Charlatans

Noah pushed into the crowded elevator, which was occupied mostly by nurses leaving the hospital at the end of their shift. In contrast to the usual elevator silence, there was a lot of conversation. Noah stayed near the door, as he was only going to the third floor and not the ground floor.

As the elevator descended, Noah thought more about the past week and why it was going to go down emotionally as one of his worst. Although he had tried the same defense mechanism for his heartache that he had used over the weekend, namely by concentrating on his work, he’d had less to do because he had done so much from Thursday through Sunday. He’d also felt reluctant to stay in the on-call room again, so he’d gone back to his apartment each night. The result was comparatively too much free time on his hands to keep from mulling over the situation with Ava. And on top of that, he’d had another one of his paranoid reactions.

Although Noah couldn’t have been certain, it seemed to him that the same man in the dark suit who had followed him a couple weeks earlier reappeared and followed him again late Tuesday evening. This time Noah had taken a particularly circuitous route, going through Louisburg Square to gaze longingly up at Ava’s lighted study window. Each time he had turned a corner and glanced back the man had been there, seemingly talking on a cell phone. Noah had first noticed him in the Boston Common. When Noah had arrived back at his building on Revere Street, he’d pulled off the same maneuver of getting his door quickly locked behind him, only to see the man again walk by without so much as a glance in Noah’s direction.

Although Noah had again attributed this episode to his overwrought emotional state, he didn’t impute it to his imagination when he got upstairs to his apartment to find his door had been forced. Since it had happened five times over the past two years, most likely thanks to the woman college student who lived above him and who had a lot of after-hours fellow-student male visitors to whom she gave front door keys, he wasn’t terribly surprised or concerned, a testament to how the human mind could adapt to an inconvenience if it happened often enough. After the first four episodes, he’d complained to the landlord, who’d patched his door, but after the last he hadn’t even bothered to do that. After all, there wasn’t much to steal in his unit beyond his aged laptop. He didn’t even have a TV. Although he’d been initially thankful his computer was still on the card table on this occasion, he did become moderately concerned when he realized someone had been using it!

As a surgeon, Noah had some compulsive traits, like a lot of his colleagues. One of the traits involved how he dealt with his tools, and in his mind tools included electronics. He was very particular about the way he handled his laptop, which had caused a good deal of merciless teasing by Leslie, who thought it silly that he insisted it be lined up with the edges of the table. Frequently she’d move it just to playfully aggravate him. Tuesday night it was as if Leslie had been there.

Recognizing someone had been on his computer, Noah had immediately checked his bank account information. When that had seemed okay, he’d checked his browser’s history to find that it had been wiped clean, including what he had done the previous night. It was apparent someone had used his computer and then had covered his tracks. After checking all his documents, including his surgical case log, which thankfully didn’t include any personal patient information, Noah hadn’t known what to make of the incident and had tried not to dwell on it, although it had fanned his paranoia.

When the hospital elevator arrived on Stanhope 3, Noah got out. As he hurried along the administration corridor, he checked his watch. He still had a full five minutes before the scheduled 4:00 meeting.

It turned out that Dr. Kumar was about twenty minutes late, but he was gracious about it. He came directly over to where Noah was waiting in a common waiting area and apologized. He explained he’d been called in on a problematic cardiac surgery case and had come down as soon as he was free. Noah assured him there was no problem, explaining he’d enjoyed the brief respite from a typically busy day. Dr. Kumar then led Noah into his office, the decor of which had an Indian motif. There was a collection of framed Mughal miniatures on the walls.

“Please have a seat,” Dr. Kumar said in his charmingly melodic Indian accent. He was dressed in a long white coat over scrubs that emphasized his darkly burnished skin tone. He went around and sat behind his desk, putting his elbows on the surface and clasping his hands below his chin.

“I assumed when you requested this meeting that the subject would be Dr. Ava London,” Dr. Kumar said. “That’s why I thought it best to meet down here rather than upstairs. Let me say at the outset, there is no need for you to worry about her tenure here at BMH, despite Dr. Mason’s recent comments. He is a passionate man, but I have spoken with him about Dr. London since his outburst at the M&M, and I believe he feels differently now. Does that put your mind at ease? And, by the way, I believe you handled both M&M conferences superbly, from the Anesthesia Department’s point of view.”

“Thank you,” Noah said. “I tried my best to present the facts.”

“You did a superbly diplomatic job.”

“I thank you again,” Noah said. “I did want to talk with you about Dr. London, but for a different reason.”

“Oh?” Dr. Kumar questioned. He visibly stiffened. His clasped hands lowered to the desk surface.

“There were a few aspects of Dr. London’s performance that I did not mention in my presentations but which I feel is my ethical duty to bring to your attention.”

“I’m listening,” Dr. Kumar said, with his voice changed. It had hardened a degree, but Noah pressed on.

Noah started with the Gibson case, followed by the Harrison and then finally the Vincent, describing in as much detail as possible his mild, and purely subjective, misgivings about Ava’s performance. When he was finished, a heavy silence reigned. Dr. Kumar stared back at him with his penetratingly dark, unblinking eyes, making Noah uncomfortable. The man had not shown any reaction during Noah’s monologue.

Noah felt an irresistible urge to add: “With the Gibson case I was directly involved, meaning I saw the situation. With the other two cases, what I’m relating is hearsay from a circulating nurse or Dr. London.”

When Dr. Kumar still didn’t respond, Noah said: “My motivation for coming to you is for you to hear my concerns and either substantiate them or dismiss them as you see fit. I haven’t said anything to anyone else and don’t plan to do so.”

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