F Paul Wilson - Novel 02 (24 page)

 
          
He
burst through the doors and found Gin standing in the center of the lobby. Her
features were tight.

 
          
"Gin?
Is something wrong?" She handed him a package, something wadded up in a
brown paper lunch bag. "Here. This is what you wanted."

 
          
"I
wanted?" Baffled, he wormed his hand inside the bag and produced a test
tube filled with clear fluid, a sheet of computer printout came with it.

 
          
"I
don't get it."

           
"It's what Oliver Lathram puts
in his brother's implants."

 
          
"Oh,
hey, I didn't,"

           
"Analyze it, Gerry. Satisfy
your curiosity, resolve your suspicions, and then let me know what you find. That's
a list of what's supposed to be in the solution. See if the analysis matches
it." She was so stiff, her expression so grim.

 
          
'"Gin,
what's wrong?"

           
"I don't like what I'm doing,
Gerry. I'm not proud of myself for sneaking this out of Oliver's lab."

 
          
"But
you didn't have to. I was only,"

           
"You started me thinking, you
got me worried. So now I want to know too."

 
          
"I'm
sorry."

           
She started to say something, then
seemed to change her mind. It looked as if she'd been about to say, You should
be, but she said, "It's okay. You're just doing your job."

           
He offered the tube to her.
"You can have this back."

           
She shook her head. "Too late
now." The tension was so thick between them Gerry doubted even a Ginsu
knife would cut it.

 
          
"Dinner
was great the other night," he said. "You're a super chef."

           
"I'm glad you liked it."
No thaw yet. He'd have to pull out the big guns.

 
          
"Martha
loved it. And she loves you." Gin's features softened.

 
          
Finally.

 
          
"And
I love her," she said. Then she pointed to the test tube. "But let me
know about that stuff’s soon as you hear, Gerry. It's important to me."

 
          
"Don't
worry. As soon as I hear, you'll hear. But in the meantime, what are you doing
for dinner tonight?" She shook her head.

 
          
"Moonlighting
at Lynnbrook." She turned and started walking away. "You will let me
know . . . . won't you?"

           
Gerry raised three fingers, Boy
Scout style. "Promise." Damn right I promise, he thought. Because I
can see you're going to be a basket case until I do.

 
          
As
he headed upstairs to get a lab requisition form, he didn't know whether he
should be elated or depressed. He had a sample of Duncan Lathram's solution,
but he'd also made Gin terribly upset. Was the prize worth the cost? If
analysis turned up a toxin, how would he tell her?

 
          
But
he would. And pull her out of Lathram's place so fast her head would spin.

 
          
Gin
ran into Dr. Conway as she checked into the doctors lounge at Lynnbrook. He was
on his way out. She nodded absently. Duncan and Oliver's secret sauce was on
her mind and
Conway
was almost gone before she realized she hadn't seen him since Harriet
Thompson's death.

 
          
"I
heard about Harriet Thompson," Gin said. "Sorry."

 
          
"Yeah,"
he sighed. He looked depressed. "Me too. But there's some lawyer in town
who's real happy about it."

 
          
"Oh,
no. You're getting sued?" He nodded. "For gross negligence. The
daughter in
San
Diego
who couldn't get free to come look after her mother for a few days managed to
find a lawyer as soon as she got to town. Probably called I-800-SUE-DOCS or
whatever number the ambulance chasers are using today. Never miss an
opportunity to cash in, right?"

           
Gin could understand his bitterness.
"Why doesn't she sue the PRO?"

           
"Don't you know? Physician
Review Organizations are immune from malpractice suits. That leaves me."

           
Gin felt awkward and angry. Not
knowing what else to do, she put a hand on his shoulder. "Don't worry.
You'll win."

 
          
"Sure,"
he said. His smile was humorless. "Bet you just can't wait to get into
practice. He walked out."

ON THE HILL

           
"You're GOING TO HAVE TO LEARN
TO PLAY THE GAME, Hugh."

 
          
Gin
slowed as she passed the closed door to Senator Marsden's office.

 
          
Her
mind had been far away, wondering what the analysis of Oliver's secret sauce
was showing. She'd die if there was anything incriminating in it.

 
          
The
waiting was consuming her. She could barely concentrate on anything else. But
the condescension in the voice slipping through the senator's transom pulled
her up short.

 
          
She
knew Senator Kramer had arrived for a meeting. Their voices weren't raised but
even out here she could sense the tension.

 
          
Senator
Marsden's voice sounded tight. "When I start thinking of the Senate as a
game, I'll know it's past time to quit." Kramer chuckled.

 
          
"I
was pretty self-righteous too when I was a freshman. But I learned. And if you
want to get things done in this town, you'll learn too. You don't, you get left
out in the cold."

           
"I'm not in favor of loosening
up on offshore drilling at the moment. I don't think we need it now."

 
          
"I'm
sorry to hear that, Hugh. Because it's important to my people."

 
          
"Do
I take it that my position on easing offshore drilling restrictions will affect
your vote on the Guidelines bill?"

            
"Oh, I wouldn't put it that
way. Let's just say I'm reserving my judgment until your bill gets out of
committee."

           
"I see."

 
          
"It's
horse trading, son, " Kramer said, getting folksy all of a sudden.

 
          
"It's
what makes the wheels turn. I'm obliged to keep the home folks happy and
prosperous. Remember, one person's pork-barrel project is another person's wise
investment in the local infrastructure."

 
          
"How
about simply casting a vote for something because it's the right thing to do?"
Gin heard a chair scrape against the floor.

 
          
"Because
what's right for you isn't necessarily right for me. We'll talk again sometime,
Hugh." Not wanting to get caught with her ear to the door, Gin hurried
off.

