Terminal (49 page)

“Quiet!” a person behind Sean snapped.

“When I took the position as director of the Forbes Center,” Dr. Mason continued, “I knew the institution was in financial difficulty. Restoring the institution to a solid financial basis was a goal consistent with my desire to work for the good of mankind. I’ve given this task my heart and my soul. If I’ve made some mistakes, it is not for lack of altruistic motives.”

There was spotty applause when Dr. Mason paused and
fumbled with his manila envelope, undoing the string that held it closed.

“This is a waste of time,” Sean whispered.

“That was just his introduction,” Brian whispered in return. “Pipe down. I’m sure he’s about to get to the meat of the news conference now.”

“At this time I would like to take leave of you,” Dr. Mason said. “To those who have helped me in this difficult period, my heartfelt thanks.”

“Is this whole rigmarole so he can resign?” Sean asked out loud. He was disgusted.

But no one answered Sean’s question. Instead, gasps of horror rippled through the audience when Dr. Mason reached into the envelope and pulled out a nickel-plated .357 magnum revolver.

Murmurs crescendoed as a few people nearest the podium rose to their feet, unsure whether to flee or approach Dr. Mason.

“I don’t mean for people to become upset,” Dr. Mason said. “But I felt…”

It was clear Dr. Mason had more to say, but two reporters in the front row made a move for him. Dr. Mason motioned them to keep away, but the two men edged closer. Dr. Mason took a step back from the podium. He looked panicked, like a cornered deer. All the color had drained from his face.

Then, to everyone’s dismay, Dr. Mason put the barrel of the revolver in his mouth and pulled the trigger. The bullet went through his hard palate, liquified part of his brain stem and cerebellum, and carried away a five-centimeter disk of skull before burying itself deeply into the wooden cornice molding. Dr. Mason fell backward while the gun was propelled forward. The revolver hit the floor and skidded beneath the first row of seats, sending the people still seated there scattering.

A few people screamed, a few cried, most felt momentarily ill. Sean, Janet, and Brian looked away at the moment the gun went off. When they looked again the room was in pandemonium. No one knew quite what to do. Even the doctors and
nurses felt helpless; clearly Dr. Mason was beyond help.

All Sean, Janet, and Brian could see of Dr. Mason were his shoes pointing upward and a foreshortened body. The wall behind the podium was splattered as if someone had hurled a handful of ripe red berries against it.

Sean’s mouth had gone dry. He found it difficult to swallow.

A few tears welled in Janet’s eyes.

Brian murmured: “Holy Mary, mother of God!”

Everyone was stunned and emotionally drained. There was little conversation. A few hearty souls, including Sterling Rombauer, ventured up to view Dr. Mason’s corpse. For the moment most people remained where they were—all except for one woman, who got up from her seat and struggled toward an exit. Sean saw her pushing dumbfounded people aside in her haste. He recognized her immediately.

“That’s Dr. Levy,” Sean said, getting to his feet. “Somebody should stop her. I’ll bet she’s planning on fleeing the country.”

Brian grabbed Sean by the arm, preventing him from giving chase. “This is not the time or place for you to play a paladin. Let her go.”

Sean watched as Dr. Levy got to an exit and disappeared from view. He looked down at Brian. “The charade is beginning to unravel.”

“Perhaps,” Brian said evasively. His legal mind was concerned about the sympathy this shocking event was likely to evoke in the community.

Gradually, the crowd began to disperse. “Come on,” Brian said. “Let’s go.”

Brian, Janet, and Sean shuffled out in silence and pushed through the subdued crowd gathered at the hospital entrance. They headed toward Brian’s car. Each struggled to absorb the horrible tragedy they’d just had the misfortune of witnessing. Sean was the first to speak.

“I’d say that was a rather dramatic mea culpa,” he said. “I suppose we have to give him credit for at least being a good shot.”

“Sean, don’t be crude,” Brian said. “Black humor is not my cup of tea.”

“Thank you,” Janet said to Brian. Then to Sean she said: “A man is dead. How can you joke about it?”

“Helen Cabot is dead, too,” Sean said. “Her death bothers me a lot more.”

“Both deaths should bother you,” Brian said. “After all, Dr. Mason’s suicide could be attributed to all the bad publicity Forbes has received thanks to you. The man had reason to be depressed. His suicide wasn’t necessarily an admission of guilt.”

