Hard To Breathe, page 35
part #2 of Drake Cody Series
Lloyd rose and peered over his glasses, as if viewing a yapping puppy. “Kline, keep your mouth shut for a moment.” He faced the camera. “What some of the regents may not be aware of is that the seizure of the contents of Dr. Cody’s lab failed. You did not secure any D-44, nor its molecular composition, nor the formula for producing it. In short, despite what some may have communicated,” he looked at Kline, “you have nothing.”
Kline stood with his head hung. He raised a hand to the earpiece.
Drake caught Lloyd’s eye and nodded. They’d hoped to have Rizz and another ally present, but Drake had heard nothing.
“Regents,” Lloyd said, “we ask you to accept the terms identified on Dr. Cody’s document. We’ll accept your verbal agreement now. If we do not receive commitment today, the offer is withdrawn.”
“You must listen to me,” Kline was waving an arm and speaking into his Bluetooth. He turned to Lloyd. “I’ll be right back. We’ve agreed to nothing!”
Drake, Lloyd, and Dr. Regid exchanged looks as Kline exited with the door again sounding a clunk.
Dr. Regid pursed his lips then spoke. “He’s a right annoying twit, isn’t he?”
Despite the fact that everything Drake had dreamed, worked, and bled for hung in the balance, he began to laugh. Lloyd gave a guffaw, and the distinguished Dr. Regid’s head shook in a controlled chuckle.
The clunk of the door opening sounded. Kline’s quick return was accompanied by a smug look. He sat down, then flicked an invisible piece of lint off the shoulder of his suit. “I was able to prevent a rash decision. I’m authorized to tell you as the representative of the university and the board of regents that—”
“Hold on!” The yell came from across the room as Rizz wheeled through the other door. A second wheelchair followed, with Dr. Julie Stone pushing a striking young woman dressed in red.
Kline stood open-mouthed.
“The camera is the university group?” Rizz asked.
Lloyd nodded.
“Dr. Michael Rizzini here.” Rizz faced the camera, “Sorry I’m late. I was taking care of a sick friend.” He reached into his lap bag. “Before any final decision, I need to share something with you all. First, I want to thank Dr. Torrins for getting through to me on the phone and updating me as to where things stand.” He nodded to the back of the room where a light went on in the audiovisual control room. Jim Torrins stood and waved a hand.
Even for Rizz, this entrance broke all records for drama.
“Regents and all concerned. This is a sampling of the contents of the meeting of university representative and Memorial Hospital CEO Stuart Kline with attorney S. Lloyd Anderson and me forty-eight hours ago.” He held the phone near the camera microphone. “I believe you’ll have no trouble recognizing the voices of CEO Kline and attorney S. Lloyd Anderson.
“I’m a former member of the university administration and currently a special consultant.” A click sounded. “The plan is for us to complete an agreement with a pharmaceutical firm.” A click. “The Swiss don’t have an income tax on foreigners.”
“Working for Ingersen as well is interesting. I suspect it could put you in a tough spot.” This was clearly Lloyd’s voice. “You are representing two masters who may end up at odds.”
“Don't worry about that,” Kline response. Click.
“Isn’t the reality that you and the university legal team,” Lloyd speaking, “investigated and found that, solely due to the fraudulent actions of Faith Reinhorst Malar, there was a technical basis for challenging ownership? Further, didn’t the university lawyers identify that if they had the drug in their possession their position would be stronger?”
“It's a legal world. The truth is whatever the law says it is,” Kline’s haughty-toned reply, “You know that. Whoever’s attorneys argue best decides what the truth is.”
“I think you and the university lawyers know that the intellectual property rights to D-44 should stay with Drake,” Lloyd said.
“Should? You mean like fair?” Kline sniffed and shook his head. “The university legal team thinks they can win in court. That's all that matters.”
Rizz turned it off.
Rizz nodded and Julie rolled the young black woman in front of the camera.
“I want to introduce a friend,” Rizz said. “WCCY news anchor-person Tina Watt. Tina?”