 
          
She
related the conversation to Alicia on their way to the Senate cafeteria in the
basement of the
Dirksen
Building
. The Hart and Dirksen buildings were
attached, but the walls down here were brick, the doors a dark oak, in sharp
contrast to the antiseptic decor of the newer Hart.

 
          
They
passed the Senate Post Office, then turned into the of. "I'm not
surprised, " Alicia said. She picked out a tuna salad and a diet Pepsi.
"A lot of the people on the Hill don't think he's for real. And the ones
that do are leery of him."

           
Gin took a turkey on rye and a
Mountain Dew. "Care to explain that?"

 
          
Alicia
scanned the tables. "Let's see if we can get off by ourselves and I'll
give you the true facts."

 
          
"True
facts? You mean as opposed to the other kind?"

           
"Exactly."

 
          
They
found an isolated corner table. Alicia sat with her back to the wall and
watched the room as she spoke.

 
          
"First
off, you should know that Senator Marsden ruffled a lot of feathers right off
by coming to town with a self-imposed term limit. He said depending on how much
he accomplished, he might serve only one term, and absolutely positively no more
than two. That was a no-no."

           
"What's wrong with that?"

           
"Because term limits is a very
touchy subject around here. The members like to think of themselves as elected
for life."

 
          
"How
can they? Congressmen have to run every two years."

 
          
"Well,
as I heard one member say to another back in the eighties, You have to be a
real bozo to lose this job. Incumbents average a ninety-five-percent reelection
rate."

 
          
"Wow."

           
"I tell you, Gin, nobody wants
to leave this place once they get here. And can you blame them? You're part of
the most powerful government in the world. And the most expensive. Salary,
perks, and privileges come to more than two million bucks per member per year.
No other government even comes close. And the few bozos who somehow fail to get
reelected don't go home, they hire out as lobbyists. It's called
Potomac
fever. I understand it's incurable."

 
          
"Do
you think Senator Marsden will catch it?"

           
"Maybe," she said.
"You never know. I think he's sincere when he says he doesn't intend to
stay here more than two terms. But I'm in the minority. Just about everyone
else on the Hill thinks it's a pose. A holier-than-thou act that he'll use to
squeeze the PACs for big bucks later. They're all watching, waiting to see if
it works."

 
          
"That's
sick," Gin said. "Why do you put up with it? Why've you been at it for
so long?"

           
Alicia shrugged. Her smile was shy.
"
Potomac
fever. We staffers aren't immune either.
Who knows? Maybe you'll catch it too. Maybe you already have."

           
Not me, Gin thought. I'm immune to
that sort of thing. She felt a twinge of uneasiness. At least I hope I am.

 
          
Gin
was straightening up her work area, preparing to call it a day as a legislative
aide and change into her doctor hat. Another frustrating round of writing
reports on referral and utilization patterns and wondering if anyone would read
them. She was also sneaking in time on a freelance report, using the Harriet
Thompson case as a paradigm of how treatment guidelines can backfire. She hoped
the story's poignancy might raise a little consciousness as to the human cost
of well-meaning guidelines when they were mechanically implemented.

 
          
Maybe
in the process she could help Dr. Conway.

 
          
Alicia
bustled by then.

 
          
"Got
a maybe from Senator Hirsch," she said as she passed.

 
          
"Just
a maybe?" That surprised Gin. Hirsch always seemed to have something to
say about health-care policy. "I thought he'd jump at the chance."

           
Alicia slowed but kept moving.
"It's a joint committee, not a permanent thing. Too ad hoc. It might screw
up his ranking position on his other committees, ones that guarantee serious,
long-term PAC attention."

           
Gin couldn't hide her annoyance.
"Is everything about money, dammit?"

           
"Senator Mark Hanna said
something you should keep in mind when you're working on The Hill, There are
two things that are important in politics. The first is money . . . and I l
can't remember what the other one is. That's from the horse's mouth. But what
this place is really about is influence. And influence brings in campaign
donations. And campaign donations help you come back for another term."

 
          
"So
you can increase your influence," Gin said without enthusiasm .

 
          
Alicia
laughed and gave her a thumbs-up. "Now you're getting it!"

           
"I'm afraid I am," Gin
muttered as Alicia disappeared down the hall.

 
          
Then
her phone with the seal of the Senate rang. It was Gerry.

 
          
"The
report's back."

           
Gin lowered herself into her chair.
"I thought you said not until tomorrow."

 
          
"Your
list helped. Much easier to identify compounds when you know what you're
looking for. And besides, I told them it was for someone very important. So
they rushed it." Gin couldn't help smiling as a warm rush washed through
her. She liked this man more each day.

 
          
"And?"

           
"And the analysis matches the
list perfectly. Nothing in there that isn't supposed to be there." Gin
sagged in her chair.

 
          
She
felt weak all over. She was so damn glad she could have cried right then.

 
          
"Gin?
You still there?"

           
"Yes," she said softly.
"Thank you, Gerry. You don't know how good that is to hear."

 
          
"How
about dinner tonight? That sound good?"

           
"Tonight's a
Lynnwood
night, I'm afraid." A thought struck
her. "But I've got a great idea. Come with me to my folks' house on
Thursday night. It's Columbus Day and my father always makes a big deal of it.
It's crazy. You'll love it. And bring Martha. There'll be plenty of pasta with
no meat."

 
          
"You're
on."

 
          
A
few minutes later Gin was on her way out of Senator Marsden's office, feeling
as if the weight of the world had been lifted from her shoulders. Duncan and
Oliver were in the clear.

 
          
One
less thing to worry about.