***
David Madison might be an ex-president, but he didn’t think he was displaying much gravitas sitting on the end of the exam table. He smiled when he realized the wide-open back of his patient gown was displaying something, but it wasn’t dignity and seriousness. Nevertheless, sitting in the Oval Office for eight years had taught him to take control of any situation, and even though he was forced to accept Josh Pearson’s decisions about his treatment, he could at least control his environment while hospitalized.
“We’re getting things lined up, sir,” Jerry Lang said. “You’ll be in a private room, and there’ll be an agent outside your door at all times. Only a limited number of medical personnel will have access to you.”
“I presume I’m being registered under a false name.”
“Woodrow Wilson.”
“Very funny. Does my wife know yet?”
“I just got off the phone with her,” Lang said. “She wanted to cancel her luncheon speaking engagement, but I convinced her it would be best for her to go ahead with it before coming to the hospital. I’d like for her to continue her normal activities as much as possible. It will keep the media from suspecting anything.”
“Good. Who on my staff besides you knows about this? The more people who are in the loop—”
“Sir, only the agents, your wife, and Karen Marks know right now.”
Madison frowned. “How does my administrative aide know? She’s still in South America.”
“She called me a few minutes ago. Somehow, she found out you were ill, so she’s flying home today.”
“And the rest of the group?”
“They’ll arrive back this weekend, on schedule.” Lang held up one finger. “But there’s something else you need to know. Right before Karen called, I got a phone call from the funeral directors we asked to pick up Dr. Lambert’s body. It’s reappeared.”
“Maybe you’d better explain that.”
“It seems that someone left it on their doorstep this morning.”
Madison had a mental picture of a casket, or even worse, a body on a gurney deposited on the porch of a funeral home. “I beg your pardon?”
“Actually, what they got was a box with cremated remains, plus Dr. Lambert’s personal effects.”
“That’s all?”
“That and a note that said simply, ‘Sorry.’ ”
Madison thought about what this latest development meant. Maybe it was all a big mistake, but maybe it was deliberate. The first thing that came to mind was that cremated remains couldn’t be autopsied. He’d have to check, but he doubted they could even be tested for DNA to confirm an identity. That brought to mind a whole new series of questions.
Well, it looked as though he was going to have a bit of time to think those questions through in the next few days.
***
Rachel had never been to this hospital before. She’d graduated from a nursing program in Houston and fully expected to be there for years. Then her fiancé dumped her, her life fell apart, and she jumped at the opportunity to take a position at Zale Lipshy University Hospital in Dallas. Working with faculty physicians from Southwestern Medical Center seemed perfect for her. And it had been, until this happened. Now she found herself in the unfamiliar territory of Prestonwood Hospital, a patient rather than a caregiver. How quickly things could change.
Of course, if she’d stayed in Houston she’d never have met Josh, and that would have been tragic. It was becoming clear to her that he was the man she’d like to spend the rest of her life with. She thought Josh felt the same—actually, she’d expected him to tell her that when she got back from this trip, but—
A tap at the door of her hospital room interrupted her thoughts. She looked up, expecting another nurse or maybe a lab tech. Instead, she saw Josh. At least, she thought it was Josh. A surgical mask covered the lower part of his face. He wore a disposable gown, and thin purple gloves covered his hands.
“Rachel.” His voice was slightly muffled by the disposable mask he wore. He advanced to her bedside and covered her hand with his own, careful not to disturb the IV running into the back of it. “I’m so very sorry this happened to you.”
Rachel shook her head. “Don’t worry about me. How’s Mr. Madison?”
“Doing okay.” Although his mask hid his features, Josh’s eyes told her more than his words.
“Something’s wrong. Tell me.”
“Actually, his illness doesn’t seem quite as pronounced as yours. But don’t worry. I’m going to get hold of some diphtheria antitoxin. We may be able to start treating you both with it as soon as tomorrow.”
“What about antibiotics? Am I getting those?”
Josh nodded. “You are, but diphtheria is so rare now that the latest study on which ones work best was done almost twenty years ago. Children now get diphtheria-pertussis-tetanus shots, and many adults get a diphtheria-tetanus booster periodically, usually when they have a tetanus scare. When patients do turn up with the infection, we depend on diphtheria antitoxin.”
Rachel shook her head. “That’s something I don’t understand. I got a DT booster before the trip. Matter of fact, I got it here. Dr. Lambert’s nurse had just given Mr. Madison his shot, so she still had the bottle of vaccine out. Why did we get sick?”
“That’s one of the reasons I wish Ben Lambert were still alive,” Josh said. “I could question him about that.” He frowned. “Did you get much of a reaction to your shot?”
“Now that you mention it, no. And usually I get a red, sore arm from almost any type of immunization.”
“We’ve ordered a test for immunity against diphtheria on both you and Madison.”
“To answer the question of whether the shot gave me protection?”
“Not really. An elevated diphtheria antibody titer could be due to either your recent immunization or to a current infection.”
Rachel started to ask Josh why he ordered the test, then she got it. There was one more possibility. If the titer was very low, she hadn’t been immunized, but what she had wasn’t really diphtheria—and the problem got even more complex.
“Josh,” she asked. “How about you? When I arrived, you hugged and kissed me. You did it again yesterday, although I tried to keep my distance. Why aren’t you taking precautions?”
“About six months ago, I stepped on a nail while working at a Habitat for Humanity project. I asked Nell, my nurse, to give me a diphtheria-tetanus booster, and I had a marked local reaction to it. I’m guessing I have plenty of antibodies right now.” He touched the crook of his left arm. “I had an antibody level drawn earlier today, but I think I’m pretty well protected. Besides,” he added, “I’ve already started prophylactic antibiotic therapy with erythromycin. I’ll be fine.”
Rachel realized Josh was gambling a bit, but she also knew he wasn’t going to go into isolation right now . . . that wasn’t in keeping with his nature. In his mind, as in that of so many doctors, he couldn’t get sick—he was invulnerable. She looked at him and said so softly that Josh probably didn’t even hear it, “I hope you are.”
***
Karen Marks climbed into the rear seat of the limo and had her phone out even before the trunk slammed shut on the suitcases her escort had shepherded through customs. It was amazing how much power David Madison’s name carried. Although it was more than two years since he’d sat behind the desk in the Oval Office, he still had clout.
Karen punched in a speed-dial number. Before it could produce a ring,