“Thank you.” She commanded the camera and the room, the picture of poise. “Members of the university administration, gentlemen,” she nodded to Dr. Regid and the others, “I’m a reporter. I sense the possibility of a big story here.”
“This is a private meeting!” Kline stood red-faced.
Dr. Regid spoke with the authority of one used to leading. “Kline, sit down. Now!”
Kline flinched as if slapped. He looked about and finding only disgust, melted back into his chair.
The doctor continued. “Ms. Watt, I apologize for the interruption. Please continue.”
“Thank you, sir,” She continued. “On one hand, I might be forced to share an ugly account of a gross transgression of justice. A story of public institutions abusing their power and robbing a committed, young physician of his calling. A story of unseemly manipulation of the legal system to steal a breakthrough medicine from a dedicated researcher and his colleagues.” She paused. “If that regrettable outcome should come to pass, I would do everything in my power to make sure that story received the attention it should.” She paused, her silence making the message clear.
“Conversely, I sense the possibility of sharing the story of collaboration between a young doctor and our great public university. A story of benefit to the citizens of this state, and potentially, miraculous gains for injured patients.
“I’m alive today and going to be discharged from the hospital now because of the skills and care of Dr. Drake Cody,” she reached a hand back and clasped Julie’s, “and Dr. Stone, and all the special people who make such miracles happen.” She faced the camera. “I want to thank you for the opportunity to speak. I look forward to sharing the story that you have the power to make happen.” She nodded and Julie spun the chair and rolled her out of the room.
Drake had to restrain his urge to applaud. What Tina Watt said was truth.
Lloyd spoke under his breath so that only Drake could hear. “One kickass lady.” The attorney smiled but then stood.
“Regents, Dr. Regid, thirty minutes should be enough time for you to respond. Please do the right thing. You have my number. Thank you for participating.”
Drake felt like a Thanksgiving float in a holiday parade. If no one held onto his lines he might rise into the sky. A weight had been lessened and his breath came easier than it had for days. Hope filled him.
Had life been breathed back into his dreams?
He wanted to believe.
Chapter 86
Thirty minutes later
Drake swiped his ID card at the hospital’s sixth-floor access to the elevator.
“Are you sure it’s okay to do this? I don’t want you to get in trouble,” Rachelle said from her IV-pole-accessorized wheelchair.
“Me get in trouble? What’s the chance of that happening?” Their eyes met and they both laughed.
“We’ve had enough trouble for a while,” she said.
He reached out and grasped her hand. Her touch was warm and vibrant—miraculous in that less than twenty-four hours earlier she’d been in the deadly grip of shock.
She moved his hand to her lips, kissed it, and held it to her cheek.
The elevator dinged and the doors slid open. Drake rolled the woman he loved more than anything into the elevator. He had multiple blankets wrapped about her and two more to position as needed. Rachelle had orders to be transferred to a regular unit and she’d said she wanted to breathe some outside air. Drake had got the okay to take her out of the ICU for a short time. He trusted she was out of the woods
There was a special place he wanted to share with her.
“Waiting to hear what they decided is torture,” Rachelle said. “I feel like we’re on death row waiting for a pardon from the governor.”
Drake hit the button and the elevator doors slid closed. His weight shifted as the ascent began.
Death row—sounded harsh but it fit. If “they” decided wrong, it would end the passion that had given his life meaning and saved him from the blackness of loss.
He’d joined with other dedicated people who shared his commitment to helping those in need. The work he did—from the heroics of the Crash Room, to helping a sick homeless or mentally ill person—really mattered. It might seem sappy to some, but it helped him feel good about himself. It was the best part of him.
His throat tightened. He took a deep breath and shook his arms like a fighter before the bell.
He’d deal with whatever happened.
The elevator dinged and he hit the “stop” button before the doors slid open. He ignored the buzzing of the elevator’s stop signal as he made sure Rachelle was ready.
“Very few have seen the view from here, Rachelle. You’ll love it.” He adjusted the blankets around her. The background buzz of the elevator’s stop signal continued.