“Wait a second,” Sean said, bringing the party to a halt. “Do you still have any doubts about what I’ve told you concerning this medulloblastoma issue after what we just witnessed?”

“I’m a lawyer,” Brian said. “I’m trained to think in a specific fashion. I try to anticipate the defense.”

“Forget being a lawyer for two seconds,” Sean said. “What do you feel as a human being?”

“Okay,” Brian relented. “I’ll have to admit, it was an extremely incriminating act.”

May 21
Friday, 1:50 P.M.

T
he big Delta jet banked, then entered its final approach into Logan Airport. It was landing to the northwest, and Sean, sitting in a window seat, had a good view of Boston out the left side of the plane. Brian was sitting next to him but had his nose buried in a law journal. Below they passed over the Kennedy Library on Columbus Point and then the tip of South Boston with its shorefront of clapboard three-decker houses.

Next Sean was treated to a superb view of the downtown Boston skyline with the Boston inner harbor in the foreground. Just before they touched down, he caught a quick glimpse of Charlestown with the Bunker Hill obelisk jutting up into the afternoon sky.

Sean breathed a sigh of relief. He was home.

Neither of them had checked luggage, so after deplaning they went directly to a cab stand and got a taxi. First they went to Brian’s office in Old City Hall on School Street. Sean told the cabbie to wait and got out with Brian. They hadn’t spoken much since they’d left Miami that morning, mainly because they’d been under such tension and had spoken so much during the prior three days. They had gone to Miami so Sean could testify before a Florida grand jury concerning the case
The State of Florida v. The Forbes Cancer Center.

Sean eyed his brother. Despite their differences and their frequent arguments, he felt a rush of love for Brian. He stuck out his hand. Brian grasped it firmly and they shook. But it
wasn’t enough. Sean let go of Brian’s hand and embraced him in a strong, sustained hug. When they parted both felt a moment of awkwardness. Rarely did they convey their affection physically. Generally they didn’t touch save for jabs to the shoulder and pats on the back.

“Thanks for all you’ve done,” Sean said.

“It pales in comparison to what you’ve done for a lot of potential Forbes victims,” Brian said.

“But without your legal follow-through,” Sean said, “Forbes would still be in business today.”

“It’s not over yet,” Brian cautioned. “This was merely the first step.”

“Well, whatever,” Sean said. “Let’s get back to putting our efforts into Oncogen. The Forbes matter is in the hands of the Florida State’s Attorney and the U.S. District Attorney. Who do you think will prosecute the case?”

“Maybe they’ll cooperate,” Brian said. “With all the media attention, both obviously see the case as having great political potential.”

Sean nodded. “Well, I’ll be in touch,” he said as he climbed back into the cab.

Brian grabbed the door before Sean had a chance to pull it closed. “I hate to sound captious.” Brian said, “but as your older brother, I feel I should offer some advice. You’d make things so much easier for yourself if you’d only tone down that brazen side of your personality. I’m not talking about a big change, either. If you could just shed some of that townie abrasiveness. You’re holding on to your past way too much.”

“Aw, come on,” Sean said with a wry smile. “Lighten up, Brian.”

“I’m serious,” Brian said. “You make enemies of those people less intelligent than yourself, which unfortunately is most of us.”

“That’s the most backhanded compliment I’ve ever received,” Sean said.

“Well, it’s not meant as a compliment,” Brian said. “You’re like some idiot savant. As smart as you are in some areas, you’re retarded in others, like social skills. Either you’re
unaware of what other people are feeling, or you don’t care. But either way, the results are the same.”

“You’re out of control!” Sean said with a laugh.

“Give it some thought, brother,” Brian said. He gave Sean’s shoulder a friendly poke.

Sean told the cabdriver to take him to the Boston Memorial Hospital. It was getting on toward three, and Sean was eager to catch Janet before her shift was over. Sitting back, Sean thought about what Brian had said. He smiled. As likable as his brother was, he could be such a nerd at times.

At the hospital, Sean went straight to Janet’s floor. At the nurses’ station he learned she was down in 503 medicating Mrs. Mervin. Sean headed down the hall toward the patient’s room. He couldn’t wait to give Janet the good news. He found her injecting antibiotic into Mrs. Mervin’s IV.

