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"That's very generous," David said, "but I've yet to make arrangements. This trip was put together at the last minute."

"I can recommend the Marriott," the man persisted. "They almost always have availability on the weekend, and it's a good central location."

David smiled as best he could. "I'll keep that in mind, but I'm not going directly into town. I have to make a stop here in Queens." He planned to take a taxi to Long Island City, where he'd have the cab wait while he picked up the arranged gun.

"Remember, this hellcat is usually packing," Robert had advised. "So don't give her much breathing room. In fact, don't give her any breathing room at all. The whole problem is that she has no compunction whatsoever about using her piece."

David had nodded at this unsolicited advice, but he didn't need to be told any such thing. He was a professional and had been doing this for years. He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a piece of paper. The address was 1421 Vernon Avenue, Long Island City. He wondered what kind of place it would turn out to be. He also wondered if getting the gun would go smoothly. On a recent trip to Chicago, the gun source had been picked up the day before on unrelated charges, throwing off the whole operation and forcing David to stay in the windy city for five days. He hoped the same snafu wouldn't happen in New York, since he was anxious to be on his way back to St.

Louis in twenty-four hours or so.

David looked at the other addresses he had written down on the paper. They were Jasmine Rakoczi's apartment and her health club, both on the Upper West Side.

"Where is that Marriott?" David asked the prim man, who was * busy packing his laptop into its carrying case.

"Times Square," the man said.

"Is that on the West Side?"

"It sure is, right near the theater district."

He thought he'd keep the Marriott in mind. His general plan was to get the gun and then find a hotel. He was exhausted from having spent a number of long nights out on the West Coast, and he was looking forward to a good, long sleep. Then he'd figure out the best way to deal with the Rakoczi woman. The nicest part of the whole affair was remembering what she looked like. Robert had even said she had one of the best bodies he'd ever seen, and Robert definitely had good taste. David fully planned to see for himself, which meant her apartment would be the best bet.

TWENTY-ONE

WITH A BACKHANDED motion, Jack tossed the
Cosmopolitan
magazine back onto the surgical lounge's coffee table. He was desperate for something to read, but that particular magazine wasn't going to do it for him. He'd been through just about everything else, including old copies of
Time, People, National Geographic,
and
Newsweek,
plus Saturday's papers. He'd even tried to watch CNN for a while, but he couldn't concentrate on the TV, especially after the two cups of coffee he'd drunk. It was a quarter to twelve, and Laurie was still in surgery, which made him progressively antsy.

Jack had gone up to the third floor with Laurie, Dr. Riley, and the orderly. He had given Laurie's hand a final, reassuring squeeze before she and the others disappeared into the OR. With the hope that Laura might reconsider his watching the procedure, he'd gone into the men's locker room and changed into scrubs, using an empty locker with no lock for his clothes.

But Laura was steadfast in her insistence that he remain in the surgical lounge, saying that she'd be in as soon as the procedure was over. Jack tried to entertain himself to keep from obsessing about what was taking so long. While he waited, the hospital shift had changed, with an entirely new group manning the OR and rotating in and out of the lounge. No one bothered Jack, which he appreciated. He was in no mood for socializing.

Just before midnight, Dr. Riley finally appeared at the lounge's arched entranceway.

When she spotted Jack, she walked over. Jack stood up. She appeared exhausted, but to his relief, she was smiling.

"I'm sorry to keep you in suspense," Laura said. "It took a little longer than we expected, but everything is okay."

"Thank goodness," Jack said. "What was the problem?"

"Continued bleeding. She'd lost a lot of blood, and her clotting wasn't what we would have liked. She's now in the PACU, where I want her to stay so they can follow her clotting status and blood pressure."

"Sounds like a good plan."

"I see you changed into scrubs."

"I was hoping you'd relent and allow me to observe."

"Sorry," Laura said. "I know from Laurie that your association with her isn't just professional. With births, I'm happy to have actual participation of partners, but with operations like this, I'm not."

"You don't have to apologize," Jack said. "She's okay, and that's all that matters."

"Actually, it's good you're in scrubs. I got approval for you to come in and have a quick visit, provided you're okay with the idea."

