Chapter 8
Mark took advantage of his raised and relatively sheltered position in the bus to survey the lay of the land as he arrived at Community General. There was a police car parked across the street and a uniformed man at each entrance, but Mark's sharp eye also picked out several other people loitering suspiciously around the building. He had worked at the hospital for many years, taking so much for granted, that this preternatural awareness as he approaching the building from the perspective of a patient, and a fraudulent one at that, was oddly disconcerting. As he tottered uncertainly to the exit of the bus, a man whom Mark recognised as a male nurse from the oncology unit, assisted him down the step, and Mark repaid his kindness with a paroxysm of hacking coughs.
Rounded shoulders and a stooped back camouflaged both his height and features but forced his eyes toward the ground as he shuffled slowly to the Emergency Room doors, trying to think like an old man, a surprisingly difficult exercise. He felt his heartbeat speed up as he passed under the gaze of the young officer at the door, silently admiring the polish on his shoes as the man politely kept the automatic doors from closing on his slow passage through. It was easy, and Mark's confidence rose as he successfully infiltrated the building, but the brief image of a rat entering a trap prevented him from becoming too cocksure. It was always easier to enter a snare than leave.
He had decided that, to make sure he saw Jesse rather than one of the other ER doctors, he needed to allege a prior history, however brief, as his patient and, even if they couldn't locate any records, he was sure Jesse would find time to see him. Claiming the symptoms of the onset of diabetes along with a violent cough, he introduced himself as Johann Borovsky, an uninsured nonagenarian. He was directed to the waiting room to fill out some forms, then, for the next half an hour, he sat quietly, resting his chin on the hands clasping his cane, allowing himself to be shaken by the occasional bout of coughing while he experienced the ER from a very different angle.
He suspected that the burly man in the corner, dividing his time between keen perusals of the area and its occupants and quick glances through a toppling pile of magazines in front of him, was an undercover officer. His main concern, however, was that he had not yet caught sight of Jesse, and he hoped his young friend hadn't switched off his shift for some reason.
When he finally heard Jesse's voice, he was too relieved at first to notice that it was raised in uncharacteristic indignation.
"I have cooperated. You just chose not to believe me." Seconds later, Jesse came into view in front of the waiting room, but Mark was unprepared for the sight of his companion, the IA captain, Simmons.
He quickly schooled his features, hoping no one had noticed the lapse of dismay. Luckily, the raised voices had attracted attention, and Mark was not alone in watching the altercation.
Jesse continued heatedly. "You're wasting time with all your goons here." He flung an impassioned hand in the direction of the man in the corner, confirming Mark's suspicions. "I don't believe for a minute that Steve Sloan shot that man, so you'd do better if your officers looked for the real killer instead of getting in the way here."
"There is absolutely no doubt that Lieutenant Sloan killed Officer Wilson." Simmons spoke with icy control.
"What happened to 'innocent until proven guilty'?" Jesse shot back immediately.
Mark was enjoying Jesse's defense of his son so much that he missed the nurse call, "Johann Borovsky."
With a start, he suddenly remembered his pseudonym as she called out a second time. Mark's heart disconnected from his chest and, with wings beating frantically, attempted to fly out of his mouth, as he realised the timing couldn't have been worse and that he was going to have to cross right in front of Simmons. The wavering as he got arduously to his feet was not all feigned, but the fear wasn't for himself. If his identity was uncovered, this was too public a place for any harm to come to him, but, if he were taken into custody, he knew that Steve wouldn't allow him to take the fall alone and would turn himself in. In jail, the convicts would line up round the block to brutalise him, even without the encouragement and inducements Mark expected would be offered.
Mark's hands were clammy on his cane and, with a jolt of hysteria, he realised that Steve was right to worry about the waterproof qualities of the make-up, although it was sweat rather than rain that would test its caliber. He had a sudden mental image of the makeup running off his face in rivulets as he neared the Captain, leaving him streaked like a elderly raccoon in a thunderstorm.
