Although Laurie initially didn't want to be recognized while visiting the hospital, she now changed her mind. She thought she'd use the opportunity to see if Walter Osgood was there. Remembering that she would be calling the CDC sometime during the day, she wanted to know if Walter Osgood would like to know if the MRSA infecting the hospitals, at least in three patients, was the selfsame subtype, meaning they'd have to all three come from the same source. It had irked her the previous afternoon when he'd tried to justify not subtyping the bacteria on all the cases. From an epidemiological point of view, it was mandatory, especially in a situation where the source and the method of spread were unknown.

On the fourth floor, Laurie walked into the laboratory and asked the first technician she encountered if Dr. Osgood was there.

"I have no idea," the technician admitted. "You'd have to ask Dr. Friedlander, the supervisor of the clinical lab. His office is against the back wall. You can't miss it." She pointed across the room.

"I've heard that before," Laurie mumbled to herself as she walked in the direction she was shown. Despite her misgivings, she did stumble directly onto the office as the technician had suggested. Advancing to the open door, Laurie looked in at a thin, bearded man in a spotless, crisply ironed long white coat, engaged in paperwork at his desk.

"Excuse me," Laurie called out.

"Can I help you?"

"I'm looking for Dr. Osgood. Can you tell me if he is here this morning?"

"No, not today. Today he is…" Simon spun around in his chair to gaze at the bulletin board behind him. "He is at Angels Heart Hospital. He's here only Monday and Thursday."

"Thanks," Laurie said.

"Is there something I can help you with? I'm the supervisor of the clinical pathology lab."

"I think I need to talk directly with Dr. Osgood," Laurie said, although she briefly thought about asking Dr. Friedlander to convey the message.

"Is it urgent? We could always call. He's usually available on his cell."

"It involves the MRSA outbreak."

"I'd say that was important enough. And who exactly are you?"

After Laurie had identified herself, Dr. Friedlander made the call. As soon as he got Osgood on the line, he told him that a Dr. Laurie Montgomery was standing in his office and wanted to speak with him. Laurie reached out for the phone, but Dr. Friedlander put up his hand to have her wait. Laurie could not hear what Dr. Osgood was saying, but Dr. Friedlander locked eyes with her as he intermittently said "yes" into the phone with a final "I understand." He then dropped the receiver into its cradle before returning his attention to Laurie and said, "Sorry, I'm afraid Dr. Osgood is fully engaged. He asked that you call him back sometime today at the home office. I can give you the number." Taking one of his own business cards, he circled the Angels Healthcare number and, leaning across his desk, handed it over to Laurie.

Mildly chagrined at being so impersonally rejected when she thought she was about to do the man a favor, Laurie turned on her heels and walked out of the windowless office.

NOW IT WAS definitely an emergency, Walter Osgood reasoned. The first time it had been vague intuition, based mostly on Dr. Laurie Montgomery's resistance to accepting his rationale for failing to have the MRSA completely characterized. But now it was different. She was back in the Angels Orthopedic Hospital, despite the company's CEO all but telling her directly not to return, and on this occasion requesting to speak with him of all people.

Getting out the emergency number again, Walter called Washington. This time the phone rang even more times than it had the previous day, yet it was eventually answered. The deep, wary voice on this occasion sounded sleep-addled. "What is it this time?"

"The same problem."

"Are you on a landline?"

"Yes."

"Call me back at this number." The man gave Walter another number, then disconnected.

Walter waited for several minutes before dialing. The same man answered, although the slight hoarseness was gone. "Are you talking about the medical examiner?"

"Yes, she came back this morning, apparently investigating even though she was all but told not to. She worries me. I'm not sure I want to continue if something is not done about her."

"Something is surely being done. You have to be patient."

"Like what is being done?" Walter demanded. He hated all the secrecy, especially since he was the one out in the cold.

"We have an individual in the city at this moment whose specialty is to take care of this kind of problem."

"You are going to have to be more specific."

"I think the less you know, the better."

"Are you saying someone is here in New York right now?"

"That's exactly what I am saying."

"How about his or her name and a number."

"Sorry, I can't do that."

"I'm not sure I want to continue with all this."

"I'm afraid you don't have any choice at this point. It was your option to begin, but it is not your option to stop. The pressure must be maintained at least for a few more days."

Walter felt a mixture of anger and fear, but the fear won out. He didn't respond.

"I hope your silence means you understand the reality of your situation."

"If she shows up again in the next few days, can I call you to let you know whomever you sent here hasn't convinced her to stop her meddling?"

"Yes, you do that, but rest assured, we have sent our best negotiator."

"One other question. I don't know your name."

"There's no need for you to know my name."

Similar to the call the day before, the line was cut off precipitously and Walter found himself listening to a dead line. Slowly, he hung up the receiver. Despite the reassurances the man had given, Walter panicked and wondered how bad a decision to become involved it would turn out to be when all was said and done. His only consolation was that his son had seemingly stabilized, and the doctors who were administering the supposed experimental treatment were moderately optimistic.

BY THE TIME Laurie had had the time to read only a few of the day's op-ed pieces in the Times, Jack had appeared accompanied by a youthful doctor dressed in scrubs but covered by a long, white coat as crisp and clean as Dr. Friedlander's. Apparently, such smartness was hospital policy. Laurie had to admit that it appeared far superior to some of the residents at the University Hospital who seemed to revel in having the most soiled white coats, as if it were testament to how hard they were working.

Jack introduced the man as Dr. Jeff Albright. To Laurie, he had the bluest eyes she'd ever seen.

"I'm lucky," Jack continued. "Dr. Albright has agreed to pass gas for me in the morning. I told him you were concerned about MRSA and me having surgery, so he graciously offered to come out and have a word with you and hopefully put your mind at ease."

Laurie shook hands with the anesthesiologist, and noting how young he appeared made her feel old by comparison. She also felt abashed from Jack's introduction, as if she were an oversolicitous mother. Jeff gave the usual stereotypical assurance and said that Jack was as healthy as an ox, making Laurie wonder just how healthy oxen were, since she thought the expression was "strong as an ox." When Jeff finished his prepared speech, Laurie asked him how many cases he'd done after which the patient came down with an MRSA infection.

Somewhat nervously, his eyes flicked back and forth between Laurie and Jack. Apparently, Jack had not asked such a specific question. "One," he finally admitted. "It was several months ago, after a shoulder rotator cuff repair. Like the others, it was totally unexpected and unfortunately fatal."