His ringtone sounded and a vibration registered. His breath caught. Would this be the call? The one that would end their dreams?
He whipped out his phone. “Lloyd” showed on the screen. Rachelle met his eyes. He nodded. She clasped his free hand as he put the phone on speaker and bent so she could hear.
“I’m hoping you have good news, Lloyd. What have you heard?” The casualness of his comment underplayed his tension. His heart raced.
“I just had back-to-back calls from the chairman of the University Board of Regents and from Dr. Regid of the state Board of Medical Practice. What’s that irritating sound I hear?”
“I’m in an elevator that I stopped. It’s a buzzer.” What did they say?
“What?”
“Please just ignore the sound. What did they say?” Come on, man!
“Are you in your house?” Lloyd said.
“I’m at the hospital. In an elevator. I don’t have a house. We rent. None of that matters. Lloyd, please. What did they say?”
“You could have a house.”
“This isn’t about houses, Lloyd. Tell me what they said.”
“With the Regents agreeing to joint ownership of D-44 and paying you the amount you asked for, I don’t see any reason you can’t get a house.”
Drake froze. Had he heard correctly? Rachelle’s gasp, her clench of his hand, and her megawatt smile answered his doubt.
His mind pinwheeled. Everything shifted.
His research would go forward. They’d pay off what they owed and have money. D-44 would be available for Rizz’s care. He’d be able to take care of Rachelle, the kids, his mother—all who depended on him. Finally, he’d be able to provide for them in the way they deserved. He felt as if he were floating.
He leaned his back against the elevator wall, closed his eyes, and rocked his head back. Rachelle said, “Oh, Drake. Oh my God!” She squeezed his hand. Part of their dream had come true.
Lloyd’s voice sounded from the phone’s speaker. “I trust that is satisfactory news.”
“Most satisfactory. Thank you, Lloyd.” Drake laughed. “But I almost died with your dragged-out delivery.”
“Wicked of me,” Lloyd said, chuckling. “I couldn’t resist. Besides, if you had almost died, you’re in the right place. They have a pretty good ER there. I just received a call about one of the doctors.”
Drake’s throat clenched. Had Lloyd given him the good news first?
“What did Dr. Regid say?” He feared he knew what the leather-tough doctor’s position was.
“Dr. Regid informed me the state Board of Medical Practice will be initiating a punitive action against you tonight.”
Drake’s breath caught. His elation gone in an instant.
He’d known it. From the day of his medical school application, from that first of many times denying his past, he’d believed this day was coming. God, no!
After what seemed like forever, Lloyd continued, “You, Dr. Drake Cody, will receive a reprimand from the board for ‘unprofessional and unethical conduct’.”
What? A reprimand?
“You will report to the ethics section of the board every three months for a period of one year, but will suffer no restriction of practice. No further action is anticipated.”
Drake slid to the floor of the elevator. He buried his face in his hands.
Rachelle spoke, her voice quavering with uncertainty. “A reprimand? Does that mean he has his license and can continue his work?”
“He has his medical license and can continue his work.” The smile in Lloyd’s voice shone through as if he were in the elevator with them. “Dr. Regid reviewed the file I gave him. In the last few days, I obtained statements from Cincinnati police, the justice advocacy group that got Drake released, and the judge who presided over his juvenile court proceeding. They agreed that Drake’s arrest and conviction following the mistreatment of his brother had been a miscarriage of justice. Dr. Regid and the board did not want to be part of further injustice.”
“Thank you, sir,” Rachelle said, her voice breaking. “Thank you so much.”
Drake could not speak. His hands tingled. He felt lightheaded and his mind would not engage. What he’d hoped for, what he’d dreamed of, but what he’d never truly believed could happen, had happened.
Since the TV broadcast, he’d been grieving for the loss of the work he loved. He’d known it would be taken from him.
But it had not. Tension bled from him like a burst dam.
“So Drake,” Lloyd’s baritone came from the phone’s speaker, “how did I do?”
Drake laughed. “Not bad, sir. Not bad at all.”
