maintenance workers. Two days before, the maintenance staff’s wildcat job action had crumbled before Paris’s threat to fire everyone involved. Fliers damning his action were subsequently posted throughout the hospital. And although they were all back at work, none of the maintenance staff had moved to take them down.
“You know that guy in the suit?” Paris whispered.
Sarah shook her head. The man, perhaps in his early forties, had a slight build, blow-dried hair, and a distinctively aquiline profile. The diamond in the ring on the small finger of his left hand was easily noticeable from where they were standing, some fifty feet away.
“I would say he’s either a car salesman or a lawyer,” Sarah said.
“What he is, is scum,” Paris responded. “But he is a lawyer. And as a matter of fact, he’s also an M.D.”
“I’m impressed.”
“Don’t be. His name’s Mallon. Jeremy Mallon. Ever heard of him?… No? Good. He’s a bigtime ambulance chaser who is also on retainer for Everwell. I thinkhe even owns a piece of their action. For months now, I’ve suspected he’s been behind some, if not all, of the trouble we’ve been having. This little
tête-à-tête
we’re watching goes a long way toward proving me right.”
Suddenly Mallon caught sight of them. A word from him sent the maintenance worker scurrying off in the other direction. Paris moved in quickly, with Sarah a few feet behind.
“You son of a bitch,” Paris snapped. “I knew it was you.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Mallon said unctuously. “And I would caution you to watch what you call
anyone
in public.”
Even if Paris had not prejudiced her, Sarah knew she would have instantly disliked the man.
“That power failure was no damn accident,” Paris raged. “Neither was that bogus strike. I thought it, now I know it. I hope you paid that worm well, shyster, because as of now, he’s out of a job.”
Paris had raised his voice enough so that several of those headed toward the auditorium stopped to watch. Two MCB administrators, one of whom Sarah recognized as Colin Smith, the hospital’s chief financial officer, hurried toward them.
“Paris, you’re way out of line,” Mallon said. “I don’t need to make any trouble for you. You do a perfectly good job of that all by yourself.”
“Get out of here right now.”
“Nonsense. There’s a publicly announced press conference that I want to attend. It will be fascinating to see how you plan to tiptoe around the fact that this place is becoming a death house.”
“Why, you filthy—”
The two administrators stepped in front of Paris before he could lunge at the man.
“Easy, Glenn,” Colin Smith said. “He’s not worth it.”
“I want you away from my hospital!” Paris shouted.
“You’re looking and sounding more and more like a drowning man, Paris,” said Mallon, who suddenly appeared to Sarah as some sort of serpent. “And as for its being
your
hospital, enjoy it while you can, because I don’t believe that will be the case for much longer.”
“Get out of here!”
This time Colin Smith had to physically restrain his boss.
“I
do
actually have more important things to do than to watch you gun yourself in the foot again, Paris. I can catch the highlights of that on the evening news.” Mallon turned without waiting for a response and left through the outpatient building.
“Scum,” Paris muttered.
“Easy does it,” Smith urged.
“They’re not going to get us, Colin. The day Everwell and that creep take over MCB will be the day they have to bury me.”
“It’ll never happen, Glenn,” Smith said. “We’ve got the ace up our sleeve. You know that, and I know that.”
His words had a remarkably calming effect on Paris. Sarah could see the muscles in his face relax. His fists unclenched. And finally he smiled.
“Right you are, Colin,” he said. “Right you are. You’re a good man.”
He apologized to Sarah for his loss
“You know that guy in the suit?” Paris whispered.
Sarah shook her head. The man, perhaps in his early forties, had a slight build, blow-dried hair, and a distinctively aquiline profile. The diamond in the ring on the small finger of his left hand was easily noticeable from where they were standing, some fifty feet away.
“I would say he’s either a car salesman or a lawyer,” Sarah said.
“What he is, is scum,” Paris responded. “But he is a lawyer. And as a matter of fact, he’s also an M.D.”
“I’m impressed.”
“Don’t be. His name’s Mallon. Jeremy Mallon. Ever heard of him?… No? Good. He’s a bigtime ambulance chaser who is also on retainer for Everwell. I thinkhe even owns a piece of their action. For months now, I’ve suspected he’s been behind some, if not all, of the trouble we’ve been having. This little
tête-à-tête
we’re watching goes a long way toward proving me right.”
Suddenly Mallon caught sight of them. A word from him sent the maintenance worker scurrying off in the other direction. Paris moved in quickly, with Sarah a few feet behind.
“You son of a bitch,” Paris snapped. “I knew it was you.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Mallon said unctuously. “And I would caution you to watch what you call
anyone
in public.”
Even if Paris had not prejudiced her, Sarah knew she would have instantly disliked the man.
“That power failure was no damn accident,” Paris raged. “Neither was that bogus strike. I thought it, now I know it. I hope you paid that worm well, shyster, because as of now, he’s out of a job.”
Paris had raised his voice enough so that several of those headed toward the auditorium stopped to watch. Two MCB administrators, one of whom Sarah recognized as Colin Smith, the hospital’s chief financial officer, hurried toward them.
“Paris, you’re way out of line,” Mallon said. “I don’t need to make any trouble for you. You do a perfectly good job of that all by yourself.”
“Get out of here right now.”
“Nonsense. There’s a publicly announced press conference that I want to attend. It will be fascinating to see how you plan to tiptoe around the fact that this place is becoming a death house.”
“Why, you filthy—”
The two administrators stepped in front of Paris before he could lunge at the man.
“Easy, Glenn,” Colin Smith said. “He’s not worth it.”
“I want you away from my hospital!” Paris shouted.
“You’re looking and sounding more and more like a drowning man, Paris,” said Mallon, who suddenly appeared to Sarah as some sort of serpent. “And as for its being
your
hospital, enjoy it while you can, because I don’t believe that will be the case for much longer.”
“Get out of here!”
This time Colin Smith had to physically restrain his boss.
“I
do
actually have more important things to do than to watch you gun yourself in the foot again, Paris. I can catch the highlights of that on the evening news.” Mallon turned without waiting for a response and left through the outpatient building.
“Scum,” Paris muttered.
“Easy does it,” Smith urged.
“They’re not going to get us, Colin. The day Everwell and that creep take over MCB will be the day they have to bury me.”
“It’ll never happen, Glenn,” Smith said. “We’ve got the ace up our sleeve. You know that, and I know that.”
His words had a remarkably calming effect on Paris. Sarah could see the muscles in his face relax. His fists unclenched. And finally he smiled.
“Right you are, Colin,” he said. “Right you are. You’re a good man.”
He apologized to Sarah for his loss
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