While part of his mind gibbered in panic, he automatically continued his slow shuffle to the door. He fastened his gaze on Simmons' shoes, noting absently that they lacked the shine of his subordinate's. As he approached, he felt an inexorable, hypnotic impulse to raise his gaze to the police captain's face, even knowing it would be a fatal mistake.
But, despite his fear, there was an impish part of him that was tempted to 'accidentally' whack Simmons on the ankle with his cane in passing and, if the stakes weren't as high, he might have succumbed to the impulse, but he couldn't be reckless with his son's life.
He moved between Jesse and the Captain, expecting any minute for a hand to descend roughly to his shoulder, but both men automatically moved aside for him as Jesse continued his diatribe. "I've got patients to see so please stay out of the way. Mark and Steve know the hospital will be watched so there's no chance they'll risk coming here. Take your men and do something more constructive like helping old ladies across the street."
As Mark entered a treatment cubicle, he sank limply into a chair, torn between hysterical laughter, residual terror and relief. His turbulent emotions had the unexpected but beneficial side effect of giving correspondingly alarming measurements of blood pressure and pulse rate instead of his usual healthy readings. The nurse also handed him a urine cup but he stalled her, pleading an uncooperative bladder.
As the nurse left, pulling a curtain across the opening to afford him a modicum of privacy, Mark's whole body sagged with the release of tension, although he didn't dare break character in any way. It was relaxing not to have to keep up an active pretense. He hadn't realised it would be so hard to sustain his role. His shoulders and neck were aching from the unnatural position he was maintaining, and the cosmetics itched. He'd caught himself several times just before he indulged in a hearty scratch.
It was another half hour before Jesse showed up, although there were several false alarms with people brushing past the curtain that kept Mark's nerves in a constant state of alarm. To Mark's dismay, when Jesse finally arrived he was accompanied by a nurse and Mark was forced to continue the charade. He wasn't sure it would have succeeded if the other doctor hadn't been so obviously distracted. Although he was kindness itself, his face still held a slight flush of anger. Mark's chance finally arrived when Jesse sent the nurse out of the room to check on different spellings to try to locate the missing records.
"Jesse, it's me," Mark hissed in a sibilant whisper.
Jesse's reaction was everything he could have hoped for. He stiffened and took an involuntary step backwards, knocking over a tray of instruments which fell to the ground in a splendidly resounding, metallic crash. The surprise robbed Jesse of his usual agility and, as he spun to prevent the disaster, he tripped over the bottom of the table and sprawled headlong.
No one could have missed the cacophony, and concerned nurses ran in to find the elderly patient sitting passively, chewing on his false teeth and regarding the prone doctor with mild bemusement. Jesse quickly reassured them, apologising sweetly for his clumsiness and dismissing them as hastily as possible.
Once alone, he approached Mark cautiously, head tilted slightly on one side, staring into the brown eyes opposite as if he couldn't decided if he were suffering from mild hallucinations or stress-induced delusions. Mark couldn't help allowing a broad grin to spread across his face and he saw the answering relief in Jesse's eyes, closely followed by panic.
"Mark! What are you doing here?" he hissed. "This place is swimming with cops. Is Steve alright? What...?"
Mark held up a finger to his lips stopping the torrent of questions in full spate, noting with deep gratitude that not one of the questions related to the issue of their guilt.
"We don't have a lot of time. Take your stethoscope out in case we're interrupted." He waited while Jesse complied. "Ow, that's cold," he complained.
"If I'd had time, I would have put it in the freezer," Jesse admonished him austerely. "You nearly gave me a heart attack. I thought I was several kernels short of a cob."
Mark smiled in response, but got down to business. "You know, you could get into severe trouble for helping us?" he asked, already anticipating Jesse's reaction to his warning, but needing to say it anyway.
"Yeah, yeah, loss of medical license, jail time, yadda yadda." Jesse waved a dismissive hand. "I've helped people I've believed in less, thanks to you actually, so let's drop the doom and gloom stuff. Of course I'm helping."
