the city at the setting sun. “Beautiful view,” he said, turning back to Chris, who was standing in the doorway. “And you’ve really made this little outdoor area pleasant.”

  “It all suits my needs,” Chris said. “Look, I emptied the top two drawers of the chest in here so you could use them. And there’s room in the closet for whatever you’d like to hang up. The bathroom is across the hall. There are plenty of towels in the cabinets in there.” She reached into the pocket of her slacks and got a key and a plastic card, which she gave him. “The key is to the apartment, the card will open the security door in the lobby. Lose either one when I’m not here, and you won’t be able to get in.”

  “I won’t lose them.”

  “Now, I’m sorry to do this on your first night, but I have something scheduled tonight and have to leave. There’s food in the fridge and the little pantry in the kitchen. Use anything you like. I probably won’t be back until late.”

  “I’ll be fine.”

  Chris then hurried from the apartment, went to her car, and drove quickly from the lot in case Wayne was watching from above. There was actually no urgency to all this, because she had made up the story about having plans. If he wasn’t there, she would have had a hot bath, watched a movie on pay TV, read awhile, and gone to bed. Now she was so uncomfortable with him, she’d fled her own apartment.

  And lied to him.

  She thought about Michael Boyer and how if she’d accepted his invitation when she’d called him about Wayne, she’d be having dinner with him. Had she only known. Then she needn’t have lied.

  Nearly thirty years.

  Her father.

  And now he was in her apartment. Amazing.

  Even that late in the day, the roads were still choked with traffic, and the drivers of those vehicles were as aggressive as ever. Where most visitors to the city believed Atlantans to be rude by nature, Chris had lived there long enough to realize that because of the heavy traffic and chaotic complexity of the expressway system, where if you missed your exit, it might take an hour to get back there, the stakes were simply too high for timidity.

  Forty minutes later, without consciously being aware of even having a destination, Chris pulled into the driveway of Jerry and Lynn Kennedy in Decatur. Jerry was the senior partner in her practice, and Lynn taught hospital administration at Emory. Having two young boys, they were always on the go. So she was surprised to see both cars there.

  She got out, went up the walk, and rang the bell.

  Lynn answered wearing an apron over a blouse and skirt that she’d probably worn to work. “Chris. How nice. Come in.”

  Despite the two boys, the house was immaculate.

  “Have you had dinner?” Lynn asked. “The boys had a soccer game tonight, so we’re eating late. Jerry’s out back grilling burgers.”

  “Now that you mention it, I haven’t eaten.”

  “Then of course you’ll join us. I’ll tell Jerry. Come on.”

  Chris followed Lynn to a large, brightly lit kitchen. Through the big picture window in the breakfast area, she could see Jerry at the grill and the two boys, still in their soccer uniforms, kicking a ball around the yard.

  Lynn went to the back door and opened it. “Honey, Chris is here. Put on a couple more.”

  Jerry waved at Chris through the window and went back to work.

  “Sit down.” Lynn motioned to a stool at the counter, where the ingredients for a garden salad were laid out by a big crystal bowl. She picked up some lettuce leaves draining on a paper towel and began shredding them into the bowl. “Jerry told me about your father suddenly reappearing. That must have been a shock.”

  “And still is,” Chris replied. “He’s at my apartment right now. I sort of ran out on him.”

  “Situation too uncomfortable?”

  “I’ve been holding this anger at him inside me my whole life. Now, when I finally see him, he’s sick. How can I unload on him now? On the other hand, I can’t pretend I’m glad to see him and that all is forgiven. He’s a stranger, and I’m letting him stay with me. That’s not smart.”

  “Sometimes compassion overrules our intellect. And I wouldn’t say that’s a bad thing.”

  “He’s been accepted into Michael Boyer’s experimental transplant program.”

  Lynn stopped work. “The pig program?”

  “He’s going to be the first recipient. They’re doing it on Monday. Boyer used the situation to rope me into temporarily joining the group.”

  “Your father is going to be a celebrity.”

  “They’re not announcing anything. They don’t want a lot of media attention right now.”

  “Does Jerry know?”

  “I haven’t told him. But you can. Just keep it in the family.”

  “Of course.”

  “He asked me for a part of my liver.”