"I'd love to come in," Jack said. "But tell me, was it an ectopic pregnancy?"

"Yes," Laura said. "In the isthmus of the oviduct, fairly close to the uterine wall, which might be why there was so much bleeding. The oviduct itself was visibly abnormal, and we ended up removing it along with the right ovary. On the positive side, the left oviduct and ovary appear entirely normal, so her fertility shouldn't be significantly affected."

"She'll be pleased to hear that," Jack said. Now that he knew Laurie was on the road to recovery, he allowed himself to think about the lost conceptus, surprised at his emotion.

He was saddened, even though he'd anticipated being relieved that the pressure was off, as Laurie had suggested. Although mourning on any level wasn't pleasant, in this situation, he felt there was a positive side, since it lent further credence that he might be more capable of having a child than he would have thought only a few days earlier.

With a wave for him to follow, Laura led him into the main portion of the operating room. Several women were at the main OR desk, bent over paperwork. On the opposite wall was a large dry-erase board scribed like graph paper. On the left were the numbers of all the operating rooms. Across the top, forming columns, were spaces for patient name, anesthesiologist, surgeon, circulating nurse, scrub nurse, and procedure. Jack could see that there were eight cases under way. He saw Laurie's name with a line drawn through it.

The PACU was located just beyond the desk. It was a large, starkly white room with sixteen beds, eight on a side. Each backed up into an array of anesthesia equipment, including banks of monitors for blood pressure and pulse, an EKG lead, and blood oxygenation. Only four of the sixteen beds were occupied. All the patients appeared to be sleeping, despite the bright ambient light and the sense of frenetic activity. Each patient had his or her own nurse, who constantly checked everything, from vital signs to urine output, from respiratory status to core body temperature, writing the results on a clipboard attached to the bed. In between these activities, they were adjusting IV rates, checking surgical drains, or running into a supply closet for IV fluids or medications. A no-nonsense-appearing female charge nurse with frizzed blond hair and a stocky, bulldog habitus manned a centralized main desk. She exuded a drill sergeant's sense of control. Laura introduced Jack. Her name was Thea Papparis.

"I hope you understand you can only stay a few minutes," Thea said. Her voice was as commanding as her physical presence.

"I appreciate you letting me come in at all," Jack said, showing uncharacteristic respect for the rules. Under more normal circumstances, he viewed bureaucratic edicts as mere guidelines, but with Laurie's potential care possibly dependent on his behavior, he was being particularly circumspect, as evidenced by his restraint in not having run down to Laurie's OR when her case had dragged on.

"You got a fine wife there, doctor," Thea said. "She's a charmer, even under the influence of the anesthesia." For a second, her attention switched to a monitor built in over the desk. One of the patients had had an extra heartbeat with a compensatory pause. Jack used the opportunity to glance at Laura, who flashed him an exaggerated expression of guilt, meaning she'd fibbed about marital status to get Jack invited into the PACU.

Thea redirected her attention back to the visitors. "What was I saying? Oh, yeah! Your wife is one amiable individual. Most of the people we see in here are just out of it, although some can be uncooperative and even belligerent. Not your wife. She's just as nice as pie."

"Thank you," Jack said. "I appreciate the attention you've given her."

"That's our job," Thea said.

Laura motioned for Jack to follow her, and they walked over to the bed farthest against the wall. A male nurse with an impressive tattoo of a mermaid on his left upper arm was adjusting Laurie's IV. She was also getting another unit of blood.

"How's she doing, Pete?" Laura asked. She glanced briefly at the clipboard before walking up along the right side of the bed.

"Smooth as silk," Pete said. "Blood pressure and pulse hanging in there just fine. She's putting out urine, and nothing has come out of the drain."

"Good," Laura said. She grasped Laurie's forearm, gave it a little shake, and called her name.

Laurie's eyes popped open, but only about halfway. Her forehead was wrinkled as if she was struggling keep them open. She looked at Laura, then over at Jack, who'd come up along the left side. She smiled placidly and reached out and laid a limp hand in Jack's.

"Do you remember me telling you that your operation is over?" Laura asked.