"It's not just the legal consequences, Jess. I don't have the time to explain what's going on, but it's incredibly dangerous. It's not a game, the stakes are very high and you can't trust anybody."
"Not a game, high stakes, trust no one. Got it." Jesse enthusiasm was irrepressible.
Mark couldn't decide if it was safer to leave Jesse in ignorance or not. He knew he'd never forgive himself if the young doctor came to harm because of lack of information, but it proved to be a moot point anyway since he had no time to fill the young man in on the intricacies of the web of corruption in which he and Steve had been entangled. However, he felt that an additional word of caution wouldn't go amiss.
"Promise me you won't try investigating on your own, Jess. It's important for us know you're here safe when we need you. It's also important that you keep an eye on Tanis Archer. I think she's in grave danger, especially if she seems on the way to recovery."
Jesse nodded a reluctant agreement. "What can I do for you now, Mark?"
Suddenly dubious of the wisdom of involving Jesse to any degree but lacking options, Mark finally admitted, "What we really need is a car, one that's not stolen or linked in any way to the hospital or our friends. But you know they'll be watching you the whole time; I don't know how you can do this safely."
Mark could almost see the wheels of inspiration turning in his colleague's agile mind. "Watching me maybe, but I doubt they'll be watching Susan. They can't be watching all the nurses in the hospital. Okay, leave it to me, a car, what else?"
"We can't use our credit cards so some extra cash would be useful. Oh, and a laptop computer," he added as an afterthought. "I have to do some research on the internet."
"No problem," Jesse asserted stoutly. "Where can I get these things to you?"
Before Mark could think of a practical solution to this problem, the sound of footsteps alerted them to the nurse's return, and they hastily reverted to their doctor/patient performance. Removing the stethoscope and pulling Mark's shirt down, Jesse walked over to the counter, his back to the others in the room.
"I'm going to write you a prescription, Mr Borovsky." After a minute, he handed a folded-over piece of paper to Mark. "Please take this to the pharmacy to be filled."
He patted his patient's shoulder reassuringly. "You did the right thing coming to see me today," he told the elderly man kindly. "If things don't improve in the next few days, please come and see me again. Do you understand?"
Mark could only admire his friend for the clear message delivered in plain sight and nodded his compliance.
To his relief, Simmons was nowhere in sight as he emerged from the ER, and now, fairly confident in his disguise, he tottered feebly out the hospital under the oblivious eyes of several officers, back to the bus stop. It wasn't until he was safely ensconced on the bus that he withdrew the piece of paper from his pocket, reading the physician's scrawl with practiced ease.
Tomorrow , car park behind Dave's Grocery. Will tape key to underside of right, rear mud flap. Take care.
Confident that Jesse would successfully complete his assignment, Mark considered his adventure a resounding success, and was hard put to suppress the spring in his step as he descended from the bus. As he rounded the corner, Mark could see Steve watching for him and even at this distance, he could see him blow a long sigh as tension eased from his body. Steve started the truck and cruised out of the parking lot to meet him, too impatient after the inactivity to wait for his father's hobbling progress. It was clear from the broad grin on Mark's face that his plan had achieved its goals.
"Mission accomplished!" Mark forgot his own excitement as he took a good look at his son. While the intervening hours may not have been physically stressful for Steve, it was clear that they had been anything but restful. He looked exhausted and, if Mark were any judge, his fever had risen again. Yet, there was an air of suppressed excitement about him that seemed to suggest Steve had his own news to share.
Mark would have offered to drive if he didn't think it would look strange for such a decrepit individual as his disguised self to be driving his hearty son in such a vehicle. He was still recounting his adventures when Steve pulled into a parking space at the motel. Smiling reluctantly at something Mark had said, hand on the door release he looked up casually, his eyes meeting those of an individual sitting in a car across the street. Recognition was immediate on both sides. For a second the tableau froze, each man paralysed by past friendship and the incongruity of their current roles, then, with a squeal of tires, Steve peeled out of the parking space. Behind him, came the unearthly, threatening wail of a siren as the unmarked police car took up the chase.