“Well hello, stranger,” Janet said when she caught sight of Sean. She was pleased to see him although she was obviously preoccupied. She introduced Sean to Mrs. Mervin, telling her that he was one of the Harvard medical students.

“I just love all you boys,” Mrs. Mervin said. She was an elderly white-haired woman with pink cheeks and sparkling eyes. “You can come visit me anytime,” she said with a titter.

Janet winked at Sean. “Mrs. Mervin is on the mend.”

“I can see that,” Sean agreed.

Janet made a notation on a 3×5 card and stuck it into her pocket. After picking up her medication tray, she said goodbye to Mrs. Mervin, advising her to ring if she wanted anything.

In the hall, Sean had to scurry to keep up with Janet’s pace.

“I’m anxious to talk with you,” Sean said, coming alongside. “In case you couldn’t guess.”

“I’d love to chat,” Janet said, “but I’m really busy. Report’s coming up and I’ve got to finish these medications.”

“The indictment against Forbes was handed down by the grand jury,” Sean said.

Janet stopped and gave him a big, warm smile.

“That’s great!” she said. “I’m pleased. And I’m proud of you. You must feel vindicated.”

“As Brian says, it’s an important first step,” Sean said.
“The indictment includes Dr. Levy, although she hasn’t been seen or heard from since Mason’s mea culpa news conference. No one knows where the heck she is. The indictment also includes two clinical staff doctors and the director of nursing, Margaret Richmond.”

“It’s still all so hard to believe,” Janet said.

“It is until you realize how thankful the Forbes medulloblastoma patients have been,” Sean said. “Up until we put an end to it all, they’d given over sixty million dollars in essentially unrestricted donations.”

“What’s happened to the hospital?” Janet asked, eyeing her watch.

“The hospital is in receivership,” Sean said. “But the research institute is closed. And in case you’re interested, the Japanese were fooled by the scam as well. They had no part in it. Since the lid blew off they cut their losses and ran.”

“I’m sorry about the hospital,” Janet said. “I personally think it’s a good hospital. I hope they make it.”

“One other piece of news,” Sean said. “You know that crazy guy that caught us on the beach and scared us half to death? His name is Tom Widdicomb, and he’s crazier than the mad hatter. He’d kept his dead mother in a freezer at his house. Seems he thought she was telling him to put all advanced breast cancer patients to sleep with succinylcholine. The mother had had the same disease.”

“My God,” Janet said. “Then that’s what happened to Gloria D’Amataglio.”

“Apparently so,” Sean said. “And a number of others.”

“I even remember Tom Widdicomb,” Janet said. “He was the housekeeper who bugged Marjorie so much.”

“Well, apparently you bugged him,” Sean said. “Somehow in his distorted thinking, he decided that you had been sent to stop him. That’s why he was after you. They think he was the guy in your bathroom at the Forbes residence, and he definitely was the person who followed us into the Miami General morgue.”

“Good Lord!” Janet exclaimed. The idea that a psychotic had been stalking her was terribly unnerving. It reminded her
again of how different her trip to Florida had been from what she’d anticipated when she’d decided to go.

“Widdicomb will be tried,” Sean continued. “Of course he’s pleading insanity, and if they bring the mother in the freezer in to testify, he won’t have a problem.” Sean laughed. “Needless to say it’s because of him that the hospital is in receivership. Every family that lost a breast cancer patient under suspicious circumstances is suing.”

“None of the medulloblastoma cases are suing?” Janet asked.

“Not the hospital,” Sean said. “There’d been two entities: the hospital and the research center. The medulloblastoma patients will have to sue the research center. After all, at the hospital, they got cured.”

“All except for Helen Cabot,” Janet said.

“That’s true,” Sean agreed.

Janet glanced at her watch again and shook her head. “Now I’m really behind,” she said. “Sean, I’ve got to go. Can’t we talk about all this tonight, maybe over dinner or something?”

“Not tonight,” Sean said. “It’s Friday.”

“Oh, of course!” Janet said coolly. She thumped her head with the heel of her hand. “How stupid of me to forget. Well then, when you get a chance, give me a call.” Janet started down the hall.

Sean took a few steps and grasped her arm, pulling her to a stop.

“Wait!” he said, surprised at her abrupt end to their conversation. “Aren’t you going to ask me about the charges against you and me?”

“It’s not that I’m not interested,” Janet said. “But you’ve caught me at a bad time, and of course, you’re busy tonight.”