***
As the reality sank in, Drake’s gratitude surged. Good people who cared about him had made this happen.
He and Rachelle hugged and laughed and kissed. And laughed some more, both elated about the possibilities of a future that hours earlier had looked lost to them. Instead of starting over, they were leaping forward.
“Let me show you my favorite place in the hospital. The hospital I work in.” Saying that and knowing he would still be able to work made him smile. He adjusted her blankets and hit the elevator button.
The doors slid open to the bright light and chilled air of the flight deck. Drake rolled Rachelle out to the open area beyond the gleaming helicopter.
The city lay spread out around them. Intense sunshine in a rich blue sky had transformed the cityscape into a brilliant white fantasy land. Everything was draped in a thick sheath of glistening, cotton candy snow. The lakes visible were untouched plains of unblemished white. The frozen snow-covered Mississippi and the trees lining its banks stood in pristine contrast to the open black water downstream of St. Anthony Falls.
“It’s incredible,” Rachelle said. “The snow is...” she shook her head speechless.
“Are you warm enough?” Drake said. It was near freezing, but with no wind, the sunshine warmed them.
“I’m fine,” Rachelle said. “It’s so beautiful.”
Drake crouched and wrapped his arms around her. “And it’s where we live. No more hiding. No more waiting to be found out.” He looked into her eyes. “We’ll find a house that you’ll love. The kids can have a dog. You can paint. We’ll have a home. We can live our dream.”
Her eyes filled.
The ding of the elevator and the sound of its doors opening reached them. Rizz rolled onto the flight deck. “The nurses told me you headed up here.”
“Did you hear the news?” Drake smiled raising a fist in the air.
Rizz held up his phone. “Just spoke with Lloyd. Piece of cake. I never had a doubt.” He was straight-faced.
“What?”
Rizz smiled. “Bullshitting you, amigo. Great stuff. You scored on D-44 and kept your license. Excellent. I didn’t want to have to break in another flunky.”
“Hah! You’re as surprised as I am, I know it. And it goes without saying, but I’ll say it anyway—everything D-44 brings gets split three ways.”
As he spoke Drake felt a flush of guilt. In the elation of the university agreement and maintaining his medical license, he hadn’t tracked down the details of what had been found with FloJo.
“How is FloJo, Rizz? What do the veterinarians think?”
Rizz wheeled over next to Rachelle. He, like her, had a blanket over his lap. “Hey, beautiful. I bet you’re glad the bum you married still has a job.”
“I’m very relieved,” Rachelle smiled, then put a hand on Rizz’s forearm. “Thank you for all you did. Once more we owe you.”
“No worries.” Rizz seemed subdued. Drake’s puzzlement grew.
“Rizz, how’s FloJo?”
“Her seizures ended and she looked okay. I got them to do a big workup. They found something ‘iffy’ on her brain MRI, but they need a specialist to review it. Did you know there are veterinarians who specialize in neuroradiology?”
Rizz was concerned, but he seemed far less uptight then Drake would have expected. FloJo’s condition was scary stuff. Had the other good news mellowed him out?
“Did they have any thoughts?”
“Like with some of our first-time seizure patients, there are unknowns—including why it occurred and whether it will happen again. Their concern with the MRI of the brain was lymphoma. That would suck.”
And the implications for D-44 and Rizz would be terrifying. Yet he didn’t seem terrified at all. Drake couldn’t read his friend. Something had changed.
Rizz looked out over the incredible view. “Minnesota winter is brutal, but sometimes it’s crazy beautiful. It’s a hell of a place we live in, isn’t it?” He reached into his lap bag.
It felt good for Drake to feel he really did live here—no longer just a temporary hideout. He took Rachelle’s hand.
She squeezed.
“I want to make a toast.” Rizz held up his silver flask and three small paper cups. Drake and Rachelle each held one as Rizz poured. He then held his cup up to them. “To Jon—may he get better soon—and especially to you two and your children. Welcome to your new home. I love you guys.” He met their eyes and for once Drake saw no joking there.
