I those to leave vascular surgery. And it's the best thing I ever did.
" "But you could have gone into another surgical field where your work actually meant something."
"But you had this new membrane you'd discovered, and then the Brits came up with beta-3. The writing was on the wall, cosmetic surgery was it. ' Actually, he had decided never again to deal with insurance companies, or governments, or any mixture of the two. Cosmetic surgery was perfect.
Only a rare insurance policy covered it anyway, and he could limit his patients to those who wanted it and exclude those who needed it.
"If that's the case, " Oliver said, "then I wish I'd never developed this membrane." Duncan gripped his brother's shoulder. "Don't ever say that, Oliver.
These implants are going to transform a host of lives. People all over the world, mothers of children who'd otherwise be scarred for life will bless your name. And as for me, I've made peace with the past. Trust me, Oliver. I'm at peace."
"I hope so, " Oliver said, searching Duncan's face. "I find it hard to believe, but I hope it's true." Duncan glanced at his watch. "Oops.
Time to run. Got to get over to the club." Oliver's expression was dismayed. "You can't play golf today. It's pouring. ' '"Poker, Oliver, " he said, nudging his brother's ribs. "When it rains we play poker. Want to join in? " '"No, " he sighed, turning back to his implants. "I've got work to do.
" For a moment Duncan was tempted to tell his brother where he was really going. It would make Oliver's day, make his year. But dear Oliver was a blabbermouth. He'd be explaining to anyone who'd listen that his brother really wasn't the coldhearted, cash-up-front bastard he pretended to be. He was a saint in hiding.
No, Oliver would have to go on being disappointed in the older brother he had once admired. And Duncan prayed he never found out about how he was using the new implants.
"See you tomorrow, then." Duncan hurried across the wet parking lot, jumped in the Mercedes, and started the engine. But instead of putting it in gear, he sat staring at the hub of his steering wheel.
I've made peace with the past. Trast me, Oliver. I'm at pere.
How easily the lies come now. Peace? What was peace? He hadn't known a moment of it since the day he'd found Lisa Lying in the foyer in a pool of blood.
If only . . .
Bright light in Duncan's eyes brought him back to the present. The sun had broken through the clouds. He shook off the memory and threw the Mercedes into gear. I was all right, he thought. And I'd have stayed all right if not for the president's resurrection of the damn Guidelines bill. It all came back, all the pain, the rage, because of him.
But he'll get his. His turn is coming.
ON THE HILL SENATOR MARSDEN MADE HER WAIT ONLY A FEW minutes, then Gin was ushered in.
The otrice was pretty much as she remembered it, the stacked files, overflowing bookcases, photos, plaques, and the miniature basketball hoop over the wastepaper tbasket.
Joe Blair was there, again in a white, short-sleeve shirt, a different but equally nondescript tie, and dark slacks. Strangely, he greeted her warmly, a smile beneath the wispy mustache as he moved forward to shake her hand and lead her toward the senator's battered old desk.
Gin wasn't sure what to make of theuncharacteristically gracious behavior. An act for his boss? It was in Blair's honor that she had worn a longer skirt today.
Senator Hugh Marsden leaned forward over his desk and extended his hand. He was average height, sixtyish, balding, portly, but possessed a commanding presence. It was his eyes, Gin decided, intensely, piercingly blue, they caught her and held her as firmly as his hand gripped hers. His voice was deep and commanding as well.
"Dr. Panzella. Welcome." A third person was in the room, a short, compact, darkhaired woman of about forty. She introduced herself.
"Hello, Dr. Panzella, " she said, extending her hand. She had a warm, easy smile and bright brown eyff. Gin liked her immediately. "I'm Alicia Downs, the senator's press secretary."
"Gin. Please call me Gin."
"All right, Gin, " the senator said. "Pull up a chair. I hope you don't mind if we get right down to business. Senator Moynihan moved a five o'clock budget briefing up to four-thirty, so time is short." He seated himself in the straight-backed chair behind the desk and cleared the files from his desk blotter. Gin took one of the two chairs on the other side of the desk, Alicia took the other. Blair stayed on his feet, hovering. Positioning himself where he could get a good look at her legs, maybe?
"I can't help being intrigued by the fact that a young physician with your qualifications would want this position, " he said. "I'd say you were overqualified. What is it you hope to accomplish here? " Here we go again, Gin thought.
She went into her spiel of how she thought the impact of the Medical Ethics and Practice Guidelines Act would be so far-reaching, so important to the future of medical practice, that she couldn't sit idly by without attempting to have some input.
"You can't have guidelines that smother individuality, " she concluded.
"Do you want all doctors to be exactly the same? I hope not. Minimum standards of training and care, sure. But then allow variety in style of practice. Each practice should have its own personality, otherwise you've deprived patients of a critically important choice." The senator studied her a moment in silence, his blue eyes intent on her.
Gin was beginning to feel uncomfortable when finally he spoke.
"You realize that this is a part-time position for which I doubt we'll be able to squeeze twenty thousand, if that, out of the budget." '"I explained that to her, Senator, " Blair said. He seemed vaguely anxious, while not actually moving, he seemed to be pacing in place.
"The money's not important, " she said. "I've-got the rest of my life to make money. This is a chance to matter, to be part of something that will affect the rest of my professional life. If I were already in practice, with a mortgage, kids in school, I wouldn't be able to drop everything and devote months to this committee. But I'm not.
There's only me to worry about. This is something I want to do, something I can do, and do well. And if I don't do it now, I'll never do it. And. . . ", dare she say it? , "your committee will be poorer for it."
"Is that so? " Senator Marsden said, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.
Out of the corner of her eye she saw Blair bite his upper lip and ever so slightly shake his head.
Had she overplayed it? "At least that's my opinion."
"Yes, well, you may have a point there. Will you give me a day to make a final decision? " "Of course." Do I have a choice?
'"Fine." He glanced at his watch, rose, and extended his hand.
"Sorry to cut this short, but that budget briefing, you know." Gin smiled as she shook his hand. "I understand."
"I'll walk you out, " Alicia said.
Gin glanced back as she exited and saw Joe Blair leaning over the senator's desk, yammering in a low voice.
'"I don't think your chief of staff is in my corner, " Gin said as she and Alicia wound through the cubicles.
Alicia snorted. "Joe's a dickhead. He's pissed because he already told the senator you're not right for the job but the boss wanted to meet you anyway."
"So he's back there now trying to scuttle me? " "Maybe. Don't take it personally. He's a control freak. Wants it to be his staff, handpicked by Joe Blair."
"Fair enough, guess, " Gin said with far more equanimity than she felt.
"Maybe, but he's still a dickhead."
"Gin! " She was almost to the elevators. She turned and saw Joe Blair hurrying after her.
"Glad I caught you, " he said as he reached her.
"What's up? ' she said, watching him closely. "Has he made up his mind? " She didn't trust this guy. And there was something in his eyes .