“Nah. He probably wants to hear how the talk went today.” Anton grinned wolfishly. “Besides, I have some other plans for tonight, which involve you.”
She began to laugh. Other than his father, Katherine was the only person he knew who laughed silently. Anton thought it was the most charming thing in the world.
His phone buzzed again. Good God. It was Uncle Connor. He checked his watch. It was after ten-thirty. What the heck? Had they all forgotten that he was out of town? He decided to ignore the call. “Sorry,” he said. “I’m gonna turn this sucker off for the night.”
“You don’t have to.”
“Yes, I do.” He reached for the phone when it rang again. Uncle Connor. Anton felt a sense of unease. They sure were being persistent. Something was going on, and it probably had to do with the Right to Life case. He mouthed a “sorry” to Katherine and answered the phone. “Hi.”
“Anton? Where are you? We’ve been trying to get ahold of you.”
“I’m at a restaurant in D.C. Did you forget I’m here?”
“No, of course not. Anton. Listen. I have some bad news, I’m afraid.”
“What’d they do? Firebomb the hospital?”
“What? Who?”
“The Right to Lifers. This is about them, right?”
“What? No. No, forget them. This is . . .” Connor’s voice cracked. “Anton. You need to come home. David’s had a heart attack. It’s not looking good.”
Anton’s heart fluttered so dramatically that for a moment he thought he was having a sympathy attack. His mind went blank, like a movie screen after the projector had snapped. Katherine was making inquiring gestures, and asking him something, but he couldn’t hear because of the whistling sound of his fear.
“Anton? You okay, son? I’m sorry to—”
“I . . .” He tried collecting his thoughts and found that he couldn’t. “Where’s Mom? How is Mom?”
“She’s okay. She’s with him. You need to calm down, son. Take a few deep breaths and . . .”
At last, the fearful thought that was welling inside him like a bubble burst to the surface and he asked, “Is Dad alive? Tell me the truth, Uncle Connor. I can handle the truth.” His eyes welled with tears and he looked down at the table, but not before seeing Katherine’s stricken face. “Please don’t lie to me.”
“Anton. Listen to me. He’s alive. They’re trying to stabilize him so they can do a heart cath to see the extent of the damage to the heart muscle. Okay? It’s serious, but you know your father. He’s tough. He’s hanging in there.”
Perhaps it was the relief he felt that tore away the blankness, but his mind was his own again, sharp, focused. He signaled to the waiter for the check, pantomiming that he needed it urgently. Katherine was already rifling through her purse for her credit card, and he let her pay. He heard her ask the waiter to call for a cab right away, and he nodded approvingly. “Where is he now?” he said into the phone.
“He’s at Metro-General. So you know he’s in good hands.”
Anton wanted to ask a thousand more questions, but he was wasting time. They had to get to the airport, fast. But then he looked at his watch and realized it was close to eleven P.M. Would there be a flight out so late? “Uncle Connor,” he said urgently. “Can you have someone check about the last flight out? We can leave for the airport directly from here.” He stood up as Katherine hurriedly signed the credit card receipt. “Would National or Dulles be a better bet?”
“There are no flights from D.C. at this hour. I already checked. Now, listen to me. We have a private plane waiting for you. One of Bradley’s friends has offered it. You need to make your way to the private airport where it will be waiting. Grab a piece of paper and write down the address.”
SIX MINUTES LATER, they were in a cab tearing through the city. Katherine was on the phone with the hotel, explaining the situation, asking the person to store their luggage until they figured out what to do. Anton was on hold as the hospital staff tried to reach Delores, who was in the ICU with her husband.
“Hi, honey,” Delores said, and the emptiness in her voice sent a chill down Anton’s spine. He fought back the tears that flooded his eyes. “Hey, Mom,” he said softly. “How you holding up?”
“I’m okay, baby,” she replied, but he was listening to her tone, not her words.
“Listen, I’m on my way home,” he said. “Everything is going to be fine, okay? Mom? I promise you. He’s going to be fine.”
In the brief silence, he could hear people’s voices in the background. When she spoke, she lowered her voice. “The doctor said it was a massive heart attack. He says it’s a good thing your father had the attack at the office. The paramedics were there within minutes, you know. They had to shock him three times.”
Anton looked out of the cab window, struggling to control his fear. “So . . . did they say what the prognosis is?”
“They won’t know anything until they do the heart cath. But for that, they need him to be stable.”
Anton nodded. “Okay. Okay.” Breathe, he said to himself. Breathe. But then his throat constricted as he thought of his father gasping for breath, and he couldn’t bear the thought of being this obscenely healthy while his father lay struggling for his life. “Mom,” he said. “When you go back into the ICU, I want you to tell Dad that I’ll be there in a few hours. Okay? Tell him that.” He paused. “And tell him I need his advice on a legal case before me. So he has to be well enough in a few days to help me with it. Can you do that?”
“He can’t be thinking of work, Anton. He’s not even conscious.”
“Mom. I just want him to know that . . . we’re not giving up on him, okay? So can you please do this? Just trust me, right?”
“Whatever you say. You be safe, honey.” Delores sounded wooden, numb. It’s because she has looked across the river and seen death again on the opposite bank, Anton thought.
Was it his imagination, or did they have the slowest driver in D.C.? And were they hitting every friggin’ red light in town? Anton fought the urge to kick the seat in frustration. He pulled a twenty-dollar bill out of his pocket. “As we said, this is an emergency,” he said, leaning forward so that the driver could hear him. “Here’s a little something extra for stepping on the gas.”
The driver turned his head a bit. “Speeding ticket costing over two hundred dollars, mister,” he said. “Cop stop me, you going to get even more late.” That didn’t prevent him from accepting the cash, although as far as Anton could tell, it made no appreciable difference in his driving.