"Not really," Laurie admitted without taking her eyes off Jack.

"Well, it is," Laura said. "You're doing fine. The bleeding has been stopped. I'd tell you to relax, but you are already doing that."

Laurie turned her head slowly toward Laura. "Thank you for all you have done, and I'm sorry about your Saturday night."

"Don't you worry," Laura said. "It's been a blast."

"Am I in the PACU at the moment?"

"Yes, you are."

"And I'm going to stay here overnight."

"That's affirmative. I've asked for them to keep you here and monitor you until I come in and make my rounds. The intensive care unit happens to be full, but this is just as good and maybe better. I hope you don't mind. It might be hard to sleep with all the activity."

"I don't mind in the slightest," Laurie said, giving Jack's hand a squeeze.

"Now," Laura added. "I'm going to leave you two, and, Laurie, I'll see you in the morning at seven. I'm sure everything will be fine, and we can move you to a room on the OB-GYN floor, provided they have a bed. I know they are overbooked tonight, but we'll worry about that tomorrow. Okay?"

"Okay," Laurie responded.

With a final wave, Laura walked away.

Laurie turned back toward Jack. "What time is it?"

"Around midnight," Jack said.

"My gosh! Where did the evening go? Time really does fly when you're having fun."

Jack smiled. "It's good to hear you haven't lost your sense of humor. How do you feel?"

"Great. I know that sounds ridiculous, but I've got no discomfort whatsoever. The worst thing is a dry mouth. Whatever they gave me has me on cloud nine. And now that it's over, I can admit I was pretty darn scared. I was foolish to let the problem get out of hand."

"I don't think you should be blaming yourself."

"I do. My not reacting to incriminating symptoms is a prime example of one of my not-so-wonderful character traits: namely, putting out of my mind anything potentially unpleasant, physically or emotionally. I'm more of my mother's daughter than I'd ever cared to admit."

"You're starting to scare me with this kind of insight under the influence of anesthesia," Jack joked. "What did they give you, some kind of truth serum? Don't answer! Let's talk about something a bit more topical. Did they tell you had a ruptured ectopic pregnancy?"

"I'm sure they did, but my short-term memory is not up to speed."

"As soon as I heard you were all right, I felt a curious emotion."

"Now, that's a weird thing to say," Laurie said with a slight smile on her lips. "What were you, disappointed I was going to pull through?"

"That didn't come out right. What I meant to say was that when I didn't have to worry about you, I felt sad that we had lost a child."

Laurie didn't say anything for a moment, and her smile faded. She stared at Jack with a look of disbelief.

"Hello!" Jack called. "Are you still with me?"

In slow motion, Laurie lifted her free hand to her face and used a finger to wipe away a tear. She shook her head as if she still couldn't believe what Jack had said. "If I heard correctly, under the circumstances that might have been the dearest thing you've ever said to me. You're going to make me cry."

"Don't cry!" Jack said nervously as he noticed Laurie's pulse rate quicken on the LCD

screen behind her bed. He certainly didn't want to be disturbing her in her fragile state.

"Let's talk about something less emotional, provided we have time." He glanced first at Pete, who pretended he wasn't listening, and then back at Thea at the central desk to make sure she hadn't caught Laurie's reaction. Luckily, the charge nurse was momentarily preoccupied with another problem. With a sense of reprieve, Jack redirected his attention to Laurie. "I'm not going to be able to stay in here very long, and I might not be able to come back. Normally, I wouldn't be so restrained, but they have you as a hostage. I'm afraid if I step out of line, they'll take it out on you in some way. I know it's a ridiculous idea, but it seems to me this place is run by the Gestapo."

"What did you do with yourself for three hours?" Laurie asked.

"I had a ball," Jack said. "I ..." He tried to think of something witty, but nothing came to mind. Embarrassed, he gave a short laugh. "I can't believe it. My sense of humor has abandoned me."

"You're bored and exhausted. Why don't you go home and get some sleep."

"Sleep?" Jack questioned. "That's out of the question. I had several cups of coffee in the surgical lounge. I'm not going to sleep until about Tuesday."