  “Just appeared out of the blue and asked that? Must have been a rough decision.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Well . . . the blood relative angle and all.�
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  “You think I was wrong to refuse him?”

  “Honey, no. I’m not saying that.”

  “This transplant, it’s a huge risk. Michael is convinced it’ll work, at least that’s what he says publicly. But I have to think that if it does work, a part of him will be shocked.”

  “You don’t sound optimistic.”

  “It’s uncharted territory. And if something goes haywire . . .”

  “You’ll feel responsible because you didn’t help your father.”

  This brought Chris to her feet. “You came to that conclusion pretty quickly.”

  “Isn’t that what you were thinking?”

  “No . . . Maybe. But you wouldn’t have known that if you weren’t thinking it too. I’m having enough trouble over this without my friends piling on.”

  “Honey, I . . .”

  Chris headed for the front door. “I’m sorry, but I have to go.”

  Traffic had eased to where aimless driving around didn’t require much attention, allowing Chris to focus on her thoughts.

  Shouldn’t have snapped at Lynn like that. Unfair of me. They’re a nice family. Must be satisfying to have that . . . someone you can count on to be there for you. But don’t forget; Jerry’s not perfect. He was married before. Left her for Lynn. So can she really rely on him? Will he eventually let her and those boys down? The jury’s still out.

  Eventually, she found herself cruising down Ponce de Leon, past the old Candler Mansions.

  The Candlers . . .

  All that Coca-Cola money . . .

  Built these great houses for their families, now they’ve moved on . . .

  And others have taken over, repainting, knocking down walls, out with the old, in with the new. Adaptive reuse; apartments and schools . . . No continuity even-among the wealthy. Here today, tomorrow replaced . . . Everything shifting.

  But there was one constant in the world. Needing to be a part of that, if even briefly, she headed for the Majestic, a greasy spoon that had been around since the thirties. Open twenty-four hours a day; there’s something you can count on.

  But when she arrived, the place was dark; closed tonight with no explanation.

  With that option unavailable, she ate instead at Lettuce Souprise You, a restaurant where the sign painter had used carrots for the two t’s in lettuce.

  Hoping that if she stayed out late enough, her father would be asleep when she got home, she went to a movie after dinner. And when it was over, she went outside and bought a ticket to a film showing on a different screen.

  By the time she put her key in the door to her apartment, it was a quarter to one.

  Be asleep. Be in bed, she thought.

  Even as the door opened, she heard the TV. But he could be asleep in front of it.

  “Hello, Chris,” Wayne said, getting up from his chair.

  “How’d your evening go?” she said, hiding her disappointment at finding him awake. “Locate everything you needed?”

  “I used four of your eggs, some cheese, a few slices of bread, and two scoops of coffee for dinner.”

  “You don’t have to keep inventory like that. Just take what you want.”

  “The coffee is still hot, if you’d like a cup. We could talk.”

  “I’ve got work tomorrow. And it’s pretty late.”

  “Sure, okay. You go to bed. Do you care if I stay up and watch TV? I’ll keep the sound low.”

  “I don’t mind.”

  “I put away all the clean things in the dishwasher and loaded it with what I dirtied. But I didn’t run it. Not for just that small load. But I could. Be kind of noisy though with you trying to sleep.”

  “You did fine. Now I’m—”

  “Chris.”

  “Yes?”

  “I notice you don’t call me anything. I know it’s too much to expect you to call me Dad. But could you just once in a while use my name?”

  Chris felt her face blush. “I’ve called you by name.”

  “Sorry, but you haven’t.”

  “Well, I’m sure I have. So there’s no need for me to say I will.”

  “I understand.”

  “I’m going to bed.”

  “Good night, Chris.”

  She was fully aware that what he’d said was true. And here was the chance to give him what he wanted. “Good night.” She intended to add Wayne, but it wouldn’t come out.

  She slept poorly that night, but at least when it was time to dress for work, Wayne had finally gone to bed. Afraid of waking him, she moved as quietly as possible and didn’t even bother to brew fresh coffee, for fear the gurgling coffeemaker would bring him into the kitchen.

  Seconds from escaping, with the door to the hall already opening, she paused, thought a moment, then eased the door closed and went to the kitchen. There, she tore off a piece of paper toweling and scrawled her father a note with a pen from her handbag:

  Don’t forget your dental appointment.

