“No, Nora. Wait.”
Nora picked up the phone, dialed. The officer she reached said he would be only too glad to remove the intruder. They would be there right away.
“Nora!” Smithback cried.
Nora sat down at her worktable, trying to compose her mind. She closed her eyes. Ignore him. Just ignore him. Security would be there in a moment.
Smithback continued to plead at the door. “Just let me in for a minute. There’s something you have to know. Last night—”
She heard heavy footfalls and a firm voice. “Sir, you’re in an off-limits area.”
“Hey! Let go! I’m a reporter for—”
“You will come with us, please, sir.”
There was the sound of a scuffle.
“Nora!”
A new note of desperation sounded strong in Smithback’s voice. Despite herself, Nora went to the door, unlocked it, and stuck out her head. Smithback was being held between two burly security men. He glanced at her, cowlick bobbing reproachfully as he tried to extricate himself. “Nora, I can’t believe you called security.”
“Are you all right, miss?” one of the men asked.
“I’m fine. But that man shouldn’t be here.”
“This way, sir. We’ll walk you to the door.” The men started dragging Smithback off.
“Unhand me, oaf! I’ll report you, Mister 3467.”
“Yes, sir, you do that, sir.”
“Stop calling me ‘sir.’ This is assault.”
“Yes, sir.”
The men, imperturbable, led him down the hall toward the elevator.
As Nora watched, she felt a turmoil of conflicting emotion. Poor Smithback. What an undignified exit. But then, he’d brought it on himself—hadn’t he? He needed the lesson. He couldn’t just show up like this, all mystery and high drama, and expect her to— “Nora!” came the cry from down the hall. “You have to listen, please! Pendergast was attacked, I heard it on the police scanner. He’s in St. Luke’s–Roosevelt, down on Fifty-ninth. He—”
Then Smithback was gone, his shouts cut off by the elevator doors.
EIGHT
NOBODY WOULD TELL NORA ANYTHING.IT WAS MORE THAN AN HOUR before the doctor could see her. At last he showed up in the lounge, very young: a tired, hunted look in his face and a two-day growth of beard.
“Dr. Kelly?” he asked the room while looking at his clipboard.
She rose and their eyes met. “How is he?”
A wintry smile broke on the doctor’s face. “He’s going to be fine.” He looked at her curiously. “Dr. Kelly, are you a medical—?”
“Archaeologist.”
“Oh. And your relationship to the patient?”
“A friend. Can I see him? What happened?”
“He was stabbed last night.”
“My God.”
“Missed his heart by less than an inch. He was very lucky.”
“How is he?”
“He’s in…” the doctor paused. The faint smile returned. “Excellent spirits. An odd fellow, Mr. Pendergast. He insisted on a local anesthetic for the operation—highly unusual, unheard of actually, but he refused to sign the consent forms otherwise. Then he demanded a mirror. We had to bring one up from obstetrics. I’ve never had quite such a, er, demanding patient. I thought for a moment I had a surgeon on my operating table. They make the worst patients, you know.”
“What did he want a mirror for?”
“He insisted on watching. His vitals were dropping and he was losing blood, but he absolutely insisted on getting a view of the wound from various angles before he would allow us to operate. Very odd. What kind of profession is Mr. Pendergast in?”
“FBI.”
The smile evaporated. “I see. Well, that explains quite a bit. We put him in a shared room at first—no private ones were available—but then we quickly had to make one available for him. Moved out a state senator to get it.”
“Why? Did Pendergast complain?”
“No… he didn’t.” The doctor hesitated a moment. “He began watching the video of an autopsy. Very graphic. His roommate naturally objected. But it was really just as well. Because an hour ago, the things started to arrive.” He shrugged. “He refused to eat hospital food, insisted on ordering in from Balducci’s. Refused an IV drip. Refused painkillers—no OxyContin, not even Vicodin or Tylenol Number 3. He must be in dreadful pain, but doesn’t show it. With these new patient-rights guidelines, my hands are tied.”
“It sounds just like him.”
“The bright side is that the most difficult patients usually make the fastest recovery. I just feel sorry for the nurses.” The doctor glanced at his watch. “You might as well head over there now. Room 1501.”