Rees knew something, that much was obvious. Something was happening, something in his rich-guy circles. He was talking to Robert Tippett, or maybe some judge, or lawyers, or something, but he knew something, and it wasn’t good. I turned and trudged up to my apartment, ready to slump onto the couch and sleep forever.
16
Piers
Another gray morning in Philadelphia. I was in a shit mood as I stumbled in through the lobby doors and headed up to my office, bleary and exhausted from a bad night of sleep. I kept staring at the ceiling, opening and closing my eyes, thinking about Lori, thinking about Nil Tippett, thinking about my future.
It all looked bleak.
Hell with it though. At least Lori was learning: ever since she made that one small mistake, and we started going over each surgery in detail before and after, she was flawless. I had to admit, I was impressed by how quickly she learned. I got the sense that all she needed was a slight nudge in the right direction and for someone to have a little faith in her.
She might be pretty damn good one day. Not as good as me, but good.
I found my office door slightly ajar. I paused in the hall, looking around, but the place was quiet. I knew I shut it the night before, I always shut and locked my office door. It was a part of my routine, as much a habit as tying my shoes. Someone had opened it, and someone with a key, since there were no signs of forced entry. Nothing was broken, nothing was shattered.
Which meant hospital administration.
I nudged the door open and looked inside.
The place was ransacked. It hadn’t been torn to pieces, but drawers were open, files and folders were missing, and my work computer was gone. They left my personal laptop, but they probably would’ve taken that too, if it were legal. Everything had been cleaned out: old surgery notes, patient files, everything and anything. I stood in the midst of the desolation, and tried not to let my anger get the better of me, but it was early, and I was tired, and already in a shit mood, and besides, I was tired of this crap.
I made one mistake. I didn’t have to hang for it.
I marched my ass back down the hall and found Gina. She looked up from a phone call and tried to wave me away, but I marched over, jammed my thumb down on the button, and hung up on whoever she’d been talking to.
“What the hell,” she said, sounding more resigned than angry.
“You’re in early,” I said. “I bet you know why I’m here.”
She put the receiver down on the cradle. “What do you want, Piers?”
“Someone stole my files.”
“They weren’t stolen.” She pursed her lips and stared at me.
I took a deep, steadying breath. “You know what happened.”
“Of course I do,” she said, her tone getting sharp. “Come on, Piers. How many times have I warned you? How many times? I keep telling you, over and over, you have to play the game. You have to be polite. Smile at the admins, be nice, shake hands, go to the fundraisers. Do your part.”
“I don’t care about any of that,” I said, clenching my jaw. “I want to save lives.”
“This is how you save lives,” she said. “You stay employed.”
“What happened to my files, Gina?”
“Caroline ordered it,” she said, spreading her hands wide. “I couldn’t do a damn thing about it, even though I told her that it was a mistake.”
“She took them?” I shook my head, confused. “That doesn’t make sense.”
“For the lawsuit. They’re looking for anything they can use.”
“To help me?”
She made an uncertain face. “Frankly, Piers, I’m not so sure anymore. You’ve pissed off a lot of people.”
“A lot of admins,” I said, trying to keep the snarl from my tone. “But how many good patient reviews have I gotten? How many lives have I saved?”
“Like I said, you have to play the game.”
“This isn’t a game,” I said. “These are real, human lives at stake. I don’t do politics, I don’t do bullshit. I save all that energy for my patients.”
“A man died because of you, and a family is in chaos.”
“A rich man died because he took a risk,” I corrected. “And their family is in chaos because they’re morons. You think any of this would matter if they didn’t have all that damn money?”
“Doesn’t matter,” she said. “It matters, and they do. I don’t like this either, but there’s nothing I can do about it. Goddamn it, this sets such a bad precedent. None of the doctors are going to be happy about it.”
“Good,” I said, turning to the door. “Maybe then you people will get off your asses and help one of your own. I’m out there saving lives in the goddamn trenches every day, while Caroline and the administrators sit in their little air-conditioned offices, making money and pretending to be important.”