  She put the note on the table, anchored it with a salt shaker, and got away clean.

  One of Chris’s priorities for the day was to call Lynn Kennedy and apologize for acting like an ass last night. Important as that was, she decided not to spring on Lynn quite this early. Therefore, when she arrived at the office, she went right to work on an issue that fell jointly under her infection control and quality management responsibilities.

  In the existing Good Samaritan protocols, when the surgeon in a given OR was about fifteen minutes from finishing a case, an OR nurse was supposed to call the appropriate staff person and advise them to get the next case ready. That patient was then given a prophylactic antibiotic injection to ward off any bugs that might gain entrance during surgery. The timing of this injection was crucial. If given too early, the antibiotic in the blood would fall below the desired level by the time the procedure began. Two weeks ago, because of an emergency case, a patient who had already received his antibiotics was not taken to the OR until four hours later. Then last week, orderlies took a patient to surgery before the injection had been given, so the patient had no protection.

  Chris immediately saw how to fix the problem: Change the protocol so the antibiotic was given in the OR and make the anesthesiologist responsible for seeing that it was done. She had booted up her computer, opened her e-mail program, and begun drafting her recommendation when there was a knock at the door, and Jerry Kennedy stepped in.

  “Hi. Lynn told me what happened last night. She wanted me to apologize to you.”

  Jerry’s sandy hair and mustache were as well groomed as always, and he was wearing a Mario Zegna gray suit with a crisp white shirt and a gray mini floral tie. The best single word to describe him was conservative. No striped or colored shirts for Jerry. It wasn’t obvious that he was six foot three because he always stood in a slight slouch, a habit Chris suspected he’d adopted so he wouldn’t be taller than everybody else.

  “I’m the one who should apologize,” Chris said. “Lynn didn’t do anything wrong. I’m just confused right now.”

  “I don’t wonder, with your father about to become the first patient in Boyer’s program. And Lynn said you’d joined them as their infectious disease person.”

  “Not exactly freely. I was kind of coerced.”

  “I know they don’t want any media attention, but it’s bound to happen eventually. This is too big an event to keep under wraps for long.”

  “I suppose.”

  “In looking ahead to the time when the press gets hold of it, it occurs to me that you’ll certainly be a prominent part of the story.”

  Chris now saw that Jerry wasn’t just making conversation. He was clearly headed somewhere with this. “Why do you say that?”

  “It’s loaded with human interest. Father reappears after a t
hree-decade absence, asks his daughter to donate part of her liver to save his life, instead she funnels him into an experimental transplant program in which she’s a member of the team.”

  “So?”

  “I’m just concerned about how those facts could be slanted.”

  “In what way?”

  “If, God forbid, things go wrong, it could be said by some muckraking journalist looking to sensationalize events that you were so interested in furthering the goals of the program that you sacrificed your father to it.”

  Chris was so shocked at this, she was momentarily speechless. Finally, she said, “I’m not a vested member of that team. I wasn’t even part of it until two days ago when Michael Boyer talked me into it. And I’m only temporary, until Monteagle gets a new director of infection control. Then I’m gone.”

  “The accusation will sell papers or magazines or whatever. Your explanation won’t.”

  “So you’re saying . . .”

  “Drop out now.”

  “Are you worried about me or the negative press the practice might receive?”

  “You foremost. But the other to a degree.”

  Could this whole situation get any worse? She didn’t want to be on that team, but she sure wasn’t going to be forced off it, either, because Jerry was worried about how it might affect his reputation.

  “I can’t quit. I told Michael I’d do it until Monteagle found a new director.”

  “Don’t decide now. Just think about it.”

  Jerry left.

  And she did think about it. How could she not? But the more she dwelt on it, the angrier she became at Jerry and his hypothetical. And certainly at her father for precipitating the whole mess. Some of this emotion spilled onto Lynn Kennedy, so Chris lost the desire to call her and patch their rift.

  A little after ten o’clock, her father called saying he’d like to prepare dinner for the two of them and wanted to be sure she was available. She told him she already had plans.

  Chris managed to avoid him that night and most of the weekend, but Sunday night, it seemed so heartless to send him to the hospital alone, she volunteered to take him.