False Accusations by Jacobson, Alan (great novels of all time .txt) 📕

to know where I stand with you.” Madison paused, shook his head. “There were protesters outside my office today. They wouldn’t let any patients in. They assaulted me as I tried to go in through the front doors.”

“I know. That was the last straw for the guys upstairs. They heard about it from a patient of yours who couldn’t get in to see you this morning, so she came over here for a refill of her meds. She told the receptionist about her ordeal, and the receptionist told Nancy Block, the RN who had the hots for you—the one you told in no uncertain terms that you’d never have an affair—she told Scott Smilton, the cardiologist who sits on the board.

“By noon we had our own group of protesters outside the hospital. Only about twenty of them, but they sure made a lot of noise. Stood under the overhang and shouted for two hours until they lost their voices. That was all it took to convene the board for a special session. By three o’clock we were meeting. Twenty minutes later it was all over. And I spoke for fifteen of those twenty minutes, trying to change their minds.”

“John, this just isn’t fair.”

“Fair?” Stevens tilted his head. “Let’s look at this for a moment from the board’s point of view—from a business perspective.”

Madison made a face.

“No, hear me out,” Stevens said, holding up a trembling hand. “Those protesters out there are bad for business. They left for today, but they’ll be back tomorrow, and the day after that, and the day after that. I know for a fact that we’ll lose the grants if you stay on. I really can’t blame the board for their decision. What else could they do? Should they risk all the good that this hospital does for thousands of people just so that we don’t hurt your feelings? Surely you can see that wouldn’t be a defensible position.”

Madison sat down hard on the couch and remained silent a long moment. “Who’s going to perform the surgeries I have scheduled? I’ve got a posterior strut fusion and a three-level fracture of the axis to repair—”

“Your surgeries were assigned to Jim Plankston.”

“Plankston! You’ve gotta be kidding. These aren’t simple procedures.”

Stevens threw up his hands. “What do you want me to say? I did my best.”

“Plankston. Well, they could have done worse, I guess. It could’ve been Caldwell.”

“He’s assisting.”

“Why didn’t they at least assign Fred Oliver—”

“Wasn’t my decision,” Stevens said.

Madison leaned back. “This is what they’d rather have over me?”

Stevens looked down at his desk, avoiding eye contact.

Madison stood up, turned and faced the couch.

“We’ve had a lot of good chats on this sofa, haven’t we, John?”

Stevens rose and moved next to Madison. “And we’ll have a lot more. Maybe this is the best thing anyway. Take the time off. Get your house in order. It’s probably good that you’re not operating under these conditions anyway. Clear your head, spend time with your family, get your legal matters out of the way, and then we’ll get you reinstated. I promise. I’ll make it happen.”

Madison forced a thin smile. “One day this will make for one big joke. We’ll laugh about it, right?”

“Absolutely,” Stevens said, patting him on the back. “Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help.”

Outside, Madison walked down the hall into the bright light. He squinted as a tear came to his eye and ran down his cheek. He looked around, not knowing if he would ever be reinstated to the hospital he helped build into a revered, state-of-the-art teaching institution.

As he punched the elevator button, he suddenly became aware of the pounding pain threatening to explode from his temples.

He never thought it would get to this.

CHAPTER 42

LEEZA WAS STRUGGLING to button Elliott’s coat, but the boy wouldn’t stay still. While he zoomed his plastic spaceship through the air, Leeza managed to get the top button fastened. But as she moved down to the next one, the phone rang.

It was Hellman calling from his car, relieved that he’d caught her before she left to drop the kids off at day care.

“I’ve got something I have to discuss with Phil,” he said.

Leeza told him Madison was in the garage building a toy box for Jonah. “He’s been in there for three hours, since six-thirty this morning, pounding away, taking out his aggressions with a hammer. I guess it’s good therapy for him.”

“Not for a surgeon,” Hellman said. “He’s not supposed to be doing those things. His hands are—”

“Jeffrey, he doesn’t care. And right now, I can’t say that I blame him. The hospital revoked his privileges.”

“Sac General? The one he pulled from the trenches ten years ago?”

She blurted a laugh filled with disbelief. “Is that a kick in the ass?”

“Guess I shouldn’t tell him why I called.”

“Why did you call?” she asked, wedging the phone between her ear and shoulder so she could button the rest of Elliott’s coat.

“You haven’t seen the Herald this morning?”

“No,” she said as Chandler came down the stairs. “Let me guess, more bad stuff.”

“It ain’t good.”

She patted her son on the buttocks and moved the phone away from her mouth. “Ryan, would you get the paper out front?”

“I haven’t read the whole article yet,” Hellman said, “but it covers the protests yesterday, makes some snide remarks about Phil’s still seeing patients and that all he cares about is the money. I just wanted to smooth things over for him.”

“You’re a good friend, Jeffrey. He could use the cheering up,” she said as she and Chandler opened the paper.

“Let me talk to him.”

She walked over to the intercom and buzzed the garage. “Pick up, honey. Jeffrey’s on the phone.”

“I don’t feel like talking.”

The sound of a hammer pounding a nail reverberated through the intercom.

“He needs to talk to you.”

Madison picked up the wood, tossed the hammer aside, and grabbed the phone off the wall. “Yeah.”

“Just heard about the hospital,” Hellman said. “I’m sorry. We’ll get through this,