Extreme Measures by Michael Palmer

not know it, but it was Joe who railroaded Craig Worrell into that post a few years ago, past a lot of strong objections around the hospital, and he took a fair amount of flak when the choice went sour. Maybe he got cold feet about backing another loser.”
    “Maybe …” Eric said distantly.
    “If we can sway either of those votes, you’re in. We’ve decided that a two-to-one vote will do it.”
    “I appreciate your telling me all this,” Eric said. “Needless to say, Reed and I were both wondering what had gone on.”
    “I wish I knew,” Darden said. “Eric, I don’t think White Memorial can easily afford to lose a physician with your skill and commitment. And speaking for myself, I would love to have another faculty member with a philosophy so much like my own. The votes at staff meetings are always perilously close between the conservatives and those of us who believe this hospital must move ahead to stay ahead. Do you remember that AIDS outreach program I proposed a year or so ago?”
    “I heard about it, sure. I had planned to volunteer to help man the clinic when it was set up. In fact, I signed up on that list you sent around.”
    “I know. It might not surprise you to learn that Reed Marshall did not. Well, regardless, what you may not know is that my proposal to the medical staff was defeated by just two votes.”
    “That must have hurt, to come so close,” Eric said.
    “No idea is ever dead until those who believe in it say it’s dead,” Darden replied. “Craig Worrell was one of the negative votes.”
    “I see.”
    “If I were you, and I wanted that position as much as you seem to, I would do whatever I could to sway the vote of either Dr. Silver or Dame Teagarden in my favor. Can you think of any way you might do that?”
    “No,” Eric lied, glancing inadvertently at the drawer of his desk. “No, I can’t.”
    “Well, then … I, um, I hope you understand that while I have great respect for Reed Marshall, if there is anything you know about him that would help influence either of my comrades on the committee …”
    “No,” Eric said, unable to conceal how startled he was. “No I don’t.” He hesitated, and then added, “Dr. Darden, I think you should know that over our years of working together, Reed and I have developed a pretty deep respect for each other. Even if I did know something damaging about him, which truthfully I don’t, it’s doubtful I would be able to share that information with anyone—even if it meant losing out on the job.”
    “Well said!” the chief exclaimed. “That’s precisely the response I wanted from you. And you have my apology for even bringing the subject up. Call it a final test if you want to, and consider yourself to have passed with flying colors. Just keep up your good work, Eric. I’ll do what politicking I can. Then we’ll cast our chips on the table and let them fall where they may.”
    Before Eric could respond, there was an insistent knock on the office door.
    “Eric, it’s Kristen.”
    “Time to get to work,” Haven Darden said, opening the door. “We’ll talk again.”
    The nurse was breathless.
    “Eric, Reed wants to see you in Trauma Two right away.”
    “Go,” Darden said. “I’ll help Miss”—he read thenurse’s name tag—“Baker plow through that waiting room.”
    Eric hurried past the medical chief and down the hall to Trauma Two. He could smell the blood and feel the chaos and desperation in the room the moment he cleared the door. Reed, an intern named Stuart Spear, and two nurses were clustered about a litter bearing a woman who appeared to be
in extremis
. She was propped bolt upright and was gasping for breath through the blood cascading from her mouth.
    “What gives?” Eric asked, noting Reed Marshall’s pale, wide-eyed face.
    Reed motioned the intern over to the head of the bed and handed him the rigid suction catheter.
    “Just keep sucking her out,” he ordered. “Jill, get me three units. I