three minutes for me on tonight’s program.”
Priscilla set her handset back in its rack.
Four
Wednesday, March 4, 1992; 10:00
A.M.
DR. EVAN MORGAN POPPED TWO antacids into his mouth,
returned to the window, and gazed down at the massing crowds eight
floors below. The whole scene was too surrealistic for him—the
gathering crowds, the wheelchairs, people on crutches. It seemed
that all the infirm of San Diego were on the doorstep of his
hospital.
“Dr. Morgan?” Mary Rivers said, stepping into the
office.
“Where have they come from, Mary?” Morgan asked
without turning from the window. “Why are they here?”
“I imagine they’re here because of last night’s news
report.”
“Of course they’re here because of the news report,”
he snapped. “My question was rhetorical.”
“I’m sorry,” she replied timidly. “I didn’t mean to
offend.”
Morgan turned from the window to face Mary. She was
an attractive woman with an appealing smile. Her brown hair and
brown eyes reminded him of his twenty-two-year-old daughter.
Perhaps that’s why he hired her. Since his daughter’s marriage two
years ago and her subsequent relocation to Houston, he had felt
lonely. His wife provided all the companionship any man could ask
for, but somehow his life was different without Terri.
“Of course you didn’t,” he said apologetically.
“This whole situation has me on edge. After years of study in
college and medical school to save lives, I now find myself barring
the doors of my hospital to those who need it most.”
“But, sir, there is no way the hospital could admit
that many people at once.” She walked to the window. “It is an
amazing sight. I understand people are checking out of hospitals as
far away as Los Angeles and attempting to admit themselves here.
Last count from Security is 150, and more are expected.”
Morgan didn’t reply, he simply gazed vacantly out
the window.
Mary continued. “There have been quite a few
requests from the media to talk to you.”
“Refer them to Carl Fuller in Public Relations; it’s
his job anyway.”
“I’ve tried, but they insist on speaking with the
hospital administrator.”
“Maggots.” Morgan spat the word out angrily. “They
wait with their camcorders for some crime or disaster so they can
crawl all over the scene and report every gory detail. Who do they
think they are to make demands of me? I don’t work for them, and I
won’t answer to them.”
Mary allowed a few moments of silence to pass before
speaking. “The board wants you to hold a news conference, don’t
they?”
Morgan turned and silently stared at his
administrative assistant. A grin slowly spread across his face.
“You know me pretty well, don’t you?”
“After two years, I like to think so,” she
responded, returning his grin.
“Well, you’re right.” His grin disappeared. “I want
you to schedule a news conference for 3:30 today. No, wait. Make
that 6:30. I don’t want the conference to air on the evening news.
It’s bad enough that it will be on the 11 o’clock.”
“It might also keep Priscilla Simms from attending,”
Mary said.
Morgan grinned again. “You’re right. It was her
snooping that started all this. Any word on the staff members who
talked to her?”
Mary shook her head.
“I want to know as soon as personnel finds out.
Also, I need someone to head up an in-house investigation. It needs
to be a medical person—say, Dr. Freedman.”
“I think he left on vacation last Thursday. He won’t
be back from the Bahamas for another three weeks.”
“Well, who’s running his department while he’s
gone?” Morgan’s voice revealed his irritation.
Mary walked to Morgan’s desk and opened a
blue-tabbed file marked Department Personnel. “Here it is, Dr.
Rachel Tremaine.”
“Yes, I know her. She’s an able doctor. Tell her I
want to see her this afternoon, before 3 if her schedule will
allow, and tell Carl Fuller I want to see him right
Priscilla set her handset back in its rack.
Four
Wednesday, March 4, 1992; 10:00
A.M.
DR. EVAN MORGAN POPPED TWO antacids into his mouth,
returned to the window, and gazed down at the massing crowds eight
floors below. The whole scene was too surrealistic for him—the
gathering crowds, the wheelchairs, people on crutches. It seemed
that all the infirm of San Diego were on the doorstep of his
hospital.
“Dr. Morgan?” Mary Rivers said, stepping into the
office.
“Where have they come from, Mary?” Morgan asked
without turning from the window. “Why are they here?”
“I imagine they’re here because of last night’s news
report.”
“Of course they’re here because of the news report,”
he snapped. “My question was rhetorical.”
“I’m sorry,” she replied timidly. “I didn’t mean to
offend.”
Morgan turned from the window to face Mary. She was
an attractive woman with an appealing smile. Her brown hair and
brown eyes reminded him of his twenty-two-year-old daughter.
Perhaps that’s why he hired her. Since his daughter’s marriage two
years ago and her subsequent relocation to Houston, he had felt
lonely. His wife provided all the companionship any man could ask
for, but somehow his life was different without Terri.
“Of course you didn’t,” he said apologetically.
“This whole situation has me on edge. After years of study in
college and medical school to save lives, I now find myself barring
the doors of my hospital to those who need it most.”
“But, sir, there is no way the hospital could admit
that many people at once.” She walked to the window. “It is an
amazing sight. I understand people are checking out of hospitals as
far away as Los Angeles and attempting to admit themselves here.
Last count from Security is 150, and more are expected.”
Morgan didn’t reply, he simply gazed vacantly out
the window.
Mary continued. “There have been quite a few
requests from the media to talk to you.”
“Refer them to Carl Fuller in Public Relations; it’s
his job anyway.”
“I’ve tried, but they insist on speaking with the
hospital administrator.”
“Maggots.” Morgan spat the word out angrily. “They
wait with their camcorders for some crime or disaster so they can
crawl all over the scene and report every gory detail. Who do they
think they are to make demands of me? I don’t work for them, and I
won’t answer to them.”
Mary allowed a few moments of silence to pass before
speaking. “The board wants you to hold a news conference, don’t
they?”
Morgan turned and silently stared at his
administrative assistant. A grin slowly spread across his face.
“You know me pretty well, don’t you?”
“After two years, I like to think so,” she
responded, returning his grin.
“Well, you’re right.” His grin disappeared. “I want
you to schedule a news conference for 3:30 today. No, wait. Make
that 6:30. I don’t want the conference to air on the evening news.
It’s bad enough that it will be on the 11 o’clock.”
“It might also keep Priscilla Simms from attending,”
Mary said.
Morgan grinned again. “You’re right. It was her
snooping that started all this. Any word on the staff members who
talked to her?”
Mary shook her head.
“I want to know as soon as personnel finds out.
Also, I need someone to head up an in-house investigation. It needs
to be a medical person—say, Dr. Freedman.”
“I think he left on vacation last Thursday. He won’t
be back from the Bahamas for another three weeks.”
“Well, who’s running his department while he’s
gone?” Morgan’s voice revealed his irritation.
Mary walked to Morgan’s desk and opened a
blue-tabbed file marked Department Personnel. “Here it is, Dr.
Rachel Tremaine.”
“Yes, I know her. She’s an able doctor. Tell her I
want to see her this afternoon, before 3 if her schedule will
allow, and tell Carl Fuller I want to see him